Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-31049256-20170816034817/@comment-28358106-20170819022729

(S9/Aeg/Ki) With no sign of amusement or cooperation, Aegis watches the Attendant press the bowl against her. She looks down at it, saying nothing. Then suddenly, her head jerks back, looking up in the most absurd expression of happiness she can muster, with a smile so wide it's almost frightening.

"Dear diary," She says in a cartoon sing-song voice, her eyes rolling up in mock innocence, "Today, a hostile ice cream girl showed me how to carry things in an idiotically impractical way by making a third ceramic boob on my chest!  I love it so much, I'm going to have Daddy graft it to my frame so I can have THREE tits!..."

Instantly she drops the act, glaring at the girl. "...Said no one, ever." She lets go, the bowl clattering to the counter, the bottle rolling out. She ducks down and plucks it off the counter with her teeth in a rapid, expert motion. Giving the girl one last stab with her eyes, she stalks across the parlor and plops down in her chair.

"Theeth, thome people are jutht atholeth," she mumbles, leaning back in her seat and bringing both her feet up. Delicately she takes the bottle out from her mouth with her talons and uncorks it, handing it to Partha.

"Here you go, sweetpea," she says gently, handing it over. "Drink up." Partha weakly takes it and, unquestioning, drinks the contents, gagging afterwards.

"That's a good girl. That's my strong girl..." Aegis pats her back with a wing. Partha makes a disgusted face and lays her head back down.

--

Aurum walks along in a light fashion, as if she were walking to a boutique. She looks around, suddenly turning and going between a pair of buildings that are close together, as if she knows exactly where she's going. Halfway down, she comes to a slow stop.

Brad can hear her inhale and exhale deeply. She turns to face him, folding her arms.

She's wearing an expression that nobody has seen before. It's not the face of anger she shows her sisters when she's had her limit, nor is it the cute pout of a wronged lover. It isn't even righteous rage. Brad is on the recieving end of the steel gaze of a woman who is about to cut him down to size. She doesn't waste time.

"You disgust me."

Her words fly at him like flat, frozen knives. Her lower eyelids raise ever so slightly.