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Post by 0 on Sept 27, 2017 23:26:52 GMT
The scythe wasn't even looking ahead of itself when it started to flee, too busy watching out for any additional moves from the goathuman to snatch it back under the stony roof.
It slammed right into another body--two of them, actually--and started flailing its arms, pyramid spinning, singing shrilly into the storm. A babble of Spanish demonic hung underneath the song, and only got louder once it realized just who it had crashed into.
An inky finger was pointed back towards the goathuman as it tried to explain that it was her fault, HER'S.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Sept 28, 2017 3:53:31 GMT
Izune hissed softly she was resilient, but still that scythe had a sharp edge. Her eyes narrowed as she examined the living tool. "Sit." She spat, gesturing back towards the messy pelts with her head. She didn't care exactly what the scythe did, but the blame was not fully off of it yet.
The yokai stalked forward, letting off her cargo, a very dead human being, male, between the ages of 30-45. The carcass slumped to the ground, limp. "I found him dead, bashed his head against the rocks." She explained stiffly, before stopping above the demon.
She placed a hand on one of the rock structures above, the ones that kept out the rain, while the other hand remained in a fist behind her back. The rock began to corrode at her touch, hastening the force of centuries of wind and rain, and letting the storm back to the hollow.
"Clean it." Izune commanded in a firm no nonsense tone. Luche should know already what.
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Post by Tzuvachyysh on Oct 1, 2017 4:05:59 GMT
Alright. Now things were worse. On top of ink stains all over, now there was a dead person in the room. Why had the nice lady...
Okay, not-so-nice lady now. That stingy liquid stuff started poured in through the new hole that had been made. All in the span of a second, how and why became unimportant. Luche shied away from the newly-forming puddle, splatters sputtering into steam off of her as she looked pleadingly to her benefactor-turned-tormentor... and found nothing in those eyes.
Sniffling, blood-red sulfuric tears running down her face, she (carefully) grabbed the nearest pelt and began dunking it in the puddle--
Her screams that night would be heard from the next continent over.
By the time she finished, several minutes later, the puddle was a greyish-black mess, quickly swirling away towards the entrance in a roiling, steaming sludge. Steam filled the air. The fur pelt was partially clean, except for the gray specks on it. Luche's arms, though, had lost their obsidian tone and turned grey, the red lines disappearing as well, shaking hands stuck in rigid claws, graphite-like flakes chipping off everywhere. Some of it was healing over, but not visibly quick. Her halting whimpers were audible even through her clamped-shut jaw, as she looked up again to Izune, clearly terrified.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Oct 1, 2017 13:27:00 GMT
Izune had turned a deaf ear to those screams.
She built up what fire she could salvage from the damaged pile, then set to work preparing the carcass until it looked only like meat to be cooked.
Luche had done one pelt. Izune looked up. "Thats enough." It was clear the water was torturing the girl. Izune had known that it would be. To make her do more would be undue cruelty.
"Get over here where the rain's not coming in." She suggested, still in a commanding tone. It seemed orders worked better than offering Luche a choice.
But a choice Luche would still have. "Eat something," Izune pointed out the meat, but depending on Luche's nature other things might be considered food as well. Izune didn't care if Luche liked it cooked or raw, rather eat rocks, or didn't consume food at all. She was offering what was available.
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Post by 0 on Oct 1, 2017 17:45:13 GMT
The human with feline features made a noise, gesturing towards the pelts with a down-pointing finger, and the scythe stepped back, looking uncertainly between the two strangers. It watched as something thumped to the grou-ou-ou--!
Its tail went straight up, and the object shot back onto the pelts, dashing under a hole as it formed anew, and sat itself down securely upon the pile. Thankfully, the goathuman was already busy with something else.
The screams sent its tail straight up once more, only now bent into a disconcerting zigzag. Although its pyramid was silent but for the usual hum, it spun more rapidly now, like a heart beating all too fast.
The fire was built higher and the carcass was cut up in the meantime, tossed in the fire, and no longer looked...like....
The scythe was still, but kept a close watch.
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Post by Tzuvachyysh on Oct 2, 2017 3:48:10 GMT
Luche was on the brink of not caring. Her care-o-meter was depleted. Without protest, she sulked over to one dry corner and curled up on her side, her wings and back facing the rest of them, shivering.
She would stay there until it stopped raining. Or maybe she'd try to bolt during the night? Luche didn't know what was going on -- except that her arm was numb and hurting at the same time. She scooted her way into the corner as tightly as she could, the closeness having a weird comforting affect on her, reminding her of 'home' -- except it was still cold.
This whole place was big and dark... and cold.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Oct 2, 2017 23:15:38 GMT
Slit eyes tracked the sobbing demon. What a baby. Izune would have questioned her about what had actually happened now but it was clear that Luche was not in the mind for such grilling. The scythe couldn't answer. Izune hadn't heard it speak a word of Eokian common, or any other language she knew since it had shown up.
"We're not going to get anywhere. You may go if you want." Izune explained with disappointment, as she tended to some of the meat over the limited flames which remained. "You'd make a nice weapon, but you seem like more trouble than its worth." Izune knew it had taken more than Luche to make the extended inky mess that remained after all.
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Post by 0 on Oct 2, 2017 23:38:41 GMT
The scythe's pyramid made a sad-sounding hum as its spinning slowly returned to its original sluggish rotation. Things seemed to calm down after the goathuman had retreated to a far corner.
This seemed good. Perhaps it could get some rest now. It wasn't going to do that OUTSIDE, where it was RAINING...having a dent in its blade was bad enough--it didn't want rust along with it! So long as the rest of them stayed away from it....
The other one made some more sounds, and after a moment the scythe pulled itself higher on the pelts, then leaned itself against the stony wall. The glowing solid hummed and spun even as it began to drift off, staff stiffening as it once more became as a normal object.
Except for those squiggly limbs. Those wouldn't disappear until it had fallen into the depths of sleep, dripping slowly away.
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Post by Tzuvachyysh on Oct 6, 2017 1:41:45 GMT
The next morning brought a reprieve from the falling rain and crummy weather. Birds were actually out chirping and squawking in the breaking dawn. That drizzling pool of ink and ash had dried into a hard, thin crust during the night, a sulfur stink hanging where it had been.
Luche was not looking much better. Indeed, her wounds were not healing properly, and her leathery wings had taken on a dried, dusty appearance, like old paper. Her hands & lower arms had regenerated, but not entirely; the ashen skin had crept up to her shoulders. As she stirred, she felt stiff and brittle.
Instead of leaping up, she shifted her head, the motion slow and deliberate. A soft grinding could be heard as she moved. Her eyes, half-lidded with sleepiness and apathy, scanned the room, seeing who was still in the outcropping. Luche didn't feel much like dealing with the others; perhaps a realization that the "nice lady" was merely tolerating her, or simply that no one wanted her around.
Especially the inky-pointy thing.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Oct 7, 2017 4:40:25 GMT
The hollow had been cleaned up somewhat, pelts organized, ashes from the long dead fire swept away.
Some of the remaining food had been bundled up into a parcel and left behind as well as a roughly hewn stone pot strange smelling salve that seemed to generate its own heat.
These had been put together with Luche in mind. Izune however was not present on site, as she had left the encampment even earlier than the dawn.
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Post by 0 on Oct 7, 2017 6:45:32 GMT
Some time during the night the scythe had managed to fall from where it leaned against the wall, toppling into a horizontal position upon the pelts. By morning, for all intents and purposes, it looked like any other ordinary scythe, with no trace of ink, save for a small puddle, now all soaked into the pelts, remaining on the surfaces around it; and, just like any ordinary scythe, it did not stir when the dawn came, remaining silent, still, and altogether lifeless, just as any good object should.
Even that glowing, humming pyramid was gone.
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Post by Tzuvachyysh on Oct 8, 2017 0:10:15 GMT
Luche wouldn't move for a good long while, staring at where the implement lay. She wasn't exactly raring to grab for it, but the temptation was still there. Cautiously the demoness unfurled herself, tenderly pushing herself onto her haunches as she tried and failed to ignore the smells of the meat nearby.
Sniffing at the salve, she carefully dipped a finger into the mixture, trying to figure out what the stuff was. After determining it was safe (if not necessarily tasty), she put a bit of it to each of her arms. The wrapped meat was soon gone, and once again Luche found herself looking at the pointy-slicey thing.
Something gravitated her fingers toward it, but experience told her it was surely only waiting for her to do as such. When placing a hand near it did nothing, she crept closer; finally summoning some courage, Luche reached out and began picking away at the dried "blood" atop the cutting end. It came off easily enough, with careful motions (or as close to careful as she could manage). The nicks and dents... she wasn't sure there was much she could do for them without causing further damage.
It really was a fine implement, despite its blemishes. She felt a strange sense of... guilt, for her antics the other day. Something she wasn't sure had ever crossed her mind before.
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