Glamour Failure

[animusmods]

Characters: any
Setting: all around the Tower
Format: any/party-style
Summary: A general mingle log for the reaction to the beginning of the Idealism event.
Warnings: PG-13; please include any more detailed warnings in your threads if necessary

Comments

[doctor_dismemberment]

Richtofen was in the middle of sucking down ragged breaths when Mitchell approached him. Immediately, he whipped his head around and glared (as much as he could with no proper eyes to speak of), and a second later, he was on his feet. It was unclear if he recognized Mitchell as the Illuminati fellow he'd spoken to on occasion, because he skipped all the formalities and went straight to screaming.

"You-! Don't you tell me what to do. I will fucking rip your throat out und suck out your soul!" He reached forward to jab Mitchell none-too-gently with a finger. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he let out a trilling, raspy laugh. "I'll make all of that blue pour out of you. All of that lovely, disgusting blue gunk, I'll spill it all und drown in it."

He let out another laugh, louder than the first, with his head thrown back in false elation. In between his giggles, he managed to shout again, "I'll drown in it!"

[idkworldruler]

"Okay, one I didn't tell you what to do...yet." And he moved a hand down to try and violently grab that offending finger and begin to slowly bend it back. He wondered if their wire bodies were flexible, or exactly like their flesh and bone ones. "Two, you do not threaten your master." This time a hand shot out to attempt a grab at his throat. All done swiftly. Though this man was far more older and experienced than Mitch is and would probably catch one, or both of, those movements.

But he wanted to make a point. "Third, there is work to be done, Roddy."

[doctor_dismemberment]

Richtofen was quick enough to bat Mitchell's hand away before he could get a hold of his finger, but in his confusion, the other hand caught around his throat. He glared as best as he could in his current state, and one wire frame eye twitched. A growl escaped his throat through bared teeth.

"You're- not my- master!" he managed to choke out.

A hand locked around Mitchell's wrist, and he squeezed as tightly as he could. He was no superhuman, but all those years in the military weren't for nothing; he had quite the grip.

It hurt to speak, but he persisted. "Never again! I'm- through- through with the stupid- fucking- Illuminati!"

[idkworldruler]

"You are forgetting that we will not let you go until we chose to do so." The man certainly does have quite the grip. It even made him whence a little, however all that ended up happening was him tightening his own grip, fingers curling to try and dig their nails into the frame...skin? Whatever, he doesn't think he even has finger nails anymore.

"And I am in need of a man of your talents, Roddy." Because he knows he doesn't like that name. "Also, it would be best not to...associate me with THAT name. There are ears and eyes everywhere."