not interested in deep conversations

[highbloods.livejournal.com]

Characters: The Grand Highblood + anyone
Setting: Cafeteria
Format: Any
Summary: The Grand Highblood is not amused by the food but whatevs?
Warnings: The Grand Highblood.

It's almost comical how the highblood is hunched over at a table that seems a bit small for him and eating a bowl of oatmeal(????). His face doesn't show his opinions of the sludge, but he doesn't seem to be hating or loving it. Surprisingly neutral, which is saying something if you happened to know the nature of this particular highblood.

He's pretty distracted, so you'll have a 50/50 chance of getting on his good side or his don't-give-a-fuck side. Then again, he is pretty unpredictable.

Do you dare approacheth the grazing adult troll in his not-so-natural habitat?

Comments

[highbloods.livejournal.com]

A psychic ability? He grinned. Of course, certain lowbloods were gifted with such powers from time to time, so it didn't surprise him. It did seem like fighting her would become a bit of a nuisance, though.

Also, she was provoking him. Yeah, he knew it, and he just cannot resist a good provoking.

"DON'T YOU ALL MOTHERFUCKING WORRY, SISTER. I'm just getting all warmed up here." Flash stepping seemed to be a good way to test the waters, and he soon appeared in front of her, fist drawn back and ready to swing.

[entropied]

She tries to dodge again, but this time she isn't quite fast enough, and his fist hits her ear. It isn't a direct hit, but it still makes her ear ring and the side of her head ache.

The Handmaid stumbles back, sneering, and aims a blast of energy at his chest.

[highbloods.livejournal.com]

He's ready for an attack of a psychic kind, so he dodges it -- but not quite fast enough, and the blast hits him square on the shoulder. He lets out a loud snarl. It's starting to become sort of a game, where they exchange blows but not quite hit each other right on the mark, and quite frankly, the highblood is not cool with that.

Without a weapon though, he's only limited to fighting with his body, though it's safe to say that he's got quite a deadly one. Claws out, he charges forward, leaning his head down slightly so once he draws close he could attempt to rear his head back up and attack with his twisted horns.

[entropied]

The Handmaid smirks as her blast connects with his shoulder. Luckily, his next attack is made pretty obvious by his body language, so she manages to jump back in time. He has a clear advantage over her this close, so she takes to the air. Of course, the ceiling limits her, and it wouldn't be difficult for him to grab her ankle and yank her down, but she'll take any distance she can get.

"That's a bit of a primitive move, isn't it?"

[highbloods.livejournal.com]

"Nothing wrong with the motherfucking basics," the highblood growls, reaching up to try and snag her by an ankle. "JUST GOTTA MOTHERFUCKING MAKE DO WITH ALL THAT NATURE MOTHERFUCKING GAVE YOU, if you aren't all in possession of any motherfucking weapons."

[entropied]

She rolls her eyes and scoffs, yanking her ankle out of the way and sending another blast of psionic energy at him. "I prefer my way."

[highbloods.livejournal.com]

"Then you motherfucking stick to it sister!" He laughed, ducking from the blast. It singed his hair, but he managed to avoid a direct hit. There's little else he can do except throw things at her, but he decided to wait first.