towerofanimus | not interested in deep conversations

Entry tags:

not interested in deep conversations

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?

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[Ah... well... there are NOT MANY ways to send a brownblooded troll like the Summoner into highblood style rage but... LUCKY FOR YOU, trying to take out his wings is definitely one of those ways]

[SO YEAH the second he realizes what the Highblood is trying to do he absolutely loses his shit, wings beating frantically against his hand, wood piece clattering to the ground forgotten]

[And then the Highblood's dropped him, and he hits the ground too. He should stop here. There's pain rolling in heady waves down his back. He can't think can't think it's too loud suddenly. He doesn't know how far the subjugglator got and that makes something shriek in absolute panic at the back of his head. There is nothing he fears more then being grounded again!]

[But the panic just adds to the clattering roar his thoughts have become, and without pausing the moment (or... you know... hour or two) that he should, he goes after the Highblood. There is no tactic to it, just a mindless attack, claws brandished, pulling chunks out of the Highblood's skin where and if he can manage it without slowing down. Really, he's only got eyes for your throat now, bro ('8 Good job]

[The sight is awe-inspiring. Quite a fitting feral expression that he loves, at least, in comparison to the annoying smirks. Even when claws rip into his skin and send searing pains down to the bone, he laughs and laughs, cackling and coughing. He retaliates, punching and clawing in return. Maybe he'll find another opportunity to rip the wings out!

If there's one thing he loves about fighting, it's all the emotions and sensations he feels. He can't back down now, even if it kills him. Who would've thought such a low blood would provoke such feelings in him? It was sick how each time he drew blood, he could only imagine swirling it around his fingers and covering his walls with it. It was sick because it was such a shitty color.

For now, he just keeps laughing and laughing and laughing.]

[He's screaming]

[Well... someone's screaming. There's sort of a disconnect about who exactly it is. It's probably him though, cause the Highblood's just... laughing... and that sound keeps raking down his back like its own set of claws. He can feel exhaustion, maybe blood loss, creeping in, turning the edges of his vision grey. But he's pretty fuzzy on why that would be a thing that's happening too]

[His thoughts have narrowed down to a grand total of two things: panic about whether or not he'll still be able to fly. And wanting to wreck someone's shit. He doesn't even have the sense to care who at this point. The Highblood is just the closest thing at the moment]

[Takes the latest punch, trying to ignore the way the ground tilts rather sickly as he stumbles away, and then he's using the remains of a table to... launch himself at the Highblood's shoulder, trying to climb up high enough that he can finally grab him by the throat!!]

[He enjoys the screaming. It shows the highblood that lowbloods are certainly not at all as timid and meek as he assumed most were, and it makes the fight all the more worth it. It sends an almost distracting tingle down his spine.

His laughing stops abruptly when the Summoner throws himself at him, latching onto his throat, and feels himself lose his balance. Then a dizzying sensation washes over him suddenly. It's only natural, though, since he's lost a lot of blood and taken a lot of hits. His body is tempting him to call it quits.

Not willing to let the Summoner jump away or anything, he grasps at one of his arms, trying to yank him off, but then his back hits the floor with a loud thud. His mind reels, willing his body to move despite its obviously slow response.]

[He doesn't quite have the head to try to fight off the hand trying to drag him away, so he does get yanked off the Highblood's throat at least. But he manages to dig his free hand in around the other troll's collarbone before he can get any further]

[And as they hit the ground, he also locks his knees around him as best he can, and bites down on his shirt... thing... HE'S NOT GOING NOWHERE BRO, and in fact he's trying to drag himself back up the Highblood's body by the poor subjugglator's collar, struggling against the hand still holding him back]

[God what the fuck stupid clingy latching lowblood...! He growls loudly as the claws dig into his collarbone and teeth press into his shirt. Thankfully it's quite thick, and prevents any real damage. It seems pulling the smaller troll off of him is going to take a lot more work than just pulling, seeing as the Summoner's got his entire body very much attached to his.

The temptation to grasp at the folded wings is strong, but he can't really handle another round of the earlier freakout, as much as he hates to admit it. His body is not responding as well as he'd like since the adrenaline has slowly vanished. So instead, he just tightens his grip on the Summoner's arm and just sort of bears through the pain on his collar, his breathing coming out in ragged intervals. He isn't moving much, but his mind is racing.

With a burst of strength, he takes advantage of their closeness to try and flip their position.]

[fff poor Highblood. Literally the only thing keeping the Summoner going right is adrenaline! It will be a terrible moment when it finally runs out]

[But uh... oh fuck???? Even through the buzz in his head he knows he can't take the Highblood's weight, especially not when his whole back feels like it's burning, pain adding more and more fuzz to the exhaustion grey around his vision. God he can't think he doesn't know how to stop him aaaaaaaah]

[At the last moment, he drops one leg and tries to dig his boot into that original knee injury, hoping that'll discourage him from having to put weight on it. It may be too late though. The plan did not exactly come to him quickly!]

[He roars at the pain digging into his leg, and stops mid-roll. His rage suddenly flares, and he yanks at the Summoner's arm in a very bad and unnatural direction. So yes, the Summoner did succeed in not being crushed by the Highblood's weight, but really. What did you gain from all this, huh???]

[NOT BEING CRUSHED OKAY. HE'S HAD DISLOCATED BONES BEFORE. CRUSHING IS WAY HARDER TO COME BACK FROM OKAY OKAY]

[He doesn't even try to to stop himself from shouting in pain, as another wave of exhaustion rolling through him. It ends up sounding more like a sob then anything, actually]

[He can't do much else except dig his claws in at the Highblood's collar and his boot in at the knee. His wings start thrashing though, pain nearly knocking him out each time that fucking ripped up joint turns. But at least he might be able to catch the Highblood's arm, make him loosen up a little. Just gotta... keep fighting keep fighting]

[The aesop here is LOWBLOODS ARE STUBBORN DICKS SOMETIMES]

[FINE WHATEVER SEE IF I CARE, YOU JUST SIT THERE WITH YOUR DISLOCATED ARM THEN!!!!!!

Yep, that pathetic sound the Summoner makes is more than enough to satisfy the highblood. At least he can hear the exhaustion in the poor thing's voice, so he knows he's close to finishing this.

But damnit those wings again! They kind of get in the way of everything and that annoying throbbing pain in his neck and chest area coupled with the bright red hot pain in his leg is seriously making this difficult. Why do you gotta be such a pain in the ass, lowblood?!! He finally releases the dislocated arm, knowing it'll at least be useless for a while, but offers a swift punch to the side of his face to loosen HIS grip]

Get your disgusting motherfucking fingers off my person, SHITBLOOD. [He manages to cough out.]

Edited 2011-12-14 07:32 (UTC)

[YEAH WELL he can hear the exhaustion in the Highblood's voice too, and it MAKES HIM LAUGH!!! Even if it's just short and bitterly angry, there is triumph underneath it. Fuck you, highblood, you punched him in the face, fine it honestly barely registers around the rest of it, but you forget why he was clinging in the first place]

[Dazed and wobbling and in so much pain he can't even really see straight anymore, he shifts up that extra few inches and wraps his hand around the Highblood's throat again. FUCK. YOU. YOU BEST STOP HIM BEFORE HE GETS HIS CLAWS INTO THIS TOO]

[A little miffed by the fact that his punches are doing little to nothing, he tries to think of a better tacti-- oh ok, too late, there are fingers around his throat now. Fingers that have sharp ends. Shit ok what do--

He does a drastic move, surprised at himself that it's come to this, and he reaches both arms around the Summoner into what seems like a bear hug, but this is far farrrr from a friendly embrace. His own claws are out and he digs them into the Summoner's back, slowly kneading the soft flesh near the base of the wings with sharp nails in hopes of drawing out the pain in an agonizingly slow manner. He always felt that dishing out quick and frantic hits only worked so well for so long, and that slow, torturous ways were so much more painful.]

[AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH FUUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKK]

[His response is immediate, hand tightening around the Highblood's throat, claws digging in, and... well this is probably really dumb. There's just as much a chance he knocks himself out as stops the pain, but he just don't give a shit no more]

[Bro, you're headbutted as hard as he possibly can. Which is pretty damn hard when his wings are on the line!!!]

[The highblood chokes, spitting up indigo blood as the nails in his neck digs deep into and past the thin skin. This would've been fine the way it was, he really thought so, but once the Summoner rears his head back to motherfucking headbutt him, he can't really think straight and his hands fall away from the wings. Sure, he's still conscious -- barely -- but now with the more immediate threat of having his throat ripped to shreds, his hands clamp around the Summoner's wrist and twists, hoping to snap it.]

[Hey]

[Hey Highblood]

[You know that smile? That you give to your victims? The really awful one, when you're really enjoying yourself? The one people are afraid of?]

[That's the exact smile the Summoner is giving you when he sees all that purple blood spilling out your mouth 8>]

[And it even stays there, after his wrist gets twisted and he has to let go so it doesn't snap, a pained wheeze escaping between his teeth. His mind spins for a second about what to do, and... welp, since his other arm got fucked up and there isn't any other way he can think of to make the Highblood let go... he's gonna just... take a bite out of his arm!]

[ARE YOU HAPPY YOU GOT INTO THIS FIGHT NOW???]

[It's quite chilling to say the least, yes, but hey. He's not afraid. It's been a long time since anyone gave him such a good time. Or a lot of trouble. Either one works. Even if he's not returning the grin at the moment, he finds the expression to be very exciting.

He lets out a pained groan when his arm is bitten, but retaliates with another hit to his face. Since the Summoner has little use of his arms, there isn't much holding him down, and the highblood tries to rise from his lying position on the floor to a sitting one. Sure, it's kinda awkward with some dude latched onto your arm by their teeth, but his plan is to try and switch their places again by slamming the lowblood into the ground.]

[welp... this time the punch does its thing and he lets go. Or... well, he doesn't really let go, but his mouth goes slack against the Highblood's arm anyway. Given the size of his teeth though, they're probably still stuck in whatever holes he managed to make...]

[Actually his whole body goes kind of slack all of a sudden, just kinda... leaning against dis arm here, going all peaceful and silent. There is something numb and resigned waking up in his chest. He's okay with whatever happens now. If he dies, at least he knows he gave the Highblood hell. At least he knows he'll probably have a bit of trouble screaming with his throat half ripped out. HEH, that's actually pretty funny when he thinks on it]

[But then the other troll is shifting again, and while he doesn't brace himself for whatever the plan is, he is more or less aware of what's happening by the movement of his limbs if not by sight. His feet touch the ground as the Highblood sits up and... he still doesn't move, not for what feels like a long pain filled moment]

[And then, with one (probably) last rather monumental rush of adrenalin and strength, he rolls onto his feet, pulling the Highblood's hand still latched to his wrist with him and... kicks him in the chest. He's aiming for somewhere around the Highblood's throat or the aggravated marks on his collar where he'd hung on so long]

[But god knows he's tired enough, he almost doesn't care if he hits his mark. And regardless what happens, his legs give out immediately afterwards, toppling him back to the floor. He's just... so tired, you know?]

[The Grand Highblood barely had time to register the lack of resistance in his arm. His gaze shot downward at the still and silent troll, and should've felt triumph, but there is no such feelings. Instrad, he just felt irritated and tired, his energy depleted so badly by a mere lowblood. Even killing Orphaner hadn't been this difficult, though that was probably because the sea dweller hadn't seen it coming.

Speaking of which...

Jesus Christ. The highblood's eyes widen just a fraction at the sudden movement from the nearly unconscious troll and makes a last second attempt to brace himself for the blow. There's a bit of pressure against his chest when it connects, and had he not been injured so badly, it would've felt like nothing, but the wounds caused him to hack and wheeze in pain.

He raises a hand to strike again, but the Summoner had already crumpled to the ground. Suddenly, he finds little motivation to finish him and without a sound, the highblood picks himself off the floor, not even caring if the Summoner decided to give chase. Slowly, he lumbers out the door leaving a bloody trail. The last thing he wants is to be sleeping within the close vicinity of another troll.]

Edited 2011-12-15 05:48 (UTC)

[He thinks about it! About chasing him. He thinks about it really damn hard. If thoughts could become solid, there would be a brick wall of CHASE hurtling after the Highblood. Because if he's retreating, that must mean he's really hurt, right? It'd be so so easy to finish him off... So easy...]

[...]

[...nnnnnnope. No way. There's no way he can make himself get up again. He's lucky he's even conscious enough to watch the Highblood's back, much less try to follow him]

[So he just... lays there and drifts in and out. Eventually, his hand starts going numb and he forces himself to sit up against one of the broken tables. It takes a couple tries but eventually he snaps his shoulder back into place. That final burst of pain twists his stomach, makes him want to puke, but instead he just... laughs]

[HE'S STILL ALIVE. It's a sudden revelation around the cotton in his head, and he decides right then and there that it is literally the best thought he has ever had. He is basically doing this (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rR44oOYjvOw) as he finally gives up, and slams into unconsciousness. Good night, Highblood. Until next time!!!]

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not interested in deep conversations

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whoops i thought i lost this tag. re-editing!

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