The Cross Cloaked in Mists
01-18-2014, 08:56 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-18-2014, 10:17 AM by Sucre I.)
Carlito "Sucre" Dalibor
The angel turned on him with a rage that caught him off guard. She snarled, teeth bared, and glared at him like he was some kind of filth stuck to her paw. Her words were sneered, spit at him and loaded with irritation. Beneath the prickly counter he sensed distrust, a feeling he understood as a rogue. Immediately he saw his tactics would get him nowhere and shifted gears. Sucre sat down and wrapped his tail around his paws, the picture of gentle intent. He chose not to be offended by her actions and went as far as to ignore them. At least his side of the conversation would be pleasant. She neither had to play along nor play nice, but dammit, this was probably the only conversation he'd get for another few weeks and he was going to wring every last ounce of nice out of it.
"What do you want?" The brute shrugged and came at the question with introspectiveness as if she had posed it to him in a thoughtful way. "Oh, I want a lot of things, at a lot of different times. I want to be left alone, but I don't want to be alone always. I want to run, to always run, but I want to sit still and watch time pass. I want a family, but I remember how horribly shitty they are and think 'nah, no you don't'." Crimson eyes had drifted away while he spoke, but now they came back, resting on the angry mist princess. He studied her, taking extreme care not to come across as invasive. He didn't want her flying at his face trying to claw his eyes out.
Her eyes were violet and the strangest he'd ever seen. The brute got comments for the color of his eyes all the time, but hers? Hers were beautiful. He didn't even know what to compare them to. What thing in nature bared the same color? Flowers? Winged insects? Perhaps the setting sun, just before it fell behind the horizon. The rest of her was equally enchanting and feminine in a way he would have appreciated more had she been in a better mood. For now his only goal was to lift her spirits. Perhaps another day he'd try for her heart. "I want a conversation, but I don't want to get my head bitten off. One as lovely as yourself though? I may take it and go to Hell smiling."
The angel turned on him with a rage that caught him off guard. She snarled, teeth bared, and glared at him like he was some kind of filth stuck to her paw. Her words were sneered, spit at him and loaded with irritation. Beneath the prickly counter he sensed distrust, a feeling he understood as a rogue. Immediately he saw his tactics would get him nowhere and shifted gears. Sucre sat down and wrapped his tail around his paws, the picture of gentle intent. He chose not to be offended by her actions and went as far as to ignore them. At least his side of the conversation would be pleasant. She neither had to play along nor play nice, but dammit, this was probably the only conversation he'd get for another few weeks and he was going to wring every last ounce of nice out of it.
"What do you want?" The brute shrugged and came at the question with introspectiveness as if she had posed it to him in a thoughtful way. "Oh, I want a lot of things, at a lot of different times. I want to be left alone, but I don't want to be alone always. I want to run, to always run, but I want to sit still and watch time pass. I want a family, but I remember how horribly shitty they are and think 'nah, no you don't'." Crimson eyes had drifted away while he spoke, but now they came back, resting on the angry mist princess. He studied her, taking extreme care not to come across as invasive. He didn't want her flying at his face trying to claw his eyes out.
Her eyes were violet and the strangest he'd ever seen. The brute got comments for the color of his eyes all the time, but hers? Hers were beautiful. He didn't even know what to compare them to. What thing in nature bared the same color? Flowers? Winged insects? Perhaps the setting sun, just before it fell behind the horizon. The rest of her was equally enchanting and feminine in a way he would have appreciated more had she been in a better mood. For now his only goal was to lift her spirits. Perhaps another day he'd try for her heart. "I want a conversation, but I don't want to get my head bitten off. One as lovely as yourself though? I may take it and go to Hell smiling."