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paixaorpg2007-03-18 07:22 pm
cloak-of-white.livejournal.com) wrote in paixaorpg2007-03-18 07:22 pm
Entry tags:
Snark battle of titanic proportions [Complete]
Character(s): Albedo, Larxene
Content: Snark. And fighting.
Setting: Niflheim area, G9
Time: Evening
Warnings: Blood, gore, cursing... These are Albedo and Larxene we're talking about, anything's possible.
A white cloaked shadow stood, leaning against the lamp post and yawning. She was late; not that he minded, he had all the time in the world. But you'd think people would show up on time for their own funerals.
While he'd been waiting, he'd been reading a few things about this sadistic woman. In all honesty, he liked her style; cruel, and without a care in the world for the sheeple. It was enough to make him feel that tingly feeling he so seldom experienced, the feeling of pure joy that living on the edge used to give.
Finally, it seemed, she had arrived. Through the eye-holes of the beak-like mask of his cowl, he made out the black cloak that seemed the signature of this 'organization' that everyone was so intent on figuring out. Albedo couldn't have cared less. All they represented to him was a way out. A way back. And maybe some fun along the way.
"Well well, ma pêche. Have you finally come for our dance? I was beginning to believe you'd stood me up. And that just wouldn't do at all, now would it?"
Content: Snark. And fighting.
Setting: Niflheim area, G9
Time: Evening
Warnings: Blood, gore, cursing... These are Albedo and Larxene we're talking about, anything's possible.
A white cloaked shadow stood, leaning against the lamp post and yawning. She was late; not that he minded, he had all the time in the world. But you'd think people would show up on time for their own funerals.
While he'd been waiting, he'd been reading a few things about this sadistic woman. In all honesty, he liked her style; cruel, and without a care in the world for the sheeple. It was enough to make him feel that tingly feeling he so seldom experienced, the feeling of pure joy that living on the edge used to give.
Finally, it seemed, she had arrived. Through the eye-holes of the beak-like mask of his cowl, he made out the black cloak that seemed the signature of this 'organization' that everyone was so intent on figuring out. Albedo couldn't have cared less. All they represented to him was a way out. A way back. And maybe some fun along the way.
"Well well, ma pêche. Have you finally come for our dance? I was beginning to believe you'd stood me up. And that just wouldn't do at all, now would it?"
no subject
Leaving his lamp post, Albedo made his way toward her. She was, apparently, being truthful; there was indeed evidence of make-up on her face. Irony is always better when there's a kernel of truth to it, after all.
She looked young - far younger than he had expected. Not that he minded, or believed her visible age; being ageless himself, he knew better. And that hair. Gravity defying! He'd have to ask her how she managed to get it to stand up like that.
Reaching up, he waved a hand in front of his mask, which vanished as it passed. A nice trick; all four Testaments were capable of that, though. This revealed his eyes, a remarkable shade of violet, and his hair, pure white; yet another clever pun on his name. "Now, if only we had some appropriate music..." he mused aloud, smirking now where she could see it.