(no subject)

[thundery.livejournal.com]

[ There is a Larxene crouched in this room, the left side of his mouth smeared with blood, gripping locks of silver hair tightly between his gloved fingers. The smell of charred flesh and burnt rubber hangs thick in the air, visible in the hazy grey smoke. It comes from the impact of lightning on skin and armor and bone, shorting out nerves and numbing limbs and blackening the natural wooden floor to a large dark smear.

The replica sprawled across that blackened floor is female, and currently unconscious, but it's obvious she's taken the brunt of whatever bad mood he's in. Her head (and most of her torso) has been lifted off the floor by her hair.

He is not smiling. In fact, his face looks pretty blank for someone usually so expressive when causing others pain. ]

Comments

[thundery.livejournal.com]

Oh, I'm sure. You must be new here, if you've still got that attitude.

[He releases the replica's hair with a rough toss that makes her skull bounce against the floor, straightening up in one fluid move that has him at full height.]

[nocturncoat.livejournal.com]

[And now he's kind of regretting the fact that this Larxene is a guy, because now he's taller than Nocturne.]

Kinda, yeah. Also, you know, generally one doesn't come across a murder in progress behind random doors even here.

[thundery.livejournal.com]

You haven't even started on what goes on in this place from day to day.

[He crosses his arms and leans back to stretch out his spine, keeping his hands out in case he needs to quickly summon his knives.]

And it's not murder.

[nocturncoat.livejournal.com]

Oh, that's right, I forgot. You don't like to break your toys too fast.

[thundery.livejournal.com]

That's better. I guess you can learn after all.