Baby, Say Your Prayers
Dec 9, 2020 1:21:29 GMT -5
Post by Zenith on Dec 9, 2020 1:21:29 GMT -5
One murderbird down, Primus only knew how many left to go. The little red death-bird swooped off to parts unknown, leaving Zenith more or less unmolested as he made his way to relative safety.
Except safety, much like a certain cake, was a lie, because there was another fragging bird waiting for him near the organ. This one was bigger, bulkier, and a sight less willing to trash ancient artwork for the sake of a dramatic entrance. That made him instantly more respectable. Of course, all that respect vanished the instant he realized the ugly bird was waiting specifically for him.
An unlikely war erupted in Zee’s processor. On the one side was good ole common sense- every iota of which was screaming at him to get the frag out of here. He had onboard weaponry, for Primus’ sake- why wasn’t he using it to blast the walls out?! Stubbornness and childish defiance had banded forces on the opposite side. Who was this bird, they demanded, and what gave him the right to look down his beak at anyone? He was a bird. He shat on newspapers and ate literal garbage. He had no leg to stand on! On and on the two sides skirmished, neither willing to give an inch, until the scales finally tipped in precisely the wrong direction.
Primus save him, even he could tell this was a bad idea, but something had to give and it wasn’t gonna be him!
Zenith stalked straight over to the Phantom, meeting the undead-looking avian’s gaze with a flat stare of his own. Yep, those bladed wing feathers looked just as nasty up-close and personal. If anything they looked nastier when in such close proximity to his optics. He was just... not gonna examine those too closely. It was a lot easier to look righteously torqued off when you weren’t wondering what a knife through the throat would feel like, and right now? He wanted to look ready to throw down.
Whether he succeeded or not was a completely different question, and one he didn’t care to examine too closely.
“Alright, you glitcher,” Zee growled, teal optics narrowed behind his goggles, “Cut the slag. Either take a swing at me or don’t, but quit the whole- creepy haunted house Pit-slag. You’re scarin’ people!”
And if he found a certain grim schadenfreude in defying the bird’s apparent expectations, well, could anyone really blame him? Zee Had A Thing about bullies.the kind of Thing that usually ended in tragedy
((I'll Loan Ur Wordz, 'schadenfruede', 418 words))
Except safety, much like a certain cake, was a lie, because there was another fragging bird waiting for him near the organ. This one was bigger, bulkier, and a sight less willing to trash ancient artwork for the sake of a dramatic entrance. That made him instantly more respectable. Of course, all that respect vanished the instant he realized the ugly bird was waiting specifically for him.
An unlikely war erupted in Zee’s processor. On the one side was good ole common sense- every iota of which was screaming at him to get the frag out of here. He had onboard weaponry, for Primus’ sake- why wasn’t he using it to blast the walls out?! Stubbornness and childish defiance had banded forces on the opposite side. Who was this bird, they demanded, and what gave him the right to look down his beak at anyone? He was a bird. He shat on newspapers and ate literal garbage. He had no leg to stand on! On and on the two sides skirmished, neither willing to give an inch, until the scales finally tipped in precisely the wrong direction.
Primus save him, even he could tell this was a bad idea, but something had to give and it wasn’t gonna be him!
Zenith stalked straight over to the Phantom, meeting the undead-looking avian’s gaze with a flat stare of his own. Yep, those bladed wing feathers looked just as nasty up-close and personal. If anything they looked nastier when in such close proximity to his optics. He was just... not gonna examine those too closely. It was a lot easier to look righteously torqued off when you weren’t wondering what a knife through the throat would feel like, and right now? He wanted to look ready to throw down.
Whether he succeeded or not was a completely different question, and one he didn’t care to examine too closely.
“Alright, you glitcher,” Zee growled, teal optics narrowed behind his goggles, “Cut the slag. Either take a swing at me or don’t, but quit the whole- creepy haunted house Pit-slag. You’re scarin’ people!”
And if he found a certain grim schadenfreude in defying the bird’s apparent expectations, well, could anyone really blame him? Zee Had A Thing about bullies.