ic inbox

[pieous]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, GAMZEE MAKARA. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 420.42.042.04 *** G-MAK has joined 420.42.042.04 <G-MAK> YO, MY RIGHTEOUS BROTHERS AND GODDAMN BITCHES. <G-MAK> if you all is wanting to be all placing at a mother fucking order with me. <G-MAK> LEAVE AT A BROTHER SOME WICKED FUCKING TEXTUALS. <G-MAK> oh and another motherfuckin thing. <G-MAK> SEXTS IS ALWAYS FUCKIN WELCOME. ;o) ▉

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Offline/moved from comm

[soundsurfing]

[Beat glances back to the voice responding, pausing to look at the shit stature of the place]

Dude, yer s'posed to clean up once yer back.

[Sack squirming, Beat drags it further in so he can stand, then drags it along the floor and yeah it's making muffled pained noises as twigs and shit snag on him. One foots peeking out the top and kicking uselessly, even. Without so much a care, Beat drops the guy or girl or whoever he snagged into the hookah pit.]

Brought to you fuckin' fresh, man. [He ducks to miss a bird before it kamikaze's his head, frowning at it before joining Gamzee in the pit, flopping into the pillows. Then making a face to the dust and musty smell. Gross.]

[pieous]

[Without another word, Gamzee moved in a flash, tearing open the sack and fighting briefly with the struggling, panicking human before forcing their arms to the ground and shoving his head into the soft flesh of the person's throat. His razor-sharp fangs tore open their neck, filling the treehouse with screams and spurts of blood as it shot out of their carotid artery.]

[Soon, the screams were silenced, the flailing limbs stilled by the force of the vines restraining them, and the weakness the loss of blood afforded them. Gamzee was covered in blood opposite the color of his own, tearing literal chunks out of the corpse's neck, delighting in the warmth of the meat that had not yet left the body, and the feeling of the twitching veins still under his mouth.]

[soundsurfing]

[To be honest, the scene doesn't even bother Beat anymore. If anything, the scent of the blood makes his nose itch and his mouth water, his eyes narrowing as said blood begins to shoot from the ruined neck like a fountain. He makes a token effort to keep clean, grabbing a pillow out of the pile to hold it up, but all it does is leave a nice neat clean square on him. Thanks for that, Gamzee.

When the screams stop, Beat lowers the pillow and glances over it, huffing that Gamzee's finally chowing down and not just playing in the blood. Which Beat begins trying to wipe off of himself, tongue coming out to catch over stray bits on his arms or fingers, trying to clean his face as well.]

Shit, you coulda 'least turned him some other direction.