Arkus turned towards her and said, “Did you really think I didn’t notice you eavesdropping that night? I even thinned the barrier around our room so you could hear.”
Called it!
So, Director Sheldon, I trust you’ve already sent out a recon team?
This is the part where I confess that I totally read that as "Director Shieldon" the first time.
“That’s not quite what I mean.” Alpha-Fourteen rubbed her earlobe and bit her lip. “Through whatever mechanism of hormones and other biological factors – something I’m sure you would understand better than I – I have developed deeper feelings for you, ones that, in the old society, would have been consummated with marriage.”
Beta-Five’s face whitened, and he stepped back into the wall. “Wh – what are you saying?”
“I’m not asking for an answer now. I just want you to give it some thought.”
“B-b-but the preparations, and the memory wipe, and, and why now?”
“I know I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry, but there might not be another chance. If you want me to, I can erase this memory for you, so it’s like I never asked.”
Beta-Five took a deep breath and placed a hand over his eyes. “I – I need time to think about this. Then maybe.”
I smell a possible spanner in the works. Smells kinda wrenchy.
“We-we-well, um, hold on.” Beta-Five went into the other room for a drink and tipped the nearest container he could find into his mouth, only to spit out the acetone.“We-we-well, um, hold on.” Beta-Five went into the other room for a drink and tipped the nearest container he could find into his mouth, only to spit out the acetone.
LOL GJ NERD
“I have to – I have to calm down,” he told himself. “Get some water. Not acetone, water.”
Yes, B5. Those are two different things. Gosh that whole mishap amuses me. Especially considering how it contrasts with him telling psykitty he's going to be put to sleep when the reality is he's slated to be
put to sleep.
Hands shaking, he tried to tell the kitchen unit to prepare a glass of water, but instead, he got a bottle of root beer.
I'm beginning to think making me crave root beer is your mission in life.
“If I just had some of his blood,” she mused to herself. She shook the thought from her head. He wouldn’t give her his blood, nor would he happen to have it lying around.
Or would he? The thought slithered into her mind like a snake and struck. She rationalized the existence of some hidden stash of his blood, waiting for the day she was old enough, then she pondered where he would keep it. Once she had wiped the blood onto some toilet paper and flushed it away, she walked up to her parents’ room.
And here I thought, for whatever reason, she was actually going to resort to getting dadstabby.
Meanwhile I can't help but suspect she's not going to get away with this snooping any more than she did her last.
“You know there’s another option,” another zoroark pointed out. “Just have her drink your blood already. You should’ve done it when she was born, if you ask me.”
“I won’t allow that until I’m sure Darkrai is no more. We have no other means to defend ourselves if it returns.”
Little does he know his daughter's already channeling her inner vampire even as he speaks. Whoopsy doopsy!
Chihiro licked her lips, and her eyes widened as she tasted the blood. Then she looked up and saw her unchanged hands.
“It didn’t work,” she said.
Aye. Should be interesting to find out why not.
Thousands of skeletons rested in the dusty chairs, their jaws contorted into their dying screams. Some had left their chairs and crawled towards the doors, and others held each other in their arms. A few had blown their own brains out with guns that were still held within their bony clutches.
He stumbled away from the scene and knocked over a skeleton next to the door. The tiny, frail skull bounced along the floor, away from its juvenile frame.
Now there's a memorable image.
Chihiro’s eyes wandered across the table until she saw the straw sitting in her cup. She took it, held it in front of her eyes, and called forth her Aura. It seeped into the straw, warping the plastic and tearing it into strands. Then she wove the strands into a miniature humanoid figure, adding strands of long, thin, dark hair and tiny claws to complete the image of a zoroark. She held the figurine up in her hand, and then she placed it on the table and made it walk forward.
“Wow,” Serisen said. “Can you make it do more stuff?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, dance?”
Chihiro waved her hand, and the figurine waved its limbs in a clumsy jig. After a few steps, it teetered towards the edge of a table and tumbled off.
And there's another one.