i’ll never stop being angry and sad about what happened))
when nothing works use the cute
i will draw all the tricksters ive made up my mind im not changing my decision have a good day))
vali i Drew ur fantrolss trickster
(( im officially back look at this gift while i gather up some will ))
AA: ~~Ugh, Me-No-Speaky-Peasant-Talk. Here-shiny-Coin-You-Make-Me-Cookies.~~
I WILL FUCK UP YoUR SHIT.
(( Yeeaaah, after that long I’d just give up on them I mean realistically character-wise unless like, they had a canon reason for being gone? ))
(( Nah. there’s no real reason in-character for it. ))
(( not all the quads. its’ just that a couple have been really inactive and i mean 6+ months which is all i can take honestly… ))
AA: ~~Actually What I Always Talk About Are Where My Damn Cookies Are, Your Organization Is Terrible.~~
I Do NoT
MAKE. ANY. GoDDAMN CooKIES YoU SHIT.
After a while of following the humming, and eventually the steps you spot your poor victim from a mildly short distance, silently rejoicing since you’re so close to soothe the itch in your hands and chest.
For a moment you wonder: should you get this over with right then and there? You think so. You don’t trust yourself enough to know you will have enough patience to keep your hands off that guy’s neck for too long. You set your drill down for the time being, hands clenching with the burning want to close around the unknown troll’s windpipe. You take the first step to charge at him, although he turns around rather quickly before you can advance any more, forcing you to freeze in place.
Goddammit. He’s looking in your direction. You’re not sure if he can actually see you, though. With that thing over his eyes it’s hard to tell.
There’s no other way than to approach him in peace, you guess. Who knows how quick this guy could run? After a moment of silent staring you try your best calm timbre, “…Not quite, no. I was just patrolling around,” You lie almost in a grumble, advancing whilst your hands twitch slightly. “You almost did trespass, however. But it’s all good. Do you stroll here often?” You quiz, attempting perhaps way too hard not to seem suspicious.
There’s no response for a moment, and generally it creeps you out, but not too much. For all you know it could be an undead that didn’t drop when the sun went down for all you know. Well, that seems pretty illogical of you because you’re trying to ignore the fact that it’s probably a troll- and you can’t fight a troll right now, as while you were healing, your body got a bit weaker, but just in case of anything, you uncaptchaloggue your crossbow and adjust an arrow in it and get yourself ready.
Though, you catch the figure through the brush in your gaze, which is slightly jaded (literally) from the glare on your visor. You adjust the crossbow in your hands, a click being heard as you do so and you also click your tongue on the roof of your mouth and press the bottoms of your boots against the slightly moist dirt- which you assume it had rained earlier because of it. Anyway, he starts to speak and your ears perk, slightly moving the piercings on them.
“Ahh, I see, well hello then..” You narrow your eyes behind your eye wear and slowly lower your crossbow to your side in your right hand- still wary of their presence, only because they stunk of blood and it was irritating your rather sensitive sense of smell. “I’m just walking by.. I live in a village not too far from here, is all and I came out to get some fresh air.”
You sink your teeth in deeper; still shaking heavily with laughter and rage, not aware that your hands on his arms are squeezing tight. It soothes that itch- the pressure, the smell. The taste. The screams.
You yank yourself back quickly with a significant piece of flesh between your fangs, panting. You cough some, feeling how your own blood is trying to come out of your throat, probably due to the first slash he made in what you feel must be close to your stomach. You glare and spit the piece of meat right on his face and smear it over, then pushing yourself away from him and wincing.
You become aware of the amount of cuts he must have made when you were attacking him and flinch, wincing. “F-fuck…fuc—” You get a coughing fit, having to bear yourself up on the wall to hold yourself up.
You lay there screaming when he tears an entire fucking chunk out of your face. Shit you are gonna end up one big walking scar at this rate! The blood and glob of tissue smears your makeup even more horribly, and you drop your weapon to try and get your face to stop bleeding.
Leering as he gets up, you pant and growl. ”you fuckwit” He better get himself fucking stitched up before he all up and goes dying on you. The idiot.
You ignore his petty little insult, trying not to get frustrated because you can’t scream right now, and begin to drag yourself off, keeping your hands on the wall. You’re losing a mild amount of blood so you’ll have to be quick if you don’t want to pass out in the middle of the stitching process.
You were hoping to tear off his whole cheek.