19.Feb.12, 08:02 AM
Second Rate Attack Egg
Despite the intense heat of the sands, the second Kuminari's fingertips brush this egg incredible freezing cold strikes deep into the core of her body. It is brutal and violent, as if the dragon within the egg seeks no company or solace in those who try to touch it. Persistency to touch the egg drives the cold deeper and harder into the body, tendrils as cold as between snaking in and wrapping around the heart. If Kuminari manages to not recoil violently from the shocking cold, or places her hands on again and keeps them there, she will find the cold bombardment eventually lifts, becoming just cool enough to counteract the heat of the sands.
Crumbling From The Inside Egg
Andol's initial touch with his fingertips rewards him with a very soothing, pleasant feeling. The egg's inhabitant seems happy and content to be with company. When his entire hands come to rest on it however, a more silent and lurking feeling can be felt. Tiny little bubbles pop beneath his hands, like a pot of water boiling, but only gently. With each bubble's pop, a short and sharp burst of anger slaps Andol. Every now and then little whispers of despair breach the chirpy happiness and popping anger, small yet strong enough to instil sadness for the egg in Andol's mind. Prolonged touching of the egg reveals yet another emotion, a tiny, quiet flicker of hope. It's so brief and soft that it may not even be hope, but just a flick of the pleasant-ness of the egg.
Despite the intense heat of the sands, the second Kuminari's fingertips brush this egg incredible freezing cold strikes deep into the core of her body. It is brutal and violent, as if the dragon within the egg seeks no company or solace in those who try to touch it. Persistency to touch the egg drives the cold deeper and harder into the body, tendrils as cold as between snaking in and wrapping around the heart. If Kuminari manages to not recoil violently from the shocking cold, or places her hands on again and keeps them there, she will find the cold bombardment eventually lifts, becoming just cool enough to counteract the heat of the sands.
Crumbling From The Inside Egg
Andol's initial touch with his fingertips rewards him with a very soothing, pleasant feeling. The egg's inhabitant seems happy and content to be with company. When his entire hands come to rest on it however, a more silent and lurking feeling can be felt. Tiny little bubbles pop beneath his hands, like a pot of water boiling, but only gently. With each bubble's pop, a short and sharp burst of anger slaps Andol. Every now and then little whispers of despair breach the chirpy happiness and popping anger, small yet strong enough to instil sadness for the egg in Andol's mind. Prolonged touching of the egg reveals yet another emotion, a tiny, quiet flicker of hope. It's so brief and soft that it may not even be hope, but just a flick of the pleasant-ness of the egg.