20.Apr.13, 06:01 PM
He felt a bitter pain in his leg as S'kef's whip bit into his skin and drew a thin line of blood. Of course, to a very hormone-pumped Oahvakeen, he felt it but didn't bother to comprehend what it was. He didn't care (his normal meek self would have), and his adrenaline wouldn't be so easily stopped.
He tried to lash right back out at the man, aiming where S'kef had previously been and wasn't anymore. Of course, his right-hand hook (a kind of punch) was a miss and had pathetic form.
And then, and then, soothing words!!! Wait, what? He wobbled a bit, his veins pulsing just beneath his skin. It made no sense at all, and his brain struggled to comprehend and adapt to the situation. He felt as if he'd suddenly been transported into a world where everything was made out of beans: it made no sense.
"What? You're trying to trick me!", he tried to escallate the situation back up again to a place where he could violently rampage about. There was a book stacked atop a chair nearby, and he picked it up and hurled it at S'kef. It missed, pathetically, but did make a nice violent ringing shattering sound as it broke through a window and landed in some bushes outside.
"DO IT! DO IT!", he was shouting now, his veins now throbbing and protruding from his skin. Like the hulk, only, still wearing his clothes, not green, and hardly eye-candy. In fact, it was rather grotesque.
"You're S'KEF. The Wherry told me where you are. And I'm not going anywhere. MAKE ME! Do it! I dare you! Or else I'll pummel you into the snow!", why was he shouting again? Oh yeah, because he was angry and he was angry and, wait, he'd already thought that. And he wanted to go home. And he was bored. And he felt insignificant. And he was hurting. And he hadn't hardly slept. The energy expenditures from this whole hissy temper-tantrum were so great that even if S'kef didn't knock him out, he'd be too tired to continue and sleep eventually.
He tried to lash right back out at the man, aiming where S'kef had previously been and wasn't anymore. Of course, his right-hand hook (a kind of punch) was a miss and had pathetic form.
And then, and then, soothing words!!! Wait, what? He wobbled a bit, his veins pulsing just beneath his skin. It made no sense at all, and his brain struggled to comprehend and adapt to the situation. He felt as if he'd suddenly been transported into a world where everything was made out of beans: it made no sense.
"What? You're trying to trick me!", he tried to escallate the situation back up again to a place where he could violently rampage about. There was a book stacked atop a chair nearby, and he picked it up and hurled it at S'kef. It missed, pathetically, but did make a nice violent ringing shattering sound as it broke through a window and landed in some bushes outside.
"DO IT! DO IT!", he was shouting now, his veins now throbbing and protruding from his skin. Like the hulk, only, still wearing his clothes, not green, and hardly eye-candy. In fact, it was rather grotesque.
"You're S'KEF. The Wherry told me where you are. And I'm not going anywhere. MAKE ME! Do it! I dare you! Or else I'll pummel you into the snow!", why was he shouting again? Oh yeah, because he was angry and he was angry and, wait, he'd already thought that. And he wanted to go home. And he was bored. And he felt insignificant. And he was hurting. And he hadn't hardly slept. The energy expenditures from this whole hissy temper-tantrum were so great that even if S'kef didn't knock him out, he'd be too tired to continue and sleep eventually.