[ why the fuck would you carry those things in your pocket you absolute nutcase
that answer is more than enough to solidify the heavy weight in his stomach.
the climbing on top of the table is just overkill at this point. ]
.... this isn't a game. [ but his voice goes lower, resembling a growl as he steps closer to the table, fingers balled into fists. red markings starting to crawl up his arms, which begin to elongate and morph into something stronger, resembling paws. ]
[off his scarf goes, with a single motion--one hand holding it, the other revealing a elaborate, very sharp, very shiny pocket knife. But even with trembling hands, he brings it to his neck]
Nee-heehee! It was nice chatting with you, Loki! Remember to chew with your mouth closed, alright? There are children watching this!
C------- [ he stops cold in his tracks when he sees that knife go to his throat.
he can't move. even if he could move, he wouldn't be able to move fast enough to stop him. and even if he could... what would be the point?
still. watches in horror as C draws a red line from one end of his throat to the other. and after that, his movements seem too slow and too sluggish as he closes the distance across the table, grabbing for C's arm to pull him across towards him.
what the fuck. what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck ]
Why would you--!? [ he gasps out, completely shaken, but of course he's not getting an answer because C slit his own damn throat right in front of him and he's dead now. ]
[ ................. at least C being dead means that he doesn't have to watch or know as Loki just. stands there with him sprawled over the table for a good long moment, C's wrist still caught in his hand though the knife is long dropped and gone by now.
and his face transforms into a doglike muzzle as clawed paw-hands bring the boy's arm to his mouth,
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
that answer is more than enough to solidify the heavy weight in his stomach.
the climbing on top of the table is just overkill at this point. ]
.... this isn't a game. [ but his voice goes lower, resembling a growl as he steps closer to the table, fingers balled into fists. red markings starting to crawl up his arms, which begin to elongate and morph into something stronger, resembling paws. ]
1/2
he probably has like glass and shit in hidden pockets too, don't. don't eat his cape, there might be a furby hatchling in it.
Tilts his head waaaatching that transformation, eyes widening a bit. He brings his hands up to remove his scarf.]
Aaah, how scary! You must be really hungry--I just wanted to "lose" properly, is all. I'm no good at that game, see.
But oh well, no time for that.
no subject
[off his scarf goes, with a single motion--one hand holding it, the other revealing a elaborate, very sharp, very shiny pocket knife. But even with trembling hands, he brings it to his neck]
Nee-heehee! It was nice chatting with you, Loki! Remember to chew with your mouth closed, alright? There are children watching this!
[and with only another moment's of hesitation
he sure is slitting his own throat]
1/2
he can't move. even if he could move, he wouldn't be able to move fast enough to stop him. and even if he could... what would be the point?
still. watches in horror as C draws a red line from one end of his throat to the other. and after that, his movements seem too slow and too sluggish as he closes the distance across the table, grabbing for C's arm to pull him across towards him.
what the fuck. what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck ]
Why would you--!? [ he gasps out, completely shaken, but of course he's not getting an answer because C slit his own damn throat right in front of him and he's dead now. ]
END
and his face transforms into a doglike muzzle as clawed paw-hands bring the boy's arm to his mouth,
thanks ... for the meal....... ]