Intro Overflow: May

[moustre]

Intro Log: May, Overflow

Comments

[bluffer]

[ Mommy?

But he allows her to lead him; like a sheep being eagerly being tugged into the maws of of a wolf, only that he is enthusiastically welcoming the pain. Her nails like needles piercing into his palm, earning an exhale through his nose.

The onlookers are confused, though somewhat cheerful to see their kin embrace his transformation -- a means of survival and adaptation. ]

Ah? You wanted to pull me all the way here just to know my name? You could have made it sweet and easy back there... unless that fire made you warm in more places than one. [ But joking aside, he raises a hand in protest before he attempts to aim for his eyes -- or anywhere. ] Belial. My name is Belial.

[guillotine]

[ no only Daddy ]

Good.

[ Beginning to feel as if she's regained some control or at least the illusion of it, the toxic needlepoint rage abates bit by bit. From her short, shallow breathing to the dilated pupils and trembling hands, someone educated and foolish enough to point it out might ask if she's showing signs of a panic attack.

Perversely, leaning into Belial's gut like this provides her with an anchor. He swims in and out of her sight, distantly beautiful and hot under her fingers and too goddamned real to doubt. ]

Thank you for answering promptly. I led you here because of a nasty habit you've got of grabbing at me. That's twice tonight and once before!

[bluffer]

[ Well Belial is educated... and foolish... Hello? ]

Uh -- [ His hands lift up, noticing the scales and the shape of his finger nails curling in and becoming sharp enough to tear through flesh -- how he's managed not to hurt her so far must have been due to the slow process of the transformation. ] Chill out.

[ Dying down, he begins to slowly revert back to his man-made body. Not by choice, of course, but rather his body is forcing itself; a process done subconsciously. ]

Are you that upset about it?

[guillotine]

[ Stop swimming, she almost demands, but of course he's not going anywhere. Nel doesn't panic, ever. This must just be a heightened fight response... fading adrenaline, the way her legs used to go weak when she was young, younger, and killing where necessary still weighed on her conscience; here, there's no one to attack or a solution to discover. The sustained aggression has no safe release. Belial is the target she needs, and he cannot leave. Nel won't let him.

It really, really doesn't help when his transformation begins reversing and she's got to wonder whether that's really happening. Her eyes flick rapidly between his face and vanishing talons. ]

I'm... calm. [ In control. She puts her weight behind the fist in his shirt, blindly urging him backward until either he retaliates or his spine hits the alley. ]

But I'm not happy, and I forgot-- you tried to put your dirty mouth on me! That makes four.