"IT MEANS you owe and NEED an Initiate. JUST AS THE VANTAS WILL SHOULD HE CONCEDE AND FIND EQUAL INTEREST IN ASH AS YOU. On I, you are MOTHERFUCKING DEPENDENT," he explains with exasperation and a noticeable bit of distaste. "AND IT MEANS SO LONG AS THIS STANDS, YOU WILL ABIDE, or be killed you Mirth damned may be. OUGHT AT TO MIND, this is still a game of death." Meaning he makes no promises for a relationship he has no idea will even come to fruition, nevermind survive the arena. He really would rather kill the two himself, but if they refuse to listen and take on a black quadrant unwanted, then it would be just as likely they'd kill each other instead. He's here to auspisticize not play motherfucking lusus.
He leads Cuthbert to his district floor and, making no indication of whether or not Cuthbert should stay or follow, heads towards his block. He doesn't bother with the door latch, just giving it a kick. The door, surprisingly, concedes to this and swings open to a dark room, apparently having taken enough of this sort of abuse that it accommodates.
If Cuthbert squints, he may note that the place is a mess; there are claw marks and streaks of colored paint on much of the furniture, some of which has been toppled and shoved about. It's entirely possibly it had been even worse at one point, and the unfortunate Avox who'd been dispatched to his room was trying to reach some term of compromise by leaving the large pile of linen and pillows stripped from the now bare bed, and various other less cozy items, undisturbed, if the Initiate would only, for the love of god, leave the furniture unbroken please. Some of the walls too, appear half scrubbed clean and half painted in wild messes of color and imagery.
Fraysong, as fond as he may be of the written word, is in no way kind to the books. He lets them fall atop his pile without grace or dignity, some sliding off and away in futile attempt to escape. He stalks back to Cuthbert (wherever he may have chosen to wait) and growls, "TELL at him you have inkling in your pan to where the wriggler is. HAVE NO FEAR SIGNATURE TO PULL THE FUCK OFF OF HERE." Whichever directions Cuthbert shares is the direction he's going.
no subject
He leads Cuthbert to his district floor and, making no indication of whether or not Cuthbert should stay or follow, heads towards his block. He doesn't bother with the door latch, just giving it a kick. The door, surprisingly, concedes to this and swings open to a dark room, apparently having taken enough of this sort of abuse that it accommodates.
If Cuthbert squints, he may note that the place is a mess; there are claw marks and streaks of colored paint on much of the furniture, some of which has been toppled and shoved about. It's entirely possibly it had been even worse at one point, and the unfortunate Avox who'd been dispatched to his room was trying to reach some term of compromise by leaving the large pile of linen and pillows stripped from the now bare bed, and various other less cozy items, undisturbed, if the Initiate would only, for the love of god, leave the furniture unbroken please. Some of the walls too, appear half scrubbed clean and half painted in wild messes of color and imagery.
Fraysong, as fond as he may be of the written word, is in no way kind to the books. He lets them fall atop his pile without grace or dignity, some sliding off and away in futile attempt to escape. He stalks back to Cuthbert (wherever he may have chosen to wait) and growls, "TELL at him you have inkling in your pan to where the wriggler is. HAVE NO FEAR SIGNATURE TO PULL THE FUCK OFF OF HERE." Whichever directions Cuthbert shares is the direction he's going.