05-26-2006, 02:33 PM
The sun rose, and the day dawned crimson enough to make even the most seasoned sea captain turn his ship around and sail hard for safer waters. Fingers of radiant light slowly crepy across the forest, turning it a brilliant amber before they relaxed their hold as the sun rose high into the air. It stared down like a hot, bloody eye on the island, watching... Waiting.
"Don't pick at it," Violet admonished him again for what felt like the trillionth time.
Buu scowled but lowered his fingers from his face. Sure, it was all well and good for the bitch to say that, but she wasn't the one who was bleeding for God's sake! "I wasn't picking at it," he grumbled instead of voicing his opinion. Was it bleeding more? He couldn't tell. He couldn't see it, and repressed the urge to scream in frustration.
He was sitting on a small log at the edge of an impromptu camp. He was surprised just how many people they had managed to assemble in such a short amount of time. There were even some characters that he'd had no idea existed within the ranks of Civil Unrest. His eyes hovered over "Jackie" before he fished out another cigarette from his puttalin body. He was through how many now? Eight? Nine? He'd lost track.
As a pleasant kiss of nicotine wafted through his lungs, Buu shuddered. He wondered if he had those things now too. He reached up involuntarily to brush his fingers across the slightly raised, shallow cut across his cheek. Oh sure, real easy for her to say, his mind growled, abruptly returning to the previous subject. For someone who had had the ability to regenerate from a single particle, the idea that something so simple as a cut could make him suffer was horrifying. He could be hurt! He looked quickly at the others in the group at this disturbing thought.
Even now, could they be plotting something against him?
"Don't pick at it," Violet admonished him again for what felt like the trillionth time.
Buu scowled but lowered his fingers from his face. Sure, it was all well and good for the bitch to say that, but she wasn't the one who was bleeding for God's sake! "I wasn't picking at it," he grumbled instead of voicing his opinion. Was it bleeding more? He couldn't tell. He couldn't see it, and repressed the urge to scream in frustration.
He was sitting on a small log at the edge of an impromptu camp. He was surprised just how many people they had managed to assemble in such a short amount of time. There were even some characters that he'd had no idea existed within the ranks of Civil Unrest. His eyes hovered over "Jackie" before he fished out another cigarette from his puttalin body. He was through how many now? Eight? Nine? He'd lost track.
As a pleasant kiss of nicotine wafted through his lungs, Buu shuddered. He wondered if he had those things now too. He reached up involuntarily to brush his fingers across the slightly raised, shallow cut across his cheek. Oh sure, real easy for her to say, his mind growled, abruptly returning to the previous subject. For someone who had had the ability to regenerate from a single particle, the idea that something so simple as a cut could make him suffer was horrifying. He could be hurt! He looked quickly at the others in the group at this disturbing thought.
Even now, could they be plotting something against him?
![[Image: Bellesig6-1.jpg]](http://i238.photobucket.com/albums/ff137/catseye543/Bellesig6-1.jpg)