05-28-2007, 01:10 AM
It all started as a nap down by the little lake, where Cold figured that both of their electicity-based weapons would present them with some sort of advantage. He didn't expect the moonlight, lynched just over the murky waters, to seize the attention of the bitch and her cobalt-fleshed companion the way it did. He didn't even plan to stick around water with the shock rifle, fate just had a funny way of twisting events in favor of its own delight.
"My shit's just dangling, look at it." Cold expressed his thoughts quite well enough, trying his best to remain headstrong. Tears welled up in his eyes as he sat on the idea of discarding his arm, but then there was the chance that he could repair what damage he'd sustained to a point of functionality. Blood seeped through his fingers, where he tried to hold the tendons from severing under the burden of his arm. He had to decide his next move quickly. "I'm gonna keep it."
It was like no other pain Cold could describe. The fires of hell were one thing, while having your face disfigured and an eyeball melt in your head was another, but having your shoulder blown out of is intended position was nothing light. Purple oozed from the wound and dripped down the length of his arm as Koola lead them, treading carefully now to best avoid conflict. If worse came to worse and KC had no choice he'd wrench the arm from its place himself and try to mend the remaining wound with the shock rifle. He just hoped that he wouldn't pass out from the blood loss, because that was the last thing he'd needed right now.
"The... blue guy..." he gasped, his breath heavy. There was something seriously wrong with his injury, though he kept in veiled the best he could. Not that he didn't want to show weakness to his son, the unearthly blood that spattered the trail they carved vouched well enough for that. He just didn't want Koola to know the extent of the damage, for his own sake. "His gun was... in my nightmares tonight night.... Only, I was holding it..."
Had it been the work of karma? A dream about a weapon and it would come to him in the same night. He hoped for a way to mend his wounds to arrive by itself.
"If it comes down to you and me I hope you don't hesitate, because then you'd die. Just like that." Cold made a gesture with his fingers pointing at Koola, where his thumb clicked down to signify his demise.
Cold wheezed and coughed, spitting blood to the side and licking his parched lips. He reached down to his hip, pulling the silver hip flask that contained his water and taking a swig to ease his throat. Ironically, Cold was getting cold and the perspiration and sweat that doused him was his own. He shuddered under the chill of nightfall and allowed Koola to lead onward.
"If anything I'll get rid of the arm, but lets try to avoid anything that we don't need right now." The mighty King Cold added, longing for the luxury of a cigarette as he had back in Conquest.
"Pops, keep your voice down. We're trying to avoid people out here." Koola reminded the elder changeling.
"My shit's just dangling, look at it." Cold expressed his thoughts quite well enough, trying his best to remain headstrong. Tears welled up in his eyes as he sat on the idea of discarding his arm, but then there was the chance that he could repair what damage he'd sustained to a point of functionality. Blood seeped through his fingers, where he tried to hold the tendons from severing under the burden of his arm. He had to decide his next move quickly. "I'm gonna keep it."
It was like no other pain Cold could describe. The fires of hell were one thing, while having your face disfigured and an eyeball melt in your head was another, but having your shoulder blown out of is intended position was nothing light. Purple oozed from the wound and dripped down the length of his arm as Koola lead them, treading carefully now to best avoid conflict. If worse came to worse and KC had no choice he'd wrench the arm from its place himself and try to mend the remaining wound with the shock rifle. He just hoped that he wouldn't pass out from the blood loss, because that was the last thing he'd needed right now.
"The... blue guy..." he gasped, his breath heavy. There was something seriously wrong with his injury, though he kept in veiled the best he could. Not that he didn't want to show weakness to his son, the unearthly blood that spattered the trail they carved vouched well enough for that. He just didn't want Koola to know the extent of the damage, for his own sake. "His gun was... in my nightmares tonight night.... Only, I was holding it..."
Had it been the work of karma? A dream about a weapon and it would come to him in the same night. He hoped for a way to mend his wounds to arrive by itself.
"If it comes down to you and me I hope you don't hesitate, because then you'd die. Just like that." Cold made a gesture with his fingers pointing at Koola, where his thumb clicked down to signify his demise.
Cold wheezed and coughed, spitting blood to the side and licking his parched lips. He reached down to his hip, pulling the silver hip flask that contained his water and taking a swig to ease his throat. Ironically, Cold was getting cold and the perspiration and sweat that doused him was his own. He shuddered under the chill of nightfall and allowed Koola to lead onward.
"If anything I'll get rid of the arm, but lets try to avoid anything that we don't need right now." The mighty King Cold added, longing for the luxury of a cigarette as he had back in Conquest.
"Pops, keep your voice down. We're trying to avoid people out here." Koola reminded the elder changeling.