Cassian Ó Loinsigh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
feckinboomstick) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
genessia2016-12-10 03:31 am
feckinboomstick) wrote in genessia2016-12-10 03:31 am
Entry tags:
Accidental Video | Action to ANYONE NEAR HIS SHITTY SHOP
[It's uncomfortable, hearing that wheeze from this channel. The communicator seems to have been carelessly swatted to the floor as he passed by it, considering that it caught the tail end of his retreating shape before it slumped heavily into a chair.
He's gray. Grayer than usual, pale blue in the lips and fingers and obviously cold and sick. Clearly, the steaming drink he has, too dark to be any normal blend of tea, isn't doing whatever job he expected it to.
Whatever is going on, his lips haven't stopped moving once, a shaking hand carefully thumbing each and every bead on the rosary. Prayers, probably.
He has some kind of tic. A constant jerk towards the window, as if he heard something from there, before he digs at an ear with his pinky. Tinnitus maybe? Whatever the issue is, the faded glare finally lands on the blinking light of the communicator, and he hurls a book sitting on the table at it, before struggling to get up and shut the stupid thing off]
Dúr, maith do rud ar bith, briste píosa truflais! Éist suas!
He's gray. Grayer than usual, pale blue in the lips and fingers and obviously cold and sick. Clearly, the steaming drink he has, too dark to be any normal blend of tea, isn't doing whatever job he expected it to.
Whatever is going on, his lips haven't stopped moving once, a shaking hand carefully thumbing each and every bead on the rosary. Prayers, probably.
He has some kind of tic. A constant jerk towards the window, as if he heard something from there, before he digs at an ear with his pinky. Tinnitus maybe? Whatever the issue is, the faded glare finally lands on the blinking light of the communicator, and he hurls a book sitting on the table at it, before struggling to get up and shut the stupid thing off]
Dúr, maith do rud ar bith, briste píosa truflais! Éist suas!
no subject
no subject
[Tannusen cocks his head to one side. He doesn't ask the most obvious and probably expected question, however.]
What religion?
no subject
no subject
...I mean, not really. Is this supposed to be dirty talk or something? You're weird.
[You're the one who asked if he's getting off, Cassian. Phrasing!]
no subject
[HAVE ANOTHER SHOVE]
no subject
[Tannusen laughs at that, and looks around for the knife again. He's not really kidding?]
I mean, that's on you if I get hard from it. You've been warned, man.
no subject
OFF OF ME! GET GO GET NOW!
no subject
[Tannusen stays put.]
How do such tiny little lungs do that? And after all that crap you coughed up. I'm impressed!
no subject
[And back into Gaelic, complete with kicking and thrashing. For shame, picking on a sick man.]
no subject
[Tannusen grins, sharp and mean, and then just lays on Cassian. Oh dear, oh no, gravity... gravity has just caught up with him. Help, Cassian! (No really, someone help Cassian.)]
no subject
no subject
[Tannusen sounds so disappointed. But it gets the desired result; he rolls off of Cassian. And off of the bed, landing on his booted feet again.]
There, happy?
no subject
[He sits up and fixes his coat and collar before going to scoop his knife back up and clip it back into place on his belt.]
Ye filthy beast.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
[Tannusen folds his arms, some of the silliness dissipating as quick as that. Those pretty blue eyes of his are sharp, no matter how he plays the fool.]
I'm curious, though, how you can care about a religion you very well may have seen the start of? Doesn't that disillusion you? Like, a lot?
no subject
[Or if he technically, even still did]
I've a right to me privacy.
no subject
[And then he vanishes, teleporting away without so much as a pop of displaced air.]