>>avaricious has posted an AUDIO MESSAGE. If you wish to listen, type LISTEN03
You've got it all wrong. [Through the recording, an edging sneer fingers along the receiver. It's sharp and biting: like that of a grin teasing on the upper half of a tensely-pulled lip. Circumstances aside, that usual nonchalance of his still hangs on. It bakes in the back of his jaws in a fever; forcing red-hot to broil on the feed's edge in a soft, muted haze. The Sin hooks the edge of an ashtray with his claw.]
[Tnk.] Humans maybe, but I was never one to begin with. [Porcelain yelps gingerly on the recording: the subtle scrape like that of a nail tuning the side of an empty glass. He's only had the pleasure of meeting Mitsuhide once and while the encounter had raised more questions than answers, his madman threats had gone to the back-burner. Haphazardly forgotten and buried.]
[Until now, that is.] What's your point? [A gaseous note wheezes through the Sin's jaws and with a resounding clack, he leers into the recording.] Sorry, that's not how it works. Even you should know that.
[On the other side, Greed tips his head. There are sounds all around him: the light pat of steel on steel, the coo of a furnace just aching for a taste. A scathing rumble breaks it all up and as the other's would-be confession sighs through the receiver, the devil answers it with nothing short of a booming, thunderous bark. It coughs just out of view: an eruption of soot fingering at the ceiling to take it for all that it's worth.] Ha - ! Is that what this is all about?
[The legs of a chair skitter on the line. They skip along the floor, dragging with them a length of soot to sigh dryly into the recording. Greed lifts himself from his seat and with a groan of plastic, he pushes the lid to the laptop just a bit wider.] Guess there's no choice, is there? [While they aren't face to face, it isn't so hard to imagine: the heavy lid of his eyes, the sarcastic twist of his mouth as if he isn't at all surprised. The beads strung along his tail give a healthy chime. They shiver and tremble: the bell-toll's last call tickling at the back of the feed.] Eh - that's a shame. I thought we could do this peacefully.
[The former homunculus flicks his tongue. What follows is a rattle - like that of a serpent giving its final warning and with it, the head of the laptop returns with one more, industrialized whine.]
no subject
You've got it all wrong. [Through the recording, an edging sneer fingers along the receiver. It's sharp and biting: like that of a grin teasing on the upper half of a tensely-pulled lip. Circumstances aside, that usual nonchalance of his still hangs on. It bakes in the back of his jaws in a fever; forcing red-hot to broil on the feed's edge in a soft, muted haze. The Sin hooks the edge of an ashtray with his claw.]
[Tnk.] Humans maybe, but I was never one to begin with. [Porcelain yelps gingerly on the recording: the subtle scrape like that of a nail tuning the side of an empty glass. He's only had the pleasure of meeting Mitsuhide once and while the encounter had raised more questions than answers, his madman threats had gone to the back-burner. Haphazardly forgotten and buried.]
[Until now, that is.] What's your point? [A gaseous note wheezes through the Sin's jaws and with a resounding clack, he leers into the recording.] Sorry, that's not how it works. Even you should know that.
[On the other side, Greed tips his head. There are sounds all around him: the light pat of steel on steel, the coo of a furnace just aching for a taste. A scathing rumble breaks it all up and as the other's would-be confession sighs through the receiver, the devil answers it with nothing short of a booming, thunderous bark. It coughs just out of view: an eruption of soot fingering at the ceiling to take it for all that it's worth.] Ha - ! Is that what this is all about?
[The legs of a chair skitter on the line. They skip along the floor, dragging with them a length of soot to sigh dryly into the recording. Greed lifts himself from his seat and with a groan of plastic, he pushes the lid to the laptop just a bit wider.] Guess there's no choice, is there? [While they aren't face to face, it isn't so hard to imagine: the heavy lid of his eyes, the sarcastic twist of his mouth as if he isn't at all surprised. The beads strung along his tail give a healthy chime. They shiver and tremble: the bell-toll's last call tickling at the back of the feed.] Eh - that's a shame. I thought we could do this peacefully.
[The former homunculus flicks his tongue. What follows is a rattle - like that of a serpent giving its final warning and with it, the head of the laptop returns with one more, industrialized whine.]
Suit yourself.