@baiika inquired: Vicky; “Now, this is not gonna be pretty. We’re talking violence, strong language, adult content.“
She snorts all at once, quick enough that it comes without thinking, without even any implication, making her fingers unclench and the knife fumble in her hand for a moment. The act alone pitches Aaravi forward, a quick, jabbing motion like a hiccup, something that would be like a laugh if only it weren't so much more like she's choking on her spit.
"Holy shit — what the fuck are you talking about?"
Up goes the knife again. Aaravi spins it around her index finger, catches it on her palm, flicks it out in the same motion she straightens her back to gesture ahead of the both of them in the exact same measure. It's a pretty cool trick, she has to say so, herself. Maybe less so, knowing how many times Aaravi has cut herself on even the practice knife she got for that little bit of handplay, but, like. Vicky doesn't know that. Vicky doesn't have to know anything about where the scars on her fingers come from.
"Like... Are you going to start talking about my quads or some shit?" One of Aaravi's ears takes the chance to swivel backwards, flicking its tip irritably, making the tuft bob and sway in the air as it does so. In the low light, Aaravi's eyes almost shimmer. It might just be the tone, or the near-constant bad mood others attribute to her, but there's almost a fleck of red between those emerald depths. "I already thought you were a dweeb, but, fucking hell, how does anyone manage to tolerate you talking like that, and I can't show my damn face around without someone getting it up their ass that they should bash it in?"