#corruptedgenes

[a series of muffled imprecations, as heard from Rose Lalonde's bedroom:]

"I had no idea you were so tiny, do you want to be my jetpack or something?"

"Stop elbowing me.""Stop kneeing me, too."

"You're the only person who is warmer than me, holy shit."

"I mean, really, you are like a thermonuclear space heater."

"Go the fuck to sleep."

"Sorry, that was my fault."

YEAH, HAHA, LET’S MAKE JOKES ABOUT THE GUY WHO HASN’T BEEN AROUND.

SHIT, AN0THER ALTERNATE. I'M 0NLY A C0UPLE AWAY FR0M AN0THER BING0. AT THIS RATE I'LL FILL 0UT THE CARD IN N0 TIME. I SUSPECT I MAY N0T KN0W H0W T0 PLAY BING0.

          Morgan had seen a great number of unusual faces enter her lands from the Outrealm Gate, but this one by far both alarmed and conflicted her the most. It was painfully obvious he wasn't human - or perhaps he was, and was merely wearing gratuitous amounts of body paint. But that didn't explain his jaundiced eyes, unless he was gravely ill.

          ...Truthfully, both reasons felt horridly forced, as if trying to deny the reality that stood before her.

          The Outrealmer was distinctly male in appearance, both in face and build; his scent was so foreign to her that the ravenette couldn't even begin to make heads nor tails of it. His (she was going to venture on this pronoun, given his physical gender) skin was ashen and grey - the source of her discomfort, for the only other creature Morgan knew of with such a complexion were Risen, and those were hardly what the girl would call 'safe'. His yellowed sclera was the only thing that had stopped the petite tactician from launching an Arcthunder at him the moment she'd laid eyes on him. Well, that and the pair of... growths on his head. They were a curiosity in and of themselves, looking almost like stubby, rounded horns with their position, their bright gradient hue stark against his mop of ebon locks. His clothing was simple in both cut and colour: a black shirt with a strange grey symbol on his chest, and grey pants.

          Morgan took a moment to scrutinize the symbol. It looked like a rune of some sort, or perhaps a letter in his mother language. She most certainly did not recognize it, which left it incredibly open to interpretation until the person who donned it shed any elucidation upon it.

I DON’T KNOW WHY YOU PRETEND LIKE YOU’RE SO INTERESTED IN THAT. I’VE HARDLY EVEN TALKED TO HER AND HAVE BEEN SLOWLY FESTERING INTO AN EVEN BIGGER SHITPILE THAN I ALREADY WAS.

wow

DON’T FUCKING LOL ME.