❛ You keep acting like I won’t pin you to the wall. ❜ (dew @ rain)
glower worn pon's rain's face could undoubtedly eviscerate.. defiance dripping in lank of upper limbs coiling 'round his chest, and cock of the right knee. cerulean hues seemingly darkened like the blue depths from whence he came. for such are concealed in the throes of glamour, and bordered by chrome slits. lengthy, defined digits gracefully slipping veil from the curve of his shoulder before reforming to the slats of his ribcage.
"because, my dear. you won't." prettily spoken words are thick with warning, and closed off body-language indicative of his willingness to deal with the fire ghoul's deliberate testing of his patience. almost as though he truly believed the words he were hissing, like the unglamoured serpentine wriggle of a forked tongue 'neath the shade of his balaclava. ( as if he were doing any finer, of course ). over stimulation of pre-show prep, and the impending soundcheck quickly fraying on the ghoul's nerves. clear to see, as his rig was checked and re-checked upwards of a dozen times in an attempt to block out the myriad of voices slung from every which way. from gawking stagehands, and tech guys alike.. those attempting to make subtle the wandering of their eyes, to the slight angles wrapped tight in skeletal garb.
of course, at times such stares left the water ghoul relatively unbothered. welcomed, even. for he's apt to bask in attentions, regardless if such were returned or not. more than typically, falling under the latter category. crossing or spreading lengthy legs and declining wave-like grace in postured preening for notice, alongside soft hum of ever-present siren song. however, at times such as these he has little mind to afford to such triviality. and his fellow ghouls - namely, dew - were decidedly not helping matters in the slightest. and such was indeed effecting the water ghoul's mood, while contorting it into that which was entirely disagreeable.
he observes, quietly. carefully. does he not have work to do? a toss of his human orbs in unsubtle roll cutting through the death-glare, for naught but a moment of respite from the heat of his own simmering, and reverberating. no doubt fuelling whatever prodding dew saw fit to induce upon him in punishment for his icy demeanour. though, rain was too far gone to be able to temper his vexation now. yellow flashing in the whites of his sclera. "if you are aware of what's good for you.. as one might hope to expect, by now.."
suggestive starters. @deusabsentas.
