Creeping Dust ][ A Ghost Dog (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
huichen) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
poly_chromatic2012-12-04 05:19 pm
huichen) wrote in poly_chromatic2012-12-04 05:19 pm
Entry tags:
2nd ][ ACTION ][ ACCIDENTAL VIDEO
[[ooc; This post could possibly be considered triggering for its blatant abuse of animals, and general slight grossitude. He's... from a medieval setting. He's also a necromancer. Apologies.]]
[ There... appears to be a man in a very nicely tailored suit escorting a pair of goats towards the fountain. He ties them up nearby, leaving them to drink from it as they like as he rolls up his sleeves.
He then crouches down, loosening the simple cloth satchel from where he had tied it around his shoulders. He unfolds the cloth on the pavement, rummaging through the contents therein. Which are by and large knives. A rather impressive collection, really. (He is an assassin, mind you.)
Upon selecting one to his liking, he really doesn't hesitate much longer than that before slitting one goat's throat and pushing its head into the water, waiting until it stops thrashing. He does not flinch. The second is treated similarly. (No. He really gives no fucks about any reactions to this.)
He then sets about cleaning off his knife, humming something that is probably a prayer. (Ghost Dog this, great Ghost Dog that, the intellect of the afterlife, blah blah blah blah blah. Necromancer bullshit.)
When he is well and truly through, he parks himself comfortably on the edge of the now running-red fountain, sitting back and lifting his face to bask in the weak winter sunlight, with two limp and sodden corpses for company.]
[[ooc; I am in class currently, and can indulge for a bit. I may be back in the evening for tags. If not! Tomorrow.]]
[ There... appears to be a man in a very nicely tailored suit escorting a pair of goats towards the fountain. He ties them up nearby, leaving them to drink from it as they like as he rolls up his sleeves.
He then crouches down, loosening the simple cloth satchel from where he had tied it around his shoulders. He unfolds the cloth on the pavement, rummaging through the contents therein. Which are by and large knives. A rather impressive collection, really. (He is an assassin, mind you.)
Upon selecting one to his liking, he really doesn't hesitate much longer than that before slitting one goat's throat and pushing its head into the water, waiting until it stops thrashing. He does not flinch. The second is treated similarly. (No. He really gives no fucks about any reactions to this.)
He then sets about cleaning off his knife, humming something that is probably a prayer. (Ghost Dog this, great Ghost Dog that, the intellect of the afterlife, blah blah blah blah blah. Necromancer bullshit.)
When he is well and truly through, he parks himself comfortably on the edge of the now running-red fountain, sitting back and lifting his face to bask in the weak winter sunlight, with two limp and sodden corpses for company.]
[[ooc; I am in class currently, and can indulge for a bit. I may be back in the evening for tags. If not! Tomorrow.]]
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