[For a split second his feelings for Tavros flicker blacker than pitch but he can't keep ahold of it and his pale quadrant is already full. Gamzee backs off, putting distance between him and Tavros. He presses his face hard against his knees and wraps his arms around his head, shaking it slowly back and forth. Nononononono. He can't fucking deal. His hands tighten in his hair and pull, then drag down his face when he lifts his head. He's managed to wipe off the makeup and dried blood on his pants, but also to reopen the claw marks on his face.
...and leave some new ones. He motherfucking hates Dave right now. Hates hates HATES HATES HATES. Wants to tear into him. Make him bleed. Make him scream. Taste his blood, his fear, his pain. God, he wants to beat him down, make him cry and beg. Beg. Beg for motherfucking more. Motherfuck. It hits him so strongly it drags a surprised sound from deep in his throat. He's waxed fully motherfucking BLACK for Dave Strider. He laughs, sharp and broken, and when the growl starts back up it's a very different tone, low and intimate just on the very edge of human hearing.]
[As he says it he starts moving, a very slow and deliberately stalking movement for Dave. His eyes are bright, and his skin is flushed indigo while blood beads and drips down his face.]
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branchandroot
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Date: 2011-11-22 06:13 am (UTC)[For a split second his feelings for Tavros flicker blacker than pitch but he can't keep ahold of it and his pale quadrant is already full. Gamzee backs off, putting distance between him and Tavros. He presses his face hard against his knees and wraps his arms around his head, shaking it slowly back and forth. Nononononono. He can't fucking deal. His hands tighten in his hair and pull, then drag down his face when he lifts his head. He's managed to wipe off the makeup and dried blood on his pants, but also to reopen the claw marks on his face.
...and leave some new ones. He motherfucking hates Dave right now. Hates hates HATES HATES HATES. Wants to tear into him. Make him bleed. Make him scream. Taste his blood, his fear, his pain. God, he wants to beat him down, make him cry and beg. Beg. Beg for motherfucking more. Motherfuck. It hits him so strongly it drags a surprised sound from deep in his throat. He's waxed fully motherfucking BLACK for Dave Strider. He laughs, sharp and broken, and when the growl starts back up it's a very different tone, low and intimate just on the very edge of human hearing.]
[As he says it he starts moving, a very slow and deliberately stalking movement for Dave. His eyes are bright, and his skin is flushed indigo while blood beads and drips down his face.]