Post by Verasque on Feb 5, 2010 16:13:57 GMT 10
Title: Behind Bars
Rating: PG-13
Length: 436
Competitor: Dom
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: When thrown in the dungeons, the blame game begins. Some OOCness below.
“It stinks here. Even the latrines smell a bit better.”
“You get latrines?”
“Oh, that’s right, you still use a chamber pot.”
“Don’t start—and would you get that glower off your face?”
“This is All Your Fault.”
“You’re acting childish and stupid, Dom. And how is this my fault?”
“Because you’re—you!”
“Hoh! That’s rich—I’m deeply guilty. Not. How does your reasoning make any sense?”
“If you weren’t such a suck up to your superiors then we wouldn’t even be here.”
“I fail to understand. Reall—you know what? You’re one to talk! If you hadn’t come with m—”
“This is Lord Wyldon’s fault. If he weren’t such an old, uptight—”
“How dare you speak of my Lord like that?”
“How dare you defend him when he’s the one who threw us in here for improper illicit behaviour in his library? All we did was look for those blasted nail paints you said he kept in his drawer! And need I remind you that we’re currently missing out on a most life-changing supper because you wanted the most feminine pink shades and not ‘standard red’?”
“B-b-but Owen said they were the loveliest pink shade he’d ever laid eyes on.”
“Dear Mithros, Neal is worryingly infecting people with his utter mental affliction…”
“Hey! If you hadn’t been in such a rush to open the pot and see it for your own eyes, it wouldn’t have spilled all over my Lord’s desk and—”
“That was one damned BIG pot. How were we supposed to know it was his wife’s? She’s hardly at court.”
“—we both wouldn’t have had to remove our shirts to clean up the mess before he notic—”
“Shut up, Kel. I’m hungry and really, really, buggered by this stink.”
“—ed, which he didn’t, thank the Goddess, but of course, he had to notice us bent over the desk clea—”
“You know what will make it better? If you sit in my lap.”
“—ning the thing, and he jumped to an imme—what? B-b-but why?”
“Because you smell good and look delicious and if I don’t feed this craving inside me, I’ll tell everyone that you’re so hot for me that you begged me to take you in Lord Wyldon’s room and make you—ah, now that’s better, isn’t it?”
“Hmph. Something is rudely poking me in the thigh.”
“And if you keep hitting it like you are now, you’ll have a different kind of mess to clean up all over again.”
“… This is ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT!”
“Is not.”
“Is too!”
“Is not!”
“Is—mmm, Dom.”
Rating: PG-13
Length: 436
Competitor: Dom
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: When thrown in the dungeons, the blame game begins. Some OOCness below.
“It stinks here. Even the latrines smell a bit better.”
“You get latrines?”
“Oh, that’s right, you still use a chamber pot.”
“Don’t start—and would you get that glower off your face?”
“This is All Your Fault.”
“You’re acting childish and stupid, Dom. And how is this my fault?”
“Because you’re—you!”
“Hoh! That’s rich—I’m deeply guilty. Not. How does your reasoning make any sense?”
“If you weren’t such a suck up to your superiors then we wouldn’t even be here.”
“I fail to understand. Reall—you know what? You’re one to talk! If you hadn’t come with m—”
“This is Lord Wyldon’s fault. If he weren’t such an old, uptight—”
“How dare you speak of my Lord like that?”
“How dare you defend him when he’s the one who threw us in here for improper illicit behaviour in his library? All we did was look for those blasted nail paints you said he kept in his drawer! And need I remind you that we’re currently missing out on a most life-changing supper because you wanted the most feminine pink shades and not ‘standard red’?”
“B-b-but Owen said they were the loveliest pink shade he’d ever laid eyes on.”
“Dear Mithros, Neal is worryingly infecting people with his utter mental affliction…”
“Hey! If you hadn’t been in such a rush to open the pot and see it for your own eyes, it wouldn’t have spilled all over my Lord’s desk and—”
“That was one damned BIG pot. How were we supposed to know it was his wife’s? She’s hardly at court.”
“—we both wouldn’t have had to remove our shirts to clean up the mess before he notic—”
“Shut up, Kel. I’m hungry and really, really, buggered by this stink.”
“—ed, which he didn’t, thank the Goddess, but of course, he had to notice us bent over the desk clea—”
“You know what will make it better? If you sit in my lap.”
“—ning the thing, and he jumped to an imme—what? B-b-but why?”
“Because you smell good and look delicious and if I don’t feed this craving inside me, I’ll tell everyone that you’re so hot for me that you begged me to take you in Lord Wyldon’s room and make you—ah, now that’s better, isn’t it?”
“Hmph. Something is rudely poking me in the thigh.”
“And if you keep hitting it like you are now, you’ll have a different kind of mess to clean up all over again.”
“… This is ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT!”
“Is not.”
“Is too!”
“Is not!”
“Is—mmm, Dom.”