08-17-2018, 10:29 PM
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TYPHOON
NECRO MAMBAS
HEAD SOOTHSAYER
NECRO MAMBAS
HEAD SOOTHSAYER
[div style="width: px; font-family: GEORGIA; color: #422426; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"][align=center]ARE YOU GOOD WITH CHAOS ?!
She watched his movements, her main pair of eyes watching him carefully as he sat down. However, his aura flashes several times with various colors - the red overlay of his aura lights up first with light pink, followed shortly by dull cornsilk. Her eyelids blink rapidly, all four of them, as she tries to puzzle through what those indicate. But, before she solidly fixed on an answer, he spoke; his words, illuminated with the same flashing colors she noticed in his aura, lazily drifted in the air around his head like trembling leaves in the wind, before fading out of existence.
Rosemary considered her synesthesia little more than a hallucination; with how many of her family members suffered from mental disorders with psychosis and hallucinations as side-effects, she easily mistook her benign ability as belonging to a more sinister neurological anomaly. Even with this belief, however, she knowingly broke the first rule about hallucinations - she trusted their insights. They've never failed her before; how could they, when her synesthesia simply projected emotional clues from tone and diction into a visual format? So she trusted them, along with her magical ability to sense aura, and knew he felt something akin to... embarrassment? No, something deeper, she felt that in her bones.
"Well, it doesn't bother me to look them over," she replied, matching his words to try and convince him. Rosemary's dealt with plenty of wounded pirates that wanted to do anything to their wounds besides allow Rosemary to heal them, so the stubborn edge to her voice was resolute from all her practice. The soothsayer, covertly sadistic, never got the chance to properly explore that side of her; regardless, she felt natural in leadership roles. She took to handling the necro mambas easily enough, regardless of her personally chaotic nature. Confident in herself (when she isn't flushed with social anxiety or worrying about potential warning signs of her crumbling sanity), she didn't think for a moment that Luca would skitter away back into the jungle. After all, he willingly sat down in front of her and protested weakly against her bothering to heal him.
Still, she frowned slightly at his last remark and lack of eye contact, thinking that his reaction to her efforts contrast sharply with doctor-hating patients from the past. "What makes you think you'll get more?" she asked, her dry voice painfully neutral to her ears; she tried to display a warm bedside manner, but her expression fell flat, as usual. Looking down into her satchel, she paws around in it, though it only takes a second or two for her to produce a swath of clean bandages and one of her trademark tins. "How did you get them?" she asked, looking up from her assembled tools back to his face, her forked tail flicking behind her. Her curiosity didn't wait for his answer to start coming up with possible answers - perhaps someone in the Typhoon hurt him regularly or he liked to recklessly spar with the grim rays too much.
In her naivety, she doesn't even begin to wonder if he's a masochist; she doubts people like that really exist at all, anyway, as she can't possibly imagine how anyone would derive pleasure from pain. Rosemary is a sadist, a monster that likes to defy her nature by healing instead of harming. She guards her secret carefully, and never allows herself to think that anyone would want a sadist.
[/td][/tr][/table]Rosemary considered her synesthesia little more than a hallucination; with how many of her family members suffered from mental disorders with psychosis and hallucinations as side-effects, she easily mistook her benign ability as belonging to a more sinister neurological anomaly. Even with this belief, however, she knowingly broke the first rule about hallucinations - she trusted their insights. They've never failed her before; how could they, when her synesthesia simply projected emotional clues from tone and diction into a visual format? So she trusted them, along with her magical ability to sense aura, and knew he felt something akin to... embarrassment? No, something deeper, she felt that in her bones.
"Well, it doesn't bother me to look them over," she replied, matching his words to try and convince him. Rosemary's dealt with plenty of wounded pirates that wanted to do anything to their wounds besides allow Rosemary to heal them, so the stubborn edge to her voice was resolute from all her practice. The soothsayer, covertly sadistic, never got the chance to properly explore that side of her; regardless, she felt natural in leadership roles. She took to handling the necro mambas easily enough, regardless of her personally chaotic nature. Confident in herself (when she isn't flushed with social anxiety or worrying about potential warning signs of her crumbling sanity), she didn't think for a moment that Luca would skitter away back into the jungle. After all, he willingly sat down in front of her and protested weakly against her bothering to heal him.
Still, she frowned slightly at his last remark and lack of eye contact, thinking that his reaction to her efforts contrast sharply with doctor-hating patients from the past. "What makes you think you'll get more?" she asked, her dry voice painfully neutral to her ears; she tried to display a warm bedside manner, but her expression fell flat, as usual. Looking down into her satchel, she paws around in it, though it only takes a second or two for her to produce a swath of clean bandages and one of her trademark tins. "How did you get them?" she asked, looking up from her assembled tools back to his face, her forked tail flicking behind her. Her curiosity didn't wait for his answer to start coming up with possible answers - perhaps someone in the Typhoon hurt him regularly or he liked to recklessly spar with the grim rays too much.
In her naivety, she doesn't even begin to wonder if he's a masochist; she doubts people like that really exist at all, anyway, as she can't possibly imagine how anyone would derive pleasure from pain. Rosemary is a sadist, a monster that likes to defy her nature by healing instead of harming. She guards her secret carefully, and never allows herself to think that anyone would want a sadist.
© MADI