saoirse quinn
she/her
29
october 27
circhester, galar
bisexual
physicist / inventor
head scientist
every night i burn, dream the black crow dream
TAG WITH @lulu
Lulu Flint
morticulture [s][c]
POSTED ON Mar 17, 2021 9:48:39 GMT
The tone of his voice made the hairs on her neck stand on end, but she attributed it to the environment without another thought. Just jumpy, maybe.
Her face acted of its own accord, drawing out some ancient, resurrected smile to flash at the man as he approached with his partners—merely an empty reflection of his own actions, although it certainly felt like something to her.
At their approach, the Houndoom began with a low growl. Its head went low on its shoulders defensively. Lulu was distracted by this at once; this was clearly not normal behavior. “Tsh.” It was close, inaudible to them still. It only continued, as though he hadn’t even heard her. In fact, the hound did so much as to get up from their post and settle squarely between parties. It barked, low, threatening. Flames licked from its vicious mouth.
“Djall!” Lulu jumped up from the steps. “Djall, no! The fuck?”
As it was ready to lunge, a red light withdrew it into its capsule. She held it in her hand and then looked up at Fernando. Unlike him, she was covered as usual in sleek black from the neck down, meant to conceal endangering tattoos which ran all the way to the soles of her feet. She bared arms today, however.
Eyes, green-lensed despite her vision’s clarity, looked perplexed. “Okay, he's never done that before. Usually very well behaved.” Her brow furrowed, and she looked down at the pokeball again before pocketing it. Embarrassing. Disappointing. “Sorry. Must be the ghosts or something.”
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