Come Sail Away IC Inbox

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's voice mail message is in a weary voice: "Erin Peters. If you called in the middle of the night and I didn't answer, I'm dying. If I pick up and someone on your end isn't dying, they will be shortly. Text otherwise."

Comments

[goodweather]

“Didn’t you sludge over that skeleton horse? I don’t think you needed to worry about wings, buddy.”

He takes a sip of his own drink, then slips off of his seat and steps back. “Mm, oh yeah, speaking of power moves—Erin? Meet Venom.”

With a series of dull and wet sounds like sinew knitting together, Phil gets taller, bigger, sharper; teeth and tongues flex from their collar and from beneath their jaw, little dull talons now something befitting of raptorial ancestors. Their wings look like blades that would hum in the air as it sliced through. The warm orange light of their mantle flickers oddly like something out of Silent Hill.

”Hi,” comes their voice, which would be boldened and white text on black if this were a comic book.

[crushed_pearls]

"If I were bi I'd be down so bad."

Best.

"DAMNIT I SAID THAT OUT LOUD!"

[goodweather]

“We know.”