mallowhallow | 004 〖 ♍ ♑〗 video

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004 〖 ♍ ♑〗 video

[The feed opens up slightly shaky, obviously being held by someone quite upset. There’s some hushed muttering as the camera focuses on the front door of a small residence in Orlea. Bright green spray paint is scrawled across the door and windows and siding, spelling out hateful messages such as ‘ALIEN FREAKS’ and ‘GET OUT.’

Porrim, from behind the camera, sighs, and then calls out towards the house:]

Kurloz? You might want to see this...

[From the doorway you can hear footsteps, hurried due to the pitch in her voice. He comes down the stairs and is by her side still out of shot. No sound is made, something that wouldn’t be unusual with the mime, however it’s like the world just stopped. Slowly he steps forward into the view and touches the paint lightly—it was fresh. He looks back at Porrim, face blank and expressionless, the only real way to make a mime speechless

Porrim turns the camera of her phone toward her own face, and it’s like a storm cloud has passed over her normally serene expression; her brows are drawn downward and there’s a toothy scowl on her mouth. But when she speaks, there’s not just anger but a hint of sadness. Who would do something like this...?]

It seems like our neighbors aren’t too happy that we’ve invaded the neighborhood. Too bad we can’t get back in our SPACESHIP— [She raises her voice and shouts that word toward the neighboring houses, before taking a deep, calming breath]—and fly away home. Is anyone else having problems like this?

[[ooc: replies will be coming from both Porrim and Kurloz (

kurloz_makara)!]]

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[She catches that mysterious look, and her slim fingers catch him gently by the chin.]

What are you thinking?

[She offers him the inside of her arm as a blank slate for his finger to trace.]

[He looks down into her eyes and his smile fades a little. He looks down to the arm and then back to her, wondering if she really wanted to know.]

[Also wondering if he really felt like telling her. Most of the time he kept such thoughts to himself, otherwise he shared them secretly with Mituna who he wasn't really worried about sharing the information. After all, when he was excitable he could hardly say anything coherent. And other then that he really just didn't care, never really did. Kurloz never acted much on his impulse, or at least never towards their own friends. He kept out of trouble, and Mituna was the one who was in need of keeping calm.]

[Finally he moves forward and starts tracing on her arm. His curiosity to know how she'd react overcoming his urge to just walk away. Where was the line drawn between them? On her arm he wrote "WE SHOULD PAINT IT RED". He kept it simple and concise so she'd be able to remember the letters and catch what he was trying to say.]

[She concentrates her gaze on his finger as it spells out his reply, carefully tracking each letter as he finishes it. When he's done, she looks back up to meet his gaze with her head cocked. That's interesting. Red brings to mind human blood, which is almost certainly the connotation their dear neighbors would take away, as well. Her lips curl into a grin. It's risky, but she's just mad enough that it seems like a good idea.]

I like that. Maybe our neighbors should think they have a reason to fear us, hmm?

[He watches her closely for her reaction, what would she think, how would she interpret the words? When she grins he releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Well, that's cool... And he was all down for scaring the masses. After all that's was his whole reason for surrounding himself with death, to give those mother fuckers something to fear and avoid.]

[He held up a finger and went back into the house, picking up the left over red paint cans from when he painted his room. He wasn't really done yet, but he could substitute the loss for other color. He brought them back and held them up to show Porrim, his eyebrow quirking in a way as to say "shall we get started?"]

[While Kurloz retrieves the paint, Porrim takes a seat on the front step, looking contemplative. It won't do to paint the entire house—tacky, and they don't have enough paint besides, but the worst of the damage is over the front door and the windows. If they covered those over in red, it would be sufficiently spooky and not totally unattractive.

Even if it made them look like they were some kind of cult. Porrim thinks that Kurloz probably wouldn't mind that too much, and at this point she doesn't really care, either. It's their house to do with what they want, after all.

When he comes back, she stands, dusting herself down, and nods.]

Let's get to it, then.

[He comes up to her and puts the paint down, handing her a few different sized brushes that where stained but clean from the previous job. She had a small brush for detail, a large brush for spreading, and a rolling brush to go wild with if she wanted. He looked to her for the plan, ready to start.]

[No he wouldn't mind that, in fact it would feel even homier that way, and creepy was always welcome. Maybe one day they'll take this house and renovate it, make it all Gothic style.]

[She takes the paintbrushes from him, studying each one in interest, before choosing the roller, since it made the most sense to cover such a large area. But before she starts painting, she does a quick change of clothes from her Sylladex, from her nice dress into slim black jeans and a tank top. That's one thing she's grateful for: she can still do all the nifty things she could in the dream bubbles, and in their own world. That done, she cracks open a can of red paint, coats the roller in it, and starts to paint over the front door in neat, methodical strokes.]

[That was an idea, he didn't really feel like getting his skeleton suit dirty, at least not with semi-permanent paint. He switches his own clothes to an older outfit which consists of a black tank top with a purple hued skull and his symbol engraved in the bone, and some ripped up jeans that already had a multitude of color on it from the painting upstairs. He then chose to just go barefoot as he grabbed one of the bigger brushes, dipping it in the paint and then carefully climbing up along the wall of the house to reach the higher portion of the windows, being careful not to get red paint everywhere.]
[Because it was an older outfit, the pants fit snugly around his thighs and the shirt was tight around his frame ranging to being a little too small, so every time he reached it would show his mid drift and the head of the skeletal goat tattoo on his back. You could also see pieces of the tattoo sneaking around his shoulders.

[As she's painting, she looks over to see that Kurloz has changed as well, and her brows raised, impressed. Damn, he can pull off a tank top well; it suits his tall, lanky frame far better than she could have imagined. She tries not to get distracted, but then she notices the tattoo peeking out as he paints.]

How is that healing?

[She moves the roller up and down, up and down, in a neat, square patch.]

[Her voice draws his attention and he twists away from the wall, showing off some of that acrobatic skill. He blinks, wondering what she's talking about for a moment before he realizes it's probably the tattoo.]

[Paint brush still in hand he attempts a thumbs up, unable to use the other one cause it's holding him to the wall. But in the movement he accidentally flicks some paint down onto her. Whoops.]

[He makes a sorry expression and keeps the paint brush against where they want to paint to avoid any more incidents. Sorry, Porrim.]

Hey! [She laughs, wrinkling up her nose at him, and then flicks her roller up at him, leaving a splatter of crimson up the back of his pants and onto his butt.]

I didn't realize that Makaras were such tree-beasts.

[Kurloz jumps a little, a motion to try and escape the fate of being splattered but too late. He looks at it and then playfully glares back at her, the grin on his face betraying his real feelings as he silently chuckles.]

[He shakes his head, it was rare to even see a tree in their lands, let alone have any reason to learn to climb. But Kurloz was a special case. He moved and painted on the window three simple letters "MEU"]

[Meulin taught him how to climb, well, gave him a reason to learn. She was pretty good at climbing tree's but sometimes she would get too far up and her entire body would freeze in fear. The first few times he just ran off to get Pounce, but after seeing the both of them he eventually learned it himself.]

[She giggles in return, giving him her best approximation of a glare. She's glad she decided to change, at any rate; she'd actually be mad if he'd gotten paint on one of her nice gowns.

His answer makes her nod in understanding, going back to rolling a nice, even coat of paint onto the door. "Of course. I should have known." Meulin's catlike tendencies didn't end at her horns and tail, after all.

[Like he hasn't wrecked plenty of her clothes as it was with his blood and genetic material. The problem with indigo blood was it was like a permanent dye on a lot of things, difficult to get out. It actually brought up the question on how she deals with it in the first place.]

[He smiles and then goes back to work as well, being careful as can be as he lines the sides of the windows with red paint and then fills it in afterwards, his fill in job not nearly as thick and even as Porrim's, planning to either leave it to Porrim or use a roller himself. All of his concentration was trained on not getting red on the trimming, something that wouldn't personally bug him but probably would bother Porrim. Really he didn't know, the girl always surprised him with what she accepted and what she was rather picky about. Made things more interesting.]

[She replenishes the paint on her roller, finishing off the first coat of paint on the door, and then takes one of the smaller brushes and dips it in the paint to paint around the frame and the doorknob. She holds the roller up to him.]

Need this?

[Her hand has red paint on it, and she laughs a little at the sight of it.]

Looks like I've been feeding off Kankri.

[He nods and leans back to take it from her, brushing against her hand as the paint spreads onto his own. He had managed to keep most of it off, although some dripped down onto his pants. Which when she makes that comment just makes him double take and nearly fall from sudden laughter.]

[If she's been fending him off he looks like he just stood by and watched. Which if anyone saw them right now they look like a serial killing couple, which they could be, but choose not to be, thank god. Well..Porrim chooses not to be, Kurloz just hasn't found a reason to kill anyone here.]

[Though, with that in mind... He takes some of the paint off the roller and quickly swipes her cheek with it, being careful with his sharp claws. He then tries to make a quick get away by lifting himself up again and climbing further up the house.]

[She laughs, loud and unrestrained, feeling paint drip down her cheek, and immediately takes action, dipping her hand into the paint bucket and swiping at whatever part of him she can reach as he scrambles to get away from her.

Which just so happens to be his ass. Porrim laughs even harder when she sees the big, red handprint covering the back of his jeans, doubling over. It's been awhile since she's let herself just laugh like this, and it feels good to just let go a little bit, especially in the light of today's incidents.]

[The slap makes him jump, his horn lodging itself between the tiles of the house. He winces but the beautiful sound of her laughter works brilliantly to numb the pain, and soon enough it was completely forgotten. And it doesn’t take him long to figure out why the chuckles developed into a roar, he can practically feel the chill as the red paint made its way through his jeans. He imagines that it looks like and even he has to silently chuckle, although it quickly dies down because it really wasn’t helping the horn situation. However he knew how to laugh at himself, and this showed brilliantly as he made a show of dislodging the aforementioned horn. He brought up both hands and pushes against the wall, pretending to struggle with it but it wasn’t that hard really, and when he did get the horn out he pretending to fall backwards with a dramatic flail, only to catch himself with his feet, but in the perfect position to steal a kiss, and then place a red dot on her nose. Now she too can be a clown.]

[Somewhere in all this she ends up on the ground, laughing hysterically mostly because it does feel good, and Kurloz is being impossibly funny, not to mention cute. She leans up happily into his kiss, and when he pulls away she blinks, looking down her nose where she can feel a dot of red on the tip. That makes her giggle anew, and she looks up at him and deadpans:]

Honk.

[With that sound he drops down, landing so he's above her, trapping her against the ground. A low purr echoing from deep within his throat and his eyes are bright with mirth. It was moments like this, feelings like these that make up his dark carnival. He grins and kisses her again, a peck on the nose. HONK.]

[A moment engraved within his memory, perfection.]

[She squeezes her eyes shut in a pleased expression, before raising a finger and booping him on the nose. Right back at him.]

Maybe I'll let you paint me sometime.

[After all, she's all about new experiences.]

[Those words where like a match to his soul, lighting him up in both mind and body. He envisioned painting her in such a way to bring forth the image of the warrior goddess that she was, multiple hues working together against the white. He touches her cheek, seeing the designs come to life in his mind’s eye, his hand trailing down as his imagination works.

Usually painting the face was all that was needed, but with her he could see so much more, colors and hues playing along her pale gray skin and adding detail into the black markings already decorating her flesh. And as he envisioned his hands continued to roam over her, first across her shoulders and then down along her breast, only stopping when he reached her hips where he rested on top of her.

Yes, this will have to happen sometime.

A rough draft already appearing from paint stained fingers.]

[She squirms underneath him, but she's content to let him grope here out on the front lawl as much as he likes. It's like a nice, big "fuck you" to their neighbors, and the riot grrrl in her can definitely appreciate that. Besides, he's so much bigger than her that she doesn't really have a say in the matter, physically speaking.

Porrim raises an eyebrow, tilting her chin up to look at him.]

You know, you're more than welcome to take me inside.

[Her words draw him back into reality and for a moment he's confused. He looks around and remembers that yeah, they really where still outside on their front lawn.]

[He looks her in the eyes and actually begins to think about it. It would definitely be interesting, and he's always found such public displays rather thrilling. And of course he couldn't even begin to think of a better way of sticking it to those xenophobic assholes. It would definitely give them something to bitch about.]

[But at the same time it could end up being the last straw to some of these people, and if any one of them chose to react violently against them during such a moment...]

[If he didn't care about her safety, he probably would of done it right on that lawn, sadly he did care. He kissed her before an arm made it's way around her and brought her close to his chest. He then stood up, taking her with her and never once breaking that kiss, in fact only deepening it as his other hand moved around her to support her. He'll take her inside, but he wasn't about to stop until he had to open the door, maybe not even then.]

[As much as the idea of exhibitionism thrills her, there's a time and a place for such things, and this is not it. So when he encloses her in his arms and picks her up to head back inside, she merely settles in and enjoys the ride, returning his affections eagerly, arms looping around his neck so her hands can fist in his hair.

It's really a good thing Porrim believes that there's no such thing as too much sex; she's begun to realize that soon there won't be a surface left in their house that they haven't, ahem, christened.]

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