He'd snapped at them a few times online, but Riccin had figured he was all talk: after all, it's easy to play tough when you don't have to back it up.
But no, he's bearing his teeth at her and hissing like he's going to bite. His teeth are nubby, though, with none of the care or polish that he's obviously put into his horns. Those fuckers wouldn't even break flesh.
It's pathetic as hell, and they have to marvel at the display. He's as threatening as a wet baby meowbeast. Are they supposed to be scared?
He jerks his head to try and get free, and they tighten their grip on the horn. "Get off of me," he demands, his voice frantic, and he must still be drunk as fuck, because he should be grateful. They're keeping his chump-ass from getting culled, and they're tempted to tell him that.
Instead, they just turn, their grip slipping onto the cuff proper, and later, they'll reflect that's what saves them from their hand getting completely fucking scorched.
The build-up of psionic aura is abrupt: Pheres has been sparking away steadily this entire time, a tiny-ass blip on the radar of their attention, and they barely notice when it starts to amp up. But then it keeps going, until the air is suddenly thick with the glowing sparks, the initial surge bright enough that it's hard to see.
The honey's still in his system. They're directionless: whatever his ability is, because by now they're fucking sure it isn't standard telekinesis, he's not using it right now. He's just pumping energy into his aura and putting on a lightshow, because the sparks are rippling across his horns and snapping like bands off into the air, but they're not going anywhere. They get little more than a few inches away from him before fading out entirely.
They might not be getting far, but they fucking sting. The initial surge hits the metal and bounces, but Riccin can still feel the heat output through their glove: if it'd hit their skin, they might've actually gotten burned. The sparks after that are too weak to do more than sting, brief taps of heat that die off just as the feeling registers, and they tighten their grip as he loses energy. Lucky for him they're wearing gloves, or they'd have claws inch-deep in his horns.
He tried to fucking zap them. Ungrateful bastard.
"You done yet?" they snap. "Because if you're going to keep that shit up, you won't have to worry about the fucking drones."
Their telekinesis only works at a distance, but Pheres is tiny as fuck: they don't need powers to beat some sense into him, if it comes to that.
[this is why OA has no quadrants] [how much of a douchebag can you even BE]
But no, he's bearing his teeth at her and hissing like he's going to bite. His teeth are nubby, though, with none of the care or polish that he's obviously put into his horns. Those fuckers wouldn't even break flesh.
It's pathetic as hell, and they have to marvel at the display. He's as threatening as a wet baby meowbeast. Are they supposed to be scared?
He jerks his head to try and get free, and they tighten their grip on the horn. "Get off of me," he demands, his voice frantic, and he must still be drunk as fuck, because he should be grateful. They're keeping his chump-ass from getting culled, and they're tempted to tell him that.
Instead, they just turn, their grip slipping onto the cuff proper, and later, they'll reflect that's what saves them from their hand getting completely fucking scorched.
The build-up of psionic aura is abrupt: Pheres has been sparking away steadily this entire time, a tiny-ass blip on the radar of their attention, and they barely notice when it starts to amp up. But then it keeps going, until the air is suddenly thick with the glowing sparks, the initial surge bright enough that it's hard to see.
The honey's still in his system. They're directionless: whatever his ability is, because by now they're fucking sure it isn't standard telekinesis, he's not using it right now. He's just pumping energy into his aura and putting on a lightshow, because the sparks are rippling across his horns and snapping like bands off into the air, but they're not going anywhere. They get little more than a few inches away from him before fading out entirely.
They might not be getting far, but they fucking sting. The initial surge hits the metal and bounces, but Riccin can still feel the heat output through their glove: if it'd hit their skin, they might've actually gotten burned. The sparks after that are too weak to do more than sting, brief taps of heat that die off just as the feeling registers, and they tighten their grip as he loses energy. Lucky for him they're wearing gloves, or they'd have claws inch-deep in his horns.
He tried to fucking zap them. Ungrateful bastard.
"You done yet?" they snap. "Because if you're going to keep that shit up, you won't have to worry about the fucking drones."
Their telekinesis only works at a distance, but Pheres is tiny as fuck: they don't need powers to beat some sense into him, if it comes to that.