paradisalogs | ☠ 068

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molotov cocktease

☠ 068

Who: Molotov and you
What: Mercenary fairy, pouting silently over her loss
When: This weekend
Where: All over the castle
Rating: Probably G, since she can't even swear

This. Fucking. Castle.

When Molotov woke up only inches high with wings, and tried to say those exact words, all that came out of her mouth were tiny little bell-like noises, chiming and tinkling and generally annoying even herself.

It was a first, not wanting to hear her own voice.

After stumbling across the pillow, which took forever, Molotov managed to master her wings, clumsily gliding around close to the mattress at first, but soon flitting all around the bedroom. She took off as soon as the door was opened, heading out through an open window to fly all around the castle grounds.

She looks mostly like a little ball of light. An angry, speeding little ball of light. And she might try to take it out on you.

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Molotov squints and glares at him, her hands on her hips, then chimes out a sassy little answer before rising above him to be bitchy as she showers him in sparkly dust. Look Brock, your mullet is all glittery now!

What the hell.

"What the hell," he says, vigorously raking his fingers through his hair. "Don't get pissed at me 'cause I'm worried about you. You could get eaten or, like, sucked into an air duct or something."

Okay, calm down, Brock, she can't help the fairy dust.

She huffs and puffs, continues to bitch at him, and then darts away to hide in the chandelier, where she peeks through the crystals at him. She doesn't want to be worried over, she can take care of herself!

Well, he doesn't have very good experiences with fairies! Remember last year, they were all tying bows and shit in his hair... embarrassing...

Once Brock is pretty sure he has all this dumb sparkly crap out of his luscious golden locks, he whips his head around to try and find her. Goddammit, she got away again...

"Molotov, knock this shit off. Where are you?"

She's a Molotov fairy though, not one of those fairies! She's been a fairy since she woke up, and she has yet to tie even a single ribbon into his hair.

In the chandelier, Molotov continues to just peek at him, the crystals making a very soft noise as they shift around. She will keep hiding as long as she has to, he's being a dick about something she can't control.

Well, he doesn't know! Maybe all fairies like to do that! Maybe it's a thing. Brock has been friends with vampires and elves, but he doesn't have much experience with the habits of fairies.

Also, he is not being a dick! He's just worried. He needs to keep her in a little jar (with airholes in the lid, natch) for her own safety.

Eventually, Brock notices the chandelier moving around, and looks up. "Ha!" he says triumphantly. "I see you."

If it was a thing, probably she wouldn't be hiding in the chandelier, far away from his hair! And no, she was not going to be kept in a jar, she absolutely refused! She is an independent little fairy, she can take care of herself.

Molotov makes a mocking motion with her hand, because even if he sees her, it's not like he can get her down. And she's content to stay up here as long as necessary.

Even independent fairies can get killed by bugzappers or fly swatters! It's a real concern, he doesn't want his woman getting killed again. Particularly not in some dumb, embarrassing way.

Brock moves over to the chandelier until he's directly below it, looking up with his hands on his hips.

"Come down."

First of all, Molotov has never even seen a bugzapper in Paradisa, and second of all, why would she fly into one? She's not a moth, she's a fairy. And no one had come after her with a fly swatter yet! Besides, she was fast, she could outrun. Outfly it.

She stares down at him, huffing, then crosses her arms and settles amongst the crystals. He needs to apologize and promise not to trap her before she thinks about coming down!

Wow Dreamwidth just ate my comment, let's see if I remembered what I typed.

Look, who knows if she'll get distracted by a giant, shiny thing and fly right into it? Brock has been seduced by giant, shiny things before, you know, and then he wound up with a hat that smells like a men's room. Is that what you want, Molotov? A pee-soaked hat? He's trying to protect you.

Also, Brock is not doing either of those things! Not a one. He just stares up at her for awhile, hands on his hips, then sighs, gesturing widely at his sides.

"Look... I'm worried about you. Okay? Please come down. You're so tiny..."

I don't think anyone could pee a small enough amount to make her a pee-soaked hat right now, and anyway, she is doing a pretty good job at not being distracted by shiny things. Because she is a fairy, not a goblin.

Molotov's teeny little body is not currently suited to handling more than one or two emotions at a time, and love suddenly floods her when she hears his confession. So she emerges from the dangling crystals to hover just outside of his reach, sparkling dust going everywhere as she tinkles on about needing him to promise he won't trap her.

Yeah, just a little pee dribble! Just -- actually, you know what, I'm not talking about that. Get outta here.

Regardless of whether or not Molotov is a fairy or a goblin or, you know, just a normal person who could maybe get drawn by a big shiny glowy thing that's totally normal okay -- Brock takes an instinctive step back when she's, like, shedding glitter everywhere. Gross. The only time in which Brock will tolerate glitter is when strippers are involved, and she is not, as far as he can tell, stripping.

"No, I -- slow down -- look, I can't understand what you're saying, it just sounds like bells."

She can't help her glitter, it isn't her fault! And it's not even magical, Brock's not gonna get any temporary flight powers or anything, he's just going to get covered in sparkly stuff that will be there forever and never come off of him. Because it's like glitter only worse -- it's fairy dust.

With a frustrated groan/windchime noise, Molotov gestures at him, continuing to make bell sounds as she repeats herself more slowly. She just doesn't want to get put in a cage or something!

God, it's gonna be like all up in his crotch, isn't it. Junk covered in glitter even though she was never anywhere around there, much to his dismay (?).

This is actually getting kind of stupid, though Brock doesn't say that out loud. He does think it, though. He is thinking it very hard.

"No... still not getting it. Uh," he says, glancing around to make sure nobody else is in the lobby, "charades? Sounds like...?"

If he's stupid enough to be naked around her while she's a fairy, yeah, probably it will be. I mean, there's not all that much she can do with his junk right now, so it's up to him whether or not it's a worthwhile risk.

Molotov stomps a bit in the air, frustrated, then soars over to one of the knick-knacky vases on a side table. She immediately throws all her weight against the vase, pushing and pushing until it tumbles down and breaks on the floor, leaving her panting and exhausted, lying face down on the table surface.

Brock watches her go over there and start... pushing at a vase? What? Is this how she vents her frustrations now that she can't talk (and presumably still can't attack people)?

He doesn't really bother trying to stop her, though. Like hell if he cares that the castle's knick-knacks get broke. He's pretty sure it just regenerates them or some such bullshit anyway.

"What, sounds like... vase? Broken?" he says, ambling over there and bending over to peer at her.

Actually, as she has discovered with Spike, she can attack people in this form, presumably because she's not big enough to do anything but annoy people.

Either way, she screams into the table and pounds her fists and feet against it before getting up to trudge to the next vase and flitter up into it. She crouches in there for a moment, then pops back up out and makes an exaggerated "no" motion.

Molotov's screaming, of course, just sounds like a lot of very loud, very tiny bells. But Brock gets what she's doing.

At least she can't really do anything to hurt him. Let's see her kick him in the balls when she's that small, haha! Though she could maybe get some glitter in his eyes, he's thinking, as he eyes her warily. If he gets this wrong again, that is a real possibility...

When Molotov goes to the vase, Brock crouches down to get a better look at what she's doing. "That's not how you play charades," he says absently, then takes out his knife to poke at the vase a little.

"So, you're... saying you don't want me to stick you in something. Right?"

I mean... she can fly with a lot of force, kicking in the balls is still an option. She will just have to be really fast about it, fast enough that he can't run from a little ball of light.

She sighs when he gets it and nods, arms crossing tight across her chest. That is exactly what she is saying, buddy! To emphasize it, she makes a stabbing motion and points at him, her tiny jaw set. She will stab you, Samson. Probably with a toothpick. And that will... be annoying. Yeah!

Please, it'd be like if somebody threw an eraser at his junk. Maybe a little sting, but nothing that would send him howling to the ground. Try harder, madam! Get somebody to slingshot you in there.

Brock frowns at her, then holds his knife out flat, parallel to the ground and with the sharp edge facing away from her. Climb aboard and he will play elevator for you, lady.

"I just want to keep you out of trouble. Can you at least hang out with me instead of flying around god knows where until this is over?"

It would be painful if she did it over and over! Or if she was holding something heavy (for her) at the time. Maybe she could get a pebble or something.

Molotov clambers up onto his knife, even if she doesn't really need to, since she can... you know, fly. She is kind of tired though, the vase she pushed was so heavy! There's a lot of tinkling and chiming as she launches into an explanation of how unfair it is for her to be bound to him just because of a loss, and she can protect herself, and look, she was alone all day and not a single thing happened to her except that she fell asleep in Spike's hair.

I'm sure you got all that, Brock.

A pebble! Like he would just stand there and let her ram a pebble into his junk repeatedly. No, madam, that is not plausible. Not plausible, I say!

Also, he wanted to be a gentleman and lift her up, don't be a dick. He is a kind and considerate fellow.

He still doesn't understand a fucking word of what she's saying, though. "Uh... so that's a... no?"

Yes, he would! Because she is an angry, bitty little lady right now, and it's only right for him to hold still while she attempts to bash his hangers in with a pebble.

Molotov takes a seat on the edge of the knife and nods decisively. She will do as she pleases, even when she's tiny!

Brock frowns, because he doesn't really like that idea. She's going to get eaten by a cat or something, and then where would he be? He couldn't wait around for her body to wake up like last time if she's... digested. How does that even work, anyway?

Probably best not to think about it.

"I don't know," he says slowly, glancing to the side. "What if you get stepped on or something..."

She's not going to get pooped out by a cat, if that's what you're trying to say. Cats cannot fly, and also they are not as smart as humans. She can outsmart a cat!

Molotov gestures at herself, as if to say that she's made it through today just fine, hasn't she?

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wtf i didn't get this notif in my email

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