To kill a dragon was no easy task, even for an accomplished dragonslayer, and Rose and Roxy Lalonde were anything but accomplished dragonslayers. Or even trained ones, for that matter, but they were the only two left in their huge, sprawling mecca of corruption and industry who could even use anything close to magic anymore. The others in their merry little band had long since scattered to the winds, hunting down monsters and vicious little demons of their own. No one knew how these creatures had gotten to the cities, supposedly confined to the wilds and Hellmurder Island as they were, but here and now one was in New York City (III).
That wasn't the worst of it, either. There were rumours of a many-tentacles psychic kraken off the coast of Manhattan, and the girl the Lalondes thought it was looking for was long dead and gone at a hostile griffin flock's claws.
So, all in all, it was very likely that the two of them were going to die in the morning, when they marched out to do battle with a monster almost ne'er seen before. They were dealing with it in their own separate ways (though both involved copious amounts of alcohol). Rose was doing her best to write, an account of everything that had transpired, so that maybe once Alternearthia was destroyed, someone could find it in the void of space and know what mistakes not to repeat. A long shot. Her only hope. And Roxy...
"I don't wnat to-- want to die a virgin," she whispered to her sister. "Please, Rosey. Fuck me 'til I bleed." The younger blonde (by all of four minutes!) reached out to gently shut the heavy book, slipping an arm around Rose's waist and staring up at her with imploring pink eyes.
"That's..." Rose's state of intoxication was not helping her to resist her sister, or indeed come up with any logical arguments as to why such a thing would be good in the first place. "Roxy. We're sisters. No."
"And we're the onyl people we've got left, c'mon, you know I wouldn't be askgni, asking this of you if I didn't want it, didn't love you..." Didn't love her more than a sister ought, for they'd grown up practically being each other's world. And just as she was the only one who wouldn't mind the fact that Rose was grey and white and festering already, a tentacled horrorterror just waiting to spring into being, Rose was the only one who wouldn't care (would touch her in spite of) the long-since-dead eyes she'd sacrificed to their magic or the strange wiggly things that sometimes moved within them.
When it looked like Rose would keep protesting, Roxy just threw caution to the wind and kissed her. Her sister tasted of ash and cherries and the dark crackling energy of magic.
Needless to say, she got what she wanted in the end.
FILL: TEAM Eridan <3< Vriska
That wasn't the worst of it, either. There were rumours of a many-tentacles psychic kraken off the coast of Manhattan, and the girl the Lalondes thought it was looking for was long dead and gone at a hostile griffin flock's claws.
So, all in all, it was very likely that the two of them were going to die in the morning, when they marched out to do battle with a monster almost ne'er seen before. They were dealing with it in their own separate ways (though both involved copious amounts of alcohol). Rose was doing her best to write, an account of everything that had transpired, so that maybe once Alternearthia was destroyed, someone could find it in the void of space and know what mistakes not to repeat. A long shot. Her only hope. And Roxy...
"I don't wnat to-- want to die a virgin," she whispered to her sister. "Please, Rosey. Fuck me 'til I bleed." The younger blonde (by all of four minutes!) reached out to gently shut the heavy book, slipping an arm around Rose's waist and staring up at her with imploring pink eyes.
"That's..." Rose's state of intoxication was not helping her to resist her sister, or indeed come up with any logical arguments as to why such a thing would be good in the first place. "Roxy. We're sisters. No."
"And we're the onyl people we've got left, c'mon, you know I wouldn't be askgni, asking this of you if I didn't want it, didn't love you..." Didn't love her more than a sister ought, for they'd grown up practically being each other's world. And just as she was the only one who wouldn't mind the fact that Rose was grey and white and festering already, a tentacled horrorterror just waiting to spring into being, Rose was the only one who wouldn't care (would touch her in spite of) the long-since-dead eyes she'd sacrificed to their magic or the strange wiggly things that sometimes moved within them.
When it looked like Rose would keep protesting, Roxy just threw caution to the wind and kissed her. Her sister tasted of ash and cherries and the dark crackling energy of magic.
Needless to say, she got what she wanted in the end.
(the tentacles were actually kind of fun)