Oh, gross. [There is no other way to describe the feeling of blood peeling off his skin like a thick gelatin. Poor little Maura is traumatized (at least as much as a robot can be), but it's not bloody. Taryon had protected his pet well at the cost of his mental well-being. He checks the soles of his boots for any traces of blood and waits a few seconds. Who knows if there's more blood that's seeped under the road?
Or that could be all. Choso tells him to leave, so he will. Taryon ducks and runs out of the entrance, pausing to stare at the immense amount of bloody magic hovering over the other man.]
Whose...blood...is that? [It can't be Choso's. Is it the geckos'? Taryon touches his neck with a gloved hand, but he doesn't feel any wounds there.]
no subject
Or that could be all. Choso tells him to leave, so he will. Taryon ducks and runs out of the entrance, pausing to stare at the immense amount of bloody magic hovering over the other man.]
Whose...blood...is that? [It can't be Choso's. Is it the geckos'? Taryon touches his neck with a gloved hand, but he doesn't feel any wounds there.]