[ mumbled insistently as he finishes rubbing his now sore nose. ough...
but part of the flock indeed. from two or three at a time, to five or six, as the jar is passed over and sniffed, more and more of the moths seem to be breaking away, attracted to the trio. perhaps the friends are just sad to be left behind though—soon enough, smaller chunks of the swarm are beginning to flutter their way over, not quite having reached them yet, but certainly on their way.
for now, kit will hold out the jar for surge, expecting her to drop the first moth in. dead or not, it's still a moth. ]
Yes, Ma'am. I'll do my best.
[ put the first moth in there first. ]
its true i'm not going to roll for asscreed when i'm supposed to be saving for nautika
[Azul actually smiles upon seeing the two of them working together now to toss the moths into the jar, before he turns his attention to the moths proper now too to study them further while Surge and Kit grab and collect them. He takes notes on the slight colors that they have, including a group that appear to have some purple dusting lightly coating their wings that seem interested in trying to land on him, to which he gently sweeps his hand to brush them away when they try to get in the way of the notes he is writing.
That is, until a group of moths suddenly land on the back of his gloved hand that he's holding his pen in, and he pauses. Because these ones, if Azul squints at them hard enough, almost look like they have random splotches of something black staining the tips of their wings. It feels like if he stares at them long enough, he will see that black actually drip off their wings and splashing onto his gloves, as bizarre as the sudden thought is.
Regardless, Azul can't quite explain the strange feeling that washes over him as he stops moving his pen, as if suddenly nervous that if he makes any sudden movements, the moths will startle and suddenly take off. Or god forbid, get startled enough that they fly right into his face. As a result, Kit and Surge may suddenly notice that Azul has been rather quiet for far too long now...]
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assassin creed gacha is kind of crazy i can't lie
[ mumbled insistently as he finishes rubbing his now sore nose. ough...
but part of the flock indeed. from two or three at a time, to five or six, as the jar is passed over and sniffed, more and more of the moths seem to be breaking away, attracted to the trio. perhaps the friends are just sad to be left behind though—soon enough, smaller chunks of the swarm are beginning to flutter their way over, not quite having reached them yet, but certainly on their way.
for now, kit will hold out the jar for surge, expecting her to drop the first moth in. dead or not, it's still a moth. ]
Yes, Ma'am. I'll do my best.
[ put the first moth in there first. ]
its true i'm not going to roll for asscreed when i'm supposed to be saving for nautika
That is, until a group of moths suddenly land on the back of his gloved hand that he's holding his pen in, and he pauses. Because these ones, if Azul squints at them hard enough, almost look like they have random splotches of something black staining the tips of their wings. It feels like if he stares at them long enough, he will see that black actually drip off their wings and splashing onto his gloves, as bizarre as the sudden thought is.
Regardless, Azul can't quite explain the strange feeling that washes over him as he stops moving his pen, as if suddenly nervous that if he makes any sudden movements, the moths will startle and suddenly take off. Or god forbid, get startled enough that they fly right into his face. As a result, Kit and Surge may suddenly notice that Azul has been rather quiet for far too long now...]