The Preserve, Thursday Evening

[intraspective]

So, today had kinda been a wash even though she’d gotten some awesome sweaters of Romeo’s and was going to kill Cal dead eventually, especially if he kept it up, but now—now Ino had something far more interesting to amuse herself with.

Which would be why there was a small blonde ninja out in the preserve.

With a pink rhino costume.

She was trying to figure out how to string it up in one of the trees while waiting for her partner-in-crime. It… wasn’t going that well.

“No,” she said to the costume, “seriously. What are you made of? You’re freakin’ heavy.”

Smoochy didn't answer her. That was probably a good thing since it was just a costume.

[For Reno, please! And totally NFB.]

Comments

[raspberryturk]

"Fairly thin strips of dead-rhino belly, comin' right up!"

Reno was now humming as he worked. This was right up his alley, wasn't it?

A couple of minutes later, and he was holding up nine lengths of Smoochy-gut ribbon. It was almost a fashion statement!

"An' here you go!"

He was going to reward himself with another puff or two from the cigarette that was dwindling away on Smoochy's increasingly-charred forehead.

[intraspective]

It was so many levels of wrong, and yet Ino was happy doing this. While he was cutting strips, she was adding 'blood' to the injuries. They were insane.

"My hero," she said, batting her eyelashes at him, and carefully taking the strips with one hand while offering him the ink. "Want to make his stomach bleed while I'm braiding like a good little girl?"

Ino was no one's good little girl except, perhaps, her father's.

[raspberryturk]

"Ooh, gimmie!" The smoke was now hanging from the corner of Reno's lip as he made a nab for the remains of the pen. "I'm gonna put some in his eyes, an' then dribble some down the corner of his mouth, yoto!"

He was about as enthusiastic as a five-year-old. One with a penchant for torture and making things bleed.

[intraspective]

"Tears of blood," she murmured, already getting to work on her braids, sitting cross-legged in the grass--the ground was still damp, but that didn't bother her--and looking like a cat that had gotten into the cream. "Never a good sign for your continued health."

Not that Smoochy had much to look forward to here.

"We should put his feet in his stomach," she opined. "Chop 'em off and claim we made him eat them."

[raspberryturk]

"I like it. But should we cook 'em, first? You know what they say about eatin' raw meat. Especially when you never can tell where it's been, zoto."

He emptied out the last of the ink, and then knelt down to inspect the rhino's feet.

"I'm thinkin' bonfire, if we can find enough dry wood. What're you thinkin'?"

[intraspective]

She was mid-way done the second braid already, fingers working quick as she thought.

"There's still dry wood," Ino said, with all the authority of someone who'd grown up in a forest, "for cooking something like that. Just means you've gotta look a little harder for it. Check hollows of trees, and under the ones that got so many branches that they nearly brush the ground--thicker the canopy is, the better odds of finding some dry."

[raspberryturk]

"Heeeey. Good thinkin'."

Reno could appreciate her expertise, really. Seeing as everything he needed to know about trees in his lifetime could typically be summed up in 'they are made of wood.'

Not exactly a Junior Forest Ranger or anything, that Reno.

He took another drag from his cigarette, stubbed it out against one of Smoochy's eyes, and then started to snoop around for dry wood. He always did like barbecue.

[Bedtime for me! SP?]

[intraspective]

Ino hummed as she continued braiding, the strands turning neatly the way she wanted them to, and when she had the three smaller braids she started combining them to form the larger one.

Quite a macabre picture, really, a happy girl and a very dead rhino.

"Try over that way," she said, glancing up and pointing. "It looks a bit dryer there."

[SP is amazing!]