[Nightcrawler's taken to exploring the forest when his thoughts get the better of him. The area is quiet, except for nature's occasional bird-call or rustling from an animal darting by. He sighs, watches the steam rise and dissipate within a few seconds, his tail dreamily flicking side to side. Thankfully, being high enough up, he doesn't seem all that bothered by the wildlife.
Shebad is at his side, draped lazily over the tree branch they're both perched on, her synthesized voice doing a great impression of a deep purr. He spares the daemon a glance, lips quirking in amusement as he reaches over with one hand to give her back a full-length, languid stroke.
He adjusts his position, stretches both legs out and nudges her with a boot. She cracks an eye open, unamused by his antics, although when he opens his arms, the ocelot promptly crawls forward and plops against him. A slight oomph escapes, but after they're both settled, he thumps the back of his head against the trunk, lets his eyes flutter shut. Then, just as he's beginning to enter a more meditative state, an exclamation of pain makes his eyes open right back up. If he'd ever heard the noise before from Kavinsky, perhaps it might have been familiar, but he's never been in any situation like that with him.
With a gentle push, Kurt urges the feline away, rolls off the edge of the limb to land on the ground below. A vague gesture of his hand beckons her and once she's down, they're both rushing toward the noise.] Kavinsky? [he asks, worry clear in his voice when he breaks through the spanse of trees. The smell of burning flesh makes him cringe, an arm raising and pressing over his face. What in the world is that? and then Oh, my God— Kavinsky's a vampire!
His instincts take over and without a second thought, he whips the coat he's wearing off and sprints closer, throwing the jacket over Kavinsky's head and yanking it around his upper-half.] What are you doing? [or in other words: "the sun's coming up, fool!"]
kneeslides into this thread
Shebad is at his side, draped lazily over the tree branch they're both perched on, her synthesized voice doing a great impression of a deep purr. He spares the daemon a glance, lips quirking in amusement as he reaches over with one hand to give her back a full-length, languid stroke.
He adjusts his position, stretches both legs out and nudges her with a boot. She cracks an eye open, unamused by his antics, although when he opens his arms, the ocelot promptly crawls forward and plops against him. A slight oomph escapes, but after they're both settled, he thumps the back of his head against the trunk, lets his eyes flutter shut. Then, just as he's beginning to enter a more meditative state, an exclamation of pain makes his eyes open right back up. If he'd ever heard the noise before from Kavinsky, perhaps it might have been familiar, but he's never been in any situation like that with him.
With a gentle push, Kurt urges the feline away, rolls off the edge of the limb to land on the ground below. A vague gesture of his hand beckons her and once she's down, they're both rushing toward the noise.] Kavinsky? [he asks, worry clear in his voice when he breaks through the spanse of trees. The smell of burning flesh makes him cringe, an arm raising and pressing over his face. What in the world is that? and then Oh, my God— Kavinsky's a vampire!
His instincts take over and without a second thought, he whips the coat he's wearing off and sprints closer, throwing the jacket over Kavinsky's head and yanking it around his upper-half.] What are you doing? [or in other words: "the sun's coming up, fool!"]