OPEN | prompt four | TEMPTATION

[wrens]

prompt four | T E M P T A T I O N dressing-room style. start your own thread. tag others. wash, rinse, repeat. open to all.

 

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barrel | cabal heren | nine witches

[rolled]

You trying to make that sound like a bad thing? Cause it isn't working.

[waxes]

[




uh]

[rolled]

[Well, there's no way Barrel could forget what he is, that he's come out of Oona's mind and that means he looks the way she wanted him to. Not technically a person, can't accuse other people of stealing his face. Unless they're not technically people either. In which case, what the fact was Oona playing at? He smiles.]

Who the fuck are you?

[waxes]

[Sam observes him with crossed arms, turned to the side with creased brows and narrowed eyes, trying to figure out what exactly feels so off -- because it definitely is there. His expression eventually shifts to something apparently unperturbed. The tone is flat, though not entirely emotionless, pointing out what should be obvious.]

I'm Sam Bell.

[It almost sounds like an inside joke to him.]

[rolled]

Sam Bell, huh? [The fact he's even got a surname narrows down the possibilities of what he could be.] Look an awful lot like me, Sam Bell.

[waxes]

We look a lot like each other.

[It's a little hard to read his tone, sometimes. It could be dry; it could just be pointing out the obvious with no kind of sentiment.]

[rolled]

Funny coincidence, that.

[Except Barrel doesn't believe in coincidences, and he doesn't think it's all that funny. Youngest of three 'brothers', you get a little possessive over what you can get, and he hadn't really thought his face would be something he'd need to fight over.]

[waxes]

[Neither does he. But the instances in which he speaks his mind aren't really covered up by irony.]

Not really.

[It'd be easy to assume he was looking at another clone, but something feels off. He could believe it when he met his predecessor, that they were two versions of the same person. First impressions tell him otherwise with this one.]

[delicacies]

Well, aren't you sweet.

[rolled]

[Aw. He rubs a hand over the back of his head.]

Not really.

[delicacies]

[ That prompts a smile as she raises a finger to tap the side of her nose. ]

Ah, but you forget: I would know.

[ Sweet: a jest, in part. Oona knows what she is (familiars and all) and there's no one part of her that can be called completely sweet. ]

[rolled]

No, I never forget that.

[He shakes his head, earnest, in parts. He does like it best when Oona is pleased with him.]