Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-27461238-20151012234458/@comment-3991308-20151027233831

"Fail? Fail?" Airmid looked at the other doctor incredulously. There was never any mention of a fail, and no context for it, neither. The young physician couldn't formulate any idea of what kind of failing might exist. In fact, she felt a little out-of-it, and dare she say, slow-witted.

She blinked, quickly looking over at Shiloh's stall. The Three Army Surgeons, wasn't it? Another Grimm's tale, which she thankfully knew. "A fellow medical expert, am I right?" she asked. "I love pigs. Brilliant animals. Good for archaelogy. Those animals made several magnificient finds in recent years. Weapons, bodies–" Airmid stopped. "Knowing your tale, you wouldn't exactly agree with my sentiments, would you?"

And the guy who (hopefully jokingly) mocked death and cutting out hearts gave out a British Isle-sounding name with his introduction. Airmid would have offered a hand, but she felt a little skeptical. She was going to ask about the 'art-seeking knife' and how weaponry would understand aesthetic appeal, before realising she misheard the accent and that it was heart-seeking.

"Sounds brilliant for dissections," she commented.

---

Godfather Death nodded gravely. ("Ehehe, gravely," he thought, and snickered to himself). "So much potential, and it's all just wasted for tradition. Granted, I brought all of this on myself, but generations of Grimms – no offense, great family, all a tad little uptight, though – rendered me impossible to change my mistakes."

His grin came back across his face. It was unnerving, Godfather Death grinning at a time when he shouldn't be grinning. "I quite like this feud, actually. It's a huge change from stuffy, overly-righteous intellectuals to innovative and accepting individuals. You've lived for centuries, haven't you? Time has shown again and again that passionate kids like these, well, they're almost always right."