[He wasn't expecting that either. The horns-grab, anyway. The bonk startles him, too, but he's been doing that since he was a wiggler. Having a goat for a dad leads to some rather...interesting displays of affection.
Still. It's an interesting mesh for a moment, before a little righteous swell of rage curls deep in his belly.
How dare she take something he shared with goatdad and turn it into a fighting move!
Clearly she's destined to be his kismesis.
He grabs her by the waist with one scrawny, pointy-fingered arm, and hurls her against the wall while he wipes his nose on his sleeve with the other arm.
All of his goatdad's abandonment is rushing through his ears. He can't help but admire that kind of devotion to mentally unhinging your opponent. It's downright masterful and ambitious for a lowblood, and humans are all lowbloods...]
[He drops the clubs, and pulls out his longbow out of his jokerkind specibus. Somehow that feels right. You've got to be doing what feels right, even if the pumpbiscuit's throbbing, and you're seeing in shades of murder-red...
The arrow's still down, relaxed in one hand. Where would the fun be? The savor if he drew on you before you had a chance? It's perverse the amount of black affection he feels as he can count the rabbiting heartbeats in his bleeding, crushed nose.]
Someone get us a room... XD <3-
Still. It's an interesting mesh for a moment, before a little righteous swell of rage curls deep in his belly.
How dare she take something he shared with goatdad and turn it into a fighting move!
Clearly she's destined to be his kismesis.
He grabs her by the waist with one scrawny, pointy-fingered arm, and hurls her against the wall while he wipes his nose on his sleeve with the other arm.
All of his goatdad's abandonment is rushing through his ears. He can't help but admire that kind of devotion to mentally unhinging your opponent. It's downright masterful and ambitious for a lowblood, and humans are all lowbloods...]
[He drops the clubs, and pulls out his longbow out of his jokerkind specibus. Somehow that feels right. You've got to be doing what feels right, even if the pumpbiscuit's throbbing, and you're seeing in shades of murder-red...
The arrow's still down, relaxed in one hand. Where would the fun be? The savor if he drew on you before you had a chance? It's perverse the amount of black affection he feels as he can count the rabbiting heartbeats in his bleeding, crushed nose.]