Post by The God-Emperor of Gemkind on Mar 13, 2017 2:03:26 GMT
Fuscite frowned a bit as the explosion hit her armor, unfortunately disabling the cloaking technology hiding her from sight. And so, as the armored expeditionary lay perched atop the gems she had just saved, the one that looked like a constipated mango (or a displeased papaya, mayhaps?) rudely kicked her away and began screaming. Again. Standing up, Fuscite brushed herself off and stretched a bit as the echo died down. After checking to see if her suit's audio dampeners still worked, Fuscite peered at the gem in her grasp. An audible exhale could be heard. It was alright. "This." her voice sounded... oddly distorted with the HOIMEA's vocal projectors. She reached for her neck and meddled with a cord for several seconds - unsurprisingly, it was knocked out of place by the explosion. Craning her neck, she spoke again - this time her voice much more clear, yet still masculine. "This is... the meaning." The green carapace extended an arm towards Fire Agate, holding Peridot's gem with an open palm. She stood there for several awkward seconds, waiting for something to happen.
Tanzanite was reaching for the third rocket when a deafening voice caught her attention. The grating shout was excruciating to the purple gem's ears, and her hands quickly shot to her ears in a vain effort to drown out the voice. On the verge of tears when the last throes of Fire Agate's rage had died out, Tanzanite slowly got back up and eyed the ship with a jaded expression on her face - whoever had committed such musical heresy needed to be taught a lesson. Placing the rocket launcher back into the sack, Tanzanite marched out into the open towards the ship, faint B♭ quarter notes pulsating in the background - joined by a chorus of other notes to form a soft symphony that crescendo'd into a dark forte as the violet-hued gem marched, in beat, right past a small crater- her vision glued to the horror of intonation that was the interior of the scarlet wreckage.
Tanzanite was reaching for the third rocket when a deafening voice caught her attention. The grating shout was excruciating to the purple gem's ears, and her hands quickly shot to her ears in a vain effort to drown out the voice. On the verge of tears when the last throes of Fire Agate's rage had died out, Tanzanite slowly got back up and eyed the ship with a jaded expression on her face - whoever had committed such musical heresy needed to be taught a lesson. Placing the rocket launcher back into the sack, Tanzanite marched out into the open towards the ship, faint B♭ quarter notes pulsating in the background - joined by a chorus of other notes to form a soft symphony that crescendo'd into a dark forte as the violet-hued gem marched, in beat, right past a small crater- her vision glued to the horror of intonation that was the interior of the scarlet wreckage.