(no subject)
Who: worldentire and mississippikiss
Where Sinclair's room, might move later
When: Tonight!
Rating: Er... R, I guess. It could possibly get very disturbing as there are slugs and stomachs involved.
Summary: Sinclair's aiming to help Rogue out... by making her a Sister.
the Story:
Augustus Sinclair is nervous.
It's very rare when he's nervous, see; that's why that first sentence is important. Usually, Sinclair is so confident in whatever he's doing that he can just power through everything that isn't something he's an expert on. He can usually fake it. But today, he's nervous, enough that he's smoking more than normal and pacing his room while he's waiting, and it's because he DOES know what he's doing. He knows very well what he's doing. He's seen the procedure about a thousand times. But that's the thing, see. He's worried because he knows there's no way he can do it wrong.
After a few moments of checking and rechecking the chair, he studies it. It's a scary sort of contraption - red leather pads for comfort on cold steel squares in some form of horrid dental chair, but the arm rests have leather straps and there are matching straps for the feet at the bottom. Pursing his lips, he pauses, really looking at it.
It looks terrifying, honestly.
Sighing, he pushes it back into the closet (with only a slight amount of difficulty) and decides to go with something easier - the bed. Might as well have her comfortable.
Turning, he starts to pace again, eying the tank in the corner. God, this wasn't going to be easy.
Where Sinclair's room, might move later
When: Tonight!
Rating: Er... R, I guess. It could possibly get very disturbing as there are slugs and stomachs involved.
Summary: Sinclair's aiming to help Rogue out... by making her a Sister.
the Story:
Augustus Sinclair is nervous.
It's very rare when he's nervous, see; that's why that first sentence is important. Usually, Sinclair is so confident in whatever he's doing that he can just power through everything that isn't something he's an expert on. He can usually fake it. But today, he's nervous, enough that he's smoking more than normal and pacing his room while he's waiting, and it's because he DOES know what he's doing. He knows very well what he's doing. He's seen the procedure about a thousand times. But that's the thing, see. He's worried because he knows there's no way he can do it wrong.
After a few moments of checking and rechecking the chair, he studies it. It's a scary sort of contraption - red leather pads for comfort on cold steel squares in some form of horrid dental chair, but the arm rests have leather straps and there are matching straps for the feet at the bottom. Pursing his lips, he pauses, really looking at it.
It looks terrifying, honestly.
Sighing, he pushes it back into the closet (with only a slight amount of difficulty) and decides to go with something easier - the bed. Might as well have her comfortable.
Turning, he starts to pace again, eying the tank in the corner. God, this wasn't going to be easy.