Post #2484090 in White Picket Fences and Apple Pie, a roleplay on RPG

L E O P O L D • P R A T T

A hellish noise erupted from stage left, startling Leo into a goatish leap. He fumbled with his now airborne phone and watched in abject horror as it crashed to the forest floor. No. No no no, oh gods. Leo followed after the mobile, willing his limbs to move faster, as if picking it up quicker would lesson any damage inflicted. Leo flipped the electronic over in his palms several times before releasing a heavy breath through his nostrils.

Oh praise the gods. Not even a scratch. That ghost armor is really something.

Initial panic subsided, Leopold now registered the unsettling scent of heated air wafting over him. Oh gross. Didn't people know better than to light fires during the dry season? Leo frowns as he types fervidly on his way to the lake, hopefully uninterrupted, to bask on a sun warmed rock and watch the sun set (and hopefully maybe watch his favorite shirtless-nymph swim around). 'some people have absolutely no regard for the sacrament of nature #OnlyYouCanPreventWildfires'.

Ah yes, the lake was in sight. Finally. Leo had enough stumbling over roots and bramble for one day. Why flat surfaces weren't in the forest blueprints, he'll never understand.

The satyr inhaled deeply, freeing his nostrils of the not quite campfire smell from before and let a smile spread. That is, until something wet slapped across his face and chest.

Leopold stumbled back and whipped his head around to find the receptor of much of his disdain; Shela. Her body glistened in the midday sun from her perch on a partially submerged rock, mud dripping from her tail-turned catapult. Her dripping hair was pilled in a ratted mess atop her hair, aquatic plants hanging by clumps, and a shark like grin split her face. She looked utterly atrocious.

"Heya, short stuff," she giggled and waved her fingers at him. Leo didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or puke. He did neither, opting instead to look down at his own shirt. He blanched and a shrill, gaspy whine pulled itself from his throat. His shirt, his favorite white V-neck solid! Smeared with ungodly mud and filth! Leo sputtered, tugging hopelessly at his shirt and pointed at the devil’s spawn. “I-you where’d- I- You!” Fucking hell! How could he face his hunky nymph looking like this? “You-you hooker!” His face flushed with anger and scrunched in unpleasant ways. The anger practically oozed from his soul and Leo wished uselessly for it to pierce through the wildly laughing mermaid’s body. And of course his ears chose that moment to twitch and shoo away the disgusting winged insects that infested the air. Leo wanted to stomp his hoof in frustration, he hated when they did that. It completely shattered his menacing appearance.

Leopold wanted to scream. Or cry. Or maybe both. Just, damn it all! All he wanted was to watch hot, dripping wet men in peace. Was that too much to ask‽

He smoothed down his shirt and let out a deep, shaky breath through flared nostrils. That’s better. No exploding veins today. Leopold opened his eyes, his anger barely contained by his haughty demeanor, and opened his mouth to let insults fly, only to have Shela's giggle fit subside enough for her to speak, "You got a little something..." She gestured towards her cheek, impish grin still shining.

That little shit. That absolutely infuriating fish-skank. He tried to be calm, he really did. But now the insufferable bitch had to die.

Leo dove at the laughing fishgirl, intent on wrapping his hands around her slimy neck, only to be shocked from his anger by the slap of cold water everywhere.

By Pan's flute it was cold. Really fucking cold. Leo gasped and oh praise the gods they were still in the shallows of the lake. Hooves were not made for swimming.

His thrashing and flailing was decidedly not ungraceful, thank you very much. And he most certainly did not stumble over the rocks as he pulled himself out of the water.

"Leo dear, you forgot something," Shela's patronizing voice sung, causing Leo's fists to clench and jaw to grind. He stiffly stomped back to snatch his sopping beanie from her clutches. "Oh, and Art isn't here. He went out."

Of fucking course he did. His grip tightened around his beanie, lake water dripping from between his fingers as he snarled, "I hope you get caught in a fisherman's net," ignoring the fish as she coyly pointed to the No Fishing sign, he stomped back into the woods.

Leopold tromped through the forest tugging uselessly at his now stretched and transparent shirt. A whine pushed pass his downward tilted lips as he futilely attempted to push his now limp hair into its usual styled coif.

He paused his steady grumblings as his fingers brushed against something slimy and sucked in a breath. Leo squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled a limp piece of aquatic plant life from his horn. Oh no. Oh gross. Oh why. He flung it at a tree with a shrill squeak and shook his hands free of the slime. This was all that sea hags fault. All he wanted was to watch Art a little but instead he had his entire outfit and day ruined. Oh and look at that, his freshly groomed legs and hooves were caked in mud. Just what he needed.

The trees began to thin and oh thank heavens pavement. Leopold slowed his pace from his stumbling trot to a leisurely clomp, even if he was soaked to the bone he had to keep up appearances.

Snippet #2484090

located in The Lake, a part of White Picket Fences and Apple Pie, one of the many universes on RPG.

Setting

Characters Present

Footnotes