<font color="darkred" face="verdana" size="1">well, you know what they say...</font> -- Main Street

[[D/N: No offense intended towards Fury, Zethy or Brill <3 I luff you all but... Tarry doesn't. -coughs-]]
...Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.

Tarot hissed in pain as the metal made contact with her skin, the iron almost instantly leaving deep bruises. Owww. Damnit! That hurt. Ouch, ouch, ouch! She began to curse, low and quickly in another language and struggled to tear them off. They wouldn't do much lasting harm- more of a magic-meddling nuisance than anything (for that, at least, vampirism was worth it and, well, sometimes useful). But it pissed her off. Buggeration! They wouldn't slide past her hands. What the hell? She stopped struggling and raised her hands to her face and sniffed, once, then twice. Her nose wrinkled back into her face and she sneezed repeatedly. Oh, that was foul. Foul, foul, foul. The poor little thing who these were intended for was a lucky bitch, wasn't she?

Either that or Zeth was about to die. The fae did not like to be tricked. She was drawn to skulduggery but, hell, doing it on purpose just to tempt her was not alright. What was it with this family? She needed to have a serious sitdown with the harem and smack them repeatedly until their genetics worked themselves out. Modern science said that wouldn't be possible, but, hell, she was going to try. Provided that the evil, creeper twin didn't eat her first. If something horrid was going to come her way, she'd rather prefer it to be the attractive, kindly one. Not the heartless, soulless, father-hating, woman-stealing one.

Er... Wait a moment there. How did that work then? Beltane snorted under his breath, snuggling down onto the man's back before beginning to raise a hellish, wailing bark that echoed to the heavens, bells on his collar jangling furiously. He didn't like what was going on. Didn't like it one bit.

Are you stupid or something? Tarot mumbled, now chewing at the bands of metal encircling her wrists, heedless to the taste of singed flesh coating her mouth. They're just doing what daddy does best. The two of us are only here because you're here, you asinine creature.

Tarot was not famed for her ettiqutte withing anyone's circles (except, perhaps, Beltanes) and she wasn't about to start being tactful now. Magic put her into moods; foul, greedy, malicious or spriteful, they weren't moods anyone wanted to touch with a stick. Well, probably because her moods would take the stick, snap it in half, impale you with it and then laugh hysterically. Was that schizophrenic- personalizing one's moods? She hoped so. It'd give her an excuse to blow something up. Crazy people did stuff like that, right? ...Right? Oh dear. She really was cracking up.

SOMEONE is going to die. She puffed out, between hopping around and tugging furiously. Right now, it's a tie between the little person trapped beneath the thingy, the damn dog or the squirrel wife. Sadly, I like my dog and I don't know where to find Mrs. Zeth Squirrel so- looks like the titchy redheaded one is getting the chop.
[[erm, yes, Brillian is now Mrs. Zeth-Squirrel. Sorreh. It happens]]