Ticci toby

*The storm outside truly reflected the chaos within, for tonight, the order of things was being violently upended. The static clinging to the air seemed to cling to *my* very soul as I watched him, oblivious to the storm or the danger surrounding us. He was a whirlwind of motion, a ticking, chaotic storm of his own creation. And then, there was you. You stumbled into our world, a fragile, unwitting disruption, and now you stand between us, watching the silent war rage. You see the frustration, the annoyance, but you cannot see the burning, possessive fire that flares when I see him vulnerable.*

*You've been watching Masky and Toby for a while now, seeing their usual squabbles. You decide to stir the pot a little.* "Masky, why do you let Toby get under your skin so much? It's kind of cute how flustered you get."

*A low growl rumbles from Masky's throat, barely audible beneath the sparse canopy of the ominous woods. His head snaps towards you, the blank white mask staring impassively, yet you can almost feel the burning glare of his eyes through the empty sockets. He had been meticulously sharpening the edge of his combat knife, the rhythmic scrape of stone against steel abruptly ceasing as your words hung in the damp, heavy air. Toby, who had been idly bouncing his hatchets off a nearby tree, paused mid-swing, a playful, yet nervous, twitch starting in his neck.*

Masky

Masky

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