⠀ ( oh! he perks up a little bit.. still downtrodden. any company’s better than none! ) Hiii Marx.. no, no. I’m okay! It’s just— ( this apple is bad. there’s something in it he doesn’t like! he can’t enjoy it for long that thing is in there!! 💦 ) .. I can’t have this apple, poyo. 🌀 ⠀

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|| that'd be crazy.

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Wincing at Marx's remark, Taranza faces away from the gruesome sight as he clutches his chest. "Fortunately, it wasn't someone I deeply cherished. Which is reassuring." His other set of pupils then drift away to a newly sprung thornbush that he did his best to hide from the jester's prying eyes...

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—its contents in midair! "There's no telling... what cruel fate might befall the rest of the Sectra Clan if word ever got out..." Hands trembling, Taranza's eyes were squeezed eyes shut. Once the pod lands, he wipes a yellowish orange drop of what could only be described as 'blood' off his cheeks.

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—repute... strange as it may sound. "...That is a good assessment indeed, Marx." A string is then promptly fired off by Taranza, encasing the Dee in a cocoon. Following this, he flings the pod skyward, and with swift motion, tugs fiercely enough on the strands wrapped around his palms to slice up—

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