Human nature. [Birch]

Birch was suffering. He had always been one to hide in his room when he wasn't working toward his ambitions, but now it was more out of necessity. As his blood pact with Lilith progressed with its symptoms, he barely left his room at all unless it was to accomplish something pressing for his own goals. He didn't trust himself, not with her linked emotions plaguing him more intensely by the day. All he needed was to run into Saraphina when Lilith was feeling particularly needy. The phoenix had underestimated how intense feeling her more... loud impulses would be. It was framed as more of a problem at Christmas when Jester's female form had tempted him, and it had only grown into a more monumental problem since. He couldn't be trusted around anyone! That accursed lecherous woman! Wasn't her thirst ever quenched?? It was driving him insane.

He had half a mind to use his presumed loophole to break out of this curse right now. He knew he wasn't thinking straight and wouldn't, but Tahoma hardly seemed that important. Still, despite the inconvenience, he didn't feel like doing that to Lilith. Being linked to her had perhaps created a bond whether that was intended or not. It was as if they were constantly getting to know each other's deepest darkest secrets without spending hardly any time together. It was a strange way to feel like a friend was made.

Though Saraphina and anyone willing to give in to his sexual desires were at the top of his 'Avoid At All Costs' list, the very last human being he wanted to see in any scenario flounced into his room without so much as a knock. Birch had been perched on the edge of his bed, clothed in only a white tank top and gym shorts, furiously pumping his weights to try and work through Lilith's influence. His blond locks were pulled into a messy, low ponytail, which became even messier with how violently he jumped to his feet to glare. His hands dropped the weights with a loud clang. "NO. Get out!" he yelled, though this was not his usual glowering rage that he aimed at the idiotic clown. This was much more urgent, almost fearful. Desperate. As much as he wanted to rush Jester and violently eject him from his room, Birch dared not get too close. His mind was already floating to Femme-Jester and those lips beneath the mistletoe. As much as he loathed this red-headed, pirouetting man, not even rage could turn his turbo-charged libido off. To wrap his calloused hands around that psycho's pale neck and squeeze until he was gasping for air...OH NO! Oh, no no no no no...

[wc: 453 || total: 700]