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Summary
selcouth — the unfamiliar, rare, strange and yet marvelous.
Jabber looked up at the ceiling of the cave, and felt something unlock within his chest, and Mankira weighed heavier on his fingers all of a sudden. Freak? Him? How cute. The bruise on his hip throbbed deliciously.
The blonde, maybe brunet, raider with a large stick swung his weapon around, and pointed the sharp ends of the blades and spikes at Jabber.
Jabber felt a laugh bubbling up his throat, Oh Zanka, how I wish you could feel what I'm feeling now—but your eyes are so, so distant. I feel—
"—like you don't like me, man."
"I don't particularly like geniuses like you." Zanka spat.
or, a janka swap au fic.