"You're ********' wonderful--stay,stay,stay -- I'll get it! L'be right back," Waru was convincingly kissing Aramis up against the cleanest section of the brick-wall near the back exit; pressing some new soft promise to her lips, "you'n your ********, accent pieces, always gotta 'be the most extra'," the words hissed with false annoyance, and it was all loving tease because he knew the purse was important, that Aramis's feet were probably killing her what with all the walking, and standing, and dancing she'd done - trying to drag him into a good time and an even better mood. He was being gentlemanly, offering to go back in and snag the bright, blue-dazzled piece of a clutch outta the seats he remembered them being in.
"F'anything goes wrong, you c'n just scream my name, yeh?"
"Oh yes, I'll scream, in my most distressed version of 'damsel'. Here, let me practice, ahh - ooh - oh do help me! I'm being accosted by a massive mongrel of a mutt--" faint and overacted pantomime flavored with dull notes and the most theatrical swoon, before Aramis was shoving Waru off, waiving him to get his a** in gear so they could get the ******** home, because even she could only manage being bound up in laces for so long. She wanted to end the night on a good note, to get back to her place and scald Syrus's sensibilities, and maybe get a foot rub out of the two of them if the brain and brawn weren't too tired out from their respectively different nights. "Someone do come save me from this beast! Anyone but Waru---" and the pair were laughing as they parted, Aramis was pulling out her phone for the sake of distraction, Waru was slipping back inside the laugh-lounge of a party venue -- the show had been amazing. She was already uploading pictures of the ridiculously over decorated mocktails and edible-glitter filled wine glasses with the bitchiest of tag lines.
The alley was otherwise empty; save for occasional passers by on the street, the noise of parkinglots and traffic beyond that. The whole of the evening relatively quiet. Aramis felt sure nothing could go wrong in the moments it would take Waru to get her things and come right back---
Posted: Fri Mar 31, 2023 8:21 pm
Of ******** course there was a couple making out in public. Was this even in public, technically? Were they actually making out or were they being a little more chaste about it? Yes, no, whatever; it didn't matter; a friend of an acquaintance had posted about this thing on social media, and Sparrow felt like ze was going to go insane if ze stared at that essay any longer, so an impromptu outing as Larimar it was. Social gatherings were fantastic for gathering energy from, once one took the chaff into account; nobody wanted to call the cops, and there was usually just too many other people in the vicinity for someone to risk exposing their identity, so even if they were powered none of it mattered.
It was fun. Stress-relief terrorization of the populace. And a starseed, or two, because yes yes <******** whatever ze had a problem, ze knew, but nobody ******** else was volunteering to take over any of that civilian stress and people who'd been recruited six months ago were already hitting goddamn Captain, so zyr body was just going to have to manage. The same way it did when ze chugged a sextuple espresso. Except with a little more murder.
The guy was going back inside -- good. Good. He looked like he'd be a pain. Larimar wasn't weak by any stretch of the imagination, ze had spent too much time holding a sword for that and also all the magically-granted boosts, but ze was also not six foot something and built like a brick with a score to settle. Even with a monologue, ze'd be in and out of here before he got back, easy, easy.
So Larimar teleported into the alley, with the kind of smile that got called fake by anyone with eyes, just far enough from the person who'd had the sorry luck to be left out here to make it a little dramatic. No need to pretend ze'd gotten there by mundane means. What was the point of dark power if you couldn't flaunt it?
"You know," Larimar said, very conversationally and with one hand on the hilt of zyr rapier, "I'd really think people would have learned that being alone in an alley, even for five minutes, gets you killed by now! But I learn something new every day. Oh - and if you scream, I'm going to slit your ******** throat. Doubt your boyfriend wants that." Step. Step. "So - congratulations!" Step. Step. "You're winning the Darwin Awards tonight. Wouldn't your parents be so proud." One step closer - and that was close enough, that was arm's-reach -- time for her starseed to find a new home in zyr hand --
At first? Aramis didn't even bother to look up from the feed running across her endless scroll, tags to her Pinterest (because some of the people there'd had fantastic makeup, boots, hair!), her Instagram, a brief image of a complicated set of braids she was dead set into attempting on the next client that'd let her. She heard boots in the alley, the scrape of steps, clutched her phone a hint tighter before looking up from backlit glow and into ---
A person suddenly appearing out of thin ******** air.
She paused enough to swallow around the set clench of her jaw, as the words of the other person finally registered in her ears. So this was it then? She was going to get mugged by some wannabe theater-junkie on a high? Skewered by a Fake sword and all? This b***h -- daring to threaten her -- looking very Imperial Prussian and misguided Les Miz enthusiast all at once; how droll. At least it would've been, if Aramis didn't believe the person before her was serious as ******** with zyr intentions. Had that look about them, half-manic, part-crazed, but serious ********.
She didn't scream, didn't quip back what words wanted to fill the space of her mouth and ended up caught behind teeth bared behind chapped pigmented lips. Her thumb did move though-- rapidly over the screen -- she stepped back as the hand reached out -- felt agony -- the kind that bent her like an accordion and sent everything crashing to the floor, phone, knees. Her eyes rolled back as tears clung to the corners of false lashes (her mascara was too good to run.) Then she went ragdoll around the fist in her chest, all hollowed out, seeing nothing more......
The text Waru received was ********' weird even by his own standards. Just three letters SOS, all caps, no punctuation, no flirty little sparkle to tie up the single texts end. It was all so flat, dead, n lifeless for Aramis -- considering how she bounced between fireworks flair and readable deadpan sass. He figured she was tired, maybe beyond ready to go home. <******** that it mattered much! He'd already found the clutch kicked underneath the leather-cushed seats, was on his way back asap, and said as much with a string of present picture/running emojis.
"Hey Aramis--the hell is sos? S'sauce? Sus?" his voice loud in the alleys narrow passageway, louder even than the screech the iron-hinged door made as he hit the exit lever with his hip and flung it open; uncaring if it bounced off of already chipped brickwork and added more debris to the gum-patched, rain-rotted path that stretched between buildings to the street.
He expected an answer-- a catch of nails on his arms grabbing for the clutch in his left, a sidling of warmth as Aramis inevitably came back to his side to tease him some more -- the silence drew his eyes though, to the flash of blue and purple-pinks in his periphery. To the sight of a cape fluttering despite the lack of a breeze, the gall of hilted steel at a hip.
A Starseed.
Everything went still. Aramis's body existed as a fuzzy blurr he couldn't fully look at, there was just a shape draped in velvet on the ground, a body, more importantly than that? The person standing over them clutching bright magenta and looking hungry as ******** to his own eyes. Looking greedy, like they'd gotten the worlds best loot box on the first pull. Waru thought he knew that hunger all too well -- had seen it mirrored in the flames of his husbands eyes not long ago -- in his own, even; though for tastes more hedonistic and less macabre than the souls of the living.
"The actual ******** this--" the bark of a growl came unbidden, enraged, deep brass scraping the dust off the slamming doors hinges as everything in his hands dropped, a clatter of who the ******** cared because he was reaching for something in his back pocket even as he spoke out. He needed to get that back and he needed to do it ******** quickly!!
Daekie
Posted: Mon Apr 03, 2023 9:02 am
Damn it. There the ******** was, storming out, making direct eye contact like ze was a bear and if he postured loud enough ze'd give up and run. (Which would be smart, even, because he was still six foot something and built like a ******** truck, and even with all the magical strength in the world Larimar was still five foot nine and built vaguely like a pinched rectangle.)
As someone who had recently started a valiant campaign to listen to zyr get the hell out of dodge instincts, Larimar did refrain from engaging, at least for the moment; instead ze teleported about thirty feet backwards, sporting the type of villainous smirk that might've seemed too cliché in any other circumstance, and even possibly this one. "We can play twenty questions, if you want," ze called, and tossed the starseed in the air before catching it again. "But I'm terrible at playing fair."
(Do not eat it. Do not eat the ******** starseed. The abbreviated line of action was thrumming in zyr bones; tempting, tempting, but no. Needed to cut back. More fun to taunt, too.)
Twenty questions was such a s**t game without having drinks involved, Waru assumed everyone knew that! Of all the games to pick to play in the back of an alley — as if any part of his stance suggested he was in the mood for playing games — he was always in the mood for a fight though: for fun, for love, for his life.
For Aramis.
His precious Amants bit of soul clutched between a cage of fingers, fighting to survive, to be home. His heart skipped a beat every time it was lobbed into the air, caught, lobbed, caught again. Spikes of fear patterned with a wash of rage between — because what if it hit the ground and broke — shattered, and what if it gave Aramis a heart attack after he shoved the thing back in her chest!!!
If it’d been anyone else’s? Oohs, Awwhs, applause — this one in particular was important to him though. Already His to ******** claim. That the General thought otherwise was Ze’s first mistake. The second? Saying aloud how fairness was long since thrown out the window; probably right along with manners, propriety, and any sense of playing nice. Waru’d always believed that the best games were the ones with the least rules though, n if the General before him didn’t wanna add em in unnecessarily? Then ******** it, he was down bad for that too!
“You think this is a game?” returned gruff and feral around a frown that slowly pulled into a worse sort of smile, all the happiness that didn’t quite reach his eyes in the alleys dingy neon lighting, “Fine then, first question — do you have a good dentist, General?” And the words were less important than the feel of cold, black marbling with metal edges stuffed into his back pocket. The way it always felt so right to hold it: like an old friend, a lovers embrace. To have his pen in hand while pulling on darkness, whip quick, with a cat-of-nines force. He henshin’d the ******** up so rapidly he gasped for the feel of it, for all the ways his own power felt so loud in his ears. Blood rush pulse and the scream of steel flaring up against the General's own — he liked the feel of Zem — chaos sameness, earned stripes, the protruding hilt of a ******** dagger in a boot that begged for a dirty close quarters clash.
It was all good s**t.
“Cause imma’bouttah set them up for life!”
As the power settled in under his skin he rocked back on his heels, but teleported forwards — not nearly close enough to be stabbed — maybe not even close enough for his own magic to reach Zem — it was wild and pissy and had a mind all its own just then. Unfurled from his flesh like fanged eels swathed in ink while making demands of his energy all the same.
Albite absently wondered if they handed out medals for getting bled out in the street, for beating the breaks offa somebody who ******** dared? If it was him — if it was the purple haired General with the smile that begged to feel the weight of a fist? The difference was negligible to him.
So long as the pretty shiny in mid air got back in the person shaped hole sprawled all over the shitty ground—-
Passive Enhancement: Radons Echo
When Albite wills it, he is accompanied by the distant and unnerving sounds of a metal tipped skitter-screech. It sounds like an army of rusty blades being improperly unsheathed, the noise married horrifically to the the steady buildup of icepick insect tipped feet careening along a cliff-side. It can be unnerving and unfamiliar, and create a sense of uncertainty and dread. This effect is particularly prominent when Albite is using the Rugose Pendant. An item which has become part of his routine to wear for how often he uses it.
Super Sailor Scout Attack: Choking Retribution!
Albites tattoos appear to come alive, slithering off his harm like ethereal magical ribbons. The tattoo ribbons wrap around his intended opponent (pick a body part) and tie the two together for a duration of 20 seconds. The bindings slowly begin to tighten on said opponent, squeezing a bit like a boa constrictor would. Neither is able to escape the other until the magic is ended, or the weak ribbons are severed. He can now use the attack twice in battle, but can still only focus on one target at a time. Effect: Instantaneous Range: 6 Feet Duration: 20 seconds Number of uses: 2 Number of targets: 1
Daekie
Posted: Tue Apr 04, 2023 7:19 pm
Oh, god damn it, Larimar distantly recognized that guy. Where was -- the trip down into the Rift in December. This was what ze was generally trying to avoid: accidentally picking a fight with someone else in the stupid Negaverse, because a rapier was a much less threatening weapon to someone who could teleport, and also it was generally considered a poor idea to fight one's coworkers.
Painite hadn't counted. She'd apparently never reported zem for attacking her, anyway, so ze'd gotten off scott-free, aside from the stab wound. Didn't matter. This was what Larimar got for intentionally cultivating only the bitchiest relationships with other officers, intentionally never trying to make friends; that was for when ze wasn't traipsing around and committing consequences-free murder. If ze didn't like the part of that that involved 'getting into fights with people who could severely harm them', boo ******** hoo, this was zyr pit and ze'd dug it zemself.
"Of course it's a game," Larimar said blithely, stepping back and bringing zyr rapier up in one fluid motion, holding it forth, pointed at zyr opponent; "give me a good enough reason," ...or beat me badly enough I acquiesce, went unspoken, "I might even give it back!" The sound of metal grating was getting on zyr ******** nerves already, but that was probably what he was doing it for, anyway. The magic wrapped around the rapier's blade, trying to pull it close -- and then ze had dagger in hand, starseed tucked away somewhere-or-other, cutting through the ribbons with its chilly blade.
Thank god for dual weapons, honestly. So useful. And if ze ever needed, it doubled as a throwing weapon. (It made for a fun party trick, throwing knives like darts; ze wasn't accurate enough to make it worthwhile most of the time, but it came in clutch, occasionally.)
Shiningamisgirl
i have the worst headache. make sense of what i've written here because i'm not sure if it makes sense
He shouldn't've been enjoying this, because he was grinding his teeth hard enough to taste the blood l i v i d- - - Too mad to think of playing nicely, but not too mad to find joy buried deep at the center of all that rage! It'd been months of caring, sharing, getting along with the enemy and giving himself up till it hurt to see everyone else happy! Strings of endless days of worry that'd had piled up until the feelings had inevitably spilled over into paranoia and tainted everything else in his life with it; like an oil slick even dawn dish soap couldn't get out. ******** all his baby ducks and their cute little rows he'd put them in; he wasn't allowed the happiness of a reprieve.
Albite didn't give himself breaks and so he didn't get breaks and the only people who cared were (not) dying or betrothed to the (not) dead!
So between getting dumped publicly before the masses, then getting his a** beat, and now this? This! The night he was supposed to have out with his friend-who-was-more. With Aramis, so lovely, removed and kept safely out of reach from his side-piece of a side-hustle Negaverse position that revolved around energy collection and death. This, his night to relax, that he'd had a bad feeling about from the very start -- (oh the reassurance he'd gotten, and oh the guilt he felt for knowing better n to try and have something removed from his other chosen life)
All-of-this come to a burning bitter end of shattered plates and pissed-offness, because some ******** General with a semi for soul filching was trying to have zemselves a better time than him! The absolute b*****d. Albite decided right then, rather immaturely, that after he was done beating the General into a set of dentures? That he was going to spit in Zyr mouth. How impersonal it'd be to take all his hurt out on this person who'd done just the one thing wrong tonight. When literally any other time he woulda been willing to try and talk it out. Hell, he woulda forgiven 'em for the honest mistake of a misstep and the harmless little transgression with nothing more n a *'thats my friends Starseed in ur palm can I have it back plz?'*
Tonight was not that night. N maybe he was grateful for it too; somewhere deep, deeep, deeeep down. The way it comingled with all that confused-core feeling of joy. Greatful, that the General was offering to encourage his worst habits with a smile n a 'game on' attitude. <********, bless zem.
Trick of a b***h was? His magic wasn't made for this kind of fighting---
Sure, they had the same ranked flesh, aura, bones.
But there were differences, still -- in all the ways he thought even the hardest Senshi had a softness about them, like some residual *squish* factor granted from the depths of space. The lingering weakness of a dead planets weight that supplied little more n names n a power base. A curse of the stars, however glorious they'd once all been? A loss had occurred, and the descendants of that loss suffered for it---
He wasn't fully of the stars though, had taken Praxidikes name and Praxidikes abilities and turned them all his own and fouled them with Metalias graceful shadows n hellish darkness. His planets core at work under the guiding hand of her wide-awake energy -- stolen as it was -- it was energy still.
So what he lacked in brut magical aptitude, he made up for with '<******** you' attitude; felt the binds shred beneath steel, laughed for it, because the second one set died another loosed; velvet ribbons shaped like vines that sheered free of his flesh and aimed -- not for (Larimar) -- but for one of the many strewn sacks of hefty-brand-filled waste that clogged sections of the alley errantly. The reinforced plastic sheaths filled to the brim with solo cups, smokers ash; the dead and dying dreams of once hopeful playwrights whos half-hammed attempts at being hamlet had failed. All those dialogue heavy manuscripts that'd had been desecrated and tossed out back in sake of making a 'family friendly comedy' fit for all ages and stages of play.
Albite felt the weight of it as his magic snagged, bound, and he whirled the refuse like a trebuchet in Larimars direction-- even as he nearly chipped his ******** heels to eat the distance between them. He didn't give a diarrhetic s**t about swords---
Let the purple haired ******** run him through.
He was getting that starseed back!
Passive Enhancement: Radons Echo
When Albite wills it, he is accompanied by the distant and unnerving sounds of a metal tipped skitter-screech. It sounds like an army of rusty blades being improperly unsheathed, the noise married horrifically to the the steady buildup of icepick insect tipped feet careening along a cliff-side. It can be unnerving and unfamiliar, and create a sense of uncertainty and dread. This effect is particularly prominent when Albite is using the Rugose Pendant. An item which has become part of his routine to wear for how often he uses it.
Sailor Scout Attack: Binding Retribution!
Albites tattoos appear to come alive, slithering off his arm like ethereal magical ribbons. The tattoo ribbons wrap around an intended opponents body part and tie the two together for a duration of 15 seconds. Leaving neither able to escape the other until the magic is ended, or the weak ribbons are severed. (Ex. Albite's opponent has a weapon/magical attack, and uses it on said ribbons or Albite is interrupted in casting/cancels the magic early.) Range: 3 Feet Duration: 15 seconds Number of uses: 3 Number of targets: 1
Daekie
It makes 100% perfect sense and you're amazing!
Posted: Sat Apr 29, 2023 6:16 pm
What -- hey, wh --
Larimar did not respond in time to the trash being flung zyr way, ready and willing to just impale this ******** guy, and paid the price for it.
"Are you <******** kidding me," Larimar screeched, zyr voice hitting frankly embarrassing octaves that would've given zyr fifth grade chorus teacher hope for zyr future as a first soprano, and shook zemself like a chihuahua about to explode with rage as ze yanked the rapier out of Albite's body too-aggressively. Gone was all that smug swagger and dignity ze'd just had. Garbage? Was he ******** serious?
It was, admittedly, a great tactic! Ten out of ten! Ze could admit that!
What Larimar was also admitting to zemself, repeatedly, was that ze was going to go home and take a boiling shower after this and scrub zyr entire body raw. Ew! ******** ew! Absolutely ******** ew!
And it did actually matter that he wasn't actually zyr enemy at this point, objectively, because if he'd been Order this would've been ********, it would've just redoubled zyr dedication to be a horrible little monster in as many evil ways as ze could think of. But doing all this for a stupid little ******** game of cat and mouse, just to method-act all that charade -- worthless.
God. What the ******** was ze doing?
What the ******** was any of this?
-- too late to back out fully now without looking petulant and pathetic and tantruming, no matter how tempting fine, have your stupid ******** starseed was. Larimar backed up a step, still hackles-on-end and teeth-bared all like a cat with its back in an arch, and swung zyr blades into position. "Do you really want another stab wound," ze said, and although ze sounded mad as hell it was a genuine question, "because if someone else finds us this is going to be so ******** embarrassing."
It would've been. Even without going any further, Larimar had still stabbed the guy (not in any particularly fatal spot, but that was going to hurt like a b***h for at least a week or two, if zyr experience with Painite's spear a few months ago held true to impalement wounds in general), and could only really hope he wouldn't run back and go reporting zem for being a s**t-stirrer and, well, ******** impaling him.
You got what you paid for, ze guessed, and it wasn't like the Negaverse had offered zem $50 an hour to go kill people.
Embarrassing for you-- bright and acrid thought, he chewed on it like a warhead, let it twist his features into a terribly sour grin. For Albite never gave a ******** whether or not he was embarrassing, not how, nor to whom. He was in fact happy to be an embarrassment on loud speaker just so long as it got him his way--
"I always liked symmetry--what's one hole when two make a matched ******** set?" pained anger in the answer. How ridiculous did he sound while bleeding sluggishly from the ache of a gouge, angry enough that he would've run himself through if the General before him hadn't done him the favor of ripping the blade free -- meanly -- might he ******** add! Free it was nonetheless and bleed it did, more as he shifted his injured shoulder defensively, feeling all of his own magic hiss at him to move in and take more, because it was so ******** fair -- agents and their pretty, pretty, sharp pieces of steel.
Then he looked at zyr face, met zyr eyes, and all the anger he wanted to hold in his chest began to dissipate. The look on zyr face was a priceless sort of pin to his pissy balloon of hot air, the way it popped it, let all his hot-headed-helium evaporate off enough that he could think somewhat straight--
"But maybe you don't want me making a mess of myself all over your blades---I've got more n enough magic in me to make this annoying as ******** for both of us--don't have to make you stab me twice if you just---" narrowed gaze that shifted with obvious haste between zem and the too still body some feet behind his own back.
Starseed, he wanted the starseed back! Did he have to say he wanted it back? Did he have to shove his fingers into his own wound and rub all his useless, clotting blood on the agents clean blue lines until ze vomited up his friends soul!
"Give it back, n be all responsible-like for cleaning up the mess you've made--or I'll paint you so red with all of me, that you'll be picking me outta your everything for months to come. N'then? I'll reincarnate and do it all the ******** over again...So if you could just, please?" the please hurt his damn pride to say, an absolute growl of a thing, his words more demands than asks at this point, but what else did could he say when all he wanted to do was -- what? Get stabbed and in the process bounce the ******** head off the pavement at least the once!
He might not live long enough to get the once...
Daekie
Posted: Thu Aug 03, 2023 2:50 pm
"I don't want to ******** kill you," Larimar said, and the revulsion and disbelief in that was real - did he really think ze would've been willing? ze wasn't that deranged yet, not by a long shot, or at least ze didn't think so - "we're in the same ******** organization, jackass, in theory we're on the same side." There was a difference between killing people who might've been generic ensemble in the grand scheme of things and killing someone ze might fight side-by-side with at some point. There had to be. It was how it all made sense.
He'd go off and lick his wounds. Fine. This was a waste. A waste of - time, energy, manpower, blood - anything it could be a waste of.
Larimar - slowly and carefully - banished zyr blades to wherever they went when not in use, took a moment, and pulled the stupid ******** starseed out of subspace; extended one hand in his direction, gloved palm up, starseed sitting pretty. "Just take the damn thing and go tell your pretty little girlfriend you saved her life," and there was all the acidic vitriol again.
Albite clocked the officers look, and rolled his eyes for all the gross, compact horror ensconced on zyr face. As if ze had the right to be any kinda revolted over what was going on! What was a little maiming between friends? Especially the kind that went unreported-- though his hackles flared at zyr tone.
"You--you started this! Not-----" a frustrated snarl followed, cut his words short, he ground the urge to say anything more beneath his heel, lest the sudden glint of soul in Larimar's hand disappear back to subspace where he couldn't get it. No point in tossing green shaded blame when everyone was already stabbed n coated in weeks old trash liquor! The finest swill the alley had to offer-- It would be a miracle if neither of them caught anything from it. Espescially with all the whinging the be-caped one was doing. Holding up the answer to the problem that had started it all, but not with anything like an apology, or kindness, or---
"No--"
It was right ******** there! His to have, nice n easy n clean, but instead of taking the starseed he'd begged for a second ago Albite hesitated. His fingers inches from the goal of the useless conversation they'd been sparring around, and he hesitated. Fingers flinching from the bit of glitter, to grab for a blue clad wrist instead. Tight around all that fabric n fancy buttons--
Had he really saved her life? It felt like a pity save at best. At worst? It felt like the other General was being 'nice' -- or some version of it. Same side comradery n what-have-you was all that was saving his n Aramis's bacon today.
He was the most useless ******** Eternal---
"I want you to apologize for taking it in the first place, to me, to her, and then?" from nigh manic rage to calculating yet crazed, there was no logic behind his thought. Only an inkling of an idea, the idea that if Aramis was already an agent? Then none of this would've happened in the first place! If everyone he cared about the absolute *most*, was safely kept in all the drama that made up a core part of his life? Then he could worry less--there'd be less swords to throw himself upon. Aramis could've defended herself better with her own sword in hand!
"And then I want you to do the one thing Generals seem good for, n make her an agent----" and in the face of all that ire n acid he did smile. As if everything he'd just said was the best, brightest, most brilliant idea to ever leave his fool mouth!
Daekie
this would help if I didn’t quote myself Wooops!
Posted: Wed Aug 30, 2023 10:17 pm
Larimar bristled. Oh, ze bristled. But ze'd already committed to deescalating, and unfortunately that had consequences, it looked like. Also everpresent in the back of zyr mind was the fact this guy could probably break zyr wrist without having to try too hard to do it, and that wouldn't exactly be ideal, because ze needed that.
"I'm sorry," and it was almost convincing! Sparrow might have abandoned a life on stage for working behind the scenes, but being a bad actor hadn't been one of the reasons for that, "and fine. If she causes any trouble, it's your fault." God, this was the worst thing to b***h about. Ze sounded like ze was twelve and threatening to tell the teacher on him. Larimar dragged zyr hand back out of his grip roughly and walked, very normally, over to what's-her-name's slumped body on the ground, pulling her back to sitting before returning her starseed with a grimace.
"You're not dead," ze said begrudgingly, "sorry about almost killing you; also, don't scream," and left zyr hand in her chest. Jesus ********, he was going to realize ze'd never actually directly awakened anyone, he was going to know how ******** bad at doing zyr job Larimar was -- but this was how you did it, right? Just like that, just a bit of Chaos, not too rough --
Nothing going. No spark, no give, no transformation, nothing. It couldn't be that hard. How many dipshit Generals did this a day and got their braindead Lieutenants filling up Negaverse rosters? A little more Chaos, and -- no. Still nothing. Well, either Larimar was the worst at awakening to ever exist, or there was the other option, which was such a ******** pain --
"She's a Senshi," Larimar said, and tried very hard not to let zyr voice shake, because if ze was wrong about this ze was going to have to run away and live in the cornfields of Nebraska or someshit.
You've got to be shitting me--- how Albites expression screamed the words his slack jawed, silent mouth lacked. He'd never been at a *loss* before, not for words, at least, and yet? Here he stood steadily dribbling red out onto the ick of the street in near silence; the click of teeth grinding and cloth clenched between his fingers betraying how absolutely awe-slapped he was by the rest of the Generals piss-poisoned statement.
Aramis is a Senshi? You've got to be ******** kiding me---
He looked between the two, balefully, exasperatedly, as though he expected the General would have all the answers to questions he'd yet to ask of zym. As though the apology was only the first of many layers to a cake he was expecting baked and handed over with - if not sincerity - then with dedication in the making of it.
Her skin was pallid and chilled and she *glistened*, because a lady did not ******** sweat, and she absolutely wasn't sweating this fever dream of a nightmarish instance -- where there stood two hulking psychos hovering over her body and telling her not to scream while -- while one of zyr hands was in her chest ---
She wasn't screaming, and she wasn't screaming, and she was going to pass out if she held her breath a second ******** longer. The exhale was a pained wheeze and the inhale was a question hissed between her molars.
Something derisive about the low quality of Destiny Citys *criminals* how no one could do a proper shakedown anymore, apparently, at least not without dressing up like hookers and thespians. ********, if they were going to kill and rob her in either order they could've at least done it quickly! Minus the ******** magic show involving disappearing wrists and an audience---
She was going to ask one of them to move -- but the next sound from her was very suspiciously scream-like, so she bit down on it, struggled to twitch into a better sitting position that was less like a limp doll on the dirty floor. An all new agony and questioning, teary eyes.
"N-not screaming--a-a-hm I being murdered, or mugged?" hissed as she found some measure of strength to meekly glare at the two of them. And can we please get on with it already? she thought as she was feeling no less alive or more dead. The acrid in-between limbo of which she'd end up stood as a stark question in her own mind. Right next to it stood the question of where the ******** Waru had gotten off to--
Though that was answered a few wide eyed blinks later--
"Neither! ******** me, it's me, don't scream!! I'll explain everything I promise---" the tension in his rapidfire barrage of words begged for patience, expressed insistence to Aramist hat a Later would come in which he'd do a ******** ton of talking! What to do with this right now though!!? Power down, regret doing so immediately, there was a solution to this, right!?
"Later. Explaining it later. " hours from now, days from now, after everything was said and done and the bow was neatly wrapped by someone with more steady hands than him. "Fine--If she's a Senshi? Then she's a Senshi---we can work with this, right? *You* -- you're going to work with this, right? You've got ten-trillion Kings n Queens from which to choose..." impetuously he crouched and hissed for pulling at the neat little hole in his shoulder, nervously his mouth ran on.
"Anyone but Faustite---" for all the reasons he could think of, except maybe Faustite was the exact person Larimar should've been taking Aramis to? But no! No. Waru envisioned all his eggs in one messy, flaming, ready to shatter basket -- all his friends somehow ending up under *his* by his own assignation fool-a** command -- "Aramis, love, I know you're gonna hate me for this, but I need you to go very politely along with the very -- I ******** swear -- very nice General here -- and everything'll make sense after you do, okay?" He could see the protest coming, he could ******** feel it coming, but he raised his hands in sympathetic surrender, levied hardened puppy dog eyes at the pair, all but begged for patience from both of them.
"I super duper promise---This is a good thing! Great thing! For all of us! Right, General?"
Daekie
Posted: Mon Mar 25, 2024 3:30 pm
The look Larimar gave him was not physically capable of killing, and that fact alone might've been the only reason he had not spontaneously dropped dead that very moment. "Right," ze said with a spasmodic twitch, a flexing muscle at the corner of zyr mouth like ze was trying to force a smile and wasn't making it anywhere near there, and tried to figure out what General-Sovereign would be relevant here. Ze'd really been trying not to ever interact with any of them, because who wanted that kind of undue attention?
Hessonite... no. She was, if Larimar remembered correctly, batshit. Probably in a way that other people found a little sexy because that was how people were about girls and blood, but, uh, no. Faustite was out. Axinite was Information, wasn't he? So that really left Lepidolite or Jet, and from that Lepidolite sounded like a less embarrassing option, given Larimar thought Jet might've been around zyr age. Younger? Irrelevant. At this point ze just wanted this as over with as possible so ze could go home, take a long shower, and ideally sleep the dreamless sleep of the comatose, and that priority alone kept zem from doing a reasonable thing like 'checking to see the General-King was actually in, or messaging ahead'.
It'd be fine. It'd be great. It'd be just absolutely ******** peachy.
"We're going to go see General-King Lepidolite about this... problem. Keep up." A marginal amount of zyr dignity reclaimed, Larimar grabbed Aramis' shoulder in a firm grip and disappeared to Negaspace.
Shiningamisgirl
probably good to fin on yours! ty for the patience <3
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