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 Posted: Mon Dec 30, 2013 8:59 pm
"Flail chest," he responded breathlessly while he slowly slouched down the wall. He tried to maintain his position once his shirt came out of his pants and the unrelenting brick surface scratched into his back. Such efforts proved more costly than they were worth, so he abandoned the idea and seated himself in a collected pile of dirt and discarded debris. "It's not..." the misanthrope wanted to denounce its importance as of little concern, but obviously it wasn't a trifling matter. Were he of sound confidence, he would've recognized his commendable efforts to overcome such adversity, but he only saw shortcomings in place of legitimate progress.
Alternatively, he recognized he pushed himself too hard, which only amounted to additional failure. Suddenly shooting the breeze with the alter ego of Persephone felt far beyond his capabilities right now. Perhaps her magical meth smoke had more to do with his marginally improved mood than he initially thought...
Finally he decided on an appropriate course of action to explain his sudden exhaustion. "Touch my chest." Afterward he indicated his broken ribs, where she would undoubtedly cringe at the unnaturally easy give stemming from the shattered segments. Even if she only ran her fingertips across the fitted fabric of his shirt, she'd recognize a marked lack of form normally given from ribs. A morbid way to discover the source of his discomfort and breathlessness, but it would suffice. Strangely, pressing on his injuries eased the pain a little, though breathing became increasingly difficult as a result. He wouldn't complain if Clarisse intended to test the extent of his injuries either, though he rolled up the collar on his jacket to prevent inquiries into the fading bruising around his neck.
Alois examined his fingernails shortly thereafter, as if evaluating a fresh manicure. Once his nail beds faded to pink once more, he addressed his green-haired tagalong's questions. "You are correct. I am not one for spraypainting, so I left it to my accompanying captain wis' ze express instructions to spray a white crescent moon onto any notewors'y surface. I cannot applaud his craftsmanship, but it must'f maintained a functional efficiency to draw ze two of you here." The two captive audience members' reactions were very nearly an antithesis to each other: Persephone looked quite revolted, whereas Valhalla donned a more grieving countenance. He wondered if their differing reactions characterized their attachment to the White Moon views, but hindsight amounted to varying correlations that held little merit.
It didn't matter what led to her corruption, for Persephone now existed on his side of the fence, all antecedent circumstances aside.
"It was not ze only experiment, nor was it ze first." Alois stood slowly and brushed the back of his pants to clear some dust. His gaze traveled from the lopsided moon to Clarisse, who smiled almost enigmatically at the recount. What did that mean? Did it entail fond memories, or was it a more bittersweet smile? Surely she must've felt conflicted over her decision, given the obscenely large gap in her memories and the preceding incidents that culminated in her corruption. She lamented over that useless senshi who died in the ambush, and that undoubtedly excruciating suffering led to a great change. But perhaps that small smile was no more confounding than the Mona Lisa's. "Ze first, I sink, might'f been more successful. I want to say two or sree of six survif'ed. And ze last... more a goading zan an experiment. In retrospect I should'f selected better officers, for mine were easily swayed by White Moon sentiments. One fell to her deas'. I suspect zat lieutenant would'f made a better youma, zough wis' her staunch obedience, she may as well haf' been one in human skin."
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Posted: Mon Dec 30, 2013 10:54 pm
Clary had to admit to being somewhat unfamiliar with the term, but it sounded very thoroughly unpleasant and definitely not something to be brushed off or dismissed. She sank down in front of him, every bit of her face wrought with worry.
She was a little reluctant to touch when he asked her to, but she did anyway, pressing lightly and nearly recoiling in revulsion. This was wrong and terrifying and a thousand times worse than what had happened to her at Leto's hands because at least her chest hadn't been displaced.
"How did this happen?" She asked, voice thick with concern. "And more to the point, why are you out? You should be recovering..." Concern was something that came naturally to her, even for someone who had been an enemy and someone to fear for such a long time. Her hands were gentle as they moved down his chest, testing how far the breaks went, and a frown knitted her features. "Have you at least had it looked at, to make sure your, you know, vital organs are okay?"
She exhaled and withdrew her hand, then stood. Aggravating the injuries herself was the last thing she wanted to do, even if he had invited the (quite literal) hands-on approach to explaining what had happened to him. She let her attention fall back to the graffiti, even if it was hard.
Somehow she couldn't be surprised that there had been more, and that in the end all had resulted in some form of a death. The blithe way he spoke of the lost lieutenant piqued her curiosity. "Do you mourn her? Or anyone else you've seen die?" She asked. How many had died in front of him? Did their deaths keep him up? She had so many more questions she wanted to ask, but starting with one seemed easy enough. "She was your subordinates, after all."
She doubted it, really. Bischofite had never struck her as someone who worried overmuch about anyone around him. She rather wished she could shrug off her sense of responsibility as easily. Even with Chaos in her veins, even though she felt no guilt for her choice to corrupt, Biela haunted her, a ghost without needing to rattle a single chain.
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Posted: Wed Jan 01, 2014 12:00 am
Alois winced at her touch and shied away from further contact at undamaged areas. Over time, he manifested some tolerance for his human condition, but it hadn't progressed to the point where he felt marginally comfortable with his body. It took a good deal of effort to still himself for the initial contact, let alone the series of proddings to further identify the extent of his injury. However, it felt him wondering if the act of touch proved more painful than potentially aggravating his fractured ribs. It left him tired and wary to consider such a stark thought.
Were people more toxic than the damage they inflict? If so, what was he but the plague itself? No youma claimed that right.
Clarisse's questions proved significant distractions. "If you recall zat night as well as I sink you do, you'll remember ze high propensity for injury, due to ze circumstances I instigated. And at ze time I was injured, too - I had fresh stitches in my leg, because my previous stitches were torn out from ze night prior. So, it is commonplace for me to..." Alois clicked his tongue while he fished for an appropriate descriptor. "Compartmentalize? I'm not sure of ze word, but to ignore injury while recognizing its presence. I function in spite of it, maybe." With a flippant wave of his hand, he dismissed the reasoning behind his continued forays into the dangerous streets of Destiny City.
"When I incurred zese injuries, I wasn't doing much beyond my normal duties. I might'f had a little fun at an art gallery's expense, but I hadn't yet drained anyone of zeir energy, largely due to the insufferable boredom of it. But eizer my reputation precedes me, or ze senshi who cut me off had deduced zat I must cause an atrocious amount of deas' because of our first lovely interaction, for he presented me wis' a simple ultimatum: because of my crimes, I can relent and defect from ze Negaverse or I can choose to die. It wasn't a hard choice, despite my disenchantment wis' my current position.
"I hadn't expected ze change in his magic, so he managed to restrain me srough its use. Afterward he sought to kick y ribs in, which, in retrospect, sounds eerily similar to ze injuries sustained by ze civilian in our initial meeting. I don't know if it was deliberate. Afterward he sat on my chest and commenced wis' strangling me, zough it was superfluous effort. I was already drowning in my own blood." Alois focused his tired gaze on Clarisse's unconscionably small feet, bundled up in unconscionably small sneakers. He didn't want to think about the circumstances that stopped the senshi. He didn't want to voice the staccato exchange that led to a quiet, mutual acceptance. He didn't want to elaborate that he was saved (for lack of a more accurate term) by the enemy, by a White Moon eternal.
Luckily he didn't have to. She inquired about his subordinates at the time, which provided ample reason to abandon any further explanation. "I don't respond to human loss in ze same fashion zat most do - lamenting ze dead is not my way." Alois shifted his weight against the wall to fish around for a cigarette. A frown creased the corners of his mouth when he found a meager three in the pack; either he needed to cut down or find some means to generate income to feed his habits. Stealing felt more inconveniencing than straight purchases. "I lost... four. Two captains, two lieutenants. It's common knowledge zat ze dead are easier to get along wis' zan ze living; zey are of higher quality zan ze living, mostly out of some misplaced guilt complex in ze mourners. Everyone is wary of speaking ill of ze dead. I don't subscribe to zis spineless line of reasoning - but I recognize what merits zey had, and which would'f made better youma zan officers. But it does me no good to spend ample time reflecting over zem - I cast my acknowledgements and whittle what I salvaged from zem into my foundations, and off I go to better sings.
"Deas' is just a wayward obstacle, for zose of us who survif'e." Alois perched the cigarette between his lips, holding it fast via the corners of his mouth. Shrugging dismissively, he turned his flatline countenance to Clarisse for further inquiry. "Since you brought zem up, tell me - do you sink about zem too? What of ze seventeen murders in ze forest? Additionally, as you'f pointed out, asking of - what was her name? Biela? Regardless, it's a redundancy." Now all he needed was a light, and his matchbook wriggled away desperately in the bottom of his pocket.
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Posted: Wed Jan 01, 2014 10:04 pm
"Compartmentalize sounds close enough," she said, and she huffed quietly. A part of Clary was tempted to inform Alois that he was an idiot again, especially if he was making a habit of injuring himself and then ignoring it. Then again, her admonitions would likely have little effect, given that he seemed well and determined to be foolish and risk his health. Some people were set on risking themselves.
"Next time," for there would undoubtedly be a next time if Bischofite was going to continue out and undoubtedly he had pissed off a lot of people who would be out to take advantage of the fact that he was a lieutenant now, "call for help, if you can? Preferably before the whole drowning in your own blood thing? Call me?" They were allies now, weren't they? And she would hate to see an ally injured, especially that badly, if there was any chance that she could prevent it.
Her nose wrinkled a little the moment he pulled out a cigarette, a totally involuntary reaction that she filed under her ever-increasing mental tally of what the ******** is this and she had to wonder what the girl she was before - Caitlyn, wasn't that the name Gabriel had called her a few times - had against the things.
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked away. "The seventeen in the forest? No. Not often. Perhaps some would consider it heartless, but they affect me only as much as seeing a news report of a mass shooting. I didn't know them, I never saw their faces, I have no names - and it wasn't me who killed them." She rolled her shoulders a little. "Biela is an entirely different case. I promised her a family, safety, a team that would support and protect each other. I promised her things that, in the end, I failed fairly spectacularly to deliver.
So yes, I think of her, and I mourn her, because her death is on my hands in its entirety and because she was a child who had years of life ahead of her and who shouldn't have been involved in this shitty war in the first place." Just like Aludra and Dionysus and every other chibi senshi - and while Biela hadn't been a chibi herself, she hadn't been much older. Sometimes, Clary really despised Order guardian cats - what right did they have to Awaken ten, eleven, twelve-year-olds into a bloody and awful conflict? What right did they have to awaken girls and boys of thirteen or fourteen or fifteen?
This was a war fought by children, and its casualties would always be young.
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Posted: Sat Jan 04, 2014 10:53 pm
"Can't you sink of a better pickup line zan zat?" Alois teased. First Krishna, now Clarisse. Thus far, the growing trend urged toward making use of his allies - despite their obvious disdain toward assisting him. It's possible Persephone bore him no ill will despite his previous transgressions, whether she remembered them or she simply found no reason to care about heinous death anymore. Alois suspected a strange and twisted grieving procedure left the girl accepting deaths on her side as a necessity rather than a travesty, which might contribute to her joining the Negaverse. Cull or be culled, so to speak. She mentioned that she mourned Biela, but people fixate. That could've been why she urged him toward calling for help.
Otherwise, even if Bischofite died in an alley far beyond Persephone's location, he would echo Biela's death. Every fallen comrade, another Biela. But in every fault, in every crack plaguing her reconstructed personality, he might find a means to burrow in and lend a bit of guidance. It sounded simple enough, at face value - hopefully it wasn't.
Bischofite hated when plans played out as they were anticipated.
"Maybe it's a testament to integrated and abstract knowledge. Wis' nossing to relate zem to, ze seventeen in ze forest remain a random factoid floating around in your long-term memory. Just some little connection to a newspaper story you might find at a later date. But Biela took root as integrated knowledge - she does not solely reside in long-term memory as somesing you might drop at a cocktail party someday. She claims a part in your regret, your fear, even ze way in which you urge ozzer officers to seek help when needed." He shot her a sharp glance. "You'f assimilated her. Digested her. Eerie, isn't it? But zat kind of metaphysical cannibalism is not rare. I'f digested a host of people, too. It's a morbid form of recycling. I wonder how many people you truly are, Clarisse. Names aside, just take a guess. No one really knows for certain, even ze one who claims to know you.
"But I would be wary of zat one, if I were you. Even allies find cause to manipulate zeir comrades. He might spin tales just as easily as I do." Absently Alois rubbed at his ribs; they ached too much lately. Outwardly he blamed the cold, but chemical dependence spoke of darker reasons. But what point was there in lingering outside, when Clarisse thoroughly explained that he should be resting? His energy waned at an increasing rate, and his mind struggled to find excitement in the gravel strewn across the road, or the broken windowpane in the penthouse of the nearby hotel. Maybe the pain washed that sharpness away.
A lie, but he believed it nonetheless.
Alois smirked tiredly, eyes following a crumpled newspaper as it rolled down the street. Even that lackadaisical interest petered out. Instead he focused on his unconscionably short companion once again; that green hair looked far more matte without the jewels and baubles that adorned it in her powered form. A pity, but she looked a little more real now. "Stop looking at ze war so negatively. Ze price we pay for ze life enrichment it affords us is a chance of deas'. And what comes of zat price? Ze chance to know ozzers who support your very ideals, who would stand by you in ze face of terrible odds. And wis' zat, perhaps less importantly, is ze freedom to see ze rooftops of Destiny City, to know a great many civilians who you might never haf' met in daily life, and ze chance for great success and great failure alike. And when we go home? Suddenly a D on an arismetic quiz doesn't hold much weight anymore. Child or not, we'f all made ze decision to keep participating, because we recognize ze war as life enrichment. Biela made zat decision too, so respect it instead of spitting on ze one sing zat might'f made her deas' wors'while.
"Even bad memories benefit us in ze long run." And when he closed his eyes a moment, he faced the sky blue wall caked with blood and a cemented substance he later recognized as grey matter. Upon opening them, the prominent sign first caught his vision, scrawled over with haphazard white graffiti. It's interesting to see who you could become if you build your own necropolis.
Pushing off from the wall, Alois gestured down the street with one metal-laden finger. "Come on, let's get out of ze cold. Zere's some disgusting, hole-in-ze-wall coffee shop if you like zose kinds of sings. Additionally, a diner's on ze opposite side. Take your pick; zey're bos' mediocre at best."
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Posted: Sun Jan 05, 2014 10:03 pm
She narrowed her eyes at him, bringing up a hand to cover her sudden and unexpected blush. Somehow she managed to look both annoyed and embarrassed at the same time, and she was even more annoyed with herself for getting flustered than she was with him for referring to it as a pickup line. It hadn't been, he obviously knew it hadn't been and was teasing specifically to elicit this kind of reaction and damn it, it worked.
She simply sighed a little at his analogy. Perhaps it was apt to call her grief a form of cannibalism - almost amusingly so given her name. Though it hadn't been intentional at the time, one of the many movies she'd perused via Gabriel's Netflix account (bless Netflix) was The Silence of the Lambs, and she well remembered Clarisse Starling.
"I held her as she died and shredded my fuku trying to stop the bleeding - it's an experience I'd rather not repeat. So yes, I would agree that she is part of the reason that I ask you to call for help if you need it." Strange as it was, the idea of Bischofite being the next one to bleed out in her arms filled her with a clinging horror. She had told him, the last time she met, that she liked him, and that still held true - perhaps moreso now that she could mostly trust he wouldn't turn on her and murder her.
"Do you think, then, that he's lying to me?" She mused. That could be possible, but it seemed such a strange thing. "If he intends to use me, fine. I make a better tool than I do anything else, I suspect." She shrugged her shoulders. It came out as a casual observation, but she did mean it. Better that she be directed by someone who knew what they were doing than left to her own devices to ******** things up all over again.
"I wonder if I ever felt that way." That this war was a blessing instead of a curse. "Maybe when I first powered up..." She could remember feeling happy and free and amazing, flying from rooftop to rooftop, before she had come crashing into harsh reality under an Eternal's boot. And even after that, she had taken joy and reassurance from training with her comrades. "Someday you're going to have to stop being so intelligent and articulate, it's quite frustrating to have to try and compete." Her tone held no actual reproach, and she brushed her bangs away from her face briefly, before returning her attention to him.
"God, you know how to make a girl feel special," she teased, a small retaliation for earlier, "and you definitely have no room to comment on my pickup game because that was just as terrible. Shitty hole in the wall coffee sounds nice, though, and I wasn't planning on sleeping much anyway." Drink lots of caffeine, stay up late, avoid nightmares, profit. Excellent scheme.
Besides, the thought of coffee with an ally filled her with warm feelings she couldn't quite place, and she was pretty sure she'd done it before - besides the time she could remember, meeting Beniotite in an ally when both happened to have taken the initiative to get hot drinks for patrol. She fished in her pocket to make sure her wallet - and the little bit of money she'd accepted from Gabriel - was there, because making Alois pay would be rude.
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Posted: Fri Jan 10, 2014 9:42 pm
So a little quip about a pickup line sent her into the throes of embarrassment, rose flooding her cheeks like London and its fog. Perhaps it suited her just the same. But little of that nature escaped Alois' scrutiny, for he sought reactions whenever he utilized his rare (and terribly dry) humor. Clarisse proved an easy target - should he distract her with an absent comment, then what fun might he have with something more intentional?
He had to find out.
"It's strange to lif' wis' anozzer officer, I sink. Sometimes Alexandre gives me ze impression zat he expects me to talk of patrols, or schemes. And when my ribs were shattered, I wonder if he would'f been more shocked to hear zat it was ze product of a car crash. I should'f tested zat seory, but I was a little... Preoccupied." He hadn't shown the signs of an addict yet - no prickling of track marks down his arms, no sallow skin, no sunken eyes due to lack of interest in life beyond the needle. But he felt it surely enough - the incessant comparisons of life sober to life while mainlining, and the odds felt insurmountable at this stage. He held proof of heaven in a syringe time and again, so why push it away to feel the weight of life bear down on him?
Was Clarisse a drug addict before she joined the Negaverse? Even a quick glance confirmed a negative there. Alex looked the same, as did every other agent he met aside from Richard, though his drug of choice had the benefit of legality. And what use did they have for addicts? Would they cull Alois as surely as they'd cull Richard? Though based on Laurelite's punishments, Buddingtonite proved a more useful asset than he. Maybe he should've convinced Clarisse to stay within her previous ranks, and they would've had this very talk in reversed roles, and he'd answer to a different name in that time. Separate worlds - just daydreams in the absence of a needle.
To Alois' fortune, she provided the perfect opportunity to explore that humor - a welcome change from the increasingly depressive thoughts. Clarisse blatantly protested his conversation, the same intellectual discourse they held many times prior, which might've puzzled him were he not more interested in turning the tables on her. "I don't sink you'd like me much if I were to shirk my intellectual side, Clarisse." In a quick, practiced movement, he pressed the slight girl into the brick wall, his fingers framing her shoulders. "I can get quite immature, you see," he whispered with a grin.
After a pause, he released her. Once again, his hands slid into his pockets and he resumed walking. The shop wasn't far now, and he garnered enough sideways glances from passersby - each met with an equally challenging stare. Most looked away, but a few lingered - as if probing him for an intent to rape.
In typical German fashion, Alois showed no chivalry. He pressed past the dirty glass door, ringing the bell atop its frame, and allowed it to ease shut behind him while he waited for Clarisse to follow. The girl made good time, surprisingly; she wouldn't lag behind now.
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Posted: Fri Jan 10, 2014 10:38 pm
Clary was definitely not prepared for an offhand comment resulting in her getting pinned to a wall. Her face turned bright red and she could feel her heart rate speeding up. "Um," she said, which was approximately all she could actually manage. Certainly she was flustering like a virgin schoolgirl, but as far as she knew, she was, so at least she had an excuse. What she wanted to say, were she more intelligent or perhaps just more suave, was that she was just fine with both sides, thank you, but that didn't exactly make it from her brain to her mouth.
Even after he moved away, it took her a few moments to collect herself before she jogged after him. She could feel eyes on her, perhaps judging her for her choice to follow someone who had, it must have seemed, attacked her. Ah well, she wasn't particularly concerned with the opinions of strangers.
She ducked into the coffee shop and considered it for a moment, not particularly impressed. Alois's description had certainly been accurate - this place was pretty shitty. "You're an a**," she said, as she slid over next to him, "the kind I can appreciate, I suppose, but an a** nonetheless."
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Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2014 9:51 pm
"I didn't realize you appreciated getting pinned to walls, Clarisse. I sink I'm already getting ze wrong impression..." Alois cocked a brow at the girl before his gaze drew to a large, dark stain on the brown carpeting just before the doormat. Perhaps this place looked dingier than he remembered; a quick survey of their surroundings confirmed that opinion with filmy, dated light fixtures and walls coated with age and wear from the countless people that filtered into this establishment. The freshly ground coffee beans produced a thick aroma that undoubtedly covered the lack of upkeep on the cleanliness, but even still, Alois had no intention of sitting down here.
As they stood in line, his joints loosened up with the welcome addition of heat - though Alois didn't pay it much heed after having his starseed torn from his chest, the outside air held enough bite to freeze water. As a result, his fine motor skills slowed with the stiffening of his muscles. At least now he managed to exercise his fingers at a quicker clip, ghosting a series of piano chords to study the changes.
Inadvertently he nudged the man ahead of him, a middle-aged father type with mostly grayed hair and an ominous liver spot in the slowly growing clearing of male pattern baldness. The stranger half-turned toward the misanthrope and immediately donned a look of disdain, presumably based on Alois' stark outfit. "Watch it," he grumbled before returning his sallow gaze to the menu board behind the baristas. Alois guessed it was a subconscious tick, but the man soon reached into his pockets to jingle a set of car keys. He pulled them from his grey trench coat abruptly and studied the pristine Audi insignia on his key fob before visibly relaxing.
Alois smiled, but the man didn't notice it. Finally he turned toward his tagalong, careful to avoid touching the silver handrail behind him. "Haf' you had much fun lately?" Considering the crowd, the misanthrope knew to veil his references to her recent corruption. He only hoped Clarisse possessed the intuition to read his words accordingly.
But before he could listen to her answer, the barista called for the next customer, and no one stood between Alois and the counter. Disenchanted with the ordering process already, the misanthrope stepped toward the peeling formica countertop and scrutinized the stocky, fresh-faced barista rather than the menu displayed behind him. "A small cup of boiling water," he ordered after a pause.
The barista offered a confused expression, perhaps accentuated through a host of freckles and chubby cheeks. Alois noticed that he wrinkled his nose slightly. "Just water?" He asked finally, voice slightly strangled from the fat buildup around his throat.
The misanthrope nodded slowly. The barista's perplexed expression lingered, so he offered a terse explanation: "It's for tea."
Finally satisfied, the barista boy tossed his head back to shift his bangs before punching out the order on his register. Money changed hands at a quick clip, and Alois stood to the side to wait for Clarisse to complete her undoubtedly complicated and pretentious order of coffee.
Places like these reminded Alois of exactly how much he hated Americans.
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Posted: Wed Jan 15, 2014 8:40 pm
Her only response was a brief playful grin and a very exaggerated waggle of her eyebrows. She hadn't expected to like being pinned against a wall, but quite frankly, she kind of had - and it was a new experience for her. So many things were new experiences for her that just about everything had an element of delight to it. She supposed that was at least some of what Alois had meant - the good portions of her memory loss.
Ordering a coffee for the first time she could remember, for instance - to most people it was a simple act, but Clary was actually a little bit excited. She was visually subdued, because bouncing on her feet in line would be really weird, but inside, it didn't matter that the place was dingy and creepy and that she was pretty sure people were staring at her since she was dressed kind of nicely and she had pretty weird and attention getting hair (oops.)
Her eyes flicked up to the chalkboard that listed the place's offerings, and she realized that although the names of coffees sounded familiar, she couldn't remember any of their flavors, except for the ones she'd drank while powered up - it was interesting, what the wipe had taken and what it hadn't.
Alois's question drew her from her thoughts and she glanced over at him. "More than I have in a long time," she admitted. There could really only be one thing to which he was referring, with that, and it was true. Powering up had been frightening and unwanted and a dragging duty for so long, but now it wasn't - now it was a chance to explore new gifts and increased stamina and a strange predatory desire to use them to hunt and frighten Destiny City's poor civilian populace.
When she was Order, she'd wanted to protect them, had valued the life of random strangers above her own. She could only assume that it was the Chaos in her veins and in her starseed that had made her think differently. That and a nagging element of bitterness - she had tried so damn hard to be a hero, and she'd failed and been insulted and despised. Had seen news story after internet blog after newspaper column decrying Senshi as terrorists and monsters.
Well, now she wore black, and she intended to be as good - or perhaps bad was a better choice - of a villain as she could manage.
It was her turn at the counter and she walked forward.
"Medium white chocolate mocha with whip, please," she said with a smile, a fairly simple order. Ordering complicated weird coffees was simply not something that interested her. Why would you make some poor minimum wage worker struggle that way?
She paid and stepped over next to Alois, waiting for her drink to come up. Perhaps boiling ater for tea was a better idea given the general look and state of cleanliness in this place, but frankly she had come for coffee and by God she was going to have coffee.
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Posted: Fri Jan 17, 2014 7:12 pm
Surprisingly his new acquaintance didn't order some pretentious coffee in an equally pretentious stainless steel thermos, nor did she slather it in all the pretentious flavorings available to the general public. Alois only smirked to show his approval, though it reflected more mischievous intent than outright acceptance. Perhaps that had more to do with the current scheme occupying his thoughts, but Clarisse offered a distraction as she confirmed that she, at last, found great fun in powering up once again.
The middle-aged man adorned in his liver spots and sharp attire received his drink just before Clarisse, and he gravitated toward those very flavorings set out on the floating counter. Initially he tore open a pair of sugar packets at once, dumping them in simultaneously. Then came the stir straw, and a few shots of creamer before he finally sampled a taste. Wrinkles wrinkling in disgust, the man repeated the process to achieve an adequate mix, or so Alois thought - but he hadn't thought too far beyond the man's first impression - a highly disdainful stare, and a terse mumble.
Once Clarisse's drink was properly prepared and set atop the peeling formica counter, the barista called his meek acquaintance's name. Alois gave her just enough time to usurp her steaming cup before he snatched her free wrist and practically dragged her toward the exit. A quick glance back confirmed the older man still fussed with his coffee, which bade well for Alois' intentions.
A quick push out the door using his shoulder, and Alois still held Clarisse's wrist firmly. He never mentioned his intentions to her, as he was loathe to find that she still believed in inherent good and other heinously outmoded philosophies. Instead, Alois scanned the various cars parked parallel to the curb with far more interest than he exhibited before, until he finally discovered the four telltale interlocked rings on the back of a black luxury sedan. To his great fortune, the car must've run for nary a couple minutes; caked frost from scraping the windshield still clung to the wipers.
"A word, Clarisse," Alois started as he turned toward her and leaned against the car's front fender. "I don't drink tea." To prove his point, Alois dumped the cup of boiling water atop the driver's side of the windshield, causing enough of a temperature difference to crack the glass irreparably. But the misanthrope knew he had little time now, before the older man returned to his overpriced Audi.
The coffee shop's door slowly churned outward and Alois seized his companion's hand once more, darting toward the street corner where they might break sightline. The misanthrope smiled for a rare moment as the exhilaration welled in his injured chest, peeling over the broken ribs and quelling the knotted anxiety ever-present in his gut. Once he cleared the corner with his captive companion, Alois pressed himself against the wall and caught his breath through rasping heaves - a mark that his recovery still spanned far ahead of him.
But hearing the incredulous yelling of the man rendered his efforts worth it. Alois laughed, it whistled in his throat more than usual, and he clutched his side from the growing pain. "It's good zat you picked ze coffee shop, else I would not haf' met zat b*****d. And what fun would we haf' sitting in zose disgusting chairs, anyhow?"
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Posted: Sun Jan 19, 2014 7:33 pm
Clarisse hadn't expected Alois to be so eager to leave that he actually dragged her out, and while the place was certainly disgusting, she wasn't sure it merited quite that hasty of an exit. Her eyes narrowed, and she glanced up at him, then over at the cup in his hand. If she wasn't mistaken, there seemed to be a suspicious lack of any kind of tea packet, so unless he intended to carry it all the way back to wherever he lived and plop the tea in there (which seemed painfully silly, never mind that it'd be cold by then) that was not the actual reason he'd chosen boiling water.
She hadn't quite expected that his aim was property damage - especially not property damage to a reasonably expensive car belonging to a total stranger - but she actually had to clamp a hand over her mouth to stifle telltale giggles. She didn't remove her hand until they were out of sight and she was sure her laughter was under control.
"Oh my god you are a fantastic d**k," she said, glancing back. "What did he even do to you? Not that it's particularly relevant." She took a sip of her coffee, shaking her head slowly.
Somehow, given what he'd perpetrated as Bischofite, this seemed a step down - or perhaps a logical starting point, since every bit of cruel intent had to start small.
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Posted: Sun Jan 19, 2014 8:19 pm
"He told me to 'watch it'," he answered simply. The misanthrope peered around the corner, golden gaze settling on the irate man speaking animatedly into his cell phone. Alois recognized that the cracks would only spread through use - no amount of quick fixes would remedy his situation. Additionally, he'd receive a ticket fro driving in such poor visibility conditions. Unless he wanted to walk home, he had no choice but to put that cell phone to good use.
"Any excuse to haf' a little fun is wors' it in ze end - regardless of its childish nature." Alois beckoned swiftly for Clarisse to follow him further down the alley, and more importantly, away from potentially prying eyes. Enough witnesses to his mischief still dotted the area, and likely informed the man of Alois' looks and stature, and the Saarlander wasn't terribly keen on maintaining a criminal record across multiple countries. An international criminal for the acts of shoplifting and minor property damage? At this rate, he'd rather announce his alter ego and find far more iniquitous deeds assigned to his civilian name. "It shouldn't surprise you zat I am partial to zese antics - you'f seen more... amplified versions wis' your own eyes. But, as you know, I haf' a little more freedom in alternatif' settings." Clarisse likely knew what he meant, even if he kept to secrecy in the thinning alley.
But his mischievous streak hadn't quite run its course yet. "You realize, you could'f easily told me I haf a fantastic d**k." Afterward Alois sidestepped to an offshoot alley and proceeded at his usual gait, allowing little time for Clarisse to catch up. "You should try it sometime - ruining someone's day wis' little games like zat, I mean. Perhaps it takes some time for your psyche to adjust to it, but ze freedom from it... You'll find it quite like powering up. So many avenues suddenly become available when you sink outside social constraint..." Alois broke off suddenly and leaned against the nearest gritty brick wall. After breathing heavily for a moment, he forced himself to elaborate on the jarring change. "It's still a little hard to breaz'e; gif' me a moment."
The nearby aluminum trash can had enough girth to it to sustain him as well, so he leaned over its cold, unforgiving surface to catch his breath a while longer. The atmospheric rush of cars in the distance covered his panting easily enough. "Unfortunately, if you end up crippling yourself, it affects you infinitely more." Despite the pain blossoming to life in his ribs, Alois managed to straighten up properly. He recognized he wouldn't be racing Clarisse anytime soon, but at least he could walk home without assistance - and that was all he really cared about for the moment.
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Posted: Sun Jan 19, 2014 8:47 pm
"Well, he'll certainly have trouble watching the road until he gets that fixed," Clary said, following him farther as she was beckoned. Her expression was mostly filled with amusement - time spent with Alois was clearly ordained to be entertaining.
"I admit, that was pretty damn funny," she said, taking a long drink of her coffee, "though a little petty in comparison to what I've seen you perpetrate. Still, we are regrettably shackled like this." And it certainly couldn't hurt to turn some of her crueler urges to smaller things - though playing the 'good girl' was often its own sort of fun, since the likelihood of anyone even thinking to connect small, meek Clarisse, barely able to step out her own front door, with Eternal Sailor Persephone were slim to none.
She made the mistake of taking another sip of coffee, and she found herself very nearly choking on it and on her own laughter. "Oh my god you're awful," she said once she'd regained her breath, shaking her head slowly, "and besides, it'd be unfair of me to make such a claim without supporting evidence." Her expression turned from amusement to concern, however, when his breathing became heavy again.
She walked over to place a hand lightly on his shoulder - an effort, given the difference in their heights. "Do you live nearby?" She asked, seemingly idle conversation but underlaid with worry. She hoped that home for him wasn't too far - his injuries combined with the chill in the air had to make it difficult.
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Posted: Tue Jan 21, 2014 5:25 pm
"I would be in prison for life if I resorted to more... potent intents." And given all the 'pretty' comments stemming from various senshi, Alois disliked the possibilities inherent in communal shower rooms. He lacked the frame and health to secure himself in those situations - additionally, he possessed no desire to scrutinize a prison cell from an inmate's perspective. Jail already proved more than enough.
Alois straightened up slowly and dismissed Clarisse's touch with a reactive brush of his hand. His shoulder already ached from having to bear the touch of someone else, someone decidedly human and fully within the scope of his misanthropy. Instead Alois remained with elbows locked as he leaned against the lid of the trash can, eyes transfixed on the distance while he addressed her with the same emotionless tones he employed on a regular basis. "If you intend to walk me home and ******** my brains out, I suggest you revisit what I said about my condition - I don't need to break any more ribs, regardless of the cause." The Saarlander simply didn't take her seriously, which enabled him to dismiss her lackadaisical comebacks with ease. Senshi baiting notwithstanding, he recognized his place in regards to attractiveness.
Once he ascertained that his breath returned without hitching, without the same intensity of pain radiating through his side, Alois started down the alley once more. Inwardly he speculated that his body held up fine when taxed with aerobic exercise up until demand exceeded his lungs' ability to deliver, and that led to a quick decline in his demeanor. With every breach came a better understanding of his limits, however.
"Of course I don't lif' nearby," he snapped with nearly tangible irritation. "You don't s**t where you sleep, Clarisse. If I frequented zese parts, do you really sink I'd wreck zat man's windshield? I'm not in ze business of getting caught and generating anozzer criminal record." After rounding a corner toward another busy street, Alois dropped his voice to prevent eavesdropping from passersby. "And since you were so kind to rip my starseed out, you owe it to me to play to my tune - unless you want our superiors finding out about your first misstep in ze Negaverse, traitorous as you are." Alois offered her a smile of sharks, gold eyes every bit as dead.
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