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 Posted: Fri May 02, 2014 1:22 pm
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With his body slumped, Bischofite's mind dissipated in the moments following, never once recognizing the passage of time in a jarring transition from one position to the next. Once standing, now against the ground, with detritus grinding into his cheek. He groaned softly, weary eyes opening to the splitting headache brought on by his fall. The world presented itself in streaks of color, incomprehensibly drab, before contour lines slowly presented themselves to his bleary vision. "Nnh..." He groaned softly. His chest ached with familiarity, with strange recognition toward his starseed's stunted departure from his body.
Bischofite considered simply lying there for several minutes in an attempt to gather himself.
With another grunt he sought to move, to urge himself to his feet as memories toward his new position on the ground flooded back to him. Natron. His lieutenant. A call for action... Yes, Natron pulled his starseed. He must have, else Bischofite had little reason to lounge in dirt and excess oils from car exhaust. As his gaze swept the scene, they focused on a pair of black pant cuffs covering a curious set of loafers. Whose...? Right - Natron's latest errand b***h. Eyes narrowed as a mild sneer belied his recognition.
Initially his grip curled into dirt, and soon he realized his chakrams no longer lingered in his grasp. Recall proved second nature, and in one fluid motion, the general arced his bladed weapon across his body as he sat up abruptly, aiming directly for the lieutenant's shins. "Leaf' me," he hissed sharply. "You had your treat, Lieutenant. You needn't dally around my potential corpse." With a seething hiss, the general pulled himself to his feet. Even so, the ache in his chest pulsed wildly in protest of his actions.
How quaint.
"I'm surprised you had ze balls to pull somesing like zat, Natron; wis' all our tepid meetings, you'f assured me zat you haf' no spine. Perhaps it's not too late for you to grow one, after all." He smiled, albeit pained and tired in its presentation. In the seconds following, Bischofite realized he had braced himself against the wall for support, and shortly departed of his own accord. "But... I fear you're still too meek to warrant your current rank. What a pity."
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Posted: Sat May 03, 2014 2:02 pm
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Chalcanthite watched as the general began to show signs of life and movement. It was as if he had merely been sleeping during the time his starseed was out but there was a tiredness to the general's movements at first. He almost wanted to extend a hand out to the general but he had a feeling that that would be like trying to assist a wounded and feral animal. "Are you alright Bischofite?" Almost as soon as he had spoken up, the man moved in an attempt to get up. It was kinda of satisfying watching the general grasp for his weapons only to realize that the were not there. For a moment Chalcanthite felt like a fox watching his prey but he was still readied to react if anything happened.
Stepping back gracefully, the blade only sliced through the fabric and barely nicked his leg. Bischofite was indeed acting like a wounded animal as he stood there with a thin layer of dirt on him. Chalcanthite could see the pain echoing in the man's face as he pulled himself to his feet with a hiss. It was almost painful to watch but he admired the man's ability to work through the pain. That was a skill that very few had to begin with but that had to be earned through many years of pain. "Like a moth to a flame perhaps is the best wording." It was with little more than a whisper so that Natron could not pick it up. Perhaps it had been a mere muttering to himself but it had been intended to stay within his mind. It was his tongue that betrayed his though slightly in front of the feathery man who stood before him.
As he spoke to Natron, Chalcanthite decided if he should step forward or backward. The man was leaning against the wall and not in the best shape to retaliate all that much. Things had been confirmed though, this spine of Natron's was in fact out of character and new. The history that had to be behind these two must have been jarring for Natron to cause such a change in character. His eyes narrowed as he watched Bischofite with scrutiny, trying to make a vivid mental image of both the civilian and powered form for his notes. There had to be trouble surrounding him and it made the small flame of curiosity roar into a bonfire within his mind.
Was he the a shadow of a man? Maybe not in exact terms but he had a feeling that there was a darkness to be learned from the harsh tongued general. As he vanished, Chalcanthite turned back to Natron with a bit of a sparkle in his eye. Excitement was definitely brewing in the Negaverse. It was only at this moment that he wiped the excess dirt off of his pants from where the blade had cut through.
"Quite an interesting lesson was it not? I do like the somewhat useless condition a person is left in without their starseed. It may be quite useful to momentarily disable a rather difficult senshi to get a better hand in a situation. But, I digress, are you alright Natron? You look like you could use some sort of drink." Perhaps if he could get Natron drunk, some of the answers he desired might be easier to get out of him. Even so, it would probably do the general good to relax after a stressful encounter such as this. Part of him did wonder how to go about repairing his uniform, did it magically fix itself the next time he powered up?
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Posted: Wed May 28, 2014 9:49 am
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"It's a long story, I'll tell you some other night," Natron replied to Chalcanthite's request for further information. And it truly was - he had known Bischofite since the latter was a Lieutenant. His particular level of disdain for the feather-clad General had been built slowly, over a very long period.
He took a step back from Bischofite when Chalcanthite returned his starseed, already prepared for the other General to be hostile. As soon as Bischofite called his weapon, Natron summoned his, bladed end of his kusarigama pointed straight at his peer.
"Injure my Lieutenant and I may just forget that it's frowned upon to murder other officers," he said, and it was easy to be sharper and angrier with Bischofite when all he had to remember was what he had nearly lost as a result of the General's bullshit. "Call me meek all you want, I know I've earned my rank and I don't need your validation."
Hie eyes flicked briefly to Chalcanthite, but his focus was still primarily on the other General.
"I'm perfectly fine." He said. Even if a drink or fifty did sound nice - ignoring how unpleasant his first and last experience with alcohol had been, and also that he was sort of trying to avoid disappointing his boyfriend by getting intoxicated again. "And remember that you can do that to an enemy as easily as a civilian - assuming they'll let you in that close, which is always the difficult part."
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