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lizbot rolled 7 4-sided dice:
3, 1, 3, 2, 2, 4, 4
Total: 19 (7-28)
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 Posted: Tue Dec 02, 2014 1:18 pm
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Baneful rolled 2 4-sided dice:
3, 2
Total: 5 (2-8)
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Posted: Tue Dec 02, 2014 1:43 pm
"It is not easy." he said in a low cold tone as he watched the fireball approach too fast to dodge or evade. He simply closed his eyes and let it wash over him. It hurt, it hurt a great deal, Butch yelping and yowling as he tried to keep the attack at bay. It did not hold back the heat enough to leave his cloak unsinged and as he threw back the hood his skin glistened with sweat.
The divine symbolism of America's weapon rankled him as much as anything could, reminding him in an instant of lucidity in the midst of the chaos of a set of lines from Paradise lost.
Him the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from th' ethereal sky
With hideous ruin and combustion down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire
She was all chains and fire and he would not be restrained by her, she stood in his way so often, consigning him to the skulking shadows. It did not anger him but it slighted his pride. It was frankly rude.
As the ashes cleared, flittering embers scattering from a cloak that would be no good for future night training, Butch's runes and even parts of the steel itself lit up with his charge.
He smiled. "You have been pretending so long you have even fooled yourself. That is the very thing I am immune to, and it is why I am perfect, missy."
Hp 14/50
Dmg: Stealing HALF damage done for TWO turns.
Charge: 3/3 - The Bite used
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lizbot rolled 2 12-sided dice:
8, 12
Total: 20 (2-24)
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Posted: Tue Dec 02, 2014 5:03 pm
"You pretend and all you're devoting is a bit of time and energy," she ground out and the helpless sense of rage that had sent her out in the night swelled once more. "When it's over you can just ******** walk off like it's nothing because for you it is nothing."
America remembered that charge, that sick bond taking pieces of her and giving back to him. The fear that tried to rise gave way easily to already rampant anger. Stryker's shot past him in what looked like a near miss until the wings shifted and suddenly there was a chain around his throat, crushing it as the weight pulled him to the ground. It tightened and held and it did not take so very long for his already weak shield to buckle and shatter, for the claws to disappear.
He looked very small without them, helpless and slight and she could see why that boy would think to trust such a man, such a victim. Gazing down at him, eyes bright with violence, America smiled and began to drag him off the field.
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Posted: Tue Dec 02, 2014 6:10 pm
He was about to say something else, to reply that it was nothing, that in the view of the universe it didn't matter if you loved or if you just pretended to love, things would be taken away anyway. The same went for hate, all of it was as substantial as dreams and of as much consequence.
The death hunter never got the chance. The attack was swift efficient and brutal, the chain twisting tightly around his throat, As it did Butch let out a horrendous keening whine of despair.
For a moment he muddled himself up in the ghost's thoughts, some strange flashbacks of the chain about his throat in an effort to stop him from some unnameable something. But it would not stop.
His shield shattered and the chain went from painful to throttling and in his periphery the claws vanished, the light they had been emanating gone in an instant.
As always, he did not fight as he was dragged, limp as a doll and not even holding onto the chain to try and retain some kind of airway for breath. That was irrelevant for the time being. He was not upset, he was not angry, he was not afraid, whatever would come would do so, and he wondered if she was even capable any longer with her wings so clipped by responsibility.
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Posted: Wed Dec 03, 2014 4:36 pm
As soon as they left the training area the constriction of the chain went from painful to deadly. America paused to watch for a moment and then desummoned her weapon. Crouching down, she pulled out a pocket knife, a simple civilian tool, and gave him a speculative look. "You're pretty fond of this face of yours, aren't you?" She brushed the back of her fingers against his cheek. "Soft like a girl's."
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Posted: Wed Dec 03, 2014 4:49 pm
Spots had started to swim before his vision and Lawrence was reminded of the last time she'd had her hands at his throat. Like that time, he did not fight her, even as his lungs screamed for air and his every survival instinct demanded he do something. The pressure released and he inhaled with a gasp that was out of his own conscious control, making up the oxygen debt as rapidly as he could. His heart was hammering, but for no emotional reason, simply bodily reaction to a brush so near to death. The adrenaline was almost pleasant.
He eyed the knife and raised a brow, aware of how dangerous it was to him like this, already sporting fairly significant raw grazes on his back just from being dragged to this spot.
"I am not fond of it at all missy." he said. "I feel no connection to it or my body in general. Would I have cut off my own hand if I harboured attachment to my body?" The pale blue eyes had closed for just a second as she touched his cheek but he watched her now intently. His face was a tool, something to be used in his trade. If she marred it, it would be inconvenient, but he did not comprehend fear. He smiled and it was all brilliant white teeth. "I simply take care of myself." He looked over her freckled skin, the opposite of his own, scattered with chaotic pigment where he had almost none at all. He wanted to find it abhorrent or at least offensive to the eyes, but it had its charms. "Are you trying to threaten me?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 03, 2014 5:12 pm
With a huff of laughter, America commented, "You're either lying to yourself or even more crippled than I'd ever thought. No heart, no body, and the mind's all ******** up. There's dead folks more capable of living than you." She slid the knife under his nose with a considering look, and then moved it lower to his lips. "Not a great kisser, gotta say. Maybe we could at least make it more interesting for your new fella." A thoughtful hum followed, and she didn't bother answering the question of threats, it was hard enough really, not killing him here. She wanted to carve him up into small pieces, she wanted to reach inside and pull out his bones, such the marrow from them and toss them in the trash where he belonged. She wanted to strip of him skin and wear him like a ragged, blood-flecked cape and this was her and it was not her and it didn't matter because he wasn't even a person, wasn't even on the level of animal. "I'll let you decide where I make the cut, otherwise I might not stop."
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Posted: Wed Dec 03, 2014 5:37 pm
There was that tension, that thrumming animal wildness that he could not define or explain. He wore masks every single day, it was the only way he could move through normal social situations without the massed mortals from turning to face him, being afraid of him and ultimately trying to destroy him. He'd experienced the fear first hand at home as a child and at school, they cried or they loathed and you did what you could to evade them. America appeared to have chosen her side of the spectrum and unlike everyone else, he had no desire to evade her, to change his very self and try to plead that he was normal for the sake of peace and quiet.
"I do not lie to myself." he said calmly. "What on earth would be the point in that?"
He fell silent as she moved the knife to his lips, watching her in that same intent yet distant way. He had not expected this, and that in itself was a gift to him because as a rule, he had learned the patterns, learned what people would do. Most of them were like little clockwork creatures, following set rules they imposed upon themselves. It was the part of America which railed against this and twisted, changed and reborn like her weapon on a whim that held his attention. Time and time again he was drawn to it like a cat drawn to a bird and he did not truly grasp why. He finally spoke, every word slow and unhurried.
"But if you can't decide something as simply as this missy, maybe you have no right making decisions at all." He would offer her nothing which did not already exist in her to begin with.
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Posted: Wed Dec 03, 2014 10:19 pm
A small, scoffing sound, "Cause you're a liar everyday of your life, Lawrence. You've got a habit in you and it doesn't need a point to keep on going, doesn't even need your permission." She touched his hair, gently smoothing it back in a motherly touch and then turned his head. For awhile after his refusal she simply breathed and then slid the knife into soft, pale skin. Once, "For trying to get me killed." Twice, "For leveraging Taym's life like that." For making her regret saying no.The slices were neatly parallel, not shallow enough to heal over but not deep enough to endanger him. America Jones had been a hunter of one sort or another nearly all her years. She knew her way around knife. She knew how to handle a body. But then she pocket the knife and crudely dug her fingers into the cuts. In some ways, he could be so warm. Closing her eyes, she confessed in a tight voice, "I want to kill you so badly right now and it's not even about you." He was convenient. He was an empty, broken house sitting out all alone in the night. He was a thing to hurt without guilt, though the consequences for following through were far higher than he deserved. It wouldn't bring anything back. It wouldn't give her back the life of a child that never existed. It would bring back Boris or Roman and certainly wouldn't make her any less a killer. Again the overwhelming hopelessness, the sense of inevitable loss and the emotional ties that gave them power and meaning and the strength to hurt her more than this man ever could. Dropping the knife, she wiped his blood off on his coat, but despite the effort of cleaning them, they still left a bloody streak as America absently brushed away the tears that had begun slide down her face. "Want me to call your boy to come play doctor." She grinned unhappily, "Make me into a real great bad guy, wouldn't it?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 03, 2014 10:45 pm
He didn't argue with the comment about him being a liar but he didn't see the flaw in lies in the first place. If you moved something out of the way of an animal it would seek to retrieve what it wanted no matter what, this was natural. He simply sought the things he wanted with whatever means possible, it was not something to be condemned, it was a freedom that others denied themselves. He didn't fight her, even as she moved his head he let it happen as if it was all an act and he was passively playing his part.
A flinch wracked him as she sunk in the knife but it was instinctual, the twist of nerve endings out of his control and a mind which retained enough animal self preservation as to wish to escape pain. As he held still again it was with the resumption of that icy self control. The next slice was less intolerable, adrenaline already making it bearable, though his body shivered as he lay still. It was fascinating what a body did when it was in pain, he thought.
He didn't owe her an explanation. He didn't owe her anything for this. But he was generous. "Using it as leverage was stupid." he said, voice shallow and breathless. "I was curious. Curious if you were noble. If you were attached. I have never wanted something abstract, something that was not material."
The fingers and her nails were enough to bring back to reflexive response, muscles tensing around a pain which felt mortal yet which he was sure was not. She wanted to kill him and he didn't care if she did, perhaps it would even be poetic, blindsided not when he was baiting her or breaking those invisible societal rules but minding his own business instead.
He could feel the blood trailing his skin but ignored it, she would stop or she would not.
When she did he looked up at her, raising his good hand to the wound to try to stem the bleeding even a little and the blood seeped around his slender fingers. It would leave a mark.
"No." he said, his voice slipping into that other accent it sometimes did. "I do not want to make you into anything but exactly what you are."
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lizbot rolled 1 12-sided dice:
6
Total: 6 (1-12)
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Posted: Wed Dec 03, 2014 10:57 pm
Am abrupt bark of laughter, "You paint me all up in lies, but don't want to bother letting him see the ugly truth of me." The first thing she did, tears still spilling, was light herself a another cigarette. "Such a piece of ******** work." The second was to bandage him up. It wouldn't heal him up, too late for that, but it'd stop the damage well enough.
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Posted: Wed Dec 03, 2014 11:06 pm
"I am selfish." he said, and found himself disliking the cigarettes, they muddied up the scents, the tang of his own blood on the air and of her suddenly clouded once again by the heavy stench of addiction. "And no one ever said your truth is ugly. It is quite the opposite."
He sat up as the bandage did its job, still bleeding but much much less than he was. He looked even paler than normal, shivering slightly like a wounded animal, unused to pain and as such unused to regulating his responses to it the way he so nimbly regulated everything else. "Does it feel better?" he asked, with genuine curiosity.
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Posted: Wed Dec 03, 2014 11:25 pm
"Naw." And then she was standing up, brushing off her jeans. "I think it might never, all said." And then she was walking away, toward the dorms. Most people she'd thank for the fight. Most people she'd offer help up and even a treat after, a snack or a meal, because spars were just part of work. Winning or losing one didn't you couldn't be polite or that you couldn't make a friend out of it. But that was for people.
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Posted: Thu Dec 04, 2014 7:38 am
Lawrence simply watched her go till there was nothing but the lingering smell of blood and smoke on the wind. He stood mechanically, giving another glance to where she'd been before turning and heading back in the direction of the infirmary. He'd stop by briefly and then he would assess the damage.
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