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iStoleYurVamps
iStoleYurVamps
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 Posted: Sat Nov 05, 2016 9:19 pm
Satisfaction didn't come with killing for him. Killing was a consiquence. A side effect of what he wanted- challenges. Threats. His life had been a struggle and when it lulled, it had burned in him like a dull blade. Life in peace was boring. Peace was only for when you had nothing left to fight. And as he looked to the mess they made, Castor figured they'd always have something to fight on earth. Yet another reason he could not wait for the day he'd get to return home. Still, pulling up his cloak to scowl at the blood, he really had to admit, it wasn't the same- killing people. Killing chaos hosts. "Huh?" Gev's words were nearly missed until he looked over at the body slumped against a wall. A dull pain on his arm where a knife had cut him. it stung, but it wasn't deep. Nothing some wrapping couldn't mend. "Maybe, but he was quicker than the others. Didn't expect a guy with that kind of build to move that quick." Underestimated, he'd been lucky. Had the blade dug down- "You were not the most pristine either." Eyes drifted to the bar. "We probably should have set this place on fire, let them burn from the inside out. But-" He gave a shrug. "No fun in that." The crunch of glass was marred but the crack of ice as Castor pulled off the last remains of his armor, casting them to the floor where they'd begun to melt. "Ohh ho- Look at that." He whistled. "Haven't gotten to see my handiwork in a long time." A missing eye. A reminder of the past. "Still wonder how I missed."
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Posted: Sun Nov 06, 2016 5:33 am
There was a searing cut on his forehead from where a man had used a piece of glass to try and impale him, but he had managed to kick him off in time. Near-fatal mistakes were at least one per fight else he might have felt bad it had been too unevenly matched. "Yeah, burn the place and wind up having half of them escape or get rescued by the fie department. I don't think you could freeze all the exits to make sure they stayed put either." They could have gotten a few chains, but that was far more work he was willing to put into it. "Trapping someone to burn is cowardly." He turned, rubbing the burn mark on his neck as he went to pick out a wallet from one of the thugs and check it for any hard cash.
He glanced as the armor was pulled, noticing how easily it could be cast aside when no longer useful, but also remembering that if not willed, it was like pulling a thick shell off a turtle. Painful. It delighted him to know he had tried it once, tasted it once, and yet disappointing he could only say he did it once.
The whistle caught his attention, and he looked up confused to see what Castor was looking at, first assuming he was checking out one of the thugs, until he saw his cold eyes directed right at him - or more specifically, the white orb that now made his missing eye. As Wolframite, it had always been pure black, but as Gevaudan, it was like a pristine pearl.
A mix of anger, disgust, and self-consciousness shot like a fiery hard cocktail in his system and he grabbed the largest bottle of liquor from the bar and threw it at him. "******** YOU, YOU p***k!" To say he was over it was not true. "You missed because you're s**t!"
He looked for another bottle, grabbing a full thing of wine and threw that too before he cleaned out the wallet he had of cash and pocketed it, gritting his teeth and looking for one of those knives he saw to throw next. ********, he missed his Chaos weapon.
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iStoleYurVamps
iStoleYurVamps
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Posted: Sun Nov 06, 2016 3:57 pm
A grunt at the burn of the armor falling away, Castor watched his temporary ally take what he would. Scavenger- Even under their coating of heroes they were still scavengers. Thieves of lives. Then that anger, that beautiful explosive reaction that sent a rush of adrenaline back into his blood. Wolframite was still there. Lurking, festering in the knight, and each time Castor saw that anger, that uncompromising rage it reminded him of their fights. Challenges. Contests of who could harm who the most. It delighted him. Sadism was not what he wished he was but it was ingrained to him. To say and draw out that threat. The general in black lace and fanatic faith in a dead queen lived under new skin, and would always be a threat. "I would love to." He purred, laughing as the bottle was dodged, sent flying past him to shatter on the wall. "One day I want to make it so you look as ugly on the outside as you are on the insider." The bottle of wine thrown did leave Castor to pause. "Tch- at least throw the shitty stuff. Really, you have no taste." Two steps forward, Castor grinned down, wanting to feel a wound, wanting to see what the Knight would do to hurt him. He wanted to get hurt. To have a reason, and excuse to stop even for a short while. In the back of his mind he knew this- he was tired. He wanted to end this game the played, a game of heroes and false hopes and dreams. "We took out the trash, but what does that make us Wolframite?" He stood, challenging, waiting, eyes alight with the thrill of a fight lingering on his tongue.
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Posted: Sun Nov 06, 2016 4:13 pm
He tossed the leather wallet on the dead thug's face, glancing back up as Castor started to approach. While they came in together with a set plan to kill, once that reason to stay together was gone, the truce was dead with it. That was until they found something else to kill together, and even then he wondered what he was doing here now aside from trying to take some degree of profit home that would make this meeting feel less sour and pointless.
"Have fun. I've already have people give a few goes at it." He grumbled back at him, not taking his threat with any fiery response. By now they both knew they wanted the other dead, but not just quickly dead. They both wanted a fight and finality they could savor, they could drag out and FEEL within their very center the satisfaction of something they had nurtured and twisted in their imagination of doing. It was all a matter of place and time, like not wanting to ruin that special moment in something as tacky as a disgusting bar. These little things would just ruin it, and he knew it wasn't right. They clashed before. Fought before. Right now, depleted and not at their best, it wouldn't be any good, the sloppy seconds of a battle.
He knew what he was. He knew even with half his memory gone what he was. Even when he was told by Hawa to move on, that this was a fresh start, warned by Zink and others he was crossing over to insanity, he knew what he couldn't let go. He knew it, and he felt a frustration that he should, and it would ultimately destroy him and what he most cherished - what little he still had. But letting it go would mean letting what he felt against Castor go. It meant letting the Bloodmoon Court go. It meant letting all those years of suffering go.
If that was all let go, then he would just be Gevaudan, and he didn't know who that was - and that scared him more than anything.
His eye unfocused as he looked down at the dead body, as those thoughts raced through him like a snake poking out just to remind him that it was there to bite from time to time. Rubbing his burn-scarred neck, he tried not to think about it. Not just those thoughts, but all the marks on his body. He really didn't know what Hawa saw in it.
Moving to the next body, he picked out another wallet, smiling as he slide a small knife under his hand to conceal.
"There is no US, Castor. You seem to be doing this because you want to make the city safer because you can't do it in the actual war. Because no one wants to listen to a Prince. All that power and no one to respect it." He rose back up. "I'm here because I'm bored of doing nothing and feel justified in killing these men. You could have told me any damn story, and I didn't even bother researching it. I don't even trust you let alone your word and I still came to kill. It's only a waste because I can't even take their starseeds from them. They get a green card back to the Cauldron to be shitty again."
"But I'll tell you another reason why." He leaned on the bar counter and curled a finger for Castor to come closer.
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iStoleYurVamps
iStoleYurVamps
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Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2016 8:37 pm
It was masochistic in how well Gev could peg him. The fact he hit a nail to perfectly on it's bitter tasting head. A prince with power yet none who understood what that meant. Castor let Gev talk before he came in close, wondering just what the other man wanted to say. Close enough to be in danger.
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Posted: Mon Jan 02, 2017 7:18 am
He didn't play it up. He didn't hesitate. The second he was in a reasonable enough range, he threw his arm out with the knife.
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iStoleYurVamps
iStoleYurVamps
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Posted: Mon Jan 02, 2017 1:56 pm
Castor was a man who despite all odds, always seemed to be lucky when faced with death. Charonite. Beryl. The Coma. Tanzanite. Greater Youma. The Rift. Alkaid.He suffered, burned, yet would not die. The ultimate cosmic joke perhaps that he should have been dead for his recklessness, his position. Yet each time he'd narrowly avoided it. Just as he felt suddenly painfully aware how close he'd touched death when he neared the knight who lived over the body of Wolframite. The blade caught the edge of his bracer then his chest plate, deflecting the metal from vital organs. Had he been eternal, it would have sliced through his arm and gotten him in the ribs. Instead, it was redirected into the meat of his upper arm. A howl of pain and a murderous glare, he flung himself backwards, wings frantically beating to shield and push back. "You sly little ********-" He hissed. The truce was over, and Castor did what any winged being would do when trapped in an area lacking in mobility- He fled.
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Posted: Mon Jan 02, 2017 2:25 pm
He laughed manically, holding up his hands to call out after the prince.
"THE REASON IS YOU KEEP ME ON MY TOES!" He called out, laughing loudly as he watched the other run off.
Breathing out, he looked around in the silence before staring at the blade and the blood dripped on his knuckle before he went to lick it up slowly.
"He's getting sloppy in his old age." He said to the dead man by his feet before kicking him aside and jumping over the counter. Grabbing a bottle of wine, he decided now was a good time to go home.
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