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Dangerous Conversationalist
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 Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2010 3:59 pm
 A private roleplay between Ripley and Basil.Time: Early Evening Location: Streets of Durem Weather: Nearing a rainstorm Following the events of: On the ProwlIt had been many hours since Basil had bid his Cordelia farewell that morning so that she may return to her world unanchored of her obligation to him, while he himself were doomed to return to his... A world where his prism of understanding was perpetually cloudy, and home was very far away... He was cold and dirty and miserable and yet equally astounded at the world beyond his windowless loft at every turn. Noise assaulted him, smells invited him, but heat was ever elusive. His flesh was cadaverous and taut with the bitterness of chill, in due to the fact that the winds were beginning to pick up. The air was thick with it's usual pollution, but there was a forcefulness behind the breeze that gave Basil cause for concern. This evening reminded him very much of the stormy night that he had been born; Reaffirmation of his life as he knew it.
A loud peal of thunder in the distance steeled his determination, his skin shuddering with visceral delight and excitement as it sweetly lingered, both in his ears and in his body. He could feel his rune pulsing and the cold melt away from his skin. The word 'familiarity' was as meager a distance away from 'familial' as his home was feeling to him now with his body spiting his reservations. Since the uncertain events of the night before, Basil had found himself to be operating from a clearer place than usual. Decisions and thoughts came easier to him now. Certainly they were still oppressed by an insufferable aching deep within and scrambled by the voices of The Flies, but regardless of all of it, he now felt a glowing ember of confidence that he had yet to experience before. This ember stoked the furnace, and kept him plowing onward through the windy streets under graying skies, unaccompanied, and growing ever anxious with a freshly dried crust of blood beneath his nose.
All the while, oblivious to the fact that despite his newfound assurance, the funny creature was heading in entirely the wrong direction he needed to be going. A distinction without a difference
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Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2010 5:09 pm
No. No. No.
Ripley felt his blood run cold as a familiar and unwelcome sound graced the sky above him, echoing through the air as though someone was playing a trick and broadcasting it over the loudspeakers. This was no case of a small heat storm, the Egyptian Frei knew, as the temperature dropped and the area around him increased with the scent of ozone - a scent he himself gave off as something akin to a natural odor. Along with the temperature he could feel a slight shift in the pressure, one not that noticeable to the humans who scurried past him like insects heading back to their ant mounds, but more than enough for Ripley to know that a storm was coming.
He had been so careful, so calculating! Ever since his incident with Rivener and then the incident with the umbrella he had taken care to watch the weather (the only TV channel he approved of watching) and plan his escapades outside based on how the skies would be looking. From what he could recall about the broadcast earlier in the day the skies were supposed to be clear and calm, with not even a slight chance of afternoon showers. If there was a way for the Raevan to get a hold of the weatherman, he would slaughter him and post his head on a pike for all to see. A lesson in not lying to the masses, as it were.
Of course thinking thoughts like these would not help the Raevan now, he was too far from his destination to complete the trip there before the rain started to fall and, unsurprisingly, he was too far from his home to make it back there any time soon as well. It would have been easier for him to think on a solution to get himself out of this mess were the weather not already taking a toll on his mind, the drunken clouded nature he felt whenever a storm arrived rolling about his memories and distorting his thoughts. Could he recall how to operate a phone, to call Rong Wei? Did he even remember the number he needed to dial? At the very least he still knew his own name, a thought that granted him a small measure of peace (if any at all).
The lesser of two evils would have been to stay where he was and actually go inside one of the buildings he passed en route here, though the knowledge that he didn't know anyone inside nor the contests of the shops themselves kept him from opening a door and pretending he was interested in anything. The Frei may have grown a bit more confident in going places on his own, something Rong Wei never objected to anyway, but his desire to leave the unknown alone was still just as strong now as it had been the day he emerged from his tank. With a heavy sigh and whatever calculations he could manage while stunned and cloudy, Ripley turned himself back towards the location he had originally come from - the nail salon. He would stop in a phone booth along the way if needs be, or a bus stop, but at the very least he would get back in the direction he needed to be heading towards.
It was only after he floated down the walkway a bit that he actually noticed there was something - no, someone - ahead of him. Another Raevan perhaps, but one he did not know. Ripely's eyes narrowed as the thunder above him roared once more, as if calling to his emotions. Was this Raevan a friend or foe? His dizzy mind could not comprehend, and Ripely wasn't trying to figure it out this early in.
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2010 5:34 pm
As the skies shadowed over and the breeze became choked with leaves and soiled napkins, Basil was now more eager than ever to complete his journey. At present, he was feeling very anxious, and could only hope in his own, simple way that if he were to wander just far enough, and just long enough, he would have to eventually arrive on his doorstep, with little regard or attention for the concepts of direction and location. If need be, he would gladly walk a thousand miles in the wrong direction if it meant he were feeling just close enough to the Gregarious Arms for it to be one step further. One mile further. Around the next bend. It was very much like a maze he would have to feel his way through by intuition alone.
The thunder appeared to be creeping closer, another resounding explosion of noise and vibration erupting from overhead to proclaim it's approach. For the unwitting Basil, such a noise was quite jarring, and yet oddly native as well. His body felt shaken, a feeling he was less than accustomed to... Holding both hands to his head, it dawned on him how quickly he had begun to feel excited and frenzied, as if he could sprint a marathon, lift a truck above his head-- anything at all! So much for the clarity and clear-headedness he had previously broached...
His senses heightened, it gradually became apparent to him that he was being watched... Slowly he turned in place to affirm his suspicions. His eyesight being what it was, it was difficult to distinguish just what manner of creature he was dealing with, but if there were one thing that was certain, it was definitely alive. Without a word between them, his eyes scrutinized the stranger in a thorough examination that could easily have been mistaken for rudeness or contempt. As it turned out, it was a fellow Raevan. What were the odds that he should run into two in the span of two days without some sort of pre-arrangement? Losing sight of his mission, he was compelled to stand, and to stare, both expressionless and lacking obvious intent. Experience implied that eye contact was the quickest way to provoke a reaction when one had little to say of their own, and so, eyes briefly narrowing to reptilian slivers, he watched the stranger expectantly.
His hands trembled...
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Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2010 5:49 pm
"Move."
There was no much else for Ripely to say in this situation, not with the wind now picking up around him and the storm practically nipping at the back of his neck with its fingers. His mind was buzzing, or perhaps that was just an odd sound in his ears from how quickly the clouds had moved in, so it was hardly a surprise that the Sphinx Frei's patience had worn thin from it's already short supply. Had this been another day, another time - he would have welcomed this fellow Raevan without a problem. There would have been judgement, yes, but words would be exchanged in a far more civilized manner, in a tone that didn't scream hostility from every syllable. Ripley was not friendly when the storm was coming, because he did not want to get wet. The Frei was still not entirely certain of what would happen to him should he get fully soaked, his memories of the incidents before only caused by him being in the rain enough for water to splash over him.
What should happen when he became completely enveloped, unable to seek shelter and dry himself? Even he did not know, and unsurprisingly he did not want to find out. If getting wet could result in his death then he wished forever to stay indoors and dry. Without waiting to see if these other Raevan would get out of his way Ripley started to float forward, intent on passing, but something stopped him in his tracks before he reached the other Frei's side. Something inside his head screamed to stay away, to turn and go another direction, but how often did Ripley decide to listen to himself when it rained?
Never.
" . . . . . . Move."
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2010 6:19 pm
As the stranger now approached him, very much like the storm was approaching them both, Basil felt the finer hairs raise on the nape of his neck, and a growing tension grab hold of him. Ordinarily it was Basil's nature to please others, to seek approval. He had sought approval from Cordelia, and earned it. He had sought approval from the Red One, and lost it. But at this particular moment, he seemed to care very little for the approval of this one. All that was left in the absence of these impulses, was instinct, raw and pure. The pressure was building, and somewhere, deep within, was a small whisper of an ancient voice that warned him against standing for such mistreatment at the risk of both his status, and his protection. It told him he should be angry.
In his mind, the cobra was inquisitive. In his mind, he wished to ask, "Why? Why move when there is a whole street for you to use to avoid me?" But this was far from what would actually escape his lips. Rather, came a sound that had struck fear into the hearts of millions since time immemorial. He hissed; a tight, gutteral sound of warning. His breath was both pungent and arousing, smelling unmistakably of copper. Accompanying it, came Basil's outstretched hand to take the stranger's shoulder and forcibly halt him. It was this creature's choice to approach him at his own peril, and it was his choice to talk to him in such a provocative voice. What was Basil left to think but anticipate conflict? Upon contact, Basil could immediately sense a lively power beneath the skin, of which delivered a faint shock between them. His eyes widened, and yet in spite of this unexpected jolt, Basil's hand would not yield, the sensation only thickening his anger like a meaty broth. In actuality, the cobra was allowing the stranger the opportunity to correct his mistake, and move around him at his own discretion. He did not want for an apology or for appeasement, he simply refused to be stepped on.
His body coiled up. Thick, distinguished creases formed near his nose and brow as his face contorted, encouraging the other Raevan to heed his own advice, and move.
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Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2010 6:36 pm
No.
Ripley's hesitation at messing with this (clearly) deranged individual only increased ever so slightly as it dared to reach out and touch him, the motion fondly rewarded with a jolt from Ripely's skin. The weather around him had no effect on what he considered a natural ability (even if he could vaguely control it) and the shock looked to be just enough to perhaps unnerve this Raevan. The hiss had been enough to unsettle Ripley, not that he would admit it, but a smile of defiance crossed his lips when he noticed the discomfort that touching him was causing.
If this fellow Raevan was so uncomfortable with his hands on him, then wouldn't it only be proper of Ripley to help him let go? What kind of a person would he be to allow someone to continuously shock themselves by keeping their hand on something that only increased the shock value with each passing beat of a heart? Certainly not someone like Ripley, and it was with a fluid motion that he moved his opposite arm and knocked this stranger's hand from his body, but not before also giving him a shove backwards with the other free hand. This wasn't a motion he'd thought on his own, Ripley had watched Rong Wei's various nieces and nephews practice such things on one another, but he never thought he'd have much use for such things.
Perhaps, if this turned ugly, he might.
"I won't say it again. Move."
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2010 7:04 pm
As Basil was swiftly dislodged from the other's shoulder, he found himself stalled by a brief moment of both surprise and unbridled excitement. His face beneath the sweep of his hood became dumbfounded, mouth hanging slightly agape on it's hinges and his posture slackening. What a sight he was with his blood-crusted nose and sleep-addled eyes... Both of which spoke of hardship and suffering, but neither eliciting pity. An excruciating moment of silence grasped them both, held suspended by a tenuous string wrapped much too tight. As a bright flash of lightning lit up the evening sky, announced by the previous clap of thunder, suddenly, something within Basil came undone...
Shoulders squaring and eyes wild, the cobra needed no preamble before lashing out at the stranger, of whom had clearly refused his silent offer with that one, audacious push. As his mouth stretched apart, he now wielded the four, terrible points of his predator's teeth, called to duty by the muscles that ordinarily kept them tucked away. While certainly there was a certain savagery to his present demeanor, his strike was both accurate and rigid in it's execution. His aim? The very shoulder he had first grasped by hand. If it made contact, it would be a dry bite (luckily enough for it's recipient), but no doubt debilitating.
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Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2010 8:01 pm
If screaming were manly then Ripley would have screamed...were his mind even given enough time to properly connect the dots between the creature lunging at him and the feeling of teeth sinking themselves into his shoulder and part of his neck. He could feel the flesh being pierced and torn as the sharp fangs dug themselves into his body, but the bite did not last long as Ripley tried to focus what he could on that single point of impact. A massive, jarring jolt surged through his skin and likely into the mouth of his attacker, sending him reeling backwards and away from the Sphinx Frei. With his shoulder now free Ripley looked over and down at the bite, his eyes narrowed at the sight of dark blood that pooled from four neat puncture wounds. This creature, whom he'd politely warned off him, was some sort of snake - an aggressive one that moved at good speeds. Something like Cordelia, perhaps? No, they could be similar but Cordelia didn't give off a feeling of manic terror like this male Raevan did. This Frei had a problem but Ripley couldn't focus enough to figure out what it was, instead taking the moment to clamp his hand over it and squeeze tightly. He didn't know how to stop bleeding, not that he thought it would be that intense.
How should he react now to someone who was showing violence? There was nothing in Ripley to turn him coward and flee, but he knew his strength would not hold him out for so long. There would be a second strike, and he would have to either defend himself or go on the offensive. Above and around him the thunder roared and crackled as a streak of lightning tore across the darkening sky, illumating the streets that were now growing devoid of the human scarabs that had been scuttling about. Where they all inside their buildings now, watching this interaction with wonder or fear? It had been only a few seconds since Ripley had managed to knock his unknown assailant away, and now was the time for response. With the storm around him and his mind in a fog Ripley backed up a bit, though not before moving his hands into a more defensive position. He wasn't backing down, or backing away, instead he was getting himself into a better position.
The roaring and cracking in his ears had returned as the wind picked up again around the pair, and inwardly Ripely was praying for the rain to hold out and not fall before this could be finished. He didn't know what would happen if he tried to defend himself while wet. He didn't want to know.
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2010 8:47 pm
As he had hoped, (for what little room there was for hope between a rabid animosity and immeasurable rage), the serpent's bite had reached it's target. Needle-like fangs plunging beyond the skin, Basil could feel the quivering stream of hot blood flushing across his tongue and staining the crevices in his teeth. It was an unsavory taste to be sure as it tingled on his pallet, yet it remained a telling symptom of his skill; and certainly a desirable one. It was a rare event that Basil actively aimed to bite another person, but when he did, it was second nature for him to gnaw and to dig until he had left a sufficiently deep and angry wound. While the wound he had inflicted was impressive, he wouldn't be latched on for long as a powerful, painful sensation suddenly surged against vulnerable soft tissue, singing his tongue and the roof of his mouth so much as to leave a throbbing taste of rubber. As a strong gale of wind tussled his clothing, he choked back a bit of smoke as he recoiled from the attack, but had little time to dwell on his pain. Glimpsing his opponent, he found that he too was clutching an injured shoulder. Their first exchange was complete.
It was this sight -the sight of the other Raevan wounded and susceptible- that led the storm of his temper to become inflamed with desire. The desire to bring him down. In his world, there could be nothing else. No room to be methodical... Without another second to waste, Basil was quick to come at the Sphinx with his fists now like a panicked animal. It started out more as a tackle, throwing himself against the Egyptian soul with all his might so that he might come close enough to jab at his face, his chest; anywhere the cobra could manage, in spite of the mild shocks he would receive with every throw. Naturally Basil did not expect to be met without a struggle, viciously snapping as he threw his punches. In his manic onset of violence, his ruined mouth frothed in his eagerness to clamp on again!
The boy had lost all sense of restraint.
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Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2010 9:08 pm
The shocks may have been mild at first, each blow left by the attacking Frei being returned with a jolt, though as Ripely's temper flared and the storm around them drew closer the shocks seemed to be getting...stronger. Of course that would provide no comfort for him now, as Ripley was completely and utterly at the mercy of his attacker. Able to only defend himself against a third of the hits many of them contacted hard against Ripley's face and half-formed torso; waves of pain raced up and down his semi-spine to his brain with each impact. He did try to throw a few hits of his own, some connecting but most missing as he couldn't focus with the haze in his head, and soon Ripley found himself backed against a wall and running out of steam.
Ripley was not built for fighting, or so it seemed. His body could not take much nor damage nor did he think he could dish out any that would actually drive his opponent off and away. What had started out as a careless comment and a shove had now turned into a bleeding shoulder and several bruises - if Ripely had bones in his chest or arm he was certain one or several may be cracked, if not broken. He was no medical expert by far but he'd done enough tests on Rong Wei to know the difference, something that he shouldn't have been proud of but he felt good about it none the less. Should this fight end with him somehow managing to stay afloat he would get back to the palor and take a look in the minor at the extent of his injuries before he went out to bother the human woman. While he didn't think she'd panic and try to help him he didn't want to have to hit her for laughing if he were unable to do so.
A quick shove from Ripley got his opponent away from him again as he tried to sort out the spinning images before him, his head pounding and his rune flickering. He hadn't felt this bad since the incident with the human males in the alley, the time he spent with Rivener, and for a brief moment in time Ripley wondered if he could actually be beaten and fall victim to those crazed Raevan? Such thoughts would normally never enter into his head, he was the King and therefore was immortal, but with the skies so dark and his head so foggy he wasn't even sure anymore. He could taste copper in his mouth - a busted lip or bitten tongue perhaps? It was a sign he was still alive and awake, but only just. This would have to end soon, before the rain fell, so else he wouldn't know what to do.
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Sat Sep 25, 2010 2:42 pm
The bloodthirsty bout was not without the deep, thunderous noises of conflict. The smacking of broad shoulders, the grunts of discomfort, the snorts and primal anthem of violence as the two virile half-bodies collided again and again, fighting for room on the corroded sidewalk to prevent staggering haphazardly into the open street. That is, until Basil had managed to force his victim against the nearest wall, his fists occasionally meeting with the thickness of the Sphinx's defensive forearms.
The circumstances being what they were and the scuffle shifting in his favor, it was becoming ever clearer the potential Basil wielded to be quite the formidable opponent were he to have his temper excited, but at best he was still a predator. A predator that like many of the greats, could endure only short periods of great mobility before his defenses would weaken. A cheetah for instance is oft hindered by a small window of time with which to reach maximum speed, as well as the sprinting alligator and the pouncing lion. It was an art, a coup! So too was the cobra reliant on swift and accurate strikes. If he were to miss so much as one, it would make the difference between victory, and the cost of precious energy and even more valuable time. If not for the thunder, he likely would have not only allowed the stranger to pass him regardless of his pretenses, but have felt himself winded after the first punch was thrown! A mighty throw it would have been, yet still limited to the one.
As he felt his drives deplete, and the shocks of the other gain in fortitude, Basil was steadily winding down. His teeth no longer gnashed, but clenched rather in his efforts. It was a conflicting place to be, as his aggression refused to be slaked, while his body refused just as stubbornly to meet the challenge. He was growing wearier, his knuckles bruised and battered. He had sustained an astounding laceration little more than two millimeters wide on the edge of his index finger as the result of a lop-sided punch in which the Sphinx's teeth had sliced the skin. A droplet of blood jeweled to the surface, much as did beads of sweat on the cobra's brow. With one last peal of thunder to invigorate him, it was then that Basil felt a wetness upon his arm that was neither blood, nor sweat. He felt another, a slight dot of pressure on his clothing, and then another. Curiously, after the other had effectively pushed him back, he tilted his head upwards to investigate... Lightning scratched the surface of the sky, gone as quickly as it had come, and the rain was now falling.
For Basil, this was nothing short of a disaster... The cold would do him in.
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Posted: Sat Sep 25, 2010 2:53 pm
Ripley's gaze turned away from the Cobra as he felt the rain from the sky slowly trickle down onto his bruised and bloodied skin, his eyes squinting against the darkness to prevent drops from leaking themselves in and stinging away at his vision. The familiar sensation of lightning pouring over his skin started with an astounding crackle, the black streaks ringing about his body like a hula-hoop being rolled at a fast pace. There was no panic in Ripley's expression this time as the little bolts danced on his flesh, no desire to get in from the rain and dry himself lest he short-circuit and fall into a state that would end with him perishing. The moment the rain hit him and he saw his opponent's expression falter....Ripley knew this was his chance. With his essence now wrapped around him and growing stronger with each raindrop that came into contact with him, the Sphin'x fears were being laid to rest. His attacker was a snake, and snakes did not do well in the cold or wet. It was time for payback, or at least as much payback as Ripley's badly battered body could dish out. His energy was low despite his forced bravado, but the Frei was not backing down.
"My turn."
There was nothing but a heavy flash as Ripley's mind cleared in the rain, his hands pressed heavily against the Cobra's chest, and a shock not quite unlike that he'd unleashed on a certain human male earlier was released. The pulse was enough to send Ripley staggering backwards, his whole body nearly dropping to the ground from the impact and amount of energy he'd just used. The Sphinx Raevan was well aware of the power of his magic, he'd been testing it since that grand misadventure, but in his calculations he'd forgotten how tiring it could be! His rune ached as much as his head did, a throbbing pain that buzzed alongside the lines of lightning that ran across his face and through his mouth like miniature batteries. All around him the rain continued to fall from the sky, no thunder or lightning to accent its presence, and Ripley positioned himself to give another blow to the Cobra before the other could even react to the first and possibly recover.
He'd taken too much damage at this point in time to just walk away without knowing he'd laid his opponent into the ground. There was just something about this other Raevan that Ripely could not dismiss, be it his pride or something else lurking beneath the surface, but for certain he knew that he wanted to rend him asunder and make sure that he could not raise another hand to the King. The match have been one-sided and against Ripley only moments before, but now the King was easily reclaiming his throne as one of his open-palmed strikes connected with the Frei once more. Another series of pops and crackles erupted as he channeled what magic and energy he could into it, unaware how dangerously close he was pushing himself. His opponent would have to go down first! The King would not fall to some mere Pawn!
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Sat Sep 25, 2010 6:26 pm
As a flash of white consumed his vision, it all became a blank...
In the center of his chest did Basil flaunt the most obvious, immediate damage from what had quickly become an effective and terrifying turnaround on the part of the Sphinx. The tawdry fabric of his clothing had quite literally disintegrated under the magnificent blow, revealing charred, blackened flesh beneath a circular aperture in the cloth. A layer of skin had peeled away from the site of the attack, curled and hardened. The wound did not bleed, rather, it became red and inflamed, seemingly cauterized on impact. If one were to touch the wound directly, Basil would no doubt shriek in agony, but within the few, precious moments in which his mind was rendered a clean slate, the boy could feel nothing at all... Strangest of all, as his form lay limp against the wet stone, his skin seemed to be... cracking? Dark, stringy fissures had begun to radiate outward from the hideous burn-wound, some linking with others as together they stayed the course. In a matter of seconds, they had taken on the most bizarre of patterns; The pattern of broken glass, round and complex, as if someone had maliciously thrown a baseball at a neighbor's window. For the next week to come, should he survive this encounter, this would be Basil's scar to bear.
As he began to wheeze and struggle upon the ground, the first thought to appear to the sufficiently startled Basil's mind, was the thought that for one brief, terrifying moment, he could be entirely certain that his heart had stopped. Fine wisps of smoke danced along his seared skin, quickly extinguished by thick, prodigious raindrops. The clap of the rainwater on his damaged flesh was unimaginably painful as he sought to curl protectively around his wound. His extremities trembled uncontrollably as he then struggled to sit up, only to find that his assailant was bearing down on him once again. The other Frei was difficult to take in, being uncomfortably bright and loud as a bizarre element seemed to be enveloping him whole. As of this particular moment, Basil remembered very little before the initial blow that had left a smoking brand upon his chest, and as he glimpsed the deity-like humanoid glowing and flashing and seeking to harm him, Basil reacted out of sheer panic.
He scrambled to return to his floating, upright position but found himself grounded once again by a second painful blast of electricity. A blast that had connected with the arm he had thrown in front of his face to guard it. This time he remained fully conscious, crying out as the smell of his singed skin reached his senses. The irony of course did not so much as register to the cobra that the victim was now the attacker, and Basil was certain he was defenseless to stop him. But futility was by no means a concept that Basil could resign himself to... He would not die a coward in the urban wilderness... Basil himself had very little energy to spare, expending at least a fraction of it merely in rising quickly enough that he could become upright. As his heart raced within his chest, almost as if it were trying to escape from his ribcage, he took a careful pace backward. He was well enough aware that should the other decide to strike again, there would be nowhere to run, and no way to defend himself. He would have to make do with one, final, reckless ambush to end this affair. Bracing himself, the boy became very tense, skin drawn tight across his bones. A droplet of rain slithered capriciously down his jawline before leaping to the pavement.
Taking his time, it was then that the earth began to tremble, as did the air between them. A high-pitched whining noise broke from the fray, and somewhere a car alarm sounded. Basil hissed a second time, the sound distinctly amplified by an intangible force. Above them, windows began to shatter, and a glittering snow of glass rained down to the streets below. Lip curling in a ferocious sneer, Basil took a small moment to brace himself, before rushing at the Sphinx a final time with everything he had, fist reared back as if to deliver the finishing blow. He shouted, teeth gleaming in the broken light at the height of his strength, and colliding with the other moments before a harsh, explosion of energy and sound.
When Basil fell to the ground, vision watery and hood blown away from his head, revealing the peaceful, pale face of an unassuming boy, he would not be getting up again any time soon.
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Posted: Sat Sep 25, 2010 7:38 pm
Holy - what the -
It never occurred to Ripley that his opponent was never using a spark of his essence in the fight, that he was merely going on whatever he was created from in terms of a soul. It never occurred to the Sphinx that not all Raevans could easily manipulate their magic in a manner like he could (even if it seemed to nearly kill him in the process), so when the impact of whatever this Raevan called his soul met with Ripley's lightning all he could hear was his ears nearly exploding inside his head and his vision going white rapidly. He'd never felt so much pain before in life nor heard such a deafening sound; he was certain he'd gone blind and deaf when shortly after the explosion his vision slowly leaked itself back into play. His ears were ringing - a sign that the cells were dying - and he could feel something moist leaking out from them as well. Was he bleeding from his ears? Had this Frei, who now lay crumbled at the base of his ribbon, nearly conquered the King? Hardly! Ripley was still standing, was he not?! There was no Raevan alive who could take him down, even though he might get wounded in the process and barely hold on. Such thoughts of victory kept Ripley in the air for only a few brief moments, his mind celebrating its cause, before he too crumpled and lay atop the Frei he had called himself lord over.
Had it truly been his victory or was it a tie that came about through a strange twist of fate? The Egyptian Frei did not know as his mind slipped into the darkness, but he knew that when he awoke no one - certainly not this individual - would dare challenge him once more.
Ripley wasn't sure how much time had passed before he regained consciousness, but he was aware that the sky had turned from early evening into fading darkness that swept over the streets like a black blanket. The street lamps were lit and several of the businesses that had once been open were now dark with inactivity as the shop-owners had closed for the day. How any of them had managed to walk past two collapsed figures in the middle of the sidewalk baffled him, though he was surprised to find that they were a bit off the main path and somewhat in an alley. Had the last blow brought them both there or had someone drug them off to the side and dumped them? His head hurt too much to try and think about it, and as he struggled to get back into the air he found that the Cobra Frei had someone managed to get an arm around one of his arms. It wasn't a mean motion and therefore Ripley didn't push him away with disgust, instead he simply looked down at the face of the person he'd crushed.
" . . . . . . "
There wasn't any room for discussion or debate in his mind as he did his best to hoist the other Raevan's arm better around his shoulders, his own pointed teeth digging into his lip to bite back against the pain that came from pressure on his wounds and broken bones. It took several tries before he got both of them up off the ground and out of the alley, his head peeking around the corner as his brain tried to calculate exactly where they were and just how long it would take him to get back home now with an additional burden on his body. Either way there wasn't much time for him to loiter around, there was a chance another shower could pop up and leave him soaked once more.
Ripley gave a grunt as he started down the path back to the nail salon, the lamps overhead flickering as he passed beneath them. His rune was throbbing something fierce, so was his head, but he seemed to be feeling a little better with each lamp he passed under. He could not, of course, say the same about the Raevan that remained motionless against his frame. What would Rong Wei think when he returned bloodied and battered? Would she laugh? (Most likely.) And what would she think of the companion he carried? Would she show concern over him or make Ripley toss him away? Getting rid of the Frei wasn't really an option though, as Ripley was possessive over things he could claim were his spoils of war.
And as a King, who defeated a rival, all things were spoils of war.
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