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 Posted: Wed Jun 22, 2011 9:10 pm
The fact that Ilmenite stood waiting on the edge of the crowd for his new change, hands in his pockets and fingers shifting around the comfortable weight of his lighter as he did, was either a testament to his faith in the General-Queen or in his own lack of self-preservation. Everyone had seemed confident in the assessment that General Obsidian had been a dangerous man to mess with when he'd been living among the human -- and time spent living with the youma likely hadn't improved him. A sane person wouldn't stand by and fidget and wait impatiently for prospective doom to come ambling over.
The truth was somewhere between faith and stupidity, a potentially morbid curiosity in the man combined with a sense of duty he was never going to be able to shake. Ilmenite genuinely believed that Tanzanite wasn't going to lead him blindly into danger; tossing him to the wolves with no chance of survival was an unwise tactical move at its core, and cruel in way he wouldn't expect on top of that.
So he waited, fidgety, back up against a crystal not too far from the entrance to the Rift, waiting for Obsidian's inevitable exit from the hall of youma. He couldn't teleport from the heart of their new city: this was the only way out, and Ilmenite kept his eyes mostly focused on it, wishing that he dared light up a cigarette while he waited.
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Posted: Sat Jun 25, 2011 1:15 pm
His stride had a deceptively lazy, almost arrogant quality to it , and the general took his sweet time in emerging from the darkness of the Rift. Inward and unseen, he hesitated as he crossed the thresh hold, almost cautious in a way. Back in the real world again, was he? Depending on one's idea of 'real' anyway. The Rift had been nothing but raw and primal instincts--survival of the fittest, as it were.
Obsidian caught Ilmenite's gaze for a moment, flicking over him and away. He was hardly interested in the boy, but that was probably for the best. If Tanzanite thought him competent enough to be useful, then he would obey, for now. It was going to be interesting to weed through the ranks and see just who had managed to claw their way up to the top.
"How long have you served the Negaverse now, Captain?" He inquired, running his fingers against the cold wall. "Months now? Longer? Have you killed your first senshi?"
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Posted: Sat Jun 25, 2011 3:07 pm
It wasn't hard to shrug off the disinterest, nor scorn; these were things Ilmenite hardly seemed to notice. Obsidian met his eyes and he grinned easily, straightening from his slouch, more than ready to just get out of here. Perhaps this felt like home to the general. To him, it still rubbed wrong against his senses. He'd get used to it in time.
The comment, however, left him blinking, momentarily thrown off-guard. A ready comment died on his tongue, and for a moment, Ilmenite just smoothed his thumb over the scars across his palm, a fine crosshatch of pale lines.
But it was only a moment. Then he blinked up again, dark eyes meeting Obsidian's, and he dragged that too-wide smile back to his mouth. Not meant as cover, but it was one all the same. "General, I think you've been down here a while. At least as long as I've been on the crew, and I don't think you've taken a bath the entire time."
His tone warmed as he spoke, and Ilmenite fought the urge to drape a companionable arm around the other man's shoulders. Might lose the arm, if he tried. Instead he cleared his throat and took a leading step back. "So. Uh. Let's take care of that?"
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Posted: Tue Jun 28, 2011 10:25 am
The look in his eye was hungry and decidedly sly. "Are you avoiding my question, Captain?" But was that so... It would explain why he'd never seen the boy before, or cared enough to pay attention. Still, a bath... Hot water, almost too hot to stand--that sounded better than good.
"If you insist." He suddenly seemed to decide, apparently allowing the inquiry to drop, for now. "You have a place to yourself? Think it's a bit too early for me to meet your parents just yet. I'm shy." He laughed suddenly, as though he'd said something funny, and reached out to wrap his arm around Ilmenite's shoulders. Though the grip was entirely casual, he almost seemed to debate how easy it might be to try and break the man's neck, muscles flexing just barely.
"Just say the word~" Obsidian mused, allowing his teeth to clink together.
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Posted: Tue Jun 28, 2011 11:01 am
There was a tension under that arm that was definitely not founded in fear; Ilmenite was all skin and bones beneath Obsidian's hand. Not fragile but brittle, all jutting angles, and it might be surprisingly difficult to break him. Or maybe not.
"Um. Bachelor pad, don't worry -- it's over that Italian restaurant on Giovanni, if you know the city. Near twelfth." He raised an eyebrow, struggled to cling to his cocky smile, and after just a moment he won it back. The General wasn't acting how he'd expected, but once he acknowledged that, he could change his expectations. Much better.
"Are you giving me a ride, then?" A breath, and he watched Obsidian out of the corner of his eye, fighting the urge to hike shoulders up. "Or meeting me there?"
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Posted: Wed Jun 29, 2011 1:51 pm
"God, I'd kill for some good Italian," Obsidian sighed, unconsciously shifting his arm around as though he could somehow find the one, not-bony part on Ilmenite's shoulders. His attempts weren't very successful. He looked like he meant it, too; his cheeks were hollow and there was a gauntness to his face that suggested he hadn't been eating well for some time now.
Green eyes rolled to their corners at the inquiry, and the General debated silently with himself for a moment. He was loathe to do anyone a favor--but the longer he had to wait, the less time he'd waste loitering about. "You aren't getting off the hook that easy."
His laugh was the only warning that the captain would have before they were both being jerked into oblivion, hurtling through the darkness until, blessedly, it ended, and they were standing on the streets right on the corner of twelfth street. They'd have to do a bit of walking, but who cared, right?
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Posted: Wed Jun 29, 2011 3:18 pm
A whirl of darkness and disorientation and Ilmenite decided he definitely preferred teleporting himself when it was possible. Perhaps it left him drained, but it didn't leave him half so dizzy, didn't wrench his heart around in his chest and leave him uncertain that there would be solid ground on the other side. Sometimes a little bit of certainty was worth the hard work.
Traitorous thought.
It took him a moment to stabilize on the other side. He drew in several deep breaths, turning in the street to blink at a couple of people who'd seen their arrival -- and who immediately took off in the other direction, babbling. It made Ilmenite huff out a sigh, exasperated, dark eyes resettling onto Obsidian.
He caught the side of the man's uniform to draw him down a side alley, somewhere windows and strange eyes couldn't spot them, and there he powered down at least. Out of uniform and back into battered salvation army clothing, thrice-owned and showing it. Ever crouched to press the edge of a piece of duct tape down around his boot, holding the sole on a bit more solidly. "If you don't mind. Otherwise my, uh, landlady might have the smarts to put two and two together."
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Posted: Tue Aug 09, 2011 11:47 am
Where was the fun in doing the work for yourself, when others could do it for you? Obsidian didn't particularly seem to notice or care, eyes sliding to their corners as he felt the captain power down. Subtly, huh? Right, right... He couldn't remember the last time he'd settled back into his civilian state, and did so with obvious reluctance.
He was wearing dark, worn jeans, and a leather jacket that fit comfortably around his shoulders. Not bad, really. "Can't you just get a new landlady if that happens?" His grin was crooked, and it lit up his eyes. He wasn't messing around.
"So. Do I get a name, or do I get to pick one for you?" That might be fun. Ever was going to have to speak up quickly--it already looked like the general was staring to mull over some nasty possibilities.
"Maggot, or little s**t..."
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Posted: Tue Aug 09, 2011 8:35 pm
'Not bad' was a humble assessment of how Drew looked -- except for the grime and grit, except for the fact that he probably hadn't showered in ages, Ever couldn't help but take a moment to pause and blink at him. Out of uniform, the man looked younger, somehow, and also more wild, the restrained military air gone in the face of leather and denim. Unlike Ever, his change was sharp and decisive.
Mulling that over, head tipped, taking in [for the first time] that Drew was a bit taller than him, but only a bit, he didn't answer for a moment. He was distracted. Had to haul himself into focus, blinking, rewind in his head, and then he moved automatically.
He offered his hand with a twitch of a wry smile. "I'd rather Ever. Do I get one, or do I have to stick to 'sir'?"
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Posted: Mon Aug 15, 2011 3:15 pm
"Sir might give people the wrong idea," Drew mused, though he looked like he might have found that fun. Well, best to stay subtle and out of the public eye, for now. He didn't need the General Queen giving him grief if he brought them unwanted attention. "Drew is fine. Drew Collins." Green eyes slid over the young man once more, assessing him, before they flicked away in clear dismissal.
Perhaps surprisingly, though, he did reach out to take the other's hand, still watching the restaurant with keen interest. He finally let his arm drop from around Ever's shoulders, and he took a step forward with a small shake of his head.
"Let's get going."
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Posted: Tue Aug 16, 2011 1:52 pm
Ever'd never been quite so glad of his father's insistant training on how to shake: his grasp was firm and proper without struggling for any kind of control, potentially the most business-like thing about the young man. maybe it was reassuring. Or maybe it'd make Drew laugh, especially when combined with the way he pulled away, backing up out of the alley and toward that self-same restaurant,
He almost fell whet his foot hit the curb, stumbled and caught himself, and yet looked totally unashamed as he dug down into his pocket for his keys.
"Drew, just don't give my landlady the evil eye or freak her out, okay, she's nice and she sends up free food." Something Ever rather desperately needed, most likely. He didn't unlock the restaurant door but the adjacent one -- onto a rickety set of stairs and up to his rather pitiful one-room apartment.
No TV. One folding chair out and one tucked into the corner. One bed -- definitely not made -- and a handful of clothes tossed in the corner. Ever grumbled as he stepped in and moved to shove them in his bag, instead.
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Posted: Mon Aug 22, 2011 5:25 pm
One thing was for certain, it was something that Drew wasn't going to mock him for. Nothing wrong with a good, strong handshake--if Ever had even thought about giving him some limp-wristed excuse of a shake, he might have gotten nailed upside the head and taught properly.
He barked a laugh when the other nearly fell on his face, shaking his head with a grin that nearly stretched all the way to his ears. "As long as she minds her own goddamn business, that's just fine by me." He was going to be eating that free food, but Ever knew that, right? Right.
The man didn't bother to hide his low, long whistle at the abysmal inside of the place, and when the captain made the mistake of trying to stay tidy, Drew took two three steps, crossed the room, and flopped onto the bed which creaked and threatened to sag under his weight.
"So," The general wanted to know, already making himself comfortable. "Where are you going to sleep?"
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Posted: Mon Aug 22, 2011 8:13 pm
"...was actually prepared for that eventuality." Ever's tone of voice was dry, eyes flicking up to Drew as he crammed one last wildly-patterned pair of boxer shorts into the battered messenger bag that held almost all his worldly possessions. Only now was he starting to hesitate over having brought the man back here, at having agreed to this. Maybe he could have moved in with Drew instead.
"I only reclaimed it a week or so ago anyway. I can sleep on the floor." His shrug was quick, definitely less bothered than he should have been -- and probably less bothered than Drew had wanted him to be. For a moment, he managed to bite his tongue, fight down the bubbling words, to actually be diplomatic but...
"Unless you want to share." It was between flirting and teasing and probably an open invitation to get slapped. At least he didn't flinch away from any kind of retaliation.
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