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 Posted: Thu Feb 06, 2014 11:04 am
His chakrams clattered to the ground uselessly. Bischofite froze; even though his shock only played through his eyes, his body stilled in a listlessness unbecoming of his disposition. In all his time spent tormenting Destiny City with his misanthropic deeds, he never expected this to happen.
It ached too much to be real.
___earlier
Urban rain fell in droves that night: footsteps striking rooftops before dropping into the alleys below. The wind rendered as breaths from their lips, ragged and desperate to slake their needs of fueling pursuit. They echoed their way through a myriad of tunnels, hallways, shallow passages while the follower sought the leader with murderous intent. Tonight, he resigned himself to the belief that one would die - be it him for his failures in combat, or his prey for the inability to escape. Either way, death loomed broadly in the clear sky, outshining the stars. A soundless audience awaited resolution of this ancient tale.
Bischofite's footsteps pierced through dark puddles as he shot down yet another alleyway. His breaths tore out of his throat in increasing frequency, and his eyes angled toward the stars where he watched the moon loom before them - as if watching for his final strike. Steeling himself, Bischofite tightened his grip on his chakrams before one finally left his hand, singing through the air before it struck brick uselessly.
But perhaps it wasn't entirely in vain.
The knight's hand fled to his ear as the man lurched forward in a pained howl. His retreat never ceased, never faltered, but blood soon poured in fresh gouts between his fingers, framing his metacarpals before drowning them entirely. He knew he couldn't linger here, that the general nearly upon him would surely strike a fatal blow, so he ducked into yet another branch in hopes of somehow gleaning a little distance from such a convoluted path. Bob and weave, he remembered, bob and weave to avoid another strike.
But Bischofite wasn't aiming for a lethal strike. Between throwing a chakram deep into the alley and angling for the man's achilles tendon, his intents lay in thwarting the escape - for Malicious demanded a greater price than he anticipated. Bischofite silently cursed himself for his inability to halt the knight outright; he wasted far too much time in pursuit, and soon he'd find himself faced down by yet another greater foe. His cunning could only deliver himself from that fate so many times. Instead he pushed for greater speed, even as his breath razed his throat and his legs smoldered with a pain he knew all too well.
A chakram struck the trash cans further down the alley, spilling their wet contents across their path. Once again the Mercury knight leapt over the debris field, but with each landing came an old shock of pain from his exacerbated injury. He suspected the general identified it from his earlier battle, but he had so little time to waste on that thought - even now, a chakram kissed the back of his boot and sank into its sole. Now with one heel soaked and the other desperately seeking relief, the knight rounded yet another corner to realize he should've paid more attention to surrounding auric energies.
Bischofite struck the wall due to his waning inertia, but the ache that now jarred his right shoulder barely registered. His breath caught heavily in his throat, his heart sieged its cage in desperate fury, and he hardly maintained focus in his gaze as it came to rest upon the one who now stood before him.
And for once, he couldn't speak.
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Posted: Thu Feb 06, 2014 3:32 pm
General Buddingtonite may have achieved his third and likely final rank, but there was still much for him to learn. And tonight would be a great night to learn such lessons, put his new strength and power to the test, and Buddingtonite was just as eager as the day he first obtained the dark gift. Like a child given a new toy to play with, he balanced his bouquet of roses on a single digit as he all but sauntered down the streets, not at all trying to lurk within the shadows of the city though not entirely making a spectacle of himself either. No, only maybe a small spectacle of himself, as he was whistling softly to himself, to block out the unnerving silence that the city offered at this such late an hour, but it wasn't as though he were parading around the city and calling all sorts of unwanted attention to himself.
Though really, he felt as though he SHOULD have been. After all, he had received a promotion for all of his hard work and who wouldn't have wanted to show off to another person? Perhaps a humble man? Perhaps someone who was ashamed of what they've done to get to where they were, but Buddingtonite was pretty damn proud of himself for what he's done, what he's accomplished and achieved, though there was that feeling that he could have done more. Could have been better. He felt he was already perfect- and wasn't he?- so how could one transcend perfection?
If there was a word for it, Buddingtonite didn't know it. But perhaps that should have been his new goal? Defining a word for beyond perfection, and then strive to be it, if it was within range. If it would require too much work, of course, then maybe he'd just deal with perfect. That seemed like a reasonable goal. Keep goals within range and they were sure to be obtained!
It was a pity that the streets were practically emptied, though, as he was eager to show off his new rank to someone. Anyone. Civilian, ally, foe... even a cat or dog that was roaming the street. Someone needed to see his new attire, and it appeared that fate finally thought it proper to grace him with an observer, as the aura tickled his senses, mere seconds before the knight whirled into view. At last, someone to show off to!
Now, Buddingtonite had no idea what the Mercury knight was running from or what the poor man had endured, though if he did it probably would have made the completely distraught look on his face understandable. But, given that Buddingtonite had no context as to the events that lead up to this encounter, he found the knight’s words to be completely rude and inappropriate. “Oh, ******** ******** you? Right here and now?” Buddingtonite let the words flow naturally through his lips, letting nothing filter the thoughts that churned in his head and trickled to his mouth, and in a snap movement, he reeled his arm back and took aim, throwing the rose-filled bouquet at the knight. By the time the petals came loose and stained the pavement, the weapon had hit his mark, slamming into his chest and sending him falling back with a strangled cry. “I don’t even know your name.”
Down the Mercury knight went, blood pouring from his multiple wounds and staining his white and blue tunic with the more pleasing color of red, all the better to match his hair and eyes. At first the general was confused as to the sheer amount of blood that oozed from his chest, but it dawned on him, just as he felt the ping of Chaos aura radiating nearby. “Oh, right, blades added to my boomerang. My apologies, looks like we lost that chance for a date after all.”
His gaze lifted from the dying Mercury knight and to the general that stood behind the knight, his attention drawn to him thanks to the dropping of the weapons and the loud, annoying CRACK he heard from the metal hitting the pavement. He immediately recognized the figure that stood across from him, and yet, he wasn’t sure how he managed to crack a smile at that given moment. “Bischofite.”
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Posted: Sat Feb 08, 2014 11:35 pm
Bischofite only stared as a plethora of passing emotions circulated through his gaze. Seizing one thought, one strand of a feeling in the turbulence echoing through his mind proved no different than trying to catch a murder of crows with nothing but his bare hands. They swept across the periphery of his thoughts in brilliance, never once settling strongly enough to move him from his strange stunned silence. And as his gaze trawled over the man who so regrettably, so easily disarmed him, he recognized the gaudy attire and matching signature to indicate his acceptance into some of the highest ranks.
Buddy stood before him as a general now. Not a captain, not a subordinate, not a lover.
His gaze finally softened, poisoned by dysthymia. "How can you smile at me like zat, General?" The word felt foreign, felt heavy in regards to Buddingtonite. "After all zose stones we srew... How we tore each ozzer to shreds, dissected, eviscerated ourselves and our enemies in front of Laurelite... Why smile now?" A host of reasonings shot through his head simultaneously, a crack of lightning through his skull that practically paralyzed him with possibilities: Buddy knew he won somehow, he dismissed his earlier derision for Bischofite, he somehow found an appreciation for the very entity he so despised... Yet none felt more applicable than the last. No single reason truly identified that coy little smile that adorned the confectioner's face.
The general approached almost cautiously, as if he measured his steps and planned their placement to skitter through the domain of hunters abound. And as he approached the corpse that now lay at his feet, warm blood slowly pooling out across the sticky black pavement while it intermingled with dirty water, Bischofite wrapped his fingers around the grip for Buddingtonite's new weapon. A brazen jerk dislodged the blades from its victims easily enough, but Bischofite never paused to examine it. Instead, his gaze bored into the curious countenance of the man who evoked far too many hopes for a bitter misanthrope. "What's going on in zat head of yours? Are you proud of yourself for a promotion gained? Or are you smiling because you stole away ze life of a man whose starseed I needed? Maybe it's bos', maybe neizer; who am I to tell, right Buddy?"
Again the Saarlander resumed his slow pace, his deliberate march toward the rose-adorned general. As he walked, his fingers wicked away fresh blood from the edges of his blades. "Let me tell you somesing personal, Buddy, if you want to qualify your nickname. If you sink you owe me zat much, or nossing at all." In a short pause, Bischofite drew a breath and closed his eyes, angling his chin upward toward the stars. "I tire of your hold over me. Presence or absence, it doesn't seem to matter. It's revolting." Finally he leveled his gaze on his captive audience once more. "You're an infection, and no manner of purging has quite rent you from my bloodstream. I don't like it. I..." Trailing off, he huffed, and a saturnine smile creased his features. "It's ridiculous..." A laugh bubbled in his throat, slow and deliberate, lingering beneath the surface of his words.
"I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. You'f successfully rendered me inept and useless. Congratulations, General."
Finally he stunted the distance between the two, extending Buddingtonite's bladed boomerang at arm's reach. The tip of the farthest prong lingered nary an inch from the embellished buttons on his uniform. Bischofite's tempestuous gaze settled on the general's brilliant crimson eyes, set into a tired face like molten candy. "I couldn't kill you now, Buddy, even if I tried - and zat is not due to a lapse of skill or presence of new power. Were we enemies, I would haf' you broken and bleeding by night's end. Zat is not hubris, but simple trus' - were zat not your fate, zen I would be dead. Take it," he urged, turning the weapon to offer its hilt. "For I could not knock ze silly hat from your head, even if ze fancy struck me."
He felt so drained now, so utterly hollow. How was he to claim Malicious as his personal youma if he could not divest himself from the atrocious emotions he harbored for some smarmy fop of a candyman?
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Posted: Sun Feb 09, 2014 4:01 pm
If one looked at Buddingtonite from the outside, they would probably mistake him as being cold, uncaring, or even oblivious to the storm that was brewing within walking distance of him. He stood still, but not rigid or stiff, periodically looking up at the man that stood across from him and down at the Mercury knight in his final death throes. It was a little distracting to hear him gasp and gurgle in the manner he did and extremely rude to be doing so while Bischofite was talking, so when he gave his last breath, the rose-clad general was relieved that he'd only have to focus his attention on one being.
And he continued to smile, even as Bischofite called him out for it. His smile was wide, polite, and probably creepy, especially if one could get a glimpse of what was going on in that head of his. Beneath the smiles, beneath the charming red hair, the thoughts that ran through Buddingtonite's mind were unsettling. Maybe not to him. Not anymore, anyways. But normal people would have quivered at the kind of thoughts they'd hear if they had the ability to eavesdrop, and Buddingtonite waited until Bischofite had given him a chance to speak before shrugging his shoulders. "Why not smile now? Tell me, why shouldn't I smile? There are plenty of reasons to smile, and not a single reason I can see to not smile."
Even as Bischofite approached him in a slow manner, Buddingtonite kept his smile, but before he had the chance to list off the million reasons that he was smiling, Bischofite was talking again. To talk now would have been too rude and the newly appointed general wouldn't dream of being so rude again. Not when there was something obviously bothering the other general. So, he held his tongue, watching as Bischofite removed his weapon from the knight and his slow approach.
He tilted his head and interrupted, however, before Bischofite could think ill of him on one aspect. "I didn't see you there, nor did I feel you. Kind of had a knight charging directly at me, you know... not much time to analyze the situation."
Once again he fell back into silence, allowing Bischofite to carry on with... whatever it was that he was doing. He could tell that the general was upset, and he couldn't blame him for a single ounce of that anger, given their history. Buddingtonite offered his ear to the man, once again soaking in his words through his thick accent and waiting patiently for his turn to speak. When he said 'personal', Buddingtonite knew to give him his fully and undivided attention, which was harder than one would think when a seemingly angry man held a weapon in his hand and was slowly approaching him. Looked dangerous. Almost life threatening. But Buddingtonite remained as he were, as if he knew no strike would come. He was prepared for words of extreme hate, yet what he received was different, but not completely out of the realm of what he was expecting to hear. What was unexpected was his sudden laughter, and if anything, Buddingtonite's smile deepened ever so slightly, as if wanting to join in but knowing that if he did, it'd only make things even more awkward between them. Hold it together. Hold it together.
His weapon was offered back to him, and Buddingtonite wasted little effort in retrieving it, pulling it from Bischofite's gasp and admiring his hard work in cleaning the blade. Finally, it felt appropriate for the candy man to speak, and he did so with gusto, as he admired his weapon and all of its beauty. However, just because his gaze was on the boomerang, that didn't mean Bischofite didn't command his full attention either. "Well, now that you got that off you're chest, I hope you feel better. Heaven knows I felt better when I finally decided to let matters go, and let things fall into place on their own. It's amazing what problems can resolve themselves by simply deciding they're not worth the trouble and cast off!
"You ask my why I'm smiling? Simple. Because I'm happy. With my place in the Negaverse. With the money I'm practically swimming in for all of my life, long or short it may be, thanks to ridding my family of that pesky eyesore. With the fact that within a week, Sugar Shanty will be opening its doors and I'll be assisting Alex with his shop as well. I'm happy, and..." He then tilted his head, his smile softening ever so slightly, as he added in softly. "And you played a big part in that happiness. You, and Serpentine... even that White Moon b***h. But definitely you."
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Posted: Wed Feb 12, 2014 9:24 pm
"You'f changed." The comment hung in the air, crisp and sharp from his guttural tones. The general's curious gaze fell on the man, cascading over the very features he found so striking once before, seeking minute disparities between the face he knew at a far different time and the face of the now-general. But... the differences he found only spoke of the departure of a slow agony that pervaded his bones, many moons past: the dark circles that once creased beneath his eyes fled, and thick whiskers no longer marred his face.
Finally a trace of reaction fell across the misanthrope's face in the form of a bittersweet smile. Audibly, he drew a breath, whereupon he elaborated on his perceptions of the confectioner's tribulations past. "I am surprised," he replied softly, almost breathlessly. "I sought zat, perhaps, Serpentine would suppress any manner of change instigated by agony, but... It's self-evident in you now. You'f changed," he reiterated more firmly, "and now you're somesing better zan I would'f predicted. It feels good, doesn't it? To let ze pain wash over you, seep into your marrow like ze sea into its victims, and zen... Once you are wholly and absolutely saturated in it, when you belief' you cannot take in anozzer drop, change takes hold and you soak it in, parched as you are. You depart from your earlier iteration, and now..."
Bischofite gestured toward the redhead once more, this time bereft of a weapon. "You're someone wors' calling a general." Now fully interested in the changes stemming from his promotion, Bischofite approached the confectioner with a countenance soaked in vibrant curiosity. Like a bird examining its latest prize, Bischofite paced about Buddingtonite, peering toward changes small and large. A gloved hand reached out to catch the hem of the man's half-cape, slowly ghosting across its edge, before his hand fell away to barely brush against the back of his peer's arm.
Once Bischofite completed his circuit, his attention fell on the curious officer's hat crowning the confectioner's shock of red hair. "I remember zis hat." A simple statement, but he removed his gloves nonetheless to trace its bill and insignia. "I remember it from when we first met as officers - a volatile time, wasn't it? You srew it at me, and I wore it. It fit horribly." Suddenly his mirth seeped away to reveal a more serious expression beneath the surface. "You hated me, didn't you? Perhaps hate was what fueled you ze most. Zen again, maybe I am just projecting."
Breathing a deep sigh through his nose, Bischofite stepped back to regard the general in his entirety. And as he equated power to adversity, some of which he instigated himself, the onus of turbulent, conflicting feelings toward the man shifted and quaked before finally embarking on a slow crumble.
"Do you remember what you gaf'e me, when I was demoted?"
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Posted: Sat Feb 15, 2014 12:42 pm
Buddingtonite did nothing to suppress the notion to roll his eyes at such a statement, and his spat wasn't bitter or angry, but definitely sarcastic. "Well, duh I changed... I'm a General now. Sort of what happens when you get promoted, you know..."
Yet, despite the sarcastic sneer, Buddingtonite listened intently to Bischofite's rambling, figuring that he at least owed it to him to listen. After all, he considered Bischofite to be one of his benefactors to his promotion and the stage of his life he found himself in, and there was no use in denying such a truth. If there was a stage and if the whole concept of the point in his life could be somehow trapped and condensed into an Oscar-like statue, then when Buddingtonite gave his long winded speech, it was guaranteed that Bischofite would have been thrown onto that last. Not before Serpentine, nor Zinkenite that one that had actually given him the promotion, but he would still be there on that list. When Bischofite brought up Serpentine, he scoffed. "You mistake his intentions, then. Serpentine may have protected me, but he knew he could not control everything. He may have tried, but in the end, he knew that no matter how tightly he coiled his beautiful, scaly body around me, that he was not impenetrable. Seeds were planted and sowed, and eventually nature finds a way... or something like that. Come back to me later and I'll find some brilliant metaphor on the matter."
He did not wish to speak ill of Serpentine. He loved his friend, very much... but he also knew that he was his own man. He was in charge of his own destiny, in a way. Serpentine had to have known that. Bischofite, also, had to have known that, and he let out a low chuckle. "And don't go taking all the credit, mein Freund. I'm not saying you're right... but... I'm not saying you're wrong either."
When Bischofite circled him, he made absolutely certain to stand perfectly erect, allowing for every single detail to be admired by the curious vulture. There was no fear, no hesitation in his form, and the peacock's preening did not come from nervousness but from the desire to look his absolute best. Yes, Buddingtonite had changed.
Buddingtonite was perfectly fine with him looking, even touching a little, but like a Corgi and his stubby feet, there was some annoyance when those looking hands came to touch his hat. Buddingtonite did not growl or snap, but he did flash him an icy glare, his smile breaking and twisting into a sneer as he listened to Bischofite carry on about... his hat, or something about hating him. In all honesty, the newly promoted general was too busy admiring his own accomplishments and appearance to follow him entirely. When he stepped away, however, his full attention was back on him, and that was probably the worst time to snap too attention, as he seemed to crumble right before him. And they considered him a mixed bag of emotions...
"Hm, besides a well deserved snide comment and a laugh?" Buddingtonite asked, drawing closer to him without a second thought or a moment's hesitation. Did he remember? Yes, of course he remembered. His tone became deathly serious, not at all matching the glint in his crimson eyes, nor the smile on his fragile, porcelain mask. "I do. Whatever happened to the letter, I wonder?"
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Posted: Mon Feb 24, 2014 12:18 am
Bischofite ground his teeth with a twitch of his lip when Buddingtonite responded with such a brazen comment. So it seems the confectionist truly lacked fear now, for he acted such a coward before... Had he changed so thoroughly, or had he simply duped the misanthrope into mislabeling him a spineless scrap of a man? The implications that he could have fallen for a trick set the general on edge, a thin pulse of anger simmering beneath his skin. Gold eyes settled on the man's countenance with a marked lack of warmth, as he probed for the truth behind this sudden paradigm shift.
"Yes," Bischofite answered finally, the word taut and thin between clenched teeth. "I suppose I should take your inquiry for legitimate curiosity. Buddingtonite, surely you are not so brash and reckless as to bait your peers, are you? Especially one who functions on a... different wavelengs' zan ze rest." Finally his irritation crept into his gaze, still trained on the confectionist for any sign of the truth behind his content visage. As a man of all lies, Buddingtonite likely harbored truths so deplorable that Bischofite clamored to learn of them.
Disinterested in their newfound juxtaposition, Bischofite stepped backward with dual purpose. Afterward he produced the letter in question from his coat pocket, dirtied and wrinkled from countless folds despite the pristine condition it sported previously. "I don't quite know what happened to it," he began with a ghost of a smile. "Perhaps I lost it. Perhaps I hid it away in some old, unused china. Or..." From his opposite coat pocket, Bischofite drew a battered and beaten book of matches. The cover split halfway across its seam and clicked weakly as he exposed the matches within. Only a few remained, clustered at one end.
Breaking a match from its housing, Bischofite struck the head against the sole of his boot and held the desperate, fragile flame to the corner of the letter. Initially it capitulated to the fire slowly, edges curling in a slow bow. "Perhaps I burned it. Ze note does not hold a purpose anymore - if you are truly changed, zen it holds no merit to eizer of us. Its work is finished, be it ze catalyst of your change or not." As the flames reclaimed the paper at an exponential rate, burning away ink long dried for torment, the general released his grip on the paper and watched it circle toward the ground in a tepid display. Once the fire crawled toward the margins, the general stepped atop the crumpled heap of ash and ancient memories.
A humid wind tore at the flecks of ash beneath his feet. Dislodging a few, the still-burning soot skittered around the confectionist's pristine footwear before joining with the alley's dirt and detritus. Bischofite eyed their path before his gaze slowly drew to the new general's remarkable eyes. "Tell me of ze events zat influenced your change, Buddingtonite. What sort of pains had you endured to reshape your person? What manner of lukewarm disaster provoked your departure from your old charisma?" ChibiGingi so so sorry about the wait and crappy tag! life happened and i think i forgot how to rp
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Posted: Mon Mar 03, 2014 1:27 am
All the while, Buddingtonite was growing restless, though not at all out of fear. Well, perhaps some fear, though not really in Bischofite though he knew he should have been. No, fear in Bischofite was a natural thing and Buddingtonite had come to accept this. There was no flaw in him for feeling such an emotion whenever this one reared his feathery head, and that was enough to keep the newly appointed general in a pleasant enough mood. What also helped was hearing the smallest quiver of what Buddingtonite suspected to be irritation in his thickly accented voice, as it certainly put a smile on his face. He shouldn't have gotten as much pleasure from another man's anger as he did, but he could not stop himself from smiling now...
"Come now, I'm not baiting you. I've had a few... events that forced me to take a couple of steps back and re-evaluate matters, that's all," Buddingtonite said, crossing his arms though not out of feeling cold or uncomfortable- in some cultures, it could have been seen as a sign of pride, confidence. Buddingtonite did it simply because he wanted something to do with his hands and it felt appropriate for the moment. "Did a little soul searching and realized that maybe you had a point. Maybe there was method to your madness. I'd think you of all people would be happy to know that you had a hand in making me the man that I am today, but I guess I still don't really know you. That's alright, Bischofite the Mysterious."
He watched with interest as he produced the letter, glancing at it for a brief moment before drawing his gaze to the more fascinating golden eyes of the other general. Wild, feral, definitely more interesting to the general's eyes than some words written on paper. He remembered the words written in that letter. He remembered the pain he felt reading it. He held onto it... until the moment was right. It was hard to ignore the slightest ache in his heart, to know what could have been, what he feared and how his own weakness may have helped drive Bischofite to this madness. Or perhaps Bischofite was always crazy and he was once again bringing all attention and focus to himself instead of the bigger issue. His ego had a way of doing that...
He watched in silence as the letter was engulfed in flames, and he let out a sigh as he watched its demise. To hold onto it for so long, only to meet its fate like this? Oh well... poor little paper. Poor little words.
"I hope you have renter's insurance, friend... might burn something important one of these days, besides your lungs." Buddingtonite shook his head, and when the topic was once again brought back to him, he saw little reason to hold back. Why? He was on center stage and he would not deny his audience any longer. "A lot of small things, really. The death of my cousin, the loss of my store and my car in that attack were pretty big factors but I thought I handled it well. Then you had your little... 'tantrum', threatened me and my dog, got Serpentine involved. But none of that's new to you, is it?
"My mother was caught in the crossfire between myself and a Senshi. I tried protecting her, but the stupid b***h insisted on getting in the way. You know, I likely get a lot of that from her, now that I think about it. That desire to be the center of attention, that... drive that pushes me to seek attention from everyone around me." Buddingtonite's arms slacked, and his smile faded, but only for a second, as he continued. "Well, she ended up taking a nasty spill, all over the pavement. She made such a mess... rather rude of her, don't you think?"Strickenized That makes two of us, then. :/
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Posted: Wed Mar 05, 2014 8:22 am
With the addition of the pet name, Bischofite smirked almost imperceptibly more. "You never knew because you never asked - it was a folly of yours, one I quite liked to take advantage of. My belief on ze matter is simple - pain is ze key to change. All I did was attribute to ze pain you already endured, and zat overwhelming agony resulted in ze person you are now. We see ze same workings in ourselfs, in youma." Bischofite's gaze lingered on his own hand as he pressed it flush against the redhead's chest, but not even a fingertip penetrated the warm flesh and bone beneath his touch. "Someone corrupts you, and it is ze greatest soul-wrenching agony you'f ever swallowed, and you change. I press my hand into ze chest of a civilian and flood zem wis' too much Chaos energy, zeir starseed breaks, and zey change. Easy enough, isn't it?" Finally he withdrew his hand, though he looked somewhat dissatisfied by doing so.
When the letter finally reduced to tatters of brown ash clinging to white paper, he finally released his tentative grip on the article. Wind carried it far down the alley, sill burning, before the surface of a puddle caught its thin film of ash. There it lay, not far from a pothole filled with filmy road tar and grease, soaking water to slowly put itself out. By the time the flames vanished, the words "my own weaknesses, given fully and knowingly" still displayed across the page. Soon even that warped and distorted as the grungy water drew itself across the surface.
"Don't humor me zere, Buddingtonite. I'f already set myself alight, quite intentionally." He smiled, more a feral grimace full of teeth than any indication of mirth. He elaborated no further on the reasoning behind his attempted self-immolation, nor its goals. Instead he focused on occupying himself with spotting the various new trimmings adorning Buddingtonite's new uniform as the man delineated his tribulations. However, the phrase 'tantrum' sparked irritation, and he regarded the new general with a caustic glare and a twitch of his lip before he managed to let it go.
Bischofite's thoughts on the final death differed greatly from Buddingtonite's outward opinion of it. As he spoke, he circled around to pause at the new general's back, and if he attempted to face Bischofite once more, the mischievous misanthrope only teleported behind him once again. "On ze contrary, it's not rude of her at all. All sings march toward entropy, Buddy. You, me, even ze buildings around us. One day all we know will crumble, and zat is one of ze rare inevitabilities in life. It's quite comforting. She only followed suit wis' nature, you know. One day even zat sidewalk will fracture into chunks of rubble from ze weeds growing underneas'. Zose are her legacy - her last children. Not you, Buddy - not now. You'f ascended your familial ties now, your... Human obligations. You're more an officer of ze Negaverse like zis, are you not?"
Finaly Bischofite rested his chin atop the new general's shoulder, but made no other effort to touch him. "Seeing you like zis puts me in a good mood, even if you tried so hard to kick me while I was down. You were stupid back zen, you know. No - not stupid, blind. Blind to your own potential, blind to your own influence, blind to ze workings of ze world. It was almost endearing, until you tried so desperately to shirk your own suffering by having me demoted. But... I changed from zat too.
"What do you say to a rematch, Buddy? Right here, wis'out Mica to saf'e you when sings don't go your way. I'm weaker now zan I used to be, and you're far stronger. It should be an even match, if not in your favor. You always liked zose odds, didn't you?" Bischofite smiled as his breath shot through his teeth. Finally he straightened up, his gaze on Buddingtonite as he drew a few paces away. "Ze victor could take ze loser home for a night." He laughed, an obligatory reaction. "Oh, I do miss my old privilege of staying at your apartment. Gaudy as it is, it's more comfortable zan Benitoite's empty husk of a home."ChibiGingi look what i remembered how to do
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Posted: Sat Mar 08, 2014 11:10 pm
Buddingtonite arched a single crimson brow, flashing Bischofite an inquisitive look as he listened to his explanation. It was lengthy, filled with carefully chosen words and spoken in a manner that seemed more akin to an actor on a stage than a normal exchange on the street. He smiled. This was Bischofite, alright. Nothing about him changed, at least not in the negative sense. Was his and Serpentine's plan for the man a failure, or was it simply a matter that Bischofite was not a man to be changed, but a force of nature to be dealt with? With the way he carried on, Buddingtonite was more keen on the latter, and while months ago it would have agitated him, he simply shrugged his shoulders and let it be. Nature finds a way...
The hand to his chest was not as terrifying as it should have been, at least one wouldn't think it bothered Buddingtonite just by looking at him. There may have been some tension there, but it was manageable and contained fairly well, so long as it remained on top of his chest and not within, anyway. Even when Bischofite carried on about corrupting a civilian into a youma, which was once a touchy subject for Buddingtonite, the newly appointed general let out a breathless chuckle, before adding his two cents to the matter. "I had wondered where the influx of youma been coming from! Should have suspected it was you replenishing our supplies... I'm sure others would prefer something more useful, but so long as it increases our numbers, I'm fine with that. Let's hope yours last longer than the one I made... tch, such a useless thing, she was. Oh well."
Yes, Lucca was so useless after all. Useless in the candy store, so it'd stand to reason she'd be a useless asset to the Negaverse. The only shame he had in admitting this was that it took him this long to realize this...
By now, the last remnants of the letter had been scattered in the wind, and with it, any turmoil and misgivings Buddingtonite seemed to have held within him. Something about watching the letter burn to a crisp was therapeutic, soothing... His attention snapped back to Bischofite- was he still talking? Yes, his mouth was moving and words were coming out of it, so he best pay attention. He at least owed him that courtesy. Maybe he himself had said something to agitate the general, but there was little time to think on it as the topic switched to his beloved, dead as a corpse mother, and there was nothing Buddingtonite could do to stop himself from laughing loudly now, despite how creepy it was that Bischofite was standing directly behind him, a deadly position for any foe... or friend, even. "No, I don't care that she died. I was just thinking of the poor cap that had to clean her brains off the sidewalk. I mean, if you're going to die, the least you can do is make it tidy and not trouble others with your brain matter and STD-ridden blood everywhere, right? However, you're right... I'm more or less done with that garbage. Not a single one of them will be getting in the way of my duties from now on... that's for certain."
Even his old man. Even Daran. Only ones that were safe were Baldwin and Dummy. They were his only family outside of the Negaverse now. And if the Negaverse demanded their blood, then...
Bischofite's chin came to rest on his shoulder but Buddingtonite continued to stare forward, taking in his words even if he did not look at him. Serpentine had tried so hard to protect him from Bischofite and from himself, and yet, here he was, welcoming his company once more. He wasn't afraid of Bischofite, no more than he was afraid of the Negaverse, and it shown in how his smile deepened at the offer for a rematch. "Really? After you've seen me filet a Mercury knight? Very well... though can we both promise not to go for shots below the belt? It'd be rather hard to ******** each other's brains out with swollen genitalia... well, unless you're into that sort of thing?"
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Posted: Sat Mar 15, 2014 9:56 pm
Bischofite paced backward several feet to form ample room between the two generals. Slowly a grin warped his features, and the gaze that fell on the redhead looked markedly more feral than any previous scrutiny. The beckoning of bloodshed held a special attraction to the stark general, and he heeded that magnetism without any hesitation. His eyes closed for a moment, though that more primal shift to his demeanor remained. "You should know what I'm into by now." After drawing a breath, Bischofite peered toward his target once more with a mixed sense of malice and mirth.
You've changed so much now, but it's difficult to measure the extent of your metamorphosis with words alone. You spoke of failed youma, of a murdered mother and your shop laid to waste, but... I need to see it for myself. I need you to show me, as you've always been quite the showman. "I suspect zat Serpentine is proud of you now." Bischofite found it readily apparent that the florist held a preference for Buddingtonite, favoritism perhaps, so such a declaration would not come as a surprise. The Saarlander suspected that anything voiced, however potent, held little sway over the redhead now, as the events over the course of his life rendered words meek and useless in comparison.
At least he wasn't so utterly enthralling anymore.
Given all the tribulations that Buddy underwent, Bischofite found it unsurprising that the man understood (at least superficially) one of the tenets that the Saarlander sought so desperately to teach - pain is the key to change. Whether a conscious rumination or a slow understanding, it didn't matter. Although the confectioner demonstrated very little of his authoritative aptitude and malleability for the General's role in their short meeting, Bischofite surmised that he would form his own opinions based on battle calls. However, he suspected that Buddingtonite fancied himself of a leadership position, but... "Regardless of ze battle, I haf' a favor to ask. I will inform you of its specifics afterward."
Bischofite provided no indication that their altercation began; rather, the misanthropic general simply dispatched a chakram toward his declared foe and teleported before the deadly weapon reached its target. Now behind the redhead, Bischofite lashed out with his remaining weapon for an intricately executed pincer attack.
Thus began an evaluation long overdue. Buddingtonite the General... And what physical prowess did the man possess in this new form? Or was he nothing more than the charismatic windbag Bischofite knew before?
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Posted: Sun Mar 23, 2014 6:06 pm
”Hmmmm, maybe. I wouldn’t mind if you’d jogged my memory though. Lots happened between the last time we shared a bed, and who’s to say you haven’t found something new you’d want to experiment with?” Buddingtonite fiddled with the roses on his boomerang, not necessarily out of nervous habit as he may have done months ago when in this man’s presence, but because he noted some damaged pedals and they needed to be pruned before he engaged in combat again. It had to be just perfect. He’d accept nothing less. “You’re predictable only in the way of being unpredictable, remember? Besides, you can’t expect me to keep up with everyone… getting to the point I may need to hire a secretary to keep track of all that. Let me know if you know someone willing to fill that position.”
Even as he preened his blood soaked bouquet, he could sense the feral glare on him, and he could only wonder what was going on in that man’s head. Was he curious? Was he willing to just skip the fighting and get to what he knew he wanted- what they BOTH wanted right now? He doubted it, but Bischofite was always unpredictable, so maybe he was wrong to assume that what they longed for was mutual? Either way, he knew better than to make the man wait any longer- he apparently really needed this and far be it from Buddingtonite to be so rude as to make him wait any longer. Nor would he not answer his question when asked! “If he was, I’m sure he’d put it in a manner that’s genuine to the good general- I did mention he was a general as well? We decided to do it together… like some kind of frat-hot initiation, minus the beer and the nudity, much to my dismay. But I’m sure he’s proud of me… less of a mess for him to have to deal with. But come now, you’re not here to talk about Serpentine…”
The moment Bischofite requested a fight, he was eager to get it underway. Even if it was only to show off his new strength and skill, he was eager to see just how much he had grown and see how effective the whole ‘growth through suffering’ did for him. Still, there was some natural curiosity within him when Bischofite mentioned a favor, though there was little time to consider what the favor could possibly be before Bischofite started the fight, throwing one of the chakrams at him with no warning. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true- he DID request they spare, so really, Buddingtonite knew he should have been paying more attention to that. He’d got 50/50 on that…
Buddingtonite’s first priority was to dodge or duck the chakram, knowing better than to try and catch it either with his hand or face-- DEFINITELY not the face-- and he did so without hesitation. He dropped to his feet, thinking it was better to get dirty knees than to have a mark on his face, and only then did he realize that Bischofite was no longer in front of him. Where did he go? Didn’t take a genius to figure out how he disappeared so quickly, and the feel of something at his back made the general twisted around, not throwing his bladed boomerang but swinging it in a wide arc, more meant to push him back and put distance between them than to harm. Though, if one of the blades dug into his opponent’s leg, then that was fine too.
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Posted: Tue Apr 01, 2014 11:02 am
Buddingtonite's tempt toward discussion proved thoroughly tantalizing, but Bischofite remained steadfast in his meticulous plan of assault. Buddingtonite charmed in the same manner as he distracted, for his distractions veritably composed his charm. For this, Bischofite envied him - to possess that manner of projected openness while revealing nothing about himself often resulted in blossoming (and easily manipulable) relationships. Were he possessed of that same skill, Bischofite may have spread his tendrils far and deep into the core of the Negaverse.
But he couldn't ask for lessons now, could he?
Only when Buddy mentioned that his former superior now stood peer to him did he hesitate in his attack. Scoffing, Bischofite started to reply, but a dexterous arc of the new general's boomerang stifled any attempt at speech, resulting in a deep tear along his coat. The immediate spread of pain along his thigh confirmed a cut, however deep, but Bischofite ground his teeth to concentrate on the matter at hand. IIf he lost all feeling in his leg and later slipped in his own blood, he would know the extent of his own injuries. For now he focused on the redheaded general before him that boasted a sizable upgrade to his weapon.
Having caught his own weapon in practiced timing, Bischofite launched himself at his comrade, weapons readied for a constant assault. Whether due to the slow wear on his system or the simple lack of environmental advantages, Bischofite committed himself to a head-on assault rather than the more typical traps engineered on the fly. With weapons matched as thoroughly as chakrams and the boomerang, both in distance and close combat, the misanthrope could devise no plan that wouldn't thoroughly cripple himself as well.
However, that was part of the fun. In a flurry of slices timed one after the other, Bischofite attempted to steer his comrade toward the narrow portions of the alley, where both weapons amounted to little more than a hindrance. Without room for dodging aside from backwards, the impromptu sparring match reduced to a brawl, but in light of plans post-fight... It sounded preferable to eviscerating each other to prove battle prowess.
"Keep up, Buddy," the misanthrope taunted, but his leg soon buckled temporarily beneath the increased weight of his position. With a seething hiss, Bichofite tried to correct himself and simultaneously prevent an easy advantage offered to the enemy. By now the blood soaked a fair portion of his coat, and the invigorating heat of battle did nothing to stymie its flow. Inwardly he wondered if he should simply capitulate, claim Buddingtonite as the better fighter and relegate himself to the spoils of the redhead's victory. ChibiGingi orp sucked up most of my attention
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Posted: Wed Apr 09, 2014 11:43 am
As confident in himself as he may have been (and there was much confidence in one Buddingtonite, even before he had reached this high ranking position), he was still new to some of the changes that came with the rank up. One thing that’d take some time to get used to was the not only his own increased speed and strength, but the fact that his boomerang was much larger and heavier than it once was, and not to mention the blades that projected out of the roses and thus actually classified his weapon as deadly. When he swung the weapon around, he was almost surprised to see the blade cut into fabric and flesh and was going to question the sorcery behind it, and yet he managed to remember the quirks just in time to stop himself from making a bigger fool of himself.
Of course, a lot of good his upgraded appearance, strength and weapon did when his opponent seemed to bullrush him without warning or hesitation, distracting him from what damage he managed to deal against Bischofite in his own assault. For now, he brought his attention to avoiding the bladed chakrams, not wanting to see his clothing or roses ruined by such an assault, as well as not wanting to be sliced and diced either. This may have been a spar and normally he’d have nothing to fear, but this was also Bischofite. He managed to stick his clammy fingers in his chest once- who was to say he wouldn’t do it again? Bischofite never played by any rules besides his own. Bischofite played dirty. Not just dirty, but downright filthy! Friend, foe, all were equal in death in Bischofite’s eyes, Buddingtonite thought, and that terrified him once.
Once.
Right now, he found his drive and spirit to be rather sexually appealing, and Buddingtonite had not only those deadly blows to contend with as he was being herded into the narrow alleyway, but hiding the bulge that he suspected would be noticeable to such a man with frightenly good observation skills. Not that he’d notice, given the blood that soaked his attire and the way his leg buckled- if Bischofite’s focus was on such a thing, then they were obviously having the wrong kind of fight!
“Keep up? That’s all you’re going to say?” Buddingtonite arched a crimson brow, but otherwise was forced back another step, preferring if the two of them stayed on their feet. He knew he was being pushed into the alley and with Bischofite as an opponent that may have been a grave mistake, but Buddingtonite wasn’t short on ideas either. He could see the faintest glimmer of pain in those exotic golden eyes and albeit it small and barely noticeable, it was still there. “So, let me ask you a question before we bring our fight into that spooky alleyway… you still going on about that youma business or have you put all that behind you?”
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Posted: Fri Apr 11, 2014 11:19 pm
At Buddingtonite's retort, Bischofite issued a chakram toward his face - one that would take his cap clean off should Buddingtonite refrain from paying attention. "You'd sooner lose breas' in speech zan in action. I wonder if zat holds true in bed, too? It's been so long, I don't remember myself." Bischofite attempted to stifle his grin, yet to no avail. The new general still fostered a host of openings for him to peruse at his discretion.
Even with his leg so damaged that he walked with a slight limp, the pain fresh and coursing as the blood leaking through his uniform, he felt confident. No, confident isn't quite the word - It feels good. Buddingtonite has always had this effect, this... Dispersed euphoria among those he interacts with. Or is he simply so well versed with people that even those of more misanthropic tendencies enjoy his company? It's hard to tell. Maybe I just want to like him, still. Brandishing weapons once more, his sharp gaze settled on his opponent's expression - always proud, well-preened for the public eye. Did he ever let his guard down, even around Baldwin? Or did he simply live in a swath of masks until his true visage melted into such tawdry affairs?
He could only speculate.
Bischofite felt a pang as his companion broached the question, and for a moment he pondered how the man managed to strike him with such force, without any indications to his attack. It stole his breath away, whisked it out of his lungs in favor of old, caked memories. Pleadings atop a roof. Many a night spent dreaming of transcending the skin he was born with. Yearnings for a shackled mind, one dulled to the duties of those who commanded him. "Zat door has shut, Buddingtonite." Is this a discussion or a fight? Thus far he's only responded to me - one strike aimed and one obtained, yet he's unwilling to try for more? No - something is amiss here. What are you leading me into, Buddy?
Dissipating only for his voice t sound further down the alley, Bischofite half-turned to regard his partner. "It was never a story wis' a happy ending, but... While I do not relish my life, I don't despise it to ze point of mutilating myself for ze Negaverse. In addition to my failure, I realized some... Benefits to retaining my humanity, if you oculd call it zat." It's a sore point, even now. "Besides, how am I supposed to screw you six ways from Sunday if I'm half a centipede? Come now, Buddingtonite - are you here to going to fight me or settle for twenty questions?"
Without battle to draw his attentiveness, Bischofite scrutinized his opponent instead. "... I didn't realize you haf' two weapons, General. Is zat a permanent addition from your upgrade?"
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