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 Posted: Fri Apr 10, 2015 10:55 pm
How long had he waited for this day to come? Was it even a whole year that passed since that fateful night? He was certain that it had to have been a year, maybe more, since he got that phone call, since he was called in to identify the body. He remembered every detail about it so clearly and against protest visited the spot the morning after. He remembered Krishna's phone call later, remembering every single word that the florist uttered.
"I found Richard. He's safe."
He may have ran a few lights and he was certain that those fines were paid off, but nothing got in the way that day. He remembered everything from that day, that week... the blank, dead expression in Richard's eyes, the listlessness of his voice as he tried to explain what happened. The horror he felt when he realized that Richard had witnessed their mother's death.
He remembered his grief, but more importantly, he remembered his rage. He couldn't remember everything that lead up to this point, but there was no question about what he would do the moment he saw the officer responsible for the continued attacks against his family. His plan was simple: attack.
Unfortunately, he had failed to factor in the experience of the general responsible, or the fact that he was at a severe disadvantage. From the moment the stars aligned and the fight started, he was at a disadvantage. Buddingtonite was ranked higher than him and as it turned out, he had earned his rank. He was stronger, faster, and not only did he have the benefit of owning an actual weapon, he knew how to use it. He was also sneaky, quick to throw things in the way or teleport behind him when he was coming in for the strike, which is what put him in his current predicament. He had put too much effort into a swing and the general did more than side step the assault, he simply disappeared before his very eyes, giving him just enough time to blink, before teleporting behind him and driving his foot into his lower back, sending the Cosmos Squire to the ground.
This was where he was now, and the only thing that spared him from the merciful death was the fact that the general felt the need to throw salt in his wounds by mocking him. A fate far worse than death for Sarras...It was the strangest thing. He had only been on patrol for thirty minutes when he felt the tingling sensation of a Squire, a rarity given his status as a general. Most senshi and knights were wise and kept away from the potent aura of a General, even if they may have been only Buddingtonite, but this one had made a beeline for him, and, with nothing else better to do this evening, the rose-clad general obliged if only out of curiosity. Perhaps it was a willing recruit, or a brave soul.
Or in this case, an bloodthirsty maniac, as the moment their eyes met, he could practically feel the murderous intent, moments before he dropped whatever he was holding and rushed at him with a scream. Buddingtonite was used to having a wide assortment of reactions, but this one took the cake, and he was so intent on not letting whoever this psycho was hit him that he hardly had time to notice anything else about him, much less his attire.
It didn't take much to subdue the Squire, though- he wasn't sure if his own training and skills were too much for his crazy enemy to handle or if he was too incensed to throw an actual punch, but it didn't take long for Buddingtonite to find his groove. Side-step, teleport, summon his weapon and give a swing here and there, and the moment the first blood was spilled and it wasn't his was when Buddingtonite was truly in his zone, his zen.
"You're getting a little predictable now," Buddingtonite chided him at every step of the way, teleporting after what looked like was going to be a heavy hit and driving the point home by kicking him in the lower back to send him tumbling over. Only then did he get a good look at this squire, and there was nothing, nothing that could stop him from laughing now. "You know, had you not come at me screaming like a banshee, I'd have felt some pity for you, to have to fight in that get up. Seriously, what the hell was the cosmic tailor thinking when he let you out in that? Honestly I don't think all of those tears are from me... or maybe they are. I should get a better look!"
And he did so, confident that the situation was well in hand, but never wrong to be cautious. He walked over to the squire and waited for him to roll onto his back before pressing his foot down on his chest, making absolutely certain that the metal heel of the boot drove into his diaphragm before he pressed his weight on him. The squire choked and gagged but couldn't scream, and the grip on his leg did nothing more than threaten to throw him off balance, hardly effective in pushing the general off of him. Here, he looked over the squire, offering him a pleasant smile and keeping his bladed boomerang behind his back to let him know that he wasn't ready to end the fight just yet. No, for now, he just wanted to look him over and try to figure out exactly what this squire's problem was...
"Seriously, how are you expected to fight in that? Pathetic... one flex of a muscle and it falls apart that the seams! Much like your plan here. Fitting, isn't it?"Shazari I hope this works! Let me know if I need to change or verify anything.
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Posted: Sat Apr 11, 2015 11:38 pm
The movement of nearby auras was always, for Hvergelmir, a source of some trepidation. Chaos auras, all alone, she often investigated, hoping to chat -- Order auras on their own she usually let be. They had their work, and she couldn't provide them with much help on it. Better not to interfere. Less pleasant, though, was the uncomfortable hot-cold tickle of mixed auras together: a horrible, brackish feeling unlike anything else that always sent chills up her spine. Order and Chaos having an encounter. Usually that meant nothing good. This one made her nervous. There were two auras competing for her attention -- a Negaverse agent, a General; and then, weaker, a knight, Squire's rank. Not exactly a balanced fight. There's nothing you can do, she reminded herself, trying to force her feet to just walk on by. What does your oath even allow -- standing on the sidelines, asking people not to kill each other? What would that even help?It was just . . . the squire's aura felt familiar. Not identifiable-familiar, like the two or three auras she was starting to be sure of, but still, she had the niggling notion that it was someone she knew. Someone she'd seen a few times. She had to know. Her feet pivoted in their course and moved toward the interaction. Hvergelmir arrived in time to see, to her horror, the sort of altercation she expected: a General wiping the floor with a Squire, all but prepared to make a killing blow. A General she knew. A Squire she knew. The last remaining brother-in-arms in their little, flickering order. It was only the two of them, now, and a fourteen-year-old girl, as far as Hvergelmir knew. All the other knights of the Cosmos were dead or fallen to the Negaverse. Not Sarras too. Hvergelmir froze in place, still yards away. Her distaff appeared in the air between her hands; she pulled it back to prop against her left shoulder and swung the spindle down off its hook, twirling the thread out between her fingers. There was a spark, a fizzling sound -- then a loud crack and the distinctive smell of ozone as the spark became a pounding, searing starlight radiating through her skin and the world went white. " Stop!" she yelled, as though it were possible not to have already gotten anyone's attention by quite literally blinding them. " Buddingtonite, don't!" A sharp pain stabbed through her shoulder, jarring her concentration -- like icicle lances being driven straight through the oath-seal on her arm -- and the pain traveled swiftly down through her fingers and warningly close to her heart, giving her shuddering pause. She knew this feeling. This was her Wonder's warning that she was perilously close to overstepping her oath, treading dangerous ground with her life. Then, abruptly, her entire left arm fell numb. The distaff wobbled against her shoulder and she lost the spin of her thread: the searing light died out again. "Don't kill him, I -- I'll buy his life from you." ChibiGingi I'm assuming that blinding light is enough to make Buddy take an instinctive step back, or at least hesitate? LMK <3 I left it open so Buddy can either opt to enter into negotiations with Hver, or else Sarras can take advantage of a momentary stagger on Buddy's part to get away~ Spell - Hvergelmir spins out thread from her distaff onto her spindle; light sparks up from the thread of her weapon and begins to cover her, illuminating her like a small, bright star. This is useful as a defense mechanism -- looking directly at her becomes nearly impossible, and can cause temporary blindness if you try to keep doing it for more than a few moments. The effect lasts for up to 45 seconds total per battle, or as long as Hvergelmir can maintain focus, keep spinning her thread, and channel her magic. The easiest way stop the spell is to disrupt Hvergelmir from spinning her thread.
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Posted: Mon Apr 13, 2015 2:11 am
"What's that, fancy pants? I can't quite hear you over the sound of you gurgling and gasping for air!" Buddingtonite chided the squire beneath him and only pressed harder when it looked as though he had the nerve to try to say something to him. He wanted to press down harder and harder, to dig the heel deeper and deeper until he heard a rib SNAP from the pressure, but damn if the squire's bones weren't being resilient! He swore he was moments from hearing the beautiful sound when his senses warned him of another presence, followed by the shout. The voice was familiar and so was the beautiful lady that owned that voice, but there was no time to exchange pleasantries before Hvergelmir assaulted him with a blinding, searing light. "AGH!"
He had expected that someone would have came to the squire's rescue- in this city, expecting NOT to be interrupted by a member of the opposing faction, but he was surprised to see her. He was especially surprised to see her lifting so much a digit towards him, but there was little time to dwell on such a matter. Not when he felt his eyes were being burned from within his skull and he turned away from the light, bringing an arm towards his face to shield himself when closing his eyes simply wasn't enough, and it caused him to lose his balance...Which was enough for Sarras to tighten his grip on the foot that held him and give it enough of a push, freeing himself from that crushing weight and using as much strength as he could muster to push the general off of him. If Hvergelmir was expecting a verbal response reflecting his gratitude, she'd be wasting her time simply because Sarras couldn't form words between gasping for air and the violent coughs that racked his body now that air was finally being returned to his lungs. He coughed and gagged, and the moment he was free, he turned himself over and made a conscience effort to push himself to his feet once more. He didn't take the time to see if the liquid that he hacked up was saliva or blood and honestly he didn't care.
What worried him more was Hvergelmir's interference, and despite his wounds and his gratitude that someone had come to his rescue, despite the danger his life was in, he was not looking for another person to drag down with him! Especially her! He had enough of his wits about him to keep his eyes closed when he turned towards her, but any effort to speak to her was simply hindered by the coughing fit that consumed him. He tried, though, he tried his best! "Gel-no...get-out-here!"How long did the blinding light last? Buddingtonite wasn't sure. Measuring the passage of time when one's eyeballs were in extreme agony was a lost art on him and by the time Sarras had managed to push him off, the general was pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes, seeking some relief. Only then did he take into consideration the auras that were around him- only two, the squire he pummeled and Hvergelmir. So, at least no one else besides them could jump in on him! A small relief, all things considered.
The sudden flash of light may have died out, but the pain lingered, making Buddingtonite's words come out terse and edged with agitation as he braced himself to look at her again. Little squiggles danced in his line of vision, but he managed to keep his targets in his line of sight as he addressed Hvergelmir. "Don't kill him? My dear, you should know that -he- was the one that started it. Here I was, minding my own business, when he came rushing at me like a bat out of hell- a fancy looking bat but a bat nonetheless."
He wasn't sure what happened to Hvergelmir, nor why she had stopped her attack, but he was hesitant to push her again, so he kept his distance for the moment. She never seemed like the combative type in the past, considering his earlier memory of her involved him helping her kill a youma... but perhaps there was more to this woman than he originally thought. Her offer, though... no matter how pained he was or how distorted his vision was from the light, he couldn't help but chuckle aloud. "What are you offering exactly? This is the first time anyone's made such an offer to me before..."
Don't trust her.
He didn't, but he was curious, and it was that curiosity that spared the squire's life and kept him at bay. For now. "Well? I'm listening..."
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Posted: Mon Apr 13, 2015 6:07 pm
Making it terribly obvious to your opponent that you'd lost the use of your left arm was, according to most schools of thought, not a wise idea. Accordingly, Hvergelmir did her best to mask the handicap, dismissing her distaff into the air to better free up her hands. Using her right hand, she lifted up her left hand to display the Cosmos star scarred into her palm. She made a show of tapping the pointer finger of her right hand against the scar, like that was the only reason for the two-handedness of the movement, and said: "In exchange for sparing his life, I'll give you this. The secret behind this scar -- the one General Schörl tried and failed to get from me when you had me captured at New Year's. I bled to keep it then. It's yours if you let him live." Hvergelmir lowered both hands, then flicked her right hand at the wrist through the air again, drawing out a shimmery, pastel ribbon in starry iridescents. Her instinct was to look at Sarras, offer him some sort of reassurance or at least acknowledgement -- but she had to keep all her focus on Buddingtonite for now, hold his attention. She wanted him to take the offer and let Sarras go, not get distracted by how fun murdering a fallen squire might be: better not to bring any attention back to Sarras at all, if she could help it. She kept her eyes trained on the handsome, flashy General, instead, hoping she'd see in his eyes some scrap of the charming younger lieutenant who'd shown her kindness on a whim so long ago. "And one of these," she added, indicating the ribbon she'd drawn out of thin air. "Healing magic for light and moderate injuries." She held his gaze, waiting. Don't look down, she thought. Don't be tempted. He's only a squire. You'll find better prey.
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Posted: Sat Apr 18, 2015 12:33 am
To give Hvergelmir credit, he hadn't noticed anything strange or peculiar about the loss of her distaff or the paralyzed limb, though his mind wasn't quite at its tip top shape at the moment. Oh, it was racing with ideas and thoughts, but it seldom focused on one thing for too long, and when the squire beneath him tried to squirm out from underneath him, he pressed even harder onto the small of his back before turning his attention back to the bigger threat of the two.
If Hvergelmir was even considered such.
He looked at her tattoo- scar, and once his gaze was drawn to it, it was hard to look away from it. To him, it looked just like a tattoo and held no more meaning that the tattoo he wore on himself and shared with Serpentine, but the moment she mentioned Schorl's futile attempts to learn of its secrets, he was all ears.
"It hardly tells me that it's worth looking into, my dear," Buddingtonite said, his gaze leaving the scar but only momentarily before shifting right back to it. "From what I gather of her reputation, she could have simply wanted to make you bleed. Hardly worth this squire's life."
If there was something to that scar, though, it would have been intel that Schorl would have killed for. And withholding such intel from her? Worth killing for, so he felt as though it'd be in his best interests to dig deeper into that. Then, Hvergelmir produced the ribbon, and like a cat with a loose strand, Buddingtonite's attention was drawn to the elegant piece of fabric. "Healing, you say? That could come in handy, considering some of your more barbaric brethren have left me wounded a few times over. That could come in real handy, though I think it might clash with my style?"
There was one way to find out, and if Hvergelmir's intention was to pry Buddingtonite away from the squire underfoot, then she succeeded. He didn't even give the squire a second glance or a parting kick, releasing the boot from his back and stepping over him as if he was nothing more than garbage. "Very well, my dear. It's a deal, but only because I have a soft spot for you. Anyone else and I'd squash him like a bug."
As far as Buddingtonite was concerned, the beaten and bruised squire was no longer an interest, or a threat...All the while, Sarras struggled with keeping himself fighting, refusing to accept just how easily this b*****d had managed to defeat him. All of the months he spent, longing for the day he came face to face with the murderer of his mother and his brother's tormentor, and this is what it had boiled down to? To be beaten down, mocked, teased, and then for his fate to be decided at the hands of another knight?
And of all knights, Hvergelmir? Hadn't she suffered enough? Hadn't she watched enough of her fellow Cosmos' knights suffer and die at the hands of their enemies? At the hands of Mistral? If there weren't a Negaverse general pressing down on him and he wasn't fighting the damage to his pride, he'd curse them both for forcing this kind of decision onto her. But he couldn't... as angry as he was, his damaged pride crippled him just as much as the officer did. He didn't want to think that anyone, friend or foe, should have been left responsible for his fate, but what choice did he have?
So, he said nothing. This couldn't have been easy for her and anything he said or did would have undermined her efforts. Death was a possibility in this line of work. Mistral had taught him that long before any Negaverse officer could, but dying in front of Hvergelmir... it wasn't an option.
He wouldn't do that to her, he told himself. He wouldn't force her to watch this monster kill another of her brothers, even if it meant to avenge Victoria. After an eternity, Buddingtonite stepped over him and moved towards Hvergelmir, and Sarras took this moment to breath, and plot. There had to be something nearby, something that he could use as a weapon...
Because as sincere as her efforts were, Hvergelmir was acting as the perfect distraction!
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Posted: Sat Apr 18, 2015 6:11 pm
Selling information was a delicate and precarious prospect. What currency she had to spend could only be spent once -- as soon as she handed it over, she had no more power to bargain with it. It relied on her faith in Buddingtonite's trustworthiness: would he keep his word? Or turn around and snap Sarras's neck? Or hers? Would it matter to him to have a reputation for keeping his word? He didn't seem terribly fond of fighting. He liked to keep his uniform clean. She decided to gamble on it -- maybe he'd get a taste for the non-violent road, if it worked out. "Ever the gentleman," she said, smiling with relief as Buddingtonite stepped away from the Cosmos squire and toward her. She folded the hand holding the ribbon over her decorative gold breastplate and gave a slight bow. "I'm grateful." She held out the ribbon first, open-handed. "You'll find that if you focus on it, you can start the flow of magic -- but take care with it, it's only good once." Hvergelmir looked over Buddingtonite's shoulder, to where Sarras wasn't quite getting to his feet and escaping as quickly as she hoped. "Sarras," she said in what she hoped was a firm tone that brooked no argument. "Get out of here." Returning her attention to the general, Hvergelmir focused her eyes on his. She curled her hand back over her heart, sincere and earnest. "I carved this star on the palm of my hand myself," she explained, going slowly to buy Sarras as much time as possible to flee. "At a time of need. A knight was in distress, and there was nothing more I could do. He was going to die. A prince or princess can sense when her knights are in pain -- when they need her help. I took a knife and carved a star into my hand. To summon Sailor Cosmos." This was a secret it twisted her gut to reveal. It put Sailor Cosmos in danger, as well as every knight of their order. It was a simple truth: if you hurt me badly enough, a prince or princess might come respond to my distress. Cosmos hadn't been drawn by Hvergelmir's suffering before, in captivity, but Hvergelmir had been desperate not to see that happen. She could only hope her fervent wish for Sailor Cosmos not to respond to her need had been a sufficient deterrent -- but how long until they found another Cosmos knight, someone young and scared and suffering, who'd give in? Someone who'd wish with all their heart for a miracle? Hvergelmir was no miser, and knew it; she'd just paid handsomely for Sarras's life.
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