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 Posted: Sat Jan 09, 2016 11:14 pm
Corruption performed dangerous feats, he knew now. With Xenotime's assistance, Scholomance witnessed the corruption of one of the White Moon's own, wherein her forehead shattered and her chest cracked away and her hair grew in droves almost instantaneously. There was little time for observation of any other state changes - the sirens sounded not long after the event - but Scholomance gained a far better idea of the corruption process and the pains it inflicted on the recipient.
Those pains, he he knew, would be inflicted upon him someday. For as long as he knew Labyrinthite, for as long as the pair encountered each other, that eventuality became law. The man was faster, stronger, and impossible to barter with - he handed Scholomance the ultimatum with little more than a thought. He acted as Cinnabar did many moons ago, though in his conviction he spared little qualms for permanent damage. And with the advent of half-youma officers, why would he? What was lost could be replaced - better, deadlier, stronger.
What was once a question of if he wanted to shave in the morning would become a question of where he could sleep at night.
But the noxious allure took root - he wondered, often, how his life might turn out if Scholomance ceased to exist. He imagined a life far happier when the wonder's constant demands were excised, where he received outward structure for a life slowly slipping out of control. He thought about power. He thought about the freedom in instant teleportation. He thought about the lethality behind their weapons. Even Metallia's mind games came into consideration, alongside his own personal qualms with losing assured control over his own mind. He started to doubt the White Moon and Knights for insisting it were so; he started to suspect that those of Order were mentally herded to equal extents as the Negaverse.
As Scholomance fled through the doors of the tea house, he asked himself if he should've stayed and awaited Laurelite. He knew, within seconds of reaching the roof, that doing so now would prove disastrous. He couldn't set his affairs in order, or brace his friends, or leave himself a note to go looking for the Rift after corruption. The Code's speeches may be lost on him entirely. All the mementos, sentimental trinkets and half-finished tasks he collected would dissipate from his grasp imminently. Even if he chose to corrupt, he needed time - and, as evidenced by the forceful and domineering corruption of a young girl, the Negaverse found no reason to honor such a request. It took, and demanded, and conquered all it wanted. To ask would be to do itself a disservice.
Red and blue scoured the sides of the buildings adjacent to him when he reached the parapet. Someone's authoritative voice called through a bullhorn - it sounded like an older woman, though he picked up no further detail than that. The Negaverse would teleport, he knew, leaving only White Moon and Knights to contend with the sudden police presence. As he dismissed his cane, he started to run - painfully - toward the next set of gaps that would increase distance between himself and the police, the corruptions, and perhaps most importantly, Labyrinthite.
For among all the thoughts that wandered, for all that he witnessed in those few moments alone, he knew foremost the empty amber gaze that trawled the back room. With them, he knew the ultimatum cited, and the certainty that he would receive no second chance from this.Nuxaz sorry if it sucks, out of practice
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Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 1:02 am
The teahouse had erupted into chaos and the general had been torn over the avenues that he could pursue. There was Metis, smug blind Metis, who could have a link to Iris who was continuing to elude him after his last interaction. There was also Castor, a suffocating aura that stretched across him as he hallucinated on the rooftop-- an effect of Metis's magic. Flash of the future that already plagued him had clouded his vision enough for the senshi and her companion to slip into the crowd, meld into the chaos of all the fleeing bodies.
Then, there was Scholomance-- the knight who's letters had come like the plague, who'd been a thorn in his side since he'd met him and the accusations the man had made still left Labyrinthite in a seething state.
Logic, duty even, told him that pursing Castor was the correct option, but his mind had been clouded with personal feuds and he needed to decide, quickly, what avenues he would pick. He couldn't spot the fleeing senshi and her little friend, but a familiar cloak caught his eye and his decision was made.
Dealing with Castor could come at a later date, the prince was proud and boastful. Labyrinthite didn't worry about finding him later, the prince made himself known freely.
Scholomance was a temptation he couldn't resist.
So after the squire he went.
It was easy, the pursuit, because unlike the other man, Labyrinithte had no physical ailments to hinder him and he was stronger, faster, better. It took nearly no effort to catch up and bypass Scholomance.
"Squire," he snarled, whirling into the man's path. "Where do you think you're going?"
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Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 2:07 am
The auric melting pot dispersed quickly, he felt, and its constituent parts scattered. Scholomance felt a super senshi part ways from him in nearly the same direction, and a knight take off in nigh the opposite. He felt a lieutenant start perpendicular to him before a captain overtook that aura and the pair dissipated altogether. He felt others wink out or slip out of range before he could identify them. But, among these, a general's poisonous miasma clawed toward him at an unimaginable pace.
Let that be Xenotime, he demanded of the world. let her be coming to help me out of here. And if it isn't, let Methone catch up to them. Let them be swayed. Let them have more important objectives on their mind.
A fleck of black passed before he could claim recognition of it, and the voice froze him in its blackened wefts of energy. Scholomance summoned his cane to hand, mostly to keep balance after skidding to a halt and spraying gravel over the man's shoes. The butt of the cane stuttered before him. He knew, immediately, that escape proved impossible - that regardless of the direction, the setup, and his speed, Labyrinthite could overtake him in a blink. By the look of the general standing before him, Scholomance expected that he was still quite fresh despite the battle of moments ago. He took no appearance of winding. His hair. black and pink as it was, looked nearly untouched with the agile intricacies of war. No, Labyrinthite was most certainly ready for a fight.
"Away from here," was his first thought. "I saw what I needed to see. Now if you don't mind, I'd prefer to keep our interactions to correspondence and bloody graffiti." Backing up seemed largely pointless, but Scholomance was intimately familiar with the sweep and breadth of Labyrinthite's weapon. While the scars healed, his leg still hadn't manifested the full range of movement indicating complete recovery. He would face the reaper in a lesser condition than their first bout.
Briefly he considered his magic - dark as it was, he doubted its illusory properties would sway the general toward leaving.
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Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 3:04 am
Labyrinthite still carried his scythe, the weapon held firmly in his hand with the skull of the bird planted firmly against the ground as he positioned himself. He was prepared to give chase, should Scholomance attempt to flee, or to attack if he saw fit. As it was, whiskey-gold eyes regarded the man curiously, drifting across every inch of his frame before settling on his face.
"You will not get the answers you seek from trifling letters," Labyrinthite stated, voice low and rough. "And I have no interest in reading or responding to any more of them." Whether he actually would read one if he received it was debatable, though it'd likely end up in the trash with the rest.
He stepped forward, tail of his cloak fluttering behind him with the movement and his hood obscuring his expression. "Besides," he said slowly, head cocking enough that the hood began to slip backward, "you are here now and I have no intention of letting you leave." There was the hint of a threat there, the reminder o the promise that he'd left with Scholomance when they'd parted ways last time.
"You have become unfinished business and therefore must be dealt with." How, the general didn't specify, but he did continue to advance with his weapon dragging behind him. "Tell me squire, why do you fixate?"
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Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 3:32 am
"You've already given me answers. Whoever died for you to write on those walls was an answer." As Labyrinth progressed toward him, Scholomance orchestrated a step backward with his cane. Gravel dragged and parted beneath the weapon the general wielded. Beleaguered, trawling trails spanned out behind his opponent, and before Scholomance. "The letters can stop, if that's what you want." If what you need, Labyrinthite, is one less voice whispering in your ear.
The cloak peeled back just enough to reveal eyes, and with them the utter lack of emotional drive. No ire, no glee, no regret remained in them, for none of those emotions found reason to manifest. Scholomance may well be a pest, but not one deserving of emotional disturbance. The forecast that he would not be allowed to leave, that he must be dealt with both indicated a decision that Scholomance should die. Briefly he considered the royal that faced this general once before, and hoped that the man with midnight blue wings would find reason to come in this direction. It would, perhaps, rectify the White Moon with him. But wishes amounted to lazy whims, and none came on the winds to rescue him. Scholomance was alone.
"You must have decided death for me." He tried to steady his voice. Recognition of imminent end quaked his hands, his feet. His heart rattled away a diatribe against the other man, replete with reasoning against his imminent death. Every last fleck of self-preservation in his body offered one message: run.
Yet he stood. "Why do I fixate," he echoed softly. "I have never once met a man whose opinion could not be changed. I haven't met anyone capable of making decisions about me where I am, quite literally, not even a factor in the consideration. It's not just anomalous, it's impossible. I have to know how and why." He voiced the part of his explanation that he was certain Labyrinthite wanted - the less well-accepted portions of him that demanded further goading would continue to go unspoken. "I don't think you're mad, but I don't understand your motives either. I'm just a squire, after all." His grip tightened on the bone cane.
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Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 12:12 pm
"An answer with no meaning," he countered thinking of the blood painted letters he'd left behind. When no letter had come in response, Labyrinthite had wondered, absently, if the squire had seen it at all. His own response had been a hollow one, dismissive, and he had assumed that it would anger Scholomance who had seemed so desperate for answers.
"Are you bothered by the death knight?"
A slow spread of lips and the whites of his teeth were exposed, twisted until a maniac grin had replaced the previous stoic expression. He halted a few mere feet away, still in close enough proximity to reach out and wrap his hand around the man's neck but still far enough away that he could sweep out Scholomance's feet if he attempted to flee.
"I have decided nothing, if I wanted you dead-- you would be." It was said simply, matter-of-fact.
"There are many things that have be done that could be considered impossible," Labyrinthite replied, no change in his low, raspy voice. "Not understanding something does not mean it is impossible. I am not for you to understand Scholomance," there was a tinge of darkness coating his tone. "Are you upset that I did not kill you before?"
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Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 12:37 pm
"You misunderstand what I'm saying." Scholomance expounded on it no further.
The question gave him pause, which he blinked away with a sigh. "Of course not." Everyone dies. Or do you just expect knights to martyr themselves over every John Doe in need of protection, or cry over every Jane Doe that winds up dead in an alley?Maybe that assumption works for some of the other knights, but it's never been my prerogative. "Are you asking because I hadn't sent any letters afterward? It seems you're not the most interesting person to ******** up my life recently, Labyrinthite. Someone else has made a bigger impression." The name, he knew, had to remain unsaid. Kam's life was already in jeopardy, and Isaiah's ran terrifyingly close to the same path.
Scholomance, perpetually displeased with Labyrinthite's proximity, kept trying to retreat for more room. The parapet marking the end of the roof neared, and he knew such escapes garnered a much higher risk. Carefully Isaiah chanced a glance behind him. The gap was steep - he knew with certainty that he couldn't make the leap without inertia. Afterward, his acrimonious gaze fixed on Labyrinthite.
"So you hunted me down for what reason? I doubt you chased me here to take a closer look at my dashing good looks and debonair disposition." Scholomance never expected to feel such abject relief in the face of indecision; never again would he curse someone for the inability to make up their mind. "Did you just want to prove that you're outside the scope of my comprehension? Men who form decisions outside logic and reason often are. You may not be for me to understand, but I am not for you to kill or corrupt, either." I can't just stall until someone comes around to save me. But... How am I to outrun a man who can teleport? Unless...
Scholomance, you'd best make good on your promise to give aid.
When Labyrinthite broached his last question, Scholomance started to laugh. The chuckle came bitterly, tauntingly, but it grew until it carried his mirth. Hands found the back of his hips in defiant, informal posture while he spoke. "You ask the most fatuous questions, General. Am I upset that you didn't kill me. Yes, obviously, I am beside myself that I'm not lying dead on a roof somewhere. I have to know - did you stop to think about that question before you asked it? Or do you just assume that passive suicide is trending lately in the knight community?" But, truly, he wouldn't be subjected to his array of sordid experiences if he had died to Labyrinthite those months ago. Was he, in fact, grateful to survive?
Perhaps it was better answered by asking himself if he wanted to die to Labyrinthite now.
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Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 1:13 pm
"There are not many who cry over the death of a stranger, an insignificant blip in the ever growing death count, I did not take you to be one of them." From what interaction they'd had, Labyrinthite did not think that the squire cared for more than himself if he could help it. Scholomance struck him as a man desperate to survive, even at the cost of others.
In a split second, the general had decided that his weapon was a hinderance and dismissed it at the same time was when he reached for the squire, fingers enclosing around over his neck. The grip was firm, unforgivable, with his fingertips pressing into the gray and black of Scholomance's uniform. Gold eyes narrowed slightly as he lifted the man off the ground slightly.
"It is the nature of those in power, to take as they please with little regard of who they are taking it from." It was how dictators functioned and while Labyrinthite was no dictator, he was a man with power who wasn't afraid to use it. "You have a curious mind, perhaps I wish to exploit it," he said nonchalantly as if it were one of the most basic of ideas. "You appeared rather--" he paused, considered his words as he met the other man's gaze, "obsessed with my reasons for sparing your life, as though the alternative would have been preferred."
It was a simple enough logic to follow.
He dropped the squire, tossed him down like a ragdoll with his fingers flexing before he stooped to loom above the fallen man. "There are worse things than death Scholomance. Perhaps I will give you a taste." His hand plunged forward, pushing past the chest and towards his starseed.
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Posted: Mon Jan 11, 2016 7:23 am
Scholomance found no time to react before the general's hand clenched his throat. He could no longer rebuke Labyrinthite for his questions and observations; instead he simply hung from the man's grip with one hand clutched around the general's wrist while the other struggled to summon his weapon to hand. Even then, the cane managed only a marginal lift of weight from his throat. The hand still constricted terribly, and his windpipe slowly collapsed in on itself. His breath rasped while it still found room to escape.
Scholomance did not refrain from meeting Labyrinthite's eyes; however, he offered nothing to their chill. Simply looking to the man ran his blood cold, and he knew of no key phrases, no quick turns to light some ire in the other man. And soon Scholomance found himself released, tossed toward the rooftop, and he struck the floor open-palmed. Gravel stuck to his gloves as the squire fought to sit up right, to scramble off the ground and right his aching leg before he contracted further damage. "I'd suggest exploiting my body over exploiting my mind, but you'd probably take that literally." The squire coughed, cleared his throat. He spared no answer for Labyrinthite's second observation - to do so required more complexity than he was willing to spare in the moment.
Scholomance managed to sit up for only moments before a hand met his chest, cheated all resistance therein, and passed into the core of his being. Immediately he recognized the familiarity of it, and was drawn back to the months before. He knew the systemic pain that it entailed. He knew, and it affected him far more to know.
This has to work.
The knight drew a quick breath past the pain. "I pledge my life and loyalty to Saturn," he eked out as quickly as he could, "and to Scholomance. I humbly request your aid, so that in return I may give you mine!" His voice rose in volume for the last handful of words, strained by pain and treacherous excitement. The two remained for no longer.
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