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 Posted: Fri Aug 19, 2016 8:04 pm
>>>baa, baa, black sheep, have you any soul?
xxxx >>no, sir, by the way, what the hell are 'marbles?'
██████
▬ A closed Thread
▬ A meeting between friends, Emilian and Tacks, and the exchanging of gifts. A.k.a. Edmund
▬ Setting: A small, seldom-used fighting ring, located in a warehouse on the edge of the city. There are no stands, and the small fenced-in ring (which looks rather like a bull pen) is level with the ground where spectators would stand and watch. Tacks is 'friends' with the owner, and frequently trains his fighters there, in exchange for giving the owner his Dust every now and then. It is dingy and dark, and a little cold. Aside from Tacks and a few of his slaves, it is empty.
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Posted: Fri Aug 19, 2016 9:06 pm
 
371444 - Tacks
621506 - Ed
Tacks had long since grown accustomed to disappointment in his life. In the fairys mind, that was all life was, really. Chasing the next thing, chasing chasing chasing, only to have it slip away or worse, to catch it, and be so sorely sad to find it for what it was. So it was with this in mind, this constant, lingering pessimism, the expectation to be let down, that he had decided to come out to the small, ill-used training ring today to try, once again, to make the best of a bad investment. The black lion metamorphose, Edmund, had admittedly been one of the bigger disappointments in his life. When he'd first laid eyes on the beast, he'd been keen on taking him for himself. The sight of those long claws, taut muscles, and sharp fangs, a body pristine and primed, had sent shivers up his spine and between his wings. He looked like a beast simply made for destruction. He could see it so clearly in his mind, that body fluidly shifting between feline and man, ruthlessly tearing through every opponent set before him with claws and fangs, fists and strength and fury. He'd been so delighted to find the slave so obedient, so well-trained, so willing to comply and obey. It was seldom that he didn't have to re-wire his new slaves. But, as they say, if something seems to good to be true, it probably is. Tacks sourly reminded himself of that saying the first time he'd set Ed in the ring. He'd told him to fight the other slave who stepped in, and that majestic beast had looked down at him with such a look of bewilderment and confusion. But that could have been dismissed, certainly, even though it had indeed planted a seed of worry in the fairys chest. But no, the nails were pounded into that coffin moment by moment once the training round had started. Sure, Tacks hadn't really expected the lion to stand much of a chance against Yuno. The young werewolf was absolutely vicious and bloodthirsty. But he had a great deal of control, too, and the two slaves didn't have a great height difference between them, so Tacks had made them out to be the perfect sparring partners. But Yuno had leveled the lion so quickly as to be embarrassing. He had been so fumbling, so clumsy in his movements! So Tacks had told him to get up, and he did. His one redeeming quality in the ring, that. As long as he could hear you, if you told Edmund to stand up, he would stand up. But that really was all he had going for him.
Day after day Tacks had pit the lion against the werewolf. That had been how he'd trained Yuno, after all, simply made him endure fight after fight against someone worlds stronger than he was, until he could hold his own, against him and against anyone else. And this slave, older, with more full control over his shape changing, surely had even more promise than one scrappy young werewolf, right? But, no, apparently not. No matter how often or how long he pushed him, Tacks was disappointed again and again by Edmund Pitch. All of his 'refined' breeding proved him to be all but useless for Tacks' purposes. Oh the lion had tried, certainly. He was so eager to obey, after all. When he told him to stand, he stood. When he told him to fight, he fought. And it wasn't that he hadn't improved at all, only that it just... wasn't enough. His reflexes had gotten a little better, and he could most certainly take a hit better now than he ever could before. But his strikes were so wide and fumbling, always leaving himself wide open no matter how often Tacks or the other slaves reprimanded him for it. As much as he looked like it, Edmund was simply not made for fighting. He could sing and dance, and all of that was about as useful as having a pet monkey; they could do those things too, you know. He had the lion watch Yuno fight, and get beaten by Yuno, more times than any of them could count, partnered him up with and against every slave he owned, and still he had a startling lack of potential. But, Tacks had never considered himself a quitter. So as long as Edmund was still able to get up, he would keep telling him to, as many times as it took. Or, at least, until he found a better use for him. The fairy sighed lazily as Ed was thrown to the ground with a grunt and a thud, a plume of dust erupting from beneath his body, rolling across the dirt floor. Tacks tapped his cheek in agitation, slender fingers against pale flesh, and watched as the lions side heaved, laying on the ground in his human shape. Admittedly, since losing Yuno in that stupid bet, finding suitable sparring partners for Ed had become even more difficult. Currently he had him facing off against Tacks' stone nymph, a slave with a slender build and blank eyes who liked to turn his body to stone wherever opponents tried to strike him, and his fists into stone whenever he struck back. Ed had left himself open again and the nymph, Cannon, had taken the shot, delivering a punishing blow to the lions sternum and sending him hurtling to the ground. Rolling his eyes, Tacks mind wandered to other business as he ordered him,
"For ******** sake, get up, Ed. Take a minute and then try again." And slowly, shakily, the lion picked himself up out of the dirt. As Tacks watched, disinterested, he wondered if Emilian would show up today, as he sometimes did when Tacks was training slaves. He'd befriended the guy and his creepy ghoul brother some time ago, and the younger of the two had taken a keen interest in the fighter slaves that Tacks trained. He'd been happy to let the lycan 'assist' him whenever it suited him. Tacks couldn't help but feel a fondness for that sadistic laugh of his. He felt the two of them were cut from the same cloth, maybe just on different ends. And besides, there were worse friends to have than the frightening Wolfenkoehler brothers. Even now that ol' TwoFace was in the bar hotel (for which Tacks expressed his sincerest sympathies), it worked out best for him if Emi was in charge. The two of them were closer, after all, and Tacks could never shake the feeling that Twoface wanted to eat him.
Back in the ring, Edmund shuddered as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, taking deep, rattling breaths as he tried to get back to breathing normally after having the wind knocked out of him. Cannon stood, patient and pale-faced, on the other side of the bull pen, staring at him with disinterest. At least the werewolf had tried to give him advice when he beat him, but the nymph just stared, emotionless, as Edmund slowly, painfully, hauled himself up into a standing position and shakily brushed some of the dust off of his face and clothes. He hated these damn dirt floors, but he supposed it was better than being slammed against metal or marble. He'd thought he'd been doing a little better, honestly. He'd managed to side-step two of Cannons blows, and endure a painful rock-punch to the side, before taking a swing at the nymhphs head and being incapacitated by the counter-blow. At least this one knew when to stop. Not all of Tacks' slaves were so gracious as to stop beating him without being ordered. He'd considered trying to fight Cannon in his lion shape, but he was too fast, and his bulkier shape too slow, too open. He felt he had a better chance with his arms available to defend him, and counted himself lucky that he hadn't broken one of his forearms yet this bout. All he wanted to do in the world was go home, and no, that didn't mean to the dingy warehouse Tacks let his slaves live in. He wanted to go back to his real home, on the Fontaine estate, where he could lounge in the sun and be pet my Elouise and the other Fontaines and even some of the slaves. He was treated like royalty there. They even called him their prince. Here, he was treated like-
"Again!" Tacks barked. And so Edmund straightened himself up, took another deep breath, frowned, and sank into his sparring stance, another gift the werewolf had given him. He put his fists in front of him and positioned his toes out, bent his knees, and kept his eyes on Cannon, already approaching him, face blank and arms down, chest wide open. Ed knew enough to not fall for that trick again, at least. Whenever Cannon left his chest open, he turned it to stone the moment he took a shot at it. He'd already split the bone of one knuckle that way. He moved to the right, to the left, and Cannons eyes followed him with each step as Edmund tried to make an opening for him. Wait, was he supposed to be watching his eyes, or his fe- WHAM! In an instant his legs had been kicked out from under him, and in the next moment he felt the sharp sting of stone connecting with his shoulder, sending him into the dirt... again. Tacks groaned, shaking his head as he withdrew a cigarette from the inside of his jacket.
This guy was hopeless.
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Posted: Fri Aug 19, 2016 10:01 pm
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Posted: Fri Aug 19, 2016 11:08 pm
371444 - Tacks
621506 - Ed
Tacks had jolted, slightly when Emi had appeared behind him suddenly. The kid had a way of sneaking up on him, even when he was expecting him. But, none the less, Tacks was happy for the company. Even more so when he turned his gold eyes on him to see this 'potential' he'd brought. Tacks wasn't typically in the habit of buying slaves - why pay for what you can win, right? But having good, solid fighters was a moneymaker in and of itself, so he just considered it a good investment. Particularly since sweet Emi always made it a point to only bring him good, durable slaves. Although, exactly how he came to decide who was and wasn't worthy, he was less than eager to know.
"Oh~? Is that so? Well, let's have a look here, then." He turned full away from the ring as Ed struggled to bring himself to his feet once again, ignoring his own slave as he did a once-over of the mage Emi brought for him. Down on his knees and clearly pretty concerned for his own safety, Tacks checked the boy over the way one might appraise a head of livestock, checking skin, teeth, eyes, muscles. He knew that Emi liked getting in the ring with his playthings, and that the boy was nimble. So, coming from him, having almost hit him was high praise. It showed a glimmer of potential, certainly. Unlike certain people. Even with the arms, wounds healed. He might make the fairy some good money, if applied properly. And the slaves he got from the Wolfenkoehlers were always well-trained, which was nice. And he had just recently lost his prize fighter. Now, a prize fighter the mage was not, but maybe if-
Tacks was startled from his deep thought by Emi calling out about a kitty... oh, right. The useless cat. "Why's he laying down though? That's not where he's supposed to be~! Get up, kitty! Fights aren't won from the ground!" Tacks chuckled, calling to Ed over his shoulder,
"He's right, you know. Now get up, on your feet again. Cannon, take a break, you're out." As usual, on his command Ed pulled himself off of the ground again, grimacing as he raised ruby eyes up to see a toothy smile over him. He glanced at the newcomer, slender, willowy, with long cascading hair. Ed only spared him a glance as he pushed himself up on his elbows, onto his knees, and eventually on his feet again, staggering just a bit and leaning against the bars of the bull pen as he did so, breathing heavily. Nodding, wordlessly, the stone nymph turned away from Ed, clambering over the railing and hopping down onto the other side, safely out of the ring. Tacks turned to the new slave, yanking him onto his feet by the collar and giving him a friendly nudge towards the ring.
"All right kiddo, let's see what you've got. Ed there's a lion, so don't hold back, mmk? Or else he might eat you." Clearly fearful of retribution, the mage did as he was bid and climbed into the bull pen, already sizing up Ed. The lion, on the other hand, was glaring at Tacks, clearly unhappy with this new development. He knew that another slave being told 'don't hold back' couldn't bode well for him, especially since he had no idea what this new slave was, or what he could do. He was at least familiar with Cannons tricks. And the fairy just had to mention that he was a lion. That word always put fear in his opponents, and they lashed out with even more savagery at him. Tacks settled in next to Emi, leaning against the bars as he issued the command for the slaves to fight.
"We'll see how he does. Thanks as always. You always bring such interesting toys with you." He said with a grin. "He'll make short work of Prince Edmund there, if he's worth his salt at all. He may be a big kitty, but I'm afraid he couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag." The fairy shook his head in open frustration, watching as the two fighters circled each other in the ring.
Ed was trying to maybe turn the mages fear against him. If he could make him back up, he might have a shot. The new slave was definitely smaller than he was, so if he could just get in one good, solid hit, even just to disorient him, he might have a chance. So he lunged, suddenly and without warning. The new slave, startled, leapt sideways, avoiding the lions full tackle. Ed did his best to keep moving without losing momentum, shifting his fingers into cruel claws mid-swing and swiping out at the smaller fighter. But he swung wide, and his opponent dodged smoothly before striking against Ed's side with an open-palm. The blow itself was slight; compared to being hammered with fists of stone just minutes ago, it was a cakewalk. What brought Ed down to his knees was the electric pulse that he sent through his system. But he didn't scream. No, he never screamed.
"Guh--!" Biting back any further exclamations of pain, the lion sank to his knees, clutching at the side where he'd been zapped. The mage however, still fighting as desperately as if his life depended on it (it probably did, for all he knew), aimed a vicious kick at Ed's face. The blow connected, snapping his head back and sending a small spray of blood across the dirt from the new split in his lip. The mage readied another blow, but this time Ed caught his leg in his grip, digging claws into the slaves calf before upending him and flinging him, sending the mage careening backwards and into the dirt. Ed did his best to rise quickly - hurry up and pounce, he had a chance now. Just one good, solid shot-! But the mage was faster. Damn it, they were always faster. The smaller man had rolled as he fell, and even Ed stood, he fired a bolt of electrical current which found its mark. Clenching and clutching his chest, Ed doubled over, making only the smallest noises, muffled grunts and hisses of pain. Even when the mage stood up, sweating and panting and bleeding from his scratched leg, stretched out his hands and electrocuted him again, again, again, Ed coiled tighter, clenching his teeth so tightly he thought they might break, never yelling out.
All the while Tacks watched with a bored expression, until finally he held up a hand.
"Awright, awright, that's enough. He's even less useful dead than he is alive." And the mage obeyed, breathing heavily and glancing, anxiously, between Tacks and Emi. Ed growled, a low grunt of pain, and writhed on the ground, long hair trailed through the dirt and blood. As beautiful mess as he was, Tacks just didn't have the patience for the drama today.
"All right Ed, come off it. Get up- UP, I said, come on. Walk it off, you big baby." And when the lion lifted his face to look at Tacks, there was hate burning in those red eyes of his. But Tacks didn't mind the glares. And even with that deep-seated anger, still, dutifully, Ed obeyed, hissing quietly as he uncurled himself and, yet again, pushed himself up off of the ground, letting his claws slip back into normal human fingers. He staggered to one side of the ring, so that his back was to Tacks and his friend, and put hands against the bars to steady himself, chest heaving and sweat running down his bare tattooed back.
Tacks turned to Emi again and made a helpless gesture towards Ed.
"Hate to say it, Emi, but the cat would make a better bookend than a fighter. Honestly, I'm just at a loss." He sighed again rubbing his head and rummaging around his pockets for his matchbook to light the cigarette dangling from his mouth."Now this one you brought though! Seems promising. Electric mages can do some heavy damage, potentially while sustaining less, what with the- Ah, what am I explaining for? You probably know all this better than I do. I'll take him off your hands." Out of the corner of his eye, he could practically see the mage shudder with relief at the possibility of being out from under Emilian. He found the matchbook and struck one, lighting the cigarette and motioning to Emi as if to ask if he wanted one too.
"You wouldn't know anyone in the market for a luxury slave, would you? Ed's got papers, pedigree, the whole nine yards. He's worth a pretty sum, it's only that.... eh, I guess I'm just not talented enough to use him properly. I dunno. He might be slow." He shrugged, taking a long drag from the cigarette.
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Posted: Sat Aug 20, 2016 12:58 am
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Posted: Sat Aug 20, 2016 2:11 pm
371444 - Tacks
621506 - Ed
A fighter he may not have been, but Eds ears were sharp nonetheless. And he knew that Tacks knew it. So listening to the fairy openly complain about him, plain within earshot, set him to grinding his teeth again. Ed would have given just about anything to have Tacks be the one tossed into a ring with a stone nymph or electric mage who was told 'don't hold back.' Hell, Ed knew that he was at least a better fighter than the fairy could possibly be, let Tacks get in the ring with him and see how much he complained then. Of course he wasn't a fighter, it wasn't what he'd been trained for. But all of this went silent, unspoken. His fathers voice rang in his skull, even as he leaned against the dirty metal railing of the bull pen, skin a sheen of sweat, tasting his own blood on his split lip and watching the bruises taking form on his chest and shoulder. Never raise your voice. Don't talk back. Never complain. Never show weakness. Obey. Always obey. So telling Tacks exactly what he thought about his criticism was out of the question. He just kept scowling, silent, panting heavily, and keeping his back to the masters even as he listened to their dealings. But he wasn't particularly thrilled with the rest of what he heard, either.
Tacks had nodded dully when Emi said someone had sold him junk, not bothering to correct him and tell him he'd actually won the Pitch pedigree in a bet with a puffed-up rich girl. But he did raise his eyes to look at the Lycan when he said the words, "But he is quite shiny." He glanced from the lycan to his own battered lion in the corner. So, it seemed Emi had taken an interest in him? Tacks felt pleasantly surprised. After the performance Ed had given them he wouldn't be shocked if no one wanted to touch the slave with a ten foot pole. He was also aware that he had been looking for a slave to keep for himself. Tacks had been certain that he would have chosen one from his own stock by then. But, maybe he was just following the old rule of 'don't get high on your own supply.' In any case, Tacks didn't discourage him. If he could get the useless housecat off his hands, he'd be that much better for it. So he feigned mild surprise when the lycan answered his question with an offer.
"I know of someone! They just happened to have dropped off an electric slave they'd be willing to trade for him." And without so much as waiting for a response, he bolted off to the other side of the ring. Tacks grinned. Truth be told, a pedigree was worth a good deal more than an average off-the-street retrainee. But what he'd said before was true - for his purposes, Ed was all but useless. And it wasn't as if he could re-sell him for his original value. So it was best to take what deals he could get. With a chuckle, he shrugged his shoulders and beckoned the electric mage over to him. The boy was still cautious, but Tacks spoke to him casually.
"You heard him, boy. You're stuck with me now. We'll hafta work on that form of yours, but do as you're told and I wont let you get torn up in the rings."
Ed had winced as he heard the conversation. He knew that Tacks hadn't been pleased with him, despite the fact that the lion always did just as he was told. He was a good slave, dammit! It wasn't his fault- none of it was his fault! He couldn't help that he wasn't a good fighter. He couldn't help that Tacks had judged the proverbial book by its cover. But even as he scowled through his heavy breathing, he heard the slender stranger running around the ring to him. He jolted when he suddenly appeared in his face, and as those slender fingers reached towards his injured face, his first reaction was to pull away, away from the stranger and his strange smells and his strange grin. But he reminded himself. Composed. Obedient. And he held himself still while the stranger - some kind of canid? A lycan no doubt - checked him over through the bars. He scowled, but relented to the probing, invasive touches, pinching his eyebrows as his hair was pushed back, revealing more of the intricate tattooing on that side of his face.
"Pretty kitty! You are quite resilient!"
"...Thank you." He answered low and quiet, a rumble that was neither a growl nor a purr, and he averted his eyes, not wanting to show this stranger the pain and the anger there. He didn't mind letting Tacks see, but he didn't know anything about this person.
"Oh, you ought to see his other shape. Ed, hop on out of the cage and put on your real face." Well they could agree on that, at least. Without a word, Ed climbed up the rails, slinging one leg over the top, then the other, balancing for just a moment before leaping down, landing with a dull thud on his feet. He was surprised, standing right next to the slender stranger, to see that they were about the same height. With his slender build and long hair, he had just seemed... smaller. He turned his head away. Obey, the voice in his head told him. So he did, leaning forward to smoothly shift from the shape of a man into a giant wildcat.
He felt so much more comfortable in his lion shape. Although his split lip was still visible, the sweat and bruises disappeared under a layer of glossy black fur, even if it was a bit ruffled at the moment. He shook his thick mane and stretched before settling down into a sitting position, expecting to be appraised again. Tacks waved a hand.
"I've got all of his papers back at home. I'll bring them to you next time, just text me a reminder." The fairy still wasn't sure if Emi planned on just taking Ed right then or not. He was pretty spontaneous, but it was always difficult to tell exactly what the guy was going to do. It was something Tacks both loved and hated about his friend. Ed, on the other hand, was feeling very uneasy about the entire transaction. He hated being passed around, traded back and fourth like some common scrap meat. But he did his best not to show it, and being in his lion shape made it easier.
"And he is nothing if not well-behaved. He'll do anything you tell him to, even if he looks at you like he ants to eat you when he does!" He said with a laugh.
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Posted: Sat Aug 20, 2016 3:48 pm
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Posted: Sat Aug 20, 2016 10:18 pm
371444 - Tacks
621506 - Ed
Despite himself, Edmund couldn't help but feel a little pleased at the reaction from the strange, willowy man when he shifted shape. It reminded him of home, back when Elouise would show him off to people who were meeting him for the first time, and his change was kind of like a party trick. Sometimes he would even give a little roar for effect, if it seemed like it would please Elouise, and he usually got a good reaction from it. Once, he wouldn't have twitched a whisker at one scrawny no-name clapping at him in a dirt arena in a shifty warehouse. But these days, suffering months of being beaten and ignored at intervals, Ed couldn't afford to be picky. Casually he turned his head to one side, not giving away that he might have felt anything more than disinterest. Tacks, on the other hand, was most pleased. Hopefully, if he were ever in a tight spot, Emilian would remember this little exchange and maybe, just maybe, help him in a tight spot later. The fairy wasn't so blind to himself that he couldn't realize his own knack for ending up in.... tough situations. But of course, these weren't the sort of things one said aloud. These were tactful things, unspoken understandings... at least, he hoped that Emi understood them. As much as Tacks liked the guy, he sometimes couldn't help but wonder if he and his brother were ever really 'all there.'
Ed eyed Emilian lazily when the master (was this his new master now? Tacks never really said it directly, but it certainly sounded like that was the case) knelt in front of him, saying he could shift shape too. He'd had an idea of that by his smell. When he was with the Fontaines, he'd made it a bit of a game with Elouise. She would point people out, and Ed would sniff them out, and come back and tell her what they were. Over the years he'd gotten rather good at it. Lycans were tricky though; they all just smelled like dog to him. So when Emilian shifted in front of him, into the shape of a monstrously large hyena, Ed was more than a little startled. He was no small lion, by any means, and yet somehow this lycan was even larger. He bolted into a standing position, ears flat and legs spread wide, red eyes round and alert. A hyena?? A damn hyena, of all things!? He felt the fur on his hackles rise and stand, and he dug his claws into the ground. Even as the creature wagged his tail in excitement, Edmund balked. Was this some kind of sick joke? Edmund had never known any hyena lycans himself. The Pitches were all metamorphoses, mostly predators and cats. But whenever he heard of dealings with hyenas, they were thugs. Drug peddlers. Thieves and smugglers and shifty, shady types. Then again, he was friends with Tacks, so that much should have been a given. But, to actually be entrusted to one??? To have a hyena, of all things, as his master? Even once Emilian shifted back into human shape, Ed stood in awe and apprehension, ears pinned into his mane.
"I'll continue working with him. He'll never be a good ring fighter, but with a little work he'd do fine as a gang member. He's already better than a lot of those shits that work for me." Tacks grinned, nodding. That was a good idea. After all, Ed made for a better display f force rather than force itself. And really, that was what was most important with gangsters. And that obedience would come in handy for one as well. As for Edmund, his heart pounded in his chest. It sounded like things were getting worse by the minute. A gangster of any sort was the absolute last thing Edmund wanted to be. Was this guy, this hyena, affiliated with one of the gangs? Admittedly, Edmund didn't know much about the different gangs roaming the citys streets. He already knew more than he would have liked from Tacks' dealings with them. For instance, he knew that his sparring partner, Yuno, had already been gambled away to a Ghost gang member. Was he a new gang recruit too? The thought churned his insides. It was just so.... below him. So filthy and degrading, he couldn't stand it.
He flinched when the man reached down to pet him behind one ear, eliciting mixed feelings from the lion. As much as he liked being stroked and pet, coming from this person, it seemed.... tainted, somehow. He didn't want to be touched. But he remembered himself. Elegant. Composed. Obedient. So he sat still once again, but never once took his eyes off of Emilian. This new master.
"Ah! I like obedience. But we'll see if I can tempt a bit of fiesty-ness out of him too."
And Ed... wasn't quite sure what he meant by that. Feisty-ness? Did he.... want him to disobey? Or not? He was a increasingly unsure of what this person was going to expect of him. But of course, Tacks didn't seem to give a s**t one way or the other, just chuckling agreeably as if he and Emilian were old friends. Well, maybe they kinda were.
"Well if anyone can do it, it's you, Emi." He said with a flash of white teeth, before turning his gaze down to Edmund again. "You understand that, Right Ed? You listen to Emilian now. I'll sign over your papers next time." Ed snorted, turning his head away from the both of them to communicate his displeasure. This was wrong. All of it was wrong. Tacks frowned, but otherwise ignored the silent sass and turned back to Emilian instead.
"So, Emi, would you like to stick around with me for a little bit and watch how Cannon handles the new lad? Or are you eager to go play with your new toy~?"
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Posted: Sat Aug 20, 2016 11:22 pm
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