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 Posted: Fri Jun 22, 2018 11:45 am
When it came to his superiors, Nambulite tried his best to remain respectful. Sometimes, though, he just couldn't resist being flirtatious or cracking a joke or otherwise stepping out of line just that little bit. Some folks just left themselves wiiiide open for playing with, even if they were a rank or two above him and could probably crush him if he crossed them. Maybe it wouldn't hurt him to rein it in a little bit, but that was easier said that done. As he wandered the city blocks, he felt a largeish black "mass" on the edge of his senses. There was a Captain somewhere on the horizon! This was an opportunity to get a glimpse of the higher-ups, maybe even schmooze a little if he could. It was never too early to curry favor where he could. No matter how neutral someone claimed to be, a little extra influence always managed to push a person ahead. His travels took him to the Captain's spot, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Was that guy... full of pipes? "Evening, Captain!" he called out, hoping his grin didn't look too uneasy.
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Posted: Tue Jun 26, 2018 10:53 am
"No." The word was spoken in earnest to the creature he faced — a squid, clear as glass, with a thousand sparks of fire trapped in its gelatinous form like lightning bugs. Its tentacles undulated restlessly, bending magic in their wake to keep it suspended in the air. It bubbled at its captain relentlessly.
But it abstained from moving forward, from crowning the parapet and slipping down into the murk of city street. From running the veins of the city to find a next victim, whomever it was, and drain them fearlessly. But that intention sung like a hymn under cool, water-dappled skin. It wanted to poach, not bend to a yoke. And Faustite could relate, collared as he was by his superior. He would chase that freedom indefinitely, if only he wouldn't hang himself.
The squid youma's antagonist became known to him in short order — a lieutenant, dressed in mild grandeur, hailed him with a flourish. To this, the youma shot another jet of bubbles into the night air. Faustite half-turned toward his visitor and sucked a breath through his teeth.
"Lieutenant." Starless eyes fell on red hair, then to the high collar barring view of what his red vest bared. Velvet and filigree crawled over him like a victorian couch. At last were boots, or perhaps heels blended into tights, that strangled his shorts. He wore his outfit in a proud manner, even if he retained his berth from the youmafied captain. Faustite paid it as little heed as he paid to the lieutenant's outfit. Metallia liked picking eccentricities.
"So full of gusto." A brow cocked coolly in invitation. "What can I do for you?"
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2018 11:38 am
Fire squid was a valid youma combination. Good to know. Funny how Chaos liked to paste things together for fun chimeras. Not that it was Nambulite's problem or any of his business, really. Why this Captain was full of pipes wasn't any of his business for sure. In any case, he took the 'full of gusto' comment as a compliment. "Why, thank you! It's better than being lackadaisical, right?" Now, what could this Captain do for him? That was a good question. He needed a moment to form his question, but he put it together soon enough. "I guess I'd like to ask you a few questions, while you're here. First off... how did you make it to Captain? What did you do to catch someone up there's eye?" He wanted to ask what was with the pipes despite not being his business. But maybe he could swerve around that by making his next question about youma... Strickenized Sorry, muse ran away after being extra noisy. -_-
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Posted: Mon Jul 16, 2018 5:11 pm
The quick quip received lofted brows. The lieutenant was uncharacteristically cheerful when compared to the rest of the agents met, which was its own point of recognition. Where he chose to take this cheerfulness was a question on which Faustite lingered, savoring it, and he grew more curious for it.
The questions bade communicated desire but one step removed. Shifting, the captain drew his gaze from spidering cracks in the pale floor to the parapet side to his youma, aglitter with a thousand fires. He whetted his lips in lieu of an answer. "Improved performance. Persistent delivery of quota and combat. Knowing how to duck my head and follow command. But these just made me agreeable." The stretched word tasted bitter on his tongue. He motioned to his youma, who now circled the bench in its ebb-and-flow roll of tentacles, then settled on the thick slats. There, it drooped dripping arms in the interstices.
"I made my own projects. Showed independence, leadership abilities. That's all you'll need to reach captain — ability or manipulability." For you, I imagine it's who you know. Who you catch with that saccharine temperament.
Faustite stood into a pace — slow, languid. When not trawling over gilt cityscape, he shifted his attention to the patterning on Nambulite's uniform. So much of the victorian age was painted into his appearance, though he hadn't yet shown that combination of predatory and personable that so many victorian tales portrayed. There was time for that yet, and time to see where — and how — this man could grow. "Who is your CO?"
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