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 Posted: Sat Sep 11, 2021 10:46 am
The wise thing to do was seek treatment at the infirmary. Even if he couldn't use the hospital that Romano so lucratively secured, he could have medic services remove the dozens of quills stuck staunchly in his back. He could be seen for the cuts and burns from the Knight and senshi's magic, he could get his eyes checked for the spots he kept seeing, he could take a nap while they infused fluids for all the effort and energy he spent.
Instead he stalked stiffly down the violet-lit halls. Passed under some of the Citadel's grandest arches through the circular hallway that led through the Generals' offices. A slow task for how each step forward tugged at the quills embedded in him, and if he moved too quickly, the few gathered in his grate would rattle.
He didn't care if it was unwise to keep pushing forward. He didn't care if the hallway swayed. He had words for Ashanite.
His office wasn't far; Faustite glanced at each plaque, each open door as he shuffled past. Then, five doors later, he found the one he wanted. Faustite didn't tax himself with knocking; he turned the knob and pushed his way in, half-leaning on the frame as he blocked the one path in and out.
His voice was a raspy thing: "Ashanite."
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Posted: Sun Sep 12, 2021 2:59 pm
To say that Ashanite was upset was to greatly understate the situation. He was, in fact, ragingly furious.
It should have been ******** simple. There should have been no way for that Squire to escape, help or not. But everything had gone wrong--bitching from his fellow Generals, more Order than anticipated, the utterly wasteful death of that Page--and now here he was with a failure on his hands, and the furious realization that while Wave and Leif had reported directly to his side, and he'd seen Arsenolite--his newest recruit--at the battle, Lapis had decided to skip.
That was a problem to be addressed as quickly as possible.
The sound of someone entering his office made him spin, ready to dress down whoever was interrupting him—but it was another General. Faustite, which meant he'd survived--at least that was something. No deaths on their side. Probably. So, he held his tongue, at least insofar as any hostility related to the intrusion went.
“You look like s**t,” he said, dryly. A statement of fact. “What do you want? Come to present your grievances with me?”
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Posted: Tue Sep 14, 2021 2:17 pm
He entered without rebuttal. He knew what he looked like, having been flashbanged to tears. He knew what he looked like with a slew of porcupine needles protruding from his back. He knew how he must've looked, the way he shuffled around stiffly, because any sudden movements jostled the needles into each other and caused him more trouble. Ashanite was perfectly correct and Faustite was willing to let him have that.
He kept silent as he shuffled up to his peer. Kept silent as he slapped him across the face. Silent as he looked at his hand. Silent as he contemplated the buzz in it, the loud crack made by the motion. He reserved judgment on that.
"No," he answered, still looking at his hand.
Faustite slapped him again, harder this time. Hard enough to make his hand sing. Hard enough for the room to echo, if the room was empty. Faustite looked at his hand again, felt needles and numbness until pain flooded in, settled against the bones. "Yes." Faustite conceded a couple steps to a conversational distance, and rested his hand against his hip where it burned with the touch.
"One of the knights ******** shoplifted my subordinate. Ran off with her like she was a bag of flour. Tall, blonde thing, wears lavenders, looked like a gay Russian diplomat robbed Swarovski. Won't report this disaster if you help me get her back."
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Posted: Tue Sep 14, 2021 6:51 pm
Of all the things Ashanite had expected, a slap across the face was not one of them. He made a shocked, offended noise, but couldn't get his voice around words to respond, certainly not in time to answer the second slap.
He reached up to rub his cheek, which stung and sang red--he'd have to do something aobut that before anyone else saw him, especially if it bruised or some other nonsense, but at least he had some coverup makeup skills--giving Faustite the flattest of stares.
"You have a very strange way of asking for help," he said, and there was a sharp edge to his tone. But truth be told, if someone had hurt Leifite or Wavewllite in that absolute ********, he would have been moved to violence too, so perhaps he understood, even if his ego rankled at the collection of insults.
"Fortunately for you, I'm a generous person." That was an outright lie, but he could play. "His name is Whisler. He's Transcendent. I would bet anything he took her to his Wonder, since I doubt he's got anywhere else to hide her." A moment's pause. "....He's easily manipulated. I spent years playing him until he was no longer useful. Thinks with his heart, not his head. Or, well. Thinks with a head, just not the right one." He raised his eyebrows, leaving Faustite to interpret his meaning. "There's a nonzero possibility he'll simply return her on his own because he'll be too twisted up by guilt to keep her, but if you do need to negotiate: play on the fact that he's a sentimental idiot."
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Posted: Tue Sep 14, 2021 8:13 pm
"Raised by dogs," he muttered, as if that were a perfect explanation for his mannerisms. Impatient, he shifted his weight from one leg to the other while he waited through Ashanite's speech. This one had the same affliction as Albite: diarrhea of the mouth. Waste of words, most of it.
Faustite huffed, a small puff of smoke wending out. "Thinks with the right ******** head for my purposes." If Whisler was dying to put his head to good use, Faustite had an entire grate full of holes that he was welcome to use. Ashanite's information was well enough — they had a history, Faustite could use that history. Didn't matter the context of its ending, because if Ashanite was trustworthy about this one's emotionality, then his name alone should spike some sour thinking.
Better yet if this blowhard returned Nembus unscathed without prompting, however.
"Think he'll do anything to her? If he's volatile, he going to cut her up, ransom me a tongue?" b*****d was underhanded enough for subordinate theft, surely he wasn't above mutilating his senshi in a fit of rage and stupidity. "What's his motive? What're his morals? Need to know what provokes guilt." Especially if he had to play the way that Ashanite did in the past.
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Posted: Tue Sep 14, 2021 11:48 pm
Ashanite snorted. Raised by dogs--it almost made sense. Or, at least, Faustite had obviously had plenty of chances to abandon any sense of manners in his time as a half-youma.
Oh well. At least Faustite wasn't abandoning him in the middle of a battle because he had quibbles with Ashanite's language. (That was a slight he would not soon forget. Jet had engraved a permanent place on Ashanite's s**t list, which was not something he'd previously had, so well done for gaining the first slot, he supposed.)
"I doubt that. Whisler would love to blow that he's tough and dangerous, and he certainly does stupid, emotional s**t like grabbing a Corrupt and running off with her, but I don't think he'll do anything to hurt her for real. Too soft by far." He exhaled. It was strange--as much as he'd tried to shove away the tangle of emotions he felt about Whisler, having him come crashing back in made them all bubble right back up. "I can't guess at his specific motive for grabbing Nembus, but in general? He's motivated heavily by compassion and a desire to save and help people. That was what kept him dancing to my tune for years, the belief that he could save me, one way or the other. Unfortunately for him, I've never had any interest in the salvation hew wanted to offer." A wry smile. "...If you told him you, or Nembus, or both, was interested in purifying, I'd bet he'd dance."
But thinking of that sent Ashanite back, reminded him of something he'd barely had time to process in the heat of battle. "....Truth be told, I was surprised to see him alive. I thought I'd killed him, about a year ago. We'll call that a very long story and be done with it, though."
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Posted: Sat Sep 18, 2021 3:05 pm
Great, ******** do-gooder who couldn't control his d**k or his feefees. All of his willpower was funneled into not rolling his eyes, though he did slow blink at Ashanite for the ******** up nonsense this Knight got up to with him. How the ******** could someone be dumb enough to get strung along for years how desperate was Whisler?
And how good in bed was Ashanite? That, he decided, was not a question he would have the opportunity to answer.
Better to walk it off. Faustite shifted into a pace, as he oft did, and fire wicked behind him in his steady circles. "Not taking the purification angle. Tricky for having been done," he added, his hand making a flourish with his wrist bent. "Might make that she's important to me, imply she's my girlfriend. Something something rips my guts out to have her gone." Maybe that was too on-the-nose, but if this one was as dense as Ashanite described, it might be worth the laugh afterward.
"How do I contact Whisler? Assume you had a system if you strung him along for years." Wouldn't be surprising if Ashanite got a cat to rig his tablet communicator to radio Whisler.
Brave of him to admit to that ploy to an Intelligence officer. Braver still to be honest with a General, if that's what that was. He looked cute when he was honest.
Faustite sighed at himself.
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Posted: Sat Sep 18, 2021 8:59 pm
Ashanite moved to give Faustite more berth, eyes following him as he paced. Hopefully none of those little flames would catch on anything in his office; he hated to think of having to replace everything in here because Faustite bled flames.
At least he was thinking this through carefully.
"Reasonable," Ashanite acknowledged. Playing the same tune Ashanite himself had might make Whisler suspicious, which would be deeply counterproductive. "But I think that will work just as well. Play his heartstrings." Whatever got Nembus back, frankly.
He exhaled between his teeth.
"We didn't have specific methods--communication across Chaos-Order lines is complex. But there's a park we met in regularly; I can point you to it. Likely, he might go back there, since it's a familiar place." Perhaps, if Faustite had success finding him, Ashanite might have to stop by. Purely to ask Whisler how he'd survived their last encounter, obviously, and not for any other reaosn. Whatever might have been between them once, Ashanite had killed it, and he desperately needed it to stay dead. "...I wish I had more to offer you. I loathe to think of someone being held prisoner and left there for a long period."
The thought of it brought back...bad memories. At least Whisler wasn't like the monsters who had held him.
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Posted: Sun Sep 19, 2021 4:02 am
He supposed communication didn't have to be complex. Could put the Mauvians to task, get them to open up a steady comm link between ChaOS and Order phones. However the ******** that worked. Then Information could monitor any exchanges, extract information on traitors dumb enough to call, maybe set it up to look like a hidden option or something. People were always going to find ways to meet if they were determined enough; the Negaverse need only make their way look easy enough and low risk enough to ensure its use.
For now, the park. "Creature of habit, then." Easy enough to deal with those. Might be better for having Ashanite with him.
Faustite about-faced and brushed his porcupine spines against the wall, gleaning a wince out of him and quiet invective for the senshi so bold as to hit him with their ridiculous magic. Reached back to pluck a handful out in his irritation, and found that was a much worse mess than he realized — the barbs came loose, as did his skin, and a black stain soon expanded on the back of his tattered uniform. Frowning, Faustite hucked the handful of barbs into Ashanite's trash can.
Ashanite wished he had more to offer, did he? Easy fix. "You're going with me. Beg for her if you have to. Need to see to these first, then we go." He finished, pointing gingerly to the barbs in his back.
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Posted: Mon Sep 20, 2021 6:39 pm
Ashanite nodded, to acknowledge that Whisler certainly could be a creature of habit. He wondered, though, if all his intelligence would be moot; if his time away had left him knowing less than nothing, which, he suspected, would both reflect poorly on him and result in…unpleasant consequences.
Perhaps he was too used to his own allies turning violent at his failures, but it was easy to expect that Faustite might not take well to him being wrong about Whisler’s habits and movements, and he would have to brace himself for that outcome. Unpleasant; he thought he had escaped that sort of thing when he became a General, but it would never leave him.
The demand, however, made him jerk his head up and frown.
“Are you certain that’s a good idea? I’m not trying to dodge, and I’ll go if you think it will help, but I did just tell you that I tried to murder the man, so I would worry greatly at the possibility of things getting hostile, which benefits no one, least of all your kidnapped Senshi.” No resistance, however, came from the demand to help with the spines. He simply evaluated them, glancing down at the ones in his trash can with a frown, and huffed.
“Come here, I have bandages and antiseptic in my desk.” Indeed, he stepped around it and went into one of the large bottom drawers, producing gauze, wrap bandages, and a large bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Neosporin wasn’t exactly going to cut it for those. “I’m shocked those have stayed this long; Senshi magic usually doesn’t stick like that.”
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Posted: Wed Sep 22, 2021 4:19 pm
"Not telling you to say hi. You'll be powered down, listening in." Waiting for the lot of it to go wrong. Faustite didn't trust his own temper, didn't trust the White Moon to honor any kind of bargain, nor the Knights that wore their symbols. Didn't know anything about Whisler firsthand but for his appearance, and that he hijacked Nembus like a hot new commodity. "Need you around just in case."
He wondered, then, which branch Ashanite belonged to. He hadn't thought to check before, hadn't thought to memorize who worked in which area. But he hadn't overlapped with Ashanite while working under Axinite, so he doubted they were peers in Information. Question for travel time — if they had any.
Huffed when he was told to come, though he followed through with it. Hoisted himself up on Ashanite's desk with his back facing the boy. Easier that way, with the eye candy out of his line of sight.
What was with the Negaverse recruiting all of these hopelessly hot and hopelessly inept officers? Did they want his libido to dictate his tactics?
"Guessing they stuck because I'm youma." Natural antipathy and all that. "Or because the senshi was emphatic about casting it.
"Should grab towels," he offered over his shoulder. "Blood'l stain everything." Faustite doubted Ashanite could see his black blood through the black vest, but he'd find it tipping the barbs. Luckily they weren't poisonous; the magic just sucked going in or coming out.
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Posted: Thu Sep 23, 2021 2:41 pm
"I can do that," Ashanite agreed, easily. That, he didn't have to worry about--Whisler wouldn't recognize Damian Howe, and having backup in case things went uncontrollably south seemed like an ideal choice. His response was a bit absent, though, because he was focused on the nasty injuries on Faustite's back. Priorities, he supposed.
"Finding a towel wastes time," he said, and he slung off his cape and jacket, dropping them on his desk to protect what he had spread out there. A thought would re-summon and clean his uniform; towels were unnecessary laundry. He moved to pull his trash can around, and then splayed one hand against Faustite's back, inhaling.
"Magic is miserably unpredictable. Mine used to summon howling ghosts, for all twenty minutes I had it." A bitter, tired joke. "Hold still," he warned. "I'll pull these, and then you'll have to take your jacket off so I can clean and bandage the injuries. No need to risk an infection, youma biology or not."
Faustite was warm, Ashanite couldn't help but notice, which was a stupid thing to note. What was it with him and his terrible taste? Umber, Xenotime, Unobtanium, Whisler. He always picked the ones it would be terrible for him to have.
To redirect his own thoughts, he gripped one of the quills, and pulled, hard and fast, and dumped it in the wastebasket.
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Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2021 4:02 am
Heard the shuffle and murmur of fabric, like someone was putting on a show. Faustite wanted to look, wanted to see what went missing from this boy, but decided it better to stay still and leave it to his imagination. It wouldn't do to stare at his peers, however thirsty he was.
And he could definitely use a drink of water right now.
Hand at his back, and he startled a touch, and Faustite thought to warn him not to leave it there, that it would burn after too long. Like lingering with a hand on a stovetop, but the layers of cloth were some measure of protection. Ashanite hadn't seemed bothered yet. Supposed he hadn't given the other boy enough to be bothered by him yet.
Mine used to summon howling ghosts. So he was once a Knight. How interesting. Good point of contact for Albite to work on his little pet project, his 'how to recruit people better, so they'll stay', or whatever the ******** title was. Gave Faustite more reason to chat him up, too — he knew so little about how knight magic worked.
Frowned at the thought of stripping his clothes, though. That was where the fun ended.
Opened his mouth to voice protest and out came a yelp with another of the quills free. Only four thousand more to go, he thought bitterly. Hands tensed around the edge of the desk; black nails bit into the underside.
"Didn't know you were a knight. Was that why you wanted that Squire?" Was she a girlfriend? Because that would just be terrible if this one was straight. That was always what happened — Faustite walked into the office of a cute boy, and he was straight. Or he was in a relationship. Happily, or whatever. ******** Jet. Faustite rolled his eyes at himself, as if that would help.
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2021 1:17 am
Ashanite's focus, for the most part, was on the removal of the quills--he was efficient and quick about it, because it would be a waste of his time and efforts to go slowly when all that would do was leave Faustite in more pain. And that was not conducive to ensuring any sort of working relationship, which...truth be told, Ashanite knew he needed to build with the current crop of his peers. The ones he'd known well seemed to be gone.
Besides, Ashanite couldn't help but be intrigued by a pretty boy with a literal fire in his belly.
The question made him pause. It seemed Faustite knew next to nothing about him, which was fascinating.
"I was. I chose this instead because I realized that I disliked getting my soul ripped out of my body," he said, voice dry. "I wanted her because every corruption is a new soldier that can be used to advance the cause of the Negaverse, but if you're asking if I had any personal connection to her, the answer is no."
Thunk, thunk, thunk. More quills joined the rest in his trash can. He would have to empty it, after all of this was done.
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Posted: Thu Oct 07, 2021 6:32 am
Grunted with the last quill. Felt wet at his back, sighed for that. His fingers took pause at the double clasp of his vest while Ashanite carried the conversation, dispensed so little information for answering his question. But Faustite had enough sense to read past that — he didn't corrupt because he disliked getting his soul ripped out, clearly. It wasn't corrupt or die by choice. He doubted that Ashanite corrupted solely out of fear; joining the Negaverse came with protection from the Negaverse, but with it came the ability to wrench out souls as he had his soul wrenched out.
To hear that he had no connection to the Squire was a mixed response that left Faustite pressing his mouth into a line. He was grateful, then, that he faced away from Ashanite and that the office had no mirrors.
"You didn't know her, but you wanted her corrupted. Spent so many resources to do it, and we walked away with nothing. One casualty that he'll have to face in ******** knows how many years because of a poorly-trained Captain. ******** great. Hope you have great plans to make this one up." The difficulty in keeping his tongue in check was only bolstered by needing Ashanite's help; he stayed his tongue what he could, but he half-wondered if it was because he liked the boy, or because he needed the boy to unstick his back because the medics in the infirmary balked at the thought of helping him. More than that, he knew he needed Ashanite for tracking down Nembus, who was ******** in the great expanse of the universe.
Didn't matter why; he had to do it. Knew Axinite would also warn him that infighting did nothing. Too many reasons to keep his mouth shut, these days.
Finally he popped the clasps, winced against the pain of it as he shed the newly-aerated thing on the floor. Next was the time-consuming process of unbuttoning his pretentious shirt similarly riddled with holes, similarly bloodstained, and dropped that next. The mess of him was dashed ink on parchment. and Faustite prepped himself or the invariable examination.
Black arms gave way to white at the elbow, with the rest of him untouched by the monster. Ashanite could see, now, where iron bolted into bone to hold him together, cage the fire. He was ever an experiment in these contexts, an object, a body to be observed. A series of catalogued actions and reactions. Property. Meat. Faustite set his jaw.
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