driftfleet | mingle post? mingle post. MINGLE POST!!

Of course you do.

If I win, you tell me one thing about yourself you don't usually tell people.

Hmph.

[his instinct, of course, is to say no... but maybe he's been hanging around real people too much. he's still wondering why she would even care. he's just curious enough to leave it and consider it, weigh his options.]

And if I win.

[...his gravelly monotone does not make it sound much like a question, even though it should have been.]

[ Even if he'd said no, she would have just cajoled him into it by questioning his confidence in his own abilities. ]

Name your terms.

Not interested.

[or imaginative. he's got a healthy doubt in his own ability against someone with a power he doesn't understand; he'd rather not risk actually giving her a reason to think of him as human if he doesn't have a chance to get something he really wants in return.]

Not interested in saying what you want or not interested in rubbing two brain cells together to consider what you'd want in return?

[a huff of breath. don't be rude.]

The first.

[ It's her ship and they don't like each other, so she's not really ashamed. ]

And why's that? Embarrassed?

Not interested.

[he thought he said that before. he semi-absently pushes his knuckles against his palm, which makes all kind of quiet, popping, cracking sounds.]

[ Hmm, when he insists it's like that, she considers that it's probably more the latter then. How dull. ]

Your opening move then.

[he doesn't seem bothered by it, whatever the reason. he's used to having the first move, so he won't hesitate to dive in--feinting at the last second to kick from the other side.]

[ A simple kick would have been too easy to block, so, expecting him to use a slightly more complex move than that, she's not caught off guard by the feint. She takes a small step backwards to pivot on one foot and grabs his ankle with her hands, then throws him aside by his own leg. She's not particularly careful about where she swings him, but at least there's nothing sharp and pointy in the general area around them besides what he brought with him. ]

[he's used to it.

she's a lot stronger than she looks, though. he catches himself against the floor, uses his new grounding to kick her back with his other leg. adds "strength" onto a quiet, running list of attributes.]

[ Indeed, Cecil hardly looks as though she exerted any effort at all in tossing him like a rag doll. She deflects his kick just as easily though and counters with a punch thrown straight for his jaw. She aims to hit him hard too, in hopes it'll get him to up the ante a little. ]

[she's going to figure out pretty quickly that he will go to great lengths to keep people from touching his face.

he deflects the punch and moves fast, whirling to punch her back. he's a lot faster than he looks. stronger, too. he may be little more than human, but he's a human who's been training to do this his entire life.

he's also relentlessly offensive. he'll put up a good fight before she can finally land a blow that counts.]

[ It'll go on for a while— deflect, block, Attack... Cecil learns real quick that he's no soldier. He's not a professional, not military— at least not like she is. That said, he's experienced and used to having the odds against him. He's a home-grown fighter, a brawler, and the facepaint is beginning to make a little more sense now. Still, it makes her wonder just what he fights against and why he does it, since it doesn't seem to her like he really has a protective or compassionate bone in his whole body.

After a few glancing blows are exchanged, Cecil gets tired of playing around. With a growl, she focuses her might inward, tapping into that fount of blackened energy inside of her. The flames ignite in her and manifest in a visible dark aura that's potent enough to make even a normal human's hair stand on end. This is the power of a Dark Knight. It hurts, actually, as Cecil sacrifices a bit of her life force in order to receive boons, but she's used to it, trained to endure and even welcome the pain, so while that shroud of darkness never goes away, she hardly misses a beat. She spits a small splatter fresh blood on the floor, then rushes him at a seemingly impossible speed, curling into a tackle that'll feel like being hit by something far larger and heavier than Cecil if she manages to tackle him to the ground. ]

[that's... distressing. another mark on her list. not a point in her favor.

not that it matters much, since his two-armed block is not remotely enough to keep him on his feet, this time. he rolls to the side almost as quickly as he hits the ground, but it's blind and he's kind of stunned--winded, his breath hitching in his throat.

trying to get footing again, but she's got him. he's not a match for this kind of power.]

[ She doesn't let him go far. As soon as he tries to get up again, she pounces on him quickly, pinning him under her by kneeling on his chest, and immediately she starts pummeling him with punches, still using Darkness to hit him harder than she should physically be able to.. ]

[so much for his perfectly-painted face. he doesn't give up, not for a second--still trying to land a hit or wriggle away at every open opportunity--but his determination only gets him so far before things start cracking. he could stay dogged and angry forever, but his human parts can't keep up forever.

so he'll pretty much be there until he literally can't move anymore.]

[ He definitely lands a few blows that she feels bruises and soreness setting in, but she doesn't quite stop until he stops moving. Then she deactivates Darkness and panting to catch her breath, finally gets off of him to let him up. ]

[he hasn't been beat up this bad since he was little. ah, well--maybe that time he fell off a roof. it was ten stories up, or something. he had a concussion. that wasn't all that long ago. doesn't make him feel any better as he tries to sit up, kind of numb to his surroundings and in seven different kinds of agony.

mostly he's just trying not to really obviously wheeze when he breathes.]

[ Cecil staggers back, feeling a little achey and bleeding at least in a few places, but as far as she can tell, nothing is fractured. One look at him though is really all it takes for her to know that he definitely isn't as durable as she is and she immediately drops to her knees a few feet away from him, taking a deep breath to slow her pounding heart rate. She settles back on her heels and rests her hands on her lap, palms down, and concentrates on calming the storm of volatile energy she's giving off.

Eventually, everything smoothes out and relative peace is restored. She's still upset about a multitude of things, but the strength of those emotions has receded, her mind more concerned with the pain in her body and the effort she must exert to recover equilibrium. The black aura that was surrounding her moments ago is all gone now, replaced with only quiet and stillness. ]

If you move too quickly, you'll only make it worse.

[he either doesn't listen or doesn't care. Coil's always getting on his case for doing this kind of thing too, but he seems doggedly determined to stand up and lean on something.

because he has to keep moving. it's not her, it's him. he just... can't stay prone like that, in case something happens. it could be anything. doesn't matter.]

[ When he predictably ignores her advice, she sighs with mild irritation, but doesn't bother wasting her breath on scolding him. She continues to watch him for a few more fleeting moments, meditating quietly, then forms a fist with one hand, holding it against her chest. Green light glows around her hand and once it's bright and steady, she flings the pooling light at him. It splashes against him in the form of water, but it isn't water; it's magic— healing magic. The green light sinks into him as though it were never even there, and if it works the way it should, it'll be warm and soothing, taking away his aches and pains, the magic fixing his broken bones and smoothinv over his bruises and open wounds. If it works correctly, he should feel exceptionally good for at least a few hours. ]

[he immediately puts an arm up to block it, cover his face--like that'd stop it from splashing all over him anyway. like he expects it to hurt.

it must be so satisfying, when he looks, confused, down at his own arm only to see this green energy disappearing past his clothes, into his own skin. he can feel it, and that scares him. it's the first real expression he's shown since that Halloween--eyes wide, scrabbling at his shirt sleeve out of instinct before he realizes that it's everywhere and it's already well out of his reach.

he continues to look startled at his own limbs as they heal, feeling with his hand as the cracks in his chest knit up and the agonizing pain in his limbs subsides.

what did she do to him?]

[ It's almost laughable, the way he reacts. Or, at least, it would be funny if it didn't say so much about him. ]

For someone who tries so hard to be impressive and tough-looking, you're awfully skittish yourself.

It's called magic. It's just a healing spell. It won't save you from future injuries and it doesn't make you any less human or anything like that. You don't have anything to be afraid of.

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