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

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.

[don't baby him, he thinks--but he simmers down and sets his jaw and looks over at her, still upset, even though he's quickly losing the urge to claw the foreign aura out of his bones.

there's no... good magic where he comes from. he's got to reassess now. he grips his arm while the gears turn. she's not a vampire. she's not his enemy? but she's not some bystander, either. what else is there?

frustrating. he suddenly stops looking at her to duck his head, fun his fingers around his face. he knows where she hit him. he knows how the lines should be. he's putting himself back together--don't mind him.]

[ At this point, she sighs and finally rises to her feet. She casts the magic again, this time on herself, wincing a little as moving so much causes her minor injuries to ache a little more. When she's healed up, she starts to leave the docking bay, but she moves much more slowly now, actually looking rather tired. The truth is, she's drained quite a bit of her energy, using both her Dark Knight technique and her white magic. She needs to rest in order to recover her lost mana and life force. ]

[smearing his face around, however stupid, makes him feel better. he wishes he had a mirror, but it seems like things are wrapping up. there's an absence, a good feeling where his aches should be. he swears he can even breathe better. he's not sure how he feels about it--about any of it.

but before she goes, there's something he wanted to ask her anyway, so he picks his head back up before she can disappear through the door.]

Why were you upset.

[ She stops at that, wavering a little on the spot. She's genuinely shocked by the question and it shows in how she looks back at him, her blue eyes wide and perplexed, her mouth turned down in a bit of a frown. Her tone is one obviously of confusion and uncertainty when all she can get out is: ]

...What?

[his gaze is steady. she might be confused, but whatever governs his sense of self-doubt isn't pinged at all by the awkward pause in conversation. he tries again, still in that gritty monotone of his.]

Halloween... You were yelling.

Hallo—?

[ It takes her a moment to realize what he's talking about. She, after all, has never heard the word "Halloween" before.

After a moment, she sighs and shakes her head, then leans against the wall. It's another long moment before she says anything. ]

...I don't think you'd understand.

[and it's a long moment before he says anything, either. does he really want to ask? maybe he just wants to know that it's something stupid, that he doesn't have to ponder it any further. maybe he just wants the mystery solved so that he won't find himself thinking, "what was wrong with her?" every time her ID number pops up on the network.

but not understanding and not caring are two very different things, and he's a little insulted that she assumes he doesn't have the capacity to comprehend her reasons. she thinks she has him all figured out already--she underestimates him.]

Try me.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject