vatheon | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Who: Mindfang and Darkleer
When: March 2nd - Afternoon (could change)
Where: Around Nostalgia Nook
Style: Prose
Status: Closed

Mindfang always had a temper. One that she ha worked at to carefully hide and overpower, less she find herself at it's mercy. Anger clouded her mind, made it harder to reach out and grab anothers, or at least reach out and not utterly annihilate the mind beyond a useable point. Anger had to be be buried, fire turned to ice and then used against people. The phrase of revenge being a dish best served cold was on she lived by.

And yet, here in Vatheon it was starting to win over her. It seemed like everywhere she looked her nose got rubbed into the fact that the Summoner was no longer hers, that he had been seduced by that traitor. Being told that his alternate self was also with that bluebloods alternate hadn't helped, her anger overpowering her, just briefly. But it had been enough time for her robotic hand to curling into a fist, her sfc cracking under the pressure, the screen flickering before dying completely, a large jagged crack running through it.

That in turn had almost been enough to make her hurl the stupid thing into the distance. But no, she needed it, it was one of the most efficient ways to ever communicate. And yet, she had little allies here, little she knew of who could fix it. There was one however... a traitor to her, but he would have the knowledge and skills to fix something so small.

Pride was one of her biggest sins, but still Mindfang manages to wrestle with it enough that sense wins out and so she begins to search for Darkleer. It takes some time, with her unwilling to ask for anymore help in finding him but finally she does, and steps over, appearing out of the blue almost before throwing the broken communicator into his lap and making her demand.

"Fix it."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"And how long has it been since you last really saw me? Before here." In her accounts it's been awhile, since before she ever took off with the idea to see just who the Summoner was. And then she had just found her curiosity growing, enough to keep her there and not wandering off to see Darkleer out of boredom. She hadn't changed that much, but the Summoner had left some small marks on her.

Also do that and she really will steal yours once she works it out.

"Oh I trained him how to not stutter long ago darling. That and many other things to do with his mouth. He's just as good as he ever was, thankfully." She laughs, low and soft, running the tip of her tongue over blue blue lips. "And he moans just the same as my fingers work against him, driving him to that near point of insanity I always could get him to. Have you ever heard him beg for it? It's sweeter then the screams of angered warmbloods."

She laughs louder this time, rocking back on her chair before waving her hand carelessly. "Fine, fine. If you prefer silence, I'm sure I can preoccupy my mind with many many other lovely things involving my beautiful boy."

Oh dear, and there goes his temper.

A slow hiss goes through Darkleer's teeth, and he raises a hand to his head as if a wretched headache was something he could feel coming on. It's not exactly a lie. Dealing with Mindfang was something that always gave him a headache back on Alternia, and it's not the most surprising when the true stays same here in Vatheon.

Another things near his temple- his glasses. As it happened, touching them starts up the connection he has with all of his creations...

Including a certain mechanical arm attached to a certain cerulean blooded pirate.

The fingers curl into a fist, suddenly swinging upwards towards a spot on Mindfang's face that hopefully will bloody her lips and nose quite nicely. Darkleer just goes back to repairing her SFC. "Oh my, it seems my work really is slipping. It looks as though you were right. I will have to repair it after I finish with your communication device."

She's smirking at his hiss, proud to have so clearly gotten under his skin, and so quickly too. Even when she hasn't had such loathing for him, annoying and aggravating the blueblood for her own amusement had long been a favored pastime. She's considering gloating when his hand lifts and then the thought is knocked out of her head.

Literally.

Her head snaps back from the force and like expected the metal cuts her lips, forcing her teeth to also scrape against delicate skin. Blood the same shade as lipstick wells up and she can taste it, salt like her seas. At the same to there's a rather nasty sounding crunch as her nose breaks and blood starts to drip from there too.

Mindfang rises with a snarl, true fingers curling around the back of her chair and for a moment it seems as if she will hurl it across the table at him.

But then logic, reason, kicks in and makes we pause. As much as she wants to hit him, if she takes the bait now, her SFC will remain broken. And that will be annoying. Almost as annoying as finding some other loser to bully into finishing the job. And with a deep breath, her eyes shining, her scarlet one showing just how dangerous she is she grins, ignoring the blood dripping down her chin.

"Then I suppose you'd best hurry to finish your first task. After all the sooner you're finished the sooner I can go." The sooner she can get a start on beating in his face moreso.

When he sees her head snap back like that, the surprise taking over that wretched smug look she had, the fury- it sends a tingle up his spine. Darkleer knows that isn't good. Of course he's dreamed about activating that mechanism for... goodness knows, it feels like decades now. Anything to make her shut up, hold back, make her realize she's not always in control. That he's dangerous too, and she'd do best to remember it. That look on her face makes his heart beat faster and when she rises, he knows what she's going to do so he gets up as well.

The sudden silence and lack of action would almost be disappointing if it weren't filled with a electrifying tension, calm before the storm, instead.

Very slowly, he lowers himself back down into the chair. He doesn't take his eyes off of her even as he takes a bit of metal her fist had crumpled and straightens it out. "Of course. My apologies for my slowness." The statement is insincere as he can make it with a bland tone. A part of Darkleer wants to activate the arm again, but he holds himself back. No, he can't. Too many times at one meeting would be too much, really, and 'once' is just a coincidence. Later, perhaps.

Later.

There are other ways to get on her nerves, after all, like going about repairing her SFC agonizingly slowly, as slow as possible without actually doing some sort of slow motion trick or slowing down time. He can go faster, of course. He knows he can, he's built robots in an hour. Darkleer also knows that she knows this too...

Her own eyes stay locked on him, even as her blood continues to make a mess of her face, salty and sticky on her lips. She'll worry about that at another time, she's well aware it's not a problem. A scratch, considering how much blood her body can hold and how much she can stand losing. Right now she needs to watch him, make sure he doesn't pull such a foul trick again, and work out how he even did in the first place. Believing in coincidences is for fools.

The slowness though starts to grate on her very quickly. She was never known for her patience after all, much preferring to operate in her own time rather to wait for things to happen naturally. So it's no surprise her fingers curl into a fist, blue painted claws digging into her palm before she straightens up.

It only takes a few seconds to move behind him, still as quick and light on her feet as ever, and her true hand presses lightly against his back. It's a mockery of their old lives, where she would lean against him in her boredom, watching him work while annoying him with both her touch and her ability to talk on and on and on. But if he can't feel the anger rolling off her he's an idiot, and when she lowers her head to his shoulder her chuckle is dangerous.

"Come now, Darkleer, we both know you can work fast then that..." Her hand goes to toys with a few strands of his hair as she continues. "Unless you want me to stay here hmm? Just like old times, really. Have you missed that?"

He never did like her laughter, and hearing it right against his ear only increases such a feeling.

It is true, however. This really is a familiar feeling, nostalgic in a way that Darkleer isn't sure if he wants or not. Back then, he had to admit- the contact had been both hated and desired. There was no one else in that cave, and there rarely ever was save for her. When she visited, it was his only chance to hear someone else's voice and to feel someone else's touch. Perhaps she saved him from descending into madness solitude really would have given him. Then again, it was her fault he was in such a situation anyway, even if his life was saved.

"I think I would miss a noose around my neck more," he replies coldly, breathing in sharply as he feels her fingers touching his hair. "I thought you would have liked nothing but the best, Mindfang? I wouldn't want to rush things and make this mediocre work, after all."

"I'm sure I can arrange that if your really desire it." To punctuate that her hand creeps up, one claw running over the back of his neck. "I'm quite good at getting nooses around necks that aren't my own after all. I'm sure you remember that story." She laughs again, boarding on a cackle. There's something else with the anger now, an excitement she hasn't had for quite a long time.

Her laugh falls into a hum, her weight resting on him more firmly, though she doubts it's little more then a faint annoyance. After all, she is quite smaller then him. Her metal fingers clink slightly as she wiggles them, just in his sight. "You spent far less time designing my arm then you've spent doing this, so don't play the respectful idiot. I know better, and I do hate having my time wasted. You'll give me the best, and you'll do it quicker, ok?"

Oh. A shiver goes down his spine as he feels that point draw across his skin. Oh yes he's well aware of the story. It's hard to forget a moment like that, where she had dragged herself into his cave, and that meant every word she said too. "It's one of your favorite to tell," he replies steadily, "even when it's rather obvious that no one else has much interest in it."

The only sign that she's there is the feel of her edges pressing against him and the sound of her voice, both which he despises quite readily. "You were rushing me, and see what happens when normally fine work is rushed?" A sneer can be heard in his voice even if she can't see it in her current position. "It ends up backfiring right in your face." There's something delightful in testing her nerves, even when he knows she could press her claws in his throat right now. Was it always like this? He can't quite remember, and he doesn't bother to.

"Oh it captivates all I tell it to." After all there was some awe to be had in meeting a troll who had faced up to His Honourable Tyranny and not only lived to tell the tale but had in fact torn him to shreds. And yes she likes to brag about it, something she feels she's more then earned that. Paid for it with an arm and an eye even.

His own bulk pushing back up against her disgusts her, too many muscles in her opinion. He'd be useless for sneaking around, heavy footed in her opinion. Disgusting. "Funny though, how I've never had a single incident till now... and how many sweeps have I had it?" Oh she knows Darkleer, she knows that you somehow caused it, even if she hasn't worked out how yet. And for a second her claws do dig in, just to let him know she doesn't trust him before she relaxes, resting against him, chin on his shoulder. "Then I suppose I'll just have to stay right here till you're done then."

"Besides me." He'd be a lot more impressed if he didn't want to occasionally strangle her everytime she opened her mouth, really.

It's funny how she would be wrong, then. Normal circumstances would indeed have Darkleer useless, but he's learned how to blend with his surroundings, how to stay quiet, how to use his own unique ability to turn nearly invisible. He's snuck up on more than his fair share of individuals... But there's no reason to tell Mindfang that. "Who knows how you've been treating it while on your own. Poorly, I wouldn't doubt." With her pressed up against him, chin digging into his shoulder, he turns his head to face her and bare his teeth, not more than a few inches from her cheek.

"If you can stay quiet for ten minutes, then I'll have it done. Are you capable of such a thing?"

"There's plenty of areas where your opinion doesn't count, what's one more really." Besides like he could do anything interesting let alone repeat the tale in a way that didn't put people to sleep. He's just jelly.

Until she sees him actually do it she'll continue to think of him as a great big oaf. Till then she'll remain confident she's the most sneaky though that might be because she's always so damn lucky. Always finding escapes when she needs them and slipping through them. "I've been treating it fine. Ask Lys if you're not sure I'm sure he'll remember how... well-lubricated I kept it." She has to stop to laugh here, the meaning of her words more then clear to anyone with a remotely perverted mind. And while she laughs she bares her teeth back, a smear of blue over the otherwise white pointed fangs. Your teeth don't scare her at all.

"Fine, fine if you absolutely need that much time, you can have it." And so she promptly falls silent, though she doesn't move, quite comfortable in practically lying on him.

That conniving wench-

Darkleer bites down on his tongue to stop himself from doing something he'd regret. It's just a lure. He has to remember that. Making him do something stupid is exactly what she wants from him, but he won't play that game. Taking a deep breath, he turns back to focus on his work.

It actually doesn't take long at all for him to repair the SFC once he truly gets down to work, fingers moving like well oiled clockwork as he patches the SFC together. This isn't the most difficult device he's ever had to repair before. Child's play, really. Soon enough, all he has to do is replace the colorful shell.

That's where he stops.

"Would you mind sitting down again, Mindfang?" he asks, polite as he possibly can be. "I would like to give it back to you the proper way, without you breathing down my neck." Or being so close to tear out his eyes.

True to her word she gives him silence. Not a word, not a sound escapes her. Even her breathing seems softer. There are so many things she could say, exaggerated retellings of pay experiences with the Summoner, a reminder that she knows him just as well if not better then Darkleer. But she lets the silence come, costing thick over them with its own awkwardness. In its own way she prefers this, letting him stew in his own mind.

But even as she gives him quiet she never moves. Her body is slightly warmer then his own, besides the metal arm and she's confident he can feel the heat. Confident that its bothering him even as his fingers move nimbly, piecing her SFC back with the ease she would slit a throat. She knew he was stalling, knew that he wouldn't need so much time to do the job he's more then capable of. She smirks a little at that, feeling dried blood crack against her skin as she does.

When he stops she lifts her head, just slightly. She had slipped into a slight daze herself, mind whirling with her plots, her body supported easily by his so that was no concern. But she plays it off as laziness, scoffing slightly before straightening up. "Very well. If you really do insist."

An so she does move, only she takes a seat on top of the table before him, resting one booted door against his own chair. She's still smirking, perfectly aware that that's not what he wanted but when has she ever done what he wished. But more importantly she holds her hand out, a clear look of 'gimme' in her eyes. "I knew it wouldn't take you as long as you pretended it would. Really, Darkleer, try a little harder next time."

"Oh, I always try hard where it concerns you, Mindfang, you won't have to worry in regards to that."

At least, when he really wants to. If she wants to rush him, she has to learn the consequences, and Darkleer tries so hard to be helpful. It'll be best if she learns them sooner. That would happen to be whenever she tries to contact Summoner again, or Nepeta or Equius or Gamzee or Sollux. Just a little zap from the device, a little message on the screen in brilliant blue telling her what a worthless pirate she is ~~and how she's never going to touch the butt ever~~, and a camera for him to catch her reactions.

Darkleer likes seeing his devices work for himself, you see.

His lips thin a bit with her foot against his chair; he knows quite easily how that boot can kick towards his own face when she gets what she wants. Flipping the table to get her off, however, would just be plain silly. He supposes he'll have to take a chance just so he looks.. proper. Quickly fixing on the SFC's starfish like visage again, he hands it to her- keeping a look out to make sure she doesn't hit him immediately after.

"You do? Aw, how sweet of you. Unfortunately, I still think you could try a little harder. After all you do owe me soooooooo much." The childish exaggeration of the vowel slips out before she can catch it but. Never mind. It suits this conversation.

When she finds out what he's done, they'll be hell to pay. After all she's already proved how easy it is the break the little thing, and considering her skills it's not that hard to also break into his home. If he was gunna fuck around with her things ~~and try and say such filthy lies~~ he was gunna get plastic in his bed.

But for now she takes the SFC, fingers quick and nimble as it plucks it out of his grasp, eyes watching him warily. She clearly expects a trick, and her leg tenses just slightly, just in case he does use this moment to attack her. She'll kick him in his ugly hoofbeast face before he gets a chance.

Studying the SFC she doesn't see any changes, slowly relaxing just a slight amount before slipping off the table. A few careful and wary taps against the screen, just in case there is a surprise and finally she tucks it away, glancing at him. "It'll do."

There's an insult on his tongue, a swear, anyting, because she's always rubbed that in his face. A life debt in exchange for something he didn't want, at least not then.

In the time it takes him to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek until he can taste his own blood and calm himself, Mindfang is already finishing up her inspection of his work. A deep breath, and Darkleer gets up as well. Normally the Nostalgia Quarter is a place of great fascination to him. It is one of the only places in Vatheon that truly shows the variety of different worlds there are out there, places Alternia never touched and perhaps never dreamed of. Different stories, different food, different technology... But suddenly he can't stand to be there for much longer. Mindfang can ruin his mood so easily. He hates her for it.

"Is that all, then? I have other business to attend to."

She's never been quite sure why she even bothered to help him. It had been a risk on her own life, one that later did repay itself in some kind. But she had never foreseen the loss of her arm, so she hadn't saved him for that. It was curiosity she supposes. He had disobeyed an order, let a rebel escape, someone he had no connection to. That intrigued her. If anything it was worth saving him just to find out why he had done it.

She slips off the table as he stands, landing lightly one her feet before leaning a hip against it. There's a smirk playing on her mouth even as she casually waves a hand, a clear dismissal.

"Yes, yes, off you go. You can fix my arm at a later date, I've already grown tired enough of looking at you ugly face. Anymore and I might have to blind my other eye."

But when he does turn away he can expect a chair to be thrown at him, the one Mindfang previously occupied, aimed directly at his head. The troll in question however is acting completely casual if her turns back around, inspecting her claws innocently]

Back then, he wouldn't have been able to tell. He simply didn't have the words, the understanding, for his own actions. Since staying in Vatheon, such a thing has changed. Everything is clearer for him in regards to that life changing events... But now, he won't ever tell her. Even if she could understand herself, he's certain she would mock him anyway.

Darkleer's eyes narrow behind his glasses. This seems too easy. Maybe if he were anything but a highblood, he'd just accept it but it's starting to come back to him. If something seems too easy, that's because it is. Paranoia is always better compared to the alternative. Still, she's not... doing anything. Yet. Suspicious, he turns around and starts to walk-

He'd been expecting the sound of a knife flying through the air, not something heavier, but Darkleer still twists around and raises his arms up defensively. The chair shatters against his arms, not used to hitting something harder than concrete, and lightly too. Jerking his hands down to his side hard, he snarls. "You ungrateful wretch!" That's the last straw. Before he even really thinks about it, he darts forward, keeping low to the ground and jabbing a fist out to her side.

It's likely. But then, mocking was like breathing to her. It spilled out, half to destroy others, and half to ensure that she herself felt above them. A painful, hurtful cycle and all part of making sure she herself wasn't made weak. Connections did that after all. She was more the aware of that, and yet her treacherous heart wouldn't stop aching at what it had lost.

She's slightly disappointed that it didn't hit him hard, but most importantly, it's a sign for her to move. She skips back, quick on her feet and dodges his fist by centimetres before moving to slam her own into his face, free hand drawing a long knife, and Mindfang laughing loudly as she keeps moving whether or not her fist connected.

"Darling, did you really think I was going to let you get away with that? Using my own arm against me? Such a cowards way! Though I suppose that suits you quite a lot doesn't it?"

His skills in highblood 'politics' may be a little rusty, but Darkleer's fighting skills are far from so. He sees that fist coming, and quickly bring up his other arm to knock it away as he twists on his heels to make sure he's still facing her.

"Cowardly in a way like throwing something at someone who has their back turned, you mean?"

This is very bad. He knows he shouldn't be doing this. At the same time, he can't walk away. If he does that, it lets her know where she stands- right over him, with her boot on his throat. If she thinks that, then he knows she'll become bolder with her attempts to get closer to Summoner. He isn't going to back down without a fight. He refuses to.

Eying the knife, Darkleer makes sure to get just a bit of distance between the two of them. He'll let her make the next move, so he can counter, hopefully disarm her.

She's not easily deterred. He was quicker then she recalled, but then again it was a long time since she had seen him fight even before her death. And it's not as if there's much to do here. She'll need to be careful till she's sure of what he can do now.

That doesn't mean she won't hit with her words though.

"Ah, but you see. You started that, with your little act. Fair is only fair, isn't it? You got a cheap shot in, and so I was owed one."

The fact that he stays, makes her smirk. He wants this fight as much as she does. He could easily leave, could easily knock her back if he chose to follow if he didn't just take a complicated route or hide. He wants this though, his blood must be singing like hers for the taste of blood, the feel of bones cracking and tears. But she doubts he'll have the ruthlessness she does.

She starts to circle him, knife twirling in her fingers with ease. She could always throw it, but she hasn't that many to spare. Best to act like it's the only one, and use the others later when he least expects it.

But still, it's easy enough to feint forward, acting as if she's going to come flying at him before moving away quickly, just to see how he's going react.

That's not true and they both know it. The point of a cheap shot is because you don't want to play fair. He can't say that, however. Saying it would be an admission that he really did use her own arm against her. He knows she already knows, of course, but that's an entirely different thing than saying it was him.

As they circle one another, Darkleer can't help but quietly loathe how much more alive he feels when it's a fight that's happening. It happened with the Highblood as well, but at least he knows it was a little different then. A lot more twisted, a lot more complicated disgust and hatred and bloodlust in there. With Mindfang, it's almost... simple. The only thing that makes it any kind of confusing is the life debt, which does somewhat imply he shouldn't be raising a fist against her.

Then again, she wants this almost as much as he does, so it's alright.

When she lunges forward, he lunges right back even though he knows that it might mean a knife in his arm but perhaps that's the point. Perhaps he just want to see more blood spilled even if it's his own. Fortunately, or unfortunately, she pulls back before he can get his fist in her so he shifts his movement into something else. Falling to his own knee from his momentum, he slams his fist straight into the concrete. Stone is forced upwards, some of it even pelting into the surrounding area, and, most importantly, making the ground shake just a bit. That much force has his entire arm ache. Even for him, punching into stone isn't a pleasant experience, but he'll suffer through it.

He'll suffer through it so long as it gives him a chance to catch her offguard, a chance to rush her and try and slam her to the ground next.

To be truthful, playing fair was something she never would do. Playing fair lead to losing. Better to take advantages of weaknesses, be it things like limps or blindness, or just a weak will, one she could sink her claws into. And really while she's surprised Darkleer did something she's also a little proud. He actually did have guts.

Her hair flies out around her as she dances back, and there's a twinkle in her eyes, a laugh on her lips. Fighting is a joy to her, and even if her stomach is curling at the thought of loathing Darkleer, in this strange, now almost unfamiliar way. She can ignore that, he's just another idiot to platonically despise, this is in no way dancing close to that line of romance.

She twirls the knife in her fingers once more, stepping on her toes, ready to jump away in a second. And then he hits the ground, and with her balance already precarious, it's all she needs to take a tumble. A shard of rock scrapes her cheek, drawing sticky blueblood and she snarls.

But she also rolls. Away from him, knife flashing out with the intent to cut him if he comes close while she's down. She rolls, trying to get back onto her feet and dance away before he can grab her.

So close-!

Now that he has her off-balance, Darkleer knows he can't waste this chance. For some people you draw out the battle, revel in it, try and show them you're better than them. Mindfang isn't one of those people. With each second she stays free, she has a chance to use that speed and cunning of hers to turn the tides of the fight. Redglare had done something smart when she had gone to take her in- destroy her fleet and wreck her chances of escape by taking an arm. The trial had been her downfall exactly because she drew things out.

Darkleer doesn't plan on making the same mistake.

Cuts can be healed, so he doesn't let himself stop moving. Ignoring the feeling of metal going along his arm, he lunges forward to try and get her to the ground. She might be quicker, but he has the strength advantage. It's just a matter of getting the chance to use it.

She can see him coming, even through her tangle of hair that just has to flick over her eyes. So she kicks out, slashing across with her knife and scrambling to her feet. She'll be unsteady for a few moments but she needs to move and get away. She knows just as well as he does that if he pins her down she's stuck, her weight and strength no match for his.

She dances away, trying to be as quick as she can, hoping he doesn't grab at her feet. She even kicks out at him before darting away, hoping for her foot to meet his face.

As she pulls away she can feel there's something wrong with her ankle, even if she doesn't hear the click. She's done something, or rather he has, and now she has to be even more careful about her attacks and her movements. She can't let him see she's gained a weakness , something he can take advantage of.

So she'll taunt him again. Because that's always smart.

"So slow Darling! I suppose all that weight you have really does hold you down! And what a cut I've managed to give you..." She smirks, flicking her knife a little, tiny drops of dark blue slipping off.