vatheon | (no subject)

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(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."

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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.

Not a moment went by that Mindfang hadn't boasted about her perfect luck, and Darkleer has to grudgingly admit that hers always does seem to be better than his. He can practically feel her brush against the tips of his fingers and then she's bouncing away with her boot grazing his face. Hissing, he pulls back.

Another failure. Again.

Pulling back, he just sneers at her. "Cut?" With his uninjured arm, he pulls out his omni-tool from his sylladex where it attaches to his wrist easily. The blue light comes to life, forming the smooth shapes over his arm as he goes to hold it over his cut. Thin beads of light dart over his skin, which starts to restitch itself together leaving a pale blue scar.

"You'll need more than that."

For some reason things always tended to end up going her way. Even the incident with the Neophyte, where she had underestimated the younger troll had resulted in her success. That had made her cocky, and when she hears Darkleer hiss, feels her boot graze something she has to smirk, cockiness growing. Pride and aggroance were her biggest weaknesses, but when she was so successful, could you really consider it a weakness?

Perhaps.

After all, when Darkleer pulls out that strange item, when it starts to knit his skin together, it shows her that she's underestimated him again. She assumes it's something he made, because after all, he is the one with robotic skills.

But she has her own skills. Tucking her knife away she reaches into her own sylladex, drawing the Neophyte's blade, still as sharp as the day it had taken her arm. Shifting, she gives him a smirk, brows raised and clear 'come and get it' look.

"Oh you'll find I have plenty up my own sleeves, darling. What a cute little toy though, I think it'll be an excellent addition to my collections."

Oh, he remembers that blade. He especially remembers how she used it as a crutch the day she came to his hive, blood still fresh on her clothes and not all of it from her enemies, arm missing, eye red and useless. He remembers how weak she was. How easy it would have been to cull her and call that the end of things. The end of their relationship and his thrice damned life debt to her.

He deserves a medal for not doing it, really.

Still, Darkleer has to grudgingly admit that she knows how to use such a weapon. Just rushing in headfirst like she wants him to will just result in more failure. He has to think outside the box, something she won't expect... His mind flickers to one of the functions he's had less of a chance and need to use in Vatheon, one he still hasn't quite developed. Well he suppose now is the time to do so.

"Do you?" He starts to fiddle with the device on his arm, as if wholy occupied with it. He still does his best to more or less keep an eye on her- it wouldn't be smart to do otherwise. "Well then, you'll have to take it from me, won't you? I doubt you can."

The blood had cleaned off nicely at least, leaving not a single spot of rust on the blade, despite the time it had been before she actually do anything. She had spent near weeks with Darkleer, either sleeping or eating, body fighting each step of the way to her recovery. She had stepped so very close to death, yet the lesson that had taught had been forgotten over time.

All it has left is a soft voice of caution, and it is that that keeps her from attacking first, circling slowly, careful not to put too much weight on her ankle, and careful not to make her limp too noticeable.

And all the while she keeps an eye on that strange creation, brow furrowed with a slight frown. She has no clue of what it's capable of, and until she does, she must be cautious. Well. Cautious for her.

"Do you now?" A smirk and a laugh. "Do you think I would struggle to pry it off you? Waste all that time when I have such a very sharp blade on me? Fool."

So she's actually taking care for once? Color Darkleer surprised. That's fine, however. He has all the patience in the world, born from a long career and a long exile. Besides, the longer she holds off on attacking him, the more work he can do to the omni-tool to make sure that it doesn't malfunction for the upgrades he is making to its system.

"I never made any mention of you removing it manually," he replies, staying calm as he watches her, eyes flicking down towards the device now and then. His glasses keep such things hidden- one of the many reasons why he wears them. "My statement remains the same. I do not think you could take it, with my wrist attached or without."

She starts to contemplate an attack the longer he takes to fiddle with that strange device, knowing the longer she leaves him be the more time he has to come up with a better strategy. But still, to charge in would be suicidal, even if her ankle didn't feel so weak.

"I'm glad you didn't assume it then," she moves as she speaks, slowly, steadily, until she feels broken stone under her feet. Then, when he looks down she moves down, fluid as water, to grab a stone. As she stands it's thrown, aimed for his face. And then she scoops up another stone. Best to break his concentration. "But don't be so sure, so quickly"

He sees her scoop down just in time, jerking out of the way of the projectile just barely. The omni-tool remains on, but his focus isn't on it any longer. Instead, his body stays tense as he stares right at Mindfang. Blasted wench. At least it was just a stone, not a knife. He wasn't able to do as much modification as he wanted, but, still. Better than nothing.

"Throwing stones, now, Mindfang? I didn't think you so childish."

She keeps the other in her hand for now, rubbing her thumb over it slowly as she contemplates throwing. She has his attention now, and not on that little tool, but she has no clue how far he got with it in the first place. That means she should stay careful. Even as she puts on a smirk, hip cocked slightly in the side in a couldn't care less pose.

"Ah you know me. I'll take advantages if you leave them at my feet. Only idiots wouldn't."

"My only mistake was giving you too much credit in regards to your maturity and class. I always remain too optimistic that maybe you've learned." A sneer. Still, she's obviously caught wise to his own plan. He still won't attack first, not if he can help it. Instead, he just looks down on her as condescendingly as he can.

"I suppose that blade is just for show then? How disappointing. You seemed so proud to pull it out but in the end, you're just a coward with a fancy walking stick."

"Class has always bored me, you know that. Why stick to the rules applied to my caste and my so called place, when I could very well make my own rules. Much more preferable, really." She laughs, twirling the blade a little in her hand before holding it up to study the slim metal. His condescending look only gets a smirk in return, Mindfang not so easily tempted by it.

"Oh no, it's definitely for use. Why don't you come on over here and I can show you how sharp and practical it is, hmm? You're quick to call me a coward, and yet you stand there with your little toy on your arm waiting for me to be an idiot and move. How stupid are you again?"

"Only as stupid as you, it seems." He gives a shrug, refusing to rise to her bait. "We both know the other as something up their sleeve, and we both know we might not stand a chance against it." Darkleer sighs. "Honestly, it seems as though we have reached a stalemate-"

A large robotic gorilla sort of beast is propelled from his syalladex, charging at Mindfang.

Darkleer immediately follows behind, readying his omnitool. Neither of them would ever settle for a draw, after all, and since she won't attack, well, it seems he'll have to adjust his plan.

"Now, that's just giving yourself too much credit." She laughs again, getting ready. Twisted ankle or not, one of them is going to have to move soon, like he says, and either way she's going to be prepared. "Oh I'm quite confident I can take what ever you throw at m-"

The gorilla is a surprise, and it shows for half a second on her face before she moves, dodging the thing. Even with her robotic arm, the thing is likely built for his strength, and she's not going to risk it. That doesn't mean she won't shove her sword into an small opening, slitting whatever wires it can reach before she yanks it up.

And moves to meet Darkleer. She watches the little gadget carefully as she does, but like always her moves are quick, and almost as if she was born with a sword in her hand. For all her dice were her favoured tool, there was something to be said about mastering this artform.

"Playing dirty are?" Her eyes flash with an irritation, and she sweeps the sword towards him, aiming to get under his guard and remove his arm before he has a chance to do what he plans.

As the blade slices through a gap in its side, the gorilla crumples on one leg for a moment before it works to restore its balance using its remaining limbs. Darkleer doesn't focus on it. He stays trained on Mindfang, and especially that sword of hers.

When he sees the blade coming towards him, he takes a deep breath and activates the omnitool's shield ability. As he jerks his wrist down, it only... partially blocks the sword. At first, the blade seems to sink right through the flickering shield and he worries for a brief second that he really will lose an arm, but then the shield solidifies- with the sword lodged in it. Seeing his chance, he tries to jerk his arm, either to get her to crash into him or just steal the sword himself before the effect wears off.

The gorilla is no longer her concern either, and it won't be if it does the smart thing and stays out of this. After all there are much bigger fish to fry.

The shield is a slight surprise, but it's more surprising when the blade doesn't simply bounce off it, instead sinking through the glow. She's almost gleeful when the shield solidifies, halting her progress. And then he jerks his arm and she has to fight to keep both her footing and her grip as she reaches into her own syalladex and withdraws another knife, carving it down across his chest as she tries to yank the blade free with her other hand.

Darnit, blast, oh hell.

He can feel blood well up along the fine line she cuts into him, but it isn't deep enough for him to care. That much he can tell fairly quickly. He has the superior strength advantage, he reminds himself, and gives another hard tug. Meanwhile, the gorilla seems to right itself, even though one leg is dragging along the ground. As Darkleer tugs, the robot slams a large hand forward from behind.

Fine. If he wants her sword so bad she'll let him have it. She has knives galore in her sylladex, and she'd stumbled across her dice before. She can make something better, and then she'll take her sword back.

For now though, she aims on driving the dagger into that cut she just made, making it deeper. That's the plan, until she feels something slam into her, shoving her forward into Darkleer who is in turn, like a brick wall. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, "Fuck."

She's pretty sure she's at least cracked a rib. There's the coppery taste of blood in her mouth. And even as she groans faintly from the pain and slams her robotic hand back, the hand with real strength in it, to push away the gorilla she's aware of a pulse in her heart and how much she suddenly realises she wants to bite Darkleer's lips off.