vatheon | (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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A thrill of victory goes through him- or maybe that's the blood rushing in his ears. With the sword in his grasp, he jerks his arm to the side and deactivates the omnishield so that her weapon goes flying. He's so close now, so close he can taste it. To have her get loose now would be shameful.

With her attention at least partially focused on his robot, he loops his free arm around her waist and tries to kick out her feet from beneath her, forcing her to the ground. For just a split second, he realizes how compromising that would be, but quickly shoves it to the side. This is just a fight, nothing else. Just a fight.

She'll get the sword again, just like she'll get the knife she shoves backwards into the gorilla, hoping her strength is enough to force the weapon through and deactivate the stupid thing. She can feel Darkleer's arm around him and ugh her loathing only get worse at that enough that she wishes to choke bile up on him.

Instead she merely treats him as a tree, even as that means pressing tighter against him to squeeze herself up. His arm makes a good seat, but she's not relying on just that, reaching up to grab both his horns, ignoring the pounding of blood that goes through her as her legs wrap around his waist.

"Try a dirty trick like another robot and I swear it I'll snap both these horns up and use them to open up your torso," she hisses, this close to spitting in her anger, grip tightening just in case he tries to throw her.

What on earth is she- Darkleer stiffens up as she presses her body against him. The robot is sparking and stumbling back, a jerky and malfunctioning mess, but as long as it stays a decent distance away, his attention is hardly on it. How could he focus on it with Mindfang clinging to him like this?

He bites down on his lower lip to try and hold back a hiss when she tightens her fingers around his horns, electricity feeling like it's going down his back. In retaliation, he has his free hand go up to tangle in her hair, giving it a yank.

"Can't handle dirty tricks when they aren't yours, then?" he growls.

If the robot's away no then it's no longer her problem. It'll be Darkleer's problem eventually when he beats him over the head with it, but again that is still not her problem right now. She has Darkleer pinned, to a degree, and she needs to use that time wisely.

And not get distracted by the squirming loathing in her stomach.

Her grip only tightens again, robotic hand almost painfully so when he yanks her hair, Mindfang biting back a hiss as his fingers catch on knots, some hairs snapping, yanked out of her scalp. God she hates him, she hates him so fucking much, him and his stupid ugly face and those ridiculous hands he can't just keep to himself.

"I'll show you a fucking dirty trick," is all she manages to spit out before slamming her head forward, ignoring the pain in her scalp. The kiss she gives him has no true finesse, not with teeth trying to sink into his lower lip, just raw anger and hatred and deep down she knows she's not just doing this to get him off balance. Goddamn him, another reason to hate him, which doesn't exactly help this problem.

Damn bodies, damn bodies and their infernal weakness. Darkleer doesn't want to think about the shock that goes down his spine as her grip tightens, the- things stirring in him. They don't matter, he refuses to let them matter. He just sneers at her words- and then he can't sneer anymore, not the least because her teeth are all over his own and his lips.

His brain nearly stops, and Darkleer can't think.

Of course, with no input from the mind, the body does things automatically, and it's only when he bites down on her mouth right back with their blood mingling on his tongue does he snap to. He jerks his hand away from her hair, not caring how much he pulls out with it, and tries to push her off of him.

The grip on his horns only tightens the longer he lets this kiss go on, a slow tremble finding it's way up her spine and oh fuck it has been a long time hasn't it. The dragon doesn't count, no matter how much she hated that fucking thing and the grudge it bore for her hand in Redglare's death. Which leaves Dualscar as her last real black interest, which. Is kinda sad when she thinks about it.

Lucky the hand pushing away is a distraction and Mindfang lets him use it, landing on her feet when she falls off him with only the smallest stumble. Slowly her hand lifts up and wipes over her mouth, giving a distasteful look at the darker shade of blue before rubbing it off on her coat.

And then she raises a finger, looking quite threatening for a troll a few feet shorter then him. "You even dare to fucking mention this, that, whatever, and I will slit your throat in your sleep." Just ignore that faint flush that creeps up her neck as she recognises how caliginous those words sound. Business to do. "You know I will."

Edited 2013-04-05 11:14 (UTC)

"Excuse me?" Darkleer finds himself bristling, teeth bared and fists clenched. The nerve of her, he can't even believe it. He nearly goes over to throttle her before stopping himself. "You were the one to perform such a revolting thing- you desperate needy wretch!"

"You returned it!" Well, he bit back. Which counts, enough for Mindfang to bristle back, the sight slightly less intimidating when she's the shorter one. But she can glare, and that's usually enough of a warning. "You are just as at fault as I, more so because you started it!</>"