vatheon | (no subject)

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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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It had been turning out to look like such a good day, as well.

Of course, Darkleer hasn't forgotten about Mindfang's presence in the city. It's hard not to, much in a way the Grand Highblood is hard to truly ignore. It is one of those things that crept in the second his mind is left unguarded and can throw him into an hour of doing nothing but just worrying and fighting against a very odd kind of anger he never knows how to deal with.

He had been in the midst of simply looking at one of his recent purchases while at a cafe that happened to be in the Nostlagia Quarter when he suddenly realizes something isn't quite right. He's just looking up when Mindfang appears and his whole body stiffens as the SFC is thrown at him.

The order makes him clench his jaw before he gives in. With her, it's the best- maybe only, sometimes- course of action.

"...You should be more careful with it. It's already broken enough." Putting the recent buy into his sylladex so he can start to pull out his tools and put them on the table, he tries to focus on the task on hand.

It cuts at her that she's even turning to him for this, asking in her own strange way for his help, and not finding a way to utterly pulverize his stupid face till his lungs fill with blood from his shattered nose. But it's true, she has very few she could ask for help with this, and she doubts the Summoner or the Dolorosa would have the skill.

Scowling in his direction she takes the unoffered chair, spinning it before sitting, her arms resting against the back as she continues to glare-watch him. Mother he makes the anger in her only grow, bubbling up till she can practically feel it crawling up her throat and she's so very tempted to just take his, instead of waiting for her own to be fixed. Surely that'd work.

But she inhales, nice and deep, before replying, an act of couldn't care less. "They should make them more sturdy then. I'm surprised your fat hands haven't shattered it into tiny little pieces yet." A childish remark, but no one could ever call her mature. "Just fix it, I don't need the wiggler lecture."

He didn't offer her anything because he knew she would take it regardless of what he said. It's something he's had ages to get used to. What's the point in trying to start a fight with her? He knows she'd just mock him, tear him down, remind him of how much he owes her. He's tired just being in her presence and talking to her- there's no need to start something that will just leave the two of them smoldering like children.

Her comments make his nostrils flare a bit, an aggravated horse, before he does his best to just bite his tongue. It doesn't quite work. "It's called 'control'. Many individuals have it here, and thus there is not an epidemic of broken communication devices." Hunching his shoulders, Darkleer starts to delicately pull away the most injured parts of the device. This really is ridiculous... but fixable.

"...So did you break it, then?"

Meanwhile, she's just waiting. Waiting for him to do, or even just say something, anything that will give her a reasonable excuse to punch him, tear him down. She's still trying to get on the Summoner's good side, and starting a fight for no reason won't help her. Let Darkleer dig his own grave.

That doesn't mean she doesn't give into the temptation to stick her tongue out at him, only for a split second. "It sounds like boring. Besides, it was the arm you built, I'm not responsible for it." Never mind she's perfectly aware of just how much strength both her arms hold, and how to temper the metal one. It's just nice to blame him for it.

"Does it matter? That's not any of your business. Your business is to just fix it."

The arm attached to her! Being blamed for 'faulty' equipment is a jab at his pride, something he never quite lost even after exile. Darkleer has to stop himself from working, his fingers trembling for a moment before he takes a deep breath. His temper has been igniting more while in Vatheon, one of the downsides to his stay here. He's trying hard not to let it ignite in such a moment. After all, he knows it as well as she does- the first one to strike doesn't do well for their relationship with Summoner.

"If I know what broke it this time, then I can modify it to not suffer from such an event again," he grits out. He can't help what slips out next. "For someone so clever, you seem to be slipping in your old age."

She notices him stopping after she insulted his craftsmanship and she pauses herself, a smirk starting to show. A sore point, right. She's going to remember that, and poke it, until he's the one to react first. She knows she can do it, get that reaction she wants, and she has the time, looking at the damage she di to the sfc.

"It got crushed, in my hand. I told you, it was your work that was responsible." She's sounding smug again, her smirk cruel. "I'm sure you're hallucinating Expatriate, perhaps it's you whose really slipping. After all they say it's no good for any of us to be so solitary"

"My work, wielded by you." The comment about his isolation before Vatheon earns a wince, but that's hidden better. His glasses can hide quite a bit, after all, which is why he wears them so often. Still, Darkleer isn't sure how to answer it. Should he even bother to? His mind flicks back to their first conversation even as his fingers take apart the SFC with little trouble. Even when they were still on good terms, as good as things could be between the two of them, she wouldn't listen to his protests against that title. There's no point, is there?

Unless he strikes back against her first with some words of his own.

"I would hardly say I'm solitary," he mutters, heartbeat thundering in his hears as he stays hunched over his task. Talking back to her so brazenly on Alternia would have robbed him of the one troll contact he had, would have really exiled him- but it doesn't matter now, does it? "After all, Summoner does well to keep me warm company."

"Still your work. Perhaps the connections you made are already starting to crumble, leaving it unpredictable. Such poor workmanship..." She's still smirk, chin in the palm of her true hand, elbow proped up on the back of the chair. She considers throughing in another Expatriate, just to see if it can dig up under his skin anymore.

The smirk flickers for just a second when he comes back at her, before Mindfang gains control and rolls her eyes, snorting softly. "Does he? Mm, yes, he's such a darling boy isn't he. We've had quite a few good and long... chats" Not that anything had ever actually happened on those chats, but with the way she says it... Not like Darkleer really needs to know the truth does he?

They what?

Darkleer's heart nearly leaped into his throat and choked him as he heard her. Summoner hadn't mentioned anything about meetings between him and her. Had Summoner finally made his choice and neglected to tell him? Was that why he was gone so much?

Thankfully, common sense hit him again, and he started to breathe more easily. No, no, that was ridiculous- Summoner just always ran away when it came to emotional issues. If he was through with him, he would say it. Right? He wasn't cruel. Not to mention Mindfang would be boasting more, would have contacted him sooner to let him know he had no hope left. That's right. He felt himself exhale. Honestly, he was rusty with highblood treachery and word games. It was embarrassing that he was caught off guard by it at all.

"Just chatting?" he asked as his fingers continued working. It brought more calm to him. "He and I have been doing much more than that."

Ah ha.

She has him now, she knows it. She's found the real weak spot, the spot she can just keep hitting harder and harder till he cracks and either attacks her first or crumbles into defeat. She almost laughs at how easy it is, an for a moment she has to bite her lower lip just to hold it in.

"Oh you know... A lady never kisses and tells." Ignoring the fact that she's far from lady like, or at least from its traditional definition. She smirks again, purring her words, "But let me just say its actually not all that surprising how easy it was to just step back into our old patterns and manners. Almost as if no time had passed at all."

The way she's talks its as if she's already had him six ways to Sunday when in reality there has only been flinching away, from her words, and more importantly her touch. Leaving her feeling as if the knife was being driven into her heart again. And for all thy she plays it cool and smug, she can feel her resentment returning. The voice in her head reminding that its the troll in front of her responsible for all this, for taking her matesprit and turning him against her. And just out of sight, just for a moment her metal fingers curl into a fist before she can push that anger deep down.

Edited 2013-03-09 06:45 (UTC)

"You were never any kind of lady." Yeah, he's going to call you out on that, lady. You're a lady like Dualscar is a lady. Also, just for all this stress, he might be adding a few things to this SFC of yours. He isn't paid enough for this.

At least all her boasting has made a slip up. The more she talks, the more he starts to remember highblood "etiquette" and what to look out for with her. Maybe he's "easy"- Darkleer wouldn't doubt it. Exile and Vatheon have only served to make him more emotional, pride too weak often to try and defend against his own bouts of self doubt and loathing. But he knows Summoner, and he won't let her think he didn't. She underestimated him- she always did, although maybe he's given her good reason to.

"How unusual," he replies, fighting to keep his voice steady- he has a lot of practice doing that at least. "No stuttering? No avoiding eye contact with you or your touch?" That's all things he knows from experience. Summoner doubted the quadrant with him, too, after coming back to Vatheon with Mindfang's blood on his hands. "You're either exaggerating or lying, and it doesn't much matter to me which it is." Alright, that's a lie of his own, but still.

"I have work to do, and if you want this done, then you need to be quiet." His temper is, after all, steadily rising, as much as he fights against it.

"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.

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