middaeg | (Closed) Deceuer Catch All

Entry tags:

(Closed) Deceuer Catch All

Who: Asura + Plotted CR
When: Deceuer
Where: Various locations in Aefenglom, the Outer City, and the Wilde.
What: Quest and event threads, along with a healthy dose of clowning. I'm always down for building new CR, so if you'd like a thread starter, feel free to hmu @ the Dec plotting post!
Warnings: Light violence.

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[it would be too simple to hide on the roof at the moment. too easy, and now that he's given away his presence, the rest must be done through observation. even absent the gifts that being his type of existence would give him, he knows the joys of pushing himself to the limit, of making someone work for it. he goes still and listens, trying to judge where Asura might be going, when he's settled down, and it's then that he takes the stub from between his lips and flicks it off into a direction - a tiny ember moving through the shadows, light and scent that swiftly moves - to cover darkness moving in the opposite direction.

he can't stay idle in one spot. that hardly makes a hunt. he'll cling to the shadows for a while longer, moving a few sheds down, trying to step lightly. still, there are hints - movement and soft sounds, the setting sun slowly sinking. he's not accustomed to being hunted - it's all unfamiliar territory, and a game that in the end he'll lose, if he wants this fight at all. but it doesn't mean he can't enjoy it while it happens.]

[ So they are of similar mind, then: this game where Avenger's footsteps fall as softly as ash, their movements as liquid and as deft as they had been upon the ballroom floor, is something to be savored and enjoyed like the slow burn of a whiskey neat in a smoke-laden bar. And it is precisely that notion which leaves the King unhurried as Avenger takes new cover, darting to some unseen hideaway in the training yard. Asura knows: shadow is something always besieged (such is its nature, always in retreat, returning from hidden places only in the slats between light and dark), and as he seats himself upon the edge of the mess hall's rooftop, legs dangling down, it is the last embers of Avenger's cigarette that give him inspiration for a hunter's trap.

With a twist and twine of magic, Asura sees several small spheres of flame summoned to his hand, the evocation spell burning brightly in the dark. Many a time, he had employed a similar trick out in the Wilde to light the way back to camp after night had fallen, but in the here and now, he casts the magic out, the glowing orbs dispersed to each and every one of the sheds occupying the training grounds, the culvert, and the hollows which might house the one he's searching for. ]

Let's see how quickly you can move. [ —is the only warning he'll give before, two at time (in opposing directions), the spheres combust, their flames dispersing harmlessly, though...! Not before illuminating the whole of the area they occupy. In tandem, from east to west, the bursts of light will continue until they converge at the northernmost part of the field below, and by the time they do, Asura hopes to have corralled his opponent there as well.

Unless, of course, Avenger chooses to abandon the notion of avoiding the light and opts to seek out Asura instead. But even that outcome is uncertain, however...

One thing is: now, a faster pace has been set into motion, one which will beget action in the end. ]

[his body can only move so fast, bound by gravity and the rules of physics, but he makes it move to a degree. his height is an asset, for it means longer limbs to take bigger leaps, the light practically breathing down his neck.

black fabric moves enough to keep his appearance still an unknown, but he's forced to move by the lights, seeing what their radius is for how much they reveal. it's only a matter of time, at this rate, but he wants to drag it out and make Asura come down - he'll be ready to strike then, the moment the King decides to come near enough for him to leap forward. caught in the northern point of the field, he can feel his heartbeat picking up, the adrenaline already starting to take hold.

come then. there would be no premature victory. he'll show himself with that first blow.]

[ Truth be told, Asura is largely unconcerned with determining a victor of the night: he is invested only in Avenger; in learning how those who hail from other worlds might carry themselves in a fight. And Avenger? They're fast, more nimble than the King can claim to be. Though they are of similar height, Avenger boasts a wiry build (from what little Asura is able to make out between flashes of firelight) where the King himself is heavy with corded muscle through the shoulders and back, equipped with armored scale to absorb the impact of sudden strikes—

—much like the one he greets (heedless, without a care) after abandoning his rooftop perch, pitching himself forward with a surge of momentum (Asura's haste belying his languid demeanor) to meet with the downswing of Avenger's first foray into the light. It will connect, that opening move, and Asura will be given a better idea of his opponent's strength for it as he recovers with a grin that speaks to his love for combat, every facet of it. From the sting of injury to the thrill which swells in its wake.

With a wave of his taloned hand, Asura gives life to a second bout of magic: a dozen spheres of flame, shaped anew and set into a ring encircling the both of them. It's no Crown of Clashing Fire (there are no thorns; no burning briar to truly bar either contender from escape), but it will do—and with its rise, perhaps the King will even be able to glimpse his partner's (first in dance, now in a spar) face for the very first time. ]

[there's no doubt from the blow that he's strong - fitting for someone who spoke about learning different disciplines, who chose hand to hand as a method of combat. a strength cultivated through years of hard work, hidden beneath his taste for clothes that conceal, but it's too easily accepted for him to feel like it's so quick as to be anything but calculated.

enough of this, then, enough hiding, and the coat that had been so essential in keeping him in shadows, he discards, at the right time for the firelight to reveal him to the King. white hair and golden eyes, and a fierce smile to be engaged in combat such as this, against someone who might actually give him challenge so that he has to truly think during.

and now that it's all begun, he laughs before he dashes in again, coming from the opposite side as he did before and looking for a low opening to strike out at.]

[ And there it is, the big reveal, arriving with the whir! and whish! of a coat swiftly discarded, the dark fabric falling as a curtain before its owner with a measure of flair that Asura can appreciate—vocally, a low whistle upon the King's lips as pale hair and acute, golden eyes flash, reflecting the firelight. So this is the person who'd been his dance partner at the masquerade, Avenger who wore a smile nearly befitting of Summer but so too chose to cling to the shadows like one of the Silent Arrow. What an unexpected surprise...! ]

So this is the face that you wanted to hide? [ Intense and fierce, nowhere near so restrained as Avenger's behavior had been at the gala. But then, Asura knows there's no soul alive who doesn't wear many masks, many faces for the world at large—the King himself is no exception, as forward and as brash as he is on any given day, especially when he's up against someone who can hit hard enough to r e a l l y make him feel it. ]

Think it suits you more than that mask and coat of yours.

[ This time, the King evades Avenger's strike (no, he won't be so easy to hit again), though he remains close, putting no distance between them because...! This is good, old-fashioned hand-to-hand, isn't it? No further magic will be employed on Asura's part, now that they're in the thick of things, and where he can grapple with Avenger, he will. That's why Asura will make to seize Avenger by the shirt-collar with one taloned hand, and take hold of the man's wrist with another if the maneuver is successful, twisting back the arm to lock the joint of the elbow.

It'll likely only hold the other man for a moment, but it's a break in the fight, one allowing for banter. And surely, Avenger's got something to say, hasn't he? ]

[like this, he feels less like he was stripped of something in the transition between worlds. less like the guarded persona of the Count, something refined and cultivated, and more like the old him who faced down storms without batting an eye. these changes might be seeping into him, altering him, but his spirit feels untouched, and his frustrations can be shelved for a while.

one can do any number of tricks with a blade, with a gun. with one's body, honesty is forced, and deception is more of a trial to get off. his arm is grabbed, twisted into immobility, but it's nothing that will keep him pinned for long.]

More than dancing?

[he still has a free arm to slip underneath, to push to break that hold on his collar so he can twist and use the grip on his wrist to pull Asura forward. trying to upset his balance enough that when Dantes throws a roundhouse kick to that side, he'll either have to absorb it or let go to avoid it. regardless of the response, he knows he can step and bring his heel down towards the other's instep as a follow.]

[ S m o o t h. Asura goes where he is beckoned, following Avenger's pull if only to see where it might lead—and that is toward the beginnings of a kick, the other man's shift of motion (a raise of knee, a sharp pivot) telling the King all he needs to know: it's time to cede his grasp upon Avenger's wrist and seek another avenue to guide his partner down.

But before the King has the chance to launch an offensive, Avenger is close at hand, their heel a spindle driven into the leather of Asura's boot (destabilizing and wickedly swift). Stopping in his tracks (Asura, he has no need to pursue Avenger when he already shares such close proximity with the man), he huffs out a breath (a laugh), and grins as he makes to drive an elbow solidly into Avenger's chest, the strike driven by an (only somewhat) outrageous rotation of Asura's core body (stemming from the hips).

And whether the thrown elbow lands or simply forces Avenger back, Asura still finds room to articulate— ] When we danced, it was all my rhythm and none of your own.

[ —before pressing forward (leading with his alternate foot), intent on serving up a right hook to catch Avenger with (nicely, because Asura has manners, with talons pressed into the palm of his own hand to prevent them from catching flesh). ]

But this side of you? [ The Avenger who answers Asura with quick ripostes and deliberate returns? ] I can sure appreciate it.

[ No matter what comes next. ]

[he pulls back to avoid the elbow, just out of its radius so he can stay near, plot his followup. yet there's a hook coming right at him, and he decides to take it with his arm, letting his forearm absorb the blow. it's good, solid - tells him enough about the other's obvious strength, and it makes him grin in return, sharp and bright.]

Back then, I had to play nice.

[but now? now he's free to act as he pleases. now he's free to move forward, stepping right back into personal space before he's throwing an uppercut towards Asura's jaw.]

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(Closed) Deceuer Catch All

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this tag got eaten by the holidays i'm so sorry