Roxy Lalonde (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oceanbreasts) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
caughtinanetwork2013-02-19 02:48 pm
oceanbreasts) wrote in caughtinanetwork2013-02-19 02:48 pm
003; accidental video
[ There's nothing but a blur of blue at first, a muffled groan somewhere. ]
What in the actual fu--
[ A pause, a gasp, and then the sound of running feet. ]
Dirk!
[ THUD. A second later, the SFC that's on has tumbled out of the pocket it was in and lands on the ground, showing the current scene a little sideways.
Roxy's laying on top of Dirk, her arms wrapped awkwardly around him, and she has her face buried in his chest. They're wearing some interesting outfits (nice pants, Dirk), but that seems to be the last thing on their minds. ]
You're okay! I thought you weren't because fuck the Batterwitch but you are you're okay and I'm okay and nothing is going on and look! We're back and-- you know what I probably shouldn't be laying on top of you should I. Lemme just...
[ She caaaaaaaaaaassually slides off of him and picks up her SFC, shutting it again and turning it back off. ]
((ooc; ps dirk and roxy are back from their update 8U replies will probably come from both))
What in the actual fu--
[ A pause, a gasp, and then the sound of running feet. ]
Dirk!
[ THUD. A second later, the SFC that's on has tumbled out of the pocket it was in and lands on the ground, showing the current scene a little sideways.
Roxy's laying on top of Dirk, her arms wrapped awkwardly around him, and she has her face buried in his chest. They're wearing some interesting outfits (nice pants, Dirk), but that seems to be the last thing on their minds. ]
You're okay! I thought you weren't because fuck the Batterwitch but you are you're okay and I'm okay and nothing is going on and look! We're back and-- you know what I probably shouldn't be laying on top of you should I. Lemme just...
[ She caaaaaaaaaaassually slides off of him and picks up her SFC, shutting it again and turning it back off. ]
((ooc; ps dirk and roxy are back from their update 8U replies will probably come from both))
no subject
To the grim reaper's credit, he doesn't cry out so much as gasp, placing the flat of his palm on Dirk in order to push him away, yanking the blade out of his shoulder as he staggers backwards to grasp it.
A few round, fat drops of blood darken the cobblestones, dripping from his sallow fingers, but by the time Kid brings his hand away from his shoulder, the wound has already begun knitting itself, raw, pink skin streaked with crimson between the ragged tufts of black cloth.]
Tch-- Destroyer of Souls... is that really how you wish to spend your days, Strider?
The soul is eternal, but only so long as it's protected from those who would corrupt and destroy them! As a human, you can't possibly understand how precious even a single soul is in an entire universe!
But even in your gross blindness, you have the capacity to choose! You humans--
[Kid straightens, standing tall, but he grasps the other sleeve with his now almost entirely recovered arm, fingernails digging into the shoulder of that side of his coat.]
--are capable of feats that may meet... no, may even exceed a god.
[Riiip. He damages one side to match the other.]
So I offer you a choice. You can embrace your role in your session, or you can forsake it and protect the souls of mankind along with me, under my Honorable Father's dictated Order!
no subject
With his free hand, he taps the symbol on his chest, the heart shirt that he still hasn't taken off.]
I can't just switch it off, you know. I can't say "oops, I don't want this power. Sburb, take your God Tier back." Some day, this power may be the only thing between my friends and a doomed timeline. And I will not let them die again, do you understand? Not as long as I have the power left in me to stop it.
[He takes a breath, and squares his shoulders, hands steady on the hilt of his sword.]
I can't use it yet. I don't know how. And fuck if I know what Sburb will mean by it. I won't make any promises I can't keep. But I'm not about to use a wildcard like that unless I have to.
Is that good enough for you, protector of souls? Or do you want me to promise that if I start destroying souls, I'll start with my own?
no subject
And he's trying to be sure he won't have to, if this title of his might be figurative, some cosmic joke at the expense of an already heated rivalry.
Kid hates that he hears Dirk Strider saying the very things he's thought, about the power to protect those that were important to you, about seeing to it they don't die again. He hates that he agrees with this man who has accomplished more than make his blood boil and his jaw ache with teeth clenched.
Golden eyes narrow.]
What a revolting promise! If you begin destroying souls, rest assured that the first one I collect will be yours!
[It's uncertain what different outcome Kid expects when he charges at a man better equipped than he is, but the darting point-to-point teleportation will eventually have him reappearing in what he hopes will be Dirk's blind spot.]
no subject
How fucking unproductive. You'd get distracted from a real threat, just because of me?
[Dirk doesn't consider the possibility that he'd be the one to become a real threat. He may be the puppeteer behind the scenes, but he knows the ends he's working for, and he knows what means cannot be justified.
He plans for a reason. He plans so that things won't get dire enough for him to have to pull another martyrdom again.
Teleportation is harder to track than Dirk's flashstepping will ever be, because there's no in between. But Dirk's only recently been punched in the face by someone teleporting in front of him. That time, he didn't see it coming, but now, he knows Kid's getting closer, for all that he can't predict where he turns up next.
Which is why he's prepared for Kid to try and turn up somewhere he doesn't expect. The moment he hears so much as a scuff of movement behind him, he turns, leading with his sword, held just above waist-height. If Kid wants to avoid another injury, he'll have to move quickly.]
no subject
It's that same momentum that sees him descend on Dirk's blade. Resistance brings him to a staggering halt, but not until the length of that keen weapon has vanished into the bleak black of his cloak by a full third.
Then Kid's weight leans full against the blade, and one hand clutches at the bare metal, using it to drag himself forward, just a little closer, and there is no way Kid isn't pinning his stare directly at the eyes on the other side of those inscrutable planes of tinted glass.
Unseen, blood splashes on the paving stones, somewhere beneath the ragged hem of his cloak.]
You say that as if you're not--
[His reedy retort breaks off into wet coughs, reflexive and the worst thing to do with a sharp length of metal punched through one's chest; Kid sucks in air with a hiss, and finally cocks back one fist to throw it at Dirk's cheek.
Hard.]
no subject
That punch hurts like hell, but hard as it is, it's nothing like getting stabbed. When Dirk is knocked back, he loses his grip on the sword and is sent sprawling- good for Kid, otherwise that injury might have gotten a whole lot worse.
His lip is split and bleeding down his face, but Dirk ignores the cut and his smarting cheek to lever himself back to his feet. His glasses have been knocked- not off, but down, enough that when he glares at kid, it can be seen.]
Give me your fuckin' proof that I'm about to flip off the goddamn handle and start mass murder. 'Cause if you say it's because of my power... then you need just as much watching as I do.
no subject
So does Kid, crumpling to his knees on the ground where he remains, head upright but jaw hanging, breaths coming quick, shallow, sticky with blood. One hand lifts, drops clumsily to the handle of Dirk's sword, but under the Prince's indefatigable glare the grim reaper's only reply is a low groan.
He's dragging the sword out of his chest in single, long, unflagging motion, until the blood-streaked weapon clatters to the ground and black vapor crawls out from the wound, gathering there like a ribbon of smoke.
Kid's laughter is horrible, not the least because one lung is a sucking chest wound and his throat is coated with the coppery taste of his own blood, because it sounds like he knows he's defeated the way he is now and that's devastation made noise.]
And wait for the inevitable suffering your role will cause? Ha ha ha ha! I hate you! I hate you more than I can stand! Ha ha ha ha--
[It's a very good thing a fit of wet coughing interrupts him, because it might have gone on, and he might have really lost it. As it is, when he's caught his breath again he's a little calmer, one golden eye staring up at him through the fall of dark fringe split by white lines. He lifts his chin, his smile cold.]
Be that as it may, I admire your resolve. Are you going to finish me off?
no subject
Dirk's hands itch for his sword, because that is not the Kid he's used to dealing with. That's not sane. Defeated it may sound, but it sounds like a last stand, and however serious this fight was, it wasn't supposed to be an end like that. Kid showed up three hours late and asked him to even out his hair, for fuck's sake.
If he hadn't broken off in coughing, Dirk might have punched him anyway, and damned the consequences. That's not the Kid who's been trying to better him this whole time.
He doesn't respond immediately. He fixes his shades, then approaches, step by step, so he's standing over Kid. He picks up his sword. Considers the blood on the blade.
And captchalogues it.]
What the fuck would I do that for?
no subject
[Because there's no question that Dirk would be able to, under the present circumstances; the tip of the reaper's tongue pushes blood away from the corner of his mouth, absently, his eyes momentarily blotting out the sight of Dirk's empty hands in one slow blink.
This time, when Kid smiles, it's with stern determination.]
I'm not finished with you yet, Dirk Strider. [Magnanimously:] But you may consider this your first win. Congratulations.
no subject
Whatever else has gone shitty, he can still fight properly.
Now that the battle is done, he offers Kid a hand.]
You should get to the clinic before you ask me to poke a matching hole in you for that one.
no subject
--And the other reaches up behind the Prince's neck, when the somber line of Kid's mouth splits into a thin grimace.
In spite of his dizzying bloodloss, he can manage this in a fit of spite; one leg lashes out at Dirk's, yanking him forward and down, and if Dirk's guard has slipped enough to see him face-first to the ground there will be one knee -- pantsleg soaked through with his own blood -- planted against and grinding into the small of his back, his own weight bearing down on the arm across both of his shoulderblades, and a fist grasping one savage handful of his hair.
That's if he's lucky enough that Dirk doesn't put him down like a rabid dog.]
Don't press your luck, Dirk.
no subject
Which is why he gets one arm free and jabs his elbow back, intending to get Kid in the side. Maybe it's a dirty move, but fuck that, Kid's got a handful of his hair.]
Don't press yours!
no subject
He's still trying to pull air into his healing lung when he fires back:]
There-- might be a day when-- [OW?] When we regret not destroying each other when we had the chance. [There's an interruption, when he's coughing something coppery and sticky out of his throat.]
I won't do it until I'm sure. There's much I haven't-- haven't seen from you yet, Strider.
Don't disappoint me.
no subject
[Coughing up blood is worrying, but Dirk's learned his lesson about offering Kid help. Apparently Kid doesn't think it's that big of a deal, so Dirk won't make anything out of it. From the way Kid's talking, he doesn't plan to bleed out, anyway.]
As if I would.
Maybe next time you'll even win.
[And of course, it's time to make his exit through the crowd. He's already thinking of when the next encounter can be.]