towerofanimus | damn she's a sexy fish

Characters:

cullionfish
Setting: The first of October, somewhere in the halls or one of the rooms.
Format: Starting with prose, but I'll match.
Summary: He seeks her out; she, him. Though their underlying motives may differentiate...
Warnings: None!
After the meeting with his former slave and a few others had literally blown up in his face, he'd decided it was time to seek out more civil company. Quite the amount careful preparation had been taken beforehand, and now he finally got around to acting it out. His strides are deliberate and without falter, wearing an impassive, if benign for the occasion, expression.

Yet, it wasn't particularly challenging to feel like an inarticulate wriggler again, especially in Her presence. It was more than a schoolboy's crush at this point, something he dreaded may never be quite requited. But still he found the confidence within himself to try all the meanwhile. His gun is slung over his shoulder, the cutlass at his waist, and few meager (hardly worthy of her, he thinks) gifts clutched in one hand and within his pockets.

With his free one, he knocks steadily upon her door.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dualscar hesitates in his step, unsure for a moment, then follows after all. So neither was this the best of times nor did she seem to be in the most pleasant of moods; having observed her mannerisms many a times from afar, he'd come to recognize each of her emotions in turn, no matter how subtle they could prove to be. Such a thing would only be natural when he's... interested in her to the extent he is, he figures. Not that he would reassure himself of that in the first place.

He quietly shuts the door behind him, the door closing completely with a soft click. He then rests his hands behind his back and inclines his head.

"I hope you have been well, despite our circumstances?"

"Most unwell, actually," she replies without pause, her own hands folding behind her back as she strides across the room. It was a pacing behavior, much more practice and controlled in the presence of a subordinate. Again, she checks her nails before about-facing to look up at him properly, still playing with her rings in a rather idle fashion.

"But you must have come with a purpose, not merely to question my comfort level under grim circumstances," the Condesce replied, almost in warning. He would surely know better than to waste his time in that fashion. Still, it would be prudent not to scare him off quite so soon, and so she would add: "Perhaps we can discuss that after we handle your concerns."

Behind his back, his hands clench uncomfortably. Her words cause a slight and momentary furrow of the eyebrows, as if in concern. Mindfang had always said his face easily betrayed his emotions, no matter how inconspicuous they may be. Surely her own comfort was much more important than his? Nonethless, he obeys, the words having already been carefully recited in his head before arrival.

"I'm sure you've noticed that we're outnumbered by lowbloods, as we've always been. 'A course, this wouldn't be an issue if they stayed dead."

He swallows, a hand going to adjust his collar. Already two statements in and he realizes this sounded much less eloquent aloud; if only he knew what she already did. He wonders what she will be able to deduct from his words: that he had killed after she'd specifically ordered him not to, that he had perished due to his own incompetence, or that someone had simply let it slip to him? Or perhaps a combination of all three?

"A few 'a them have proven... particularly rebellious. I fear we may not see the end 'a these annoyances if they continue to insist bein' so, though am unsure as to how to rectify the situation."

"Yes, I've been made aware," she growls, knuckles cracking audibly as they curve into fists. Of course, there's no reason to mention that she knew because she had also died, but that didn't mean the thought of it didn't boil her blood. She takes a moment to stew in her anger before her knuckles uncurl with a most unsettling chuckle.

"However...I do believe this could work to our advantage," she nearly croons, looking back over her shoulder at Dualscar with a shark-tooth grin. "If this tower is just going to keep bringing them back, than I have nothing to fear punishing them through means of death now do I?"

She turns, the tangled mass of hair wrapping around her torso as she did so. "Especially that mutant filth."

Dualscar feels the uneasiness twisting his digestive sac increase at her answer. It hadn't been what he was hoping for, nor seeking. But in the end, that didn't matter much, did it? They didn't stay dead. This would continue.

Not that he didn't enjoy continuing the violence. It was only the irritation when three or four of them were able to take him down; their numbers seemingly innumerable with their given immortality. He doesn't want to tell her 'but they never learn'. What's death, after all, if its meaning has all but been destroyed? Everything is only temporary here.

"'A course. Then I take it you wish to take specific care to assuring his chastisement? Have him live up to his title?"

"Now you're catching on," she replied in a bubbly tone. It would have been very misleading to anyone not familiar with that bloodthirsty light that seemed to appear in her eyes, the faint curl of hunger that curled at the corners of her lips. "You may consider my orders from earlier null and void. I care not what you do, so long as you don't waste resources doing it."

She was not altogether unfamiliar with Dualscar's and Psiioniic's relationship, and so she carefully noted:

"I would prefer to keep my property out of this mess as much as possible. However..." There was a long pause, where her grin faded as she turned to look at him fully. "I am not above getting rid of broken toys either."

damn she's a sexy fish

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