towerofanimus | (no subject)

Characters:

dualscars and whoever wants to pester him.
Setting: Floor 10.
Format: Starting off with brackets, but I'll match.
Summary: Dualscar copes with the Condesce's decision of equality. Poorly.
Warnings: R for Raging Douche.

Scenario A ⇨

["equality."

for anyone else, the situation that had arisen wouldn't cause as much distress as this. but this is dualscar: so naturally, it affected him ten times worse than was called for. even if many of his theatrics were intentional, a lot of them... were not.

it wasn't the fact that he was, the signless, but more the fact of how. what did the mutant -- no, monstrosity, the mutation was not favorble to his survival in the least -- think he doing in addressing the empress so forwardly?

but then she'd agreed. put him on the same level, thrown away the heirachy completely, and everything that made him better than the other with what he assumed to be a single syllable. he couldn't fathom that they were to be equals in that regard. he didn't want him to be even within the same room as her, building, land, let alone speaking freely to her, and her seemingly not minding it--

it made him sick. a feeling no amount of slaughter could alleviate, no matter the size of the enemy or the viciousness of it or just how slowly he dictated the creatures' demise, it wouldn't let up. the guns aches his shoulder now, the friction of the cutlass in hand rubbing his hand raw. the water feels heavy, not soothing as he'd hoped it would. he swims on, searching for a new target.

but red.

they all bleed fucking red.]

Scenario B ⇨

[ahab's crosshairs leans against the bench, the sword lies bloodied scarlet upon the floor. it spreads slowly across it, intermingling with the spilled salt water, and there is not only red, but drips of rich violet hues as well.

the orphaner sits at the same bench, hunched over with his elbows on his knees. presumably in rest, his bare chest heaving as he catches his breath, tiny rivulets of seawater running down his scarred face, neck, shoulders, swimshorts, legs-- finally to the floor as well.

but there are a few new gashes that momentarily halt him in his brutal excursions. scratches here and there that look to be more of an irritation than anything, but then the most noticable one along the side of his torso. from below his shoulder blade to just barely missing where his gills begin it runs; the wound itself ideep and jagged, swelling with a little more blood everytime he inhales.

not that it's of any more concern to him than any of his other wounds are; this one just bleeding heavily enough so as to need it to stop before he immersed himself in the water again. no need to attract hoards of the unwelcome, after all.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[his lip curls: both in befuddlement and irritation at being so easily waved aside; dismissed as not being a threat. but the gun is lowered perhaps a fraction of an inch (more than that) as she answers yet does not elaborate.

but he's going to press her, oh yes. for as far as he could understand the situation, it was definitely unnatural: her abilities were clearly harming her, even as she tried to heal another. perhaps they weren't hers to begin with? or was it the other way around, as far as means of possession went?]

Why are you doin' this?

Because you are hurt.

[Human compassion was an astounding thing- and while Chidori's wasn't exactly the highest out there, she knew when it was right to do something and when it wasn't. And if she wasn't sure, she usually just wondered what Minato would do in her stead. Healing Dualscar was one of the latter instances, and she was sure that Minato, despite this man's appearance, would have at least tried to help. So help she did.]

And because I am able to.

[Because really- if her power was going to be the death of her, why should she care how much of a struggle it was to use it sometimes? Better to do something with it while she had the opportunity, in her opinion.]

I will be done soon.

[being a part of a society such as his would be enough of a reason to think her words ridiculous, let alone having a moral compass as skewed as his own. and it causes more befuddlement, as to just how utterly strange humans are, and yet more annoyance at himself and how little he still knows.

he remains stiller as she finishes her work, arm of the injured side still cocked at an angle for her convenience, and the crosshair's perhaps drooping a bit more in the crook of the other. he looks away from her, forward and towards the aquatic life inhabiting the aquarium.]

"Because I am hurt," isn't a good reason.

Perhaps not to you.

[The glow flares for a moment, and then she presses her hand against his side lightly, testing. He might think her actions foolish, just as he thinks his issue with the color of blood a bit absurd, but it is the way she was taught to behave. Simply because he isn't human doesn't make him any less deserving of some compassion... even if he's not all that grateful.]

But I could not in good conscience have left you. Is that better?

[the muscles under the area of skin she touches tense in response, and he dares to inch away from her once more. she is the first human that has dared to touch him, and he's still surprised that it's been a nonviolent correspondence. quite the contrary, actually.]

So it seems.

[not said without suspicion, and if she somehow expected to get a "thank you" in return? then she was sorely mistaken.]

Good.

[She's not expecting gratitude, and to be honest, considering some of what he's said, she's sure she'd have to be pretty stupid to expect any sort of acknowledgement for the help at all. Still, she gives him a glance over, looking at the smaller cuts idly. ]

Shall I fix the rest as well?

[After all, why leave a job half-done?]

[he bristles. visibly, even. the fins that had settled down? flaring again. those teeth that had hidden themselves? visible again, though only through the weakest of sneers.

he stands suddenly, tossing ahab's crosshairs over his shoulder once more to its resting spot.]

You've done enough, don't you think?

As you wish.

[She stands as well, taking the dismissal for what it is, and smooths out her skirts carefully, mindful to keep away from anything else that might get blood on her pristine dress. She doesn't leave right away though, instead siding her eyes back to him and quirking one eyebrow the slightest bit.]

...I did not get your name.

Orphaner Dualscar.

[the firing back is immediate, although it is not often that someone asks his name of him: usually, he would be instantaneously recognized. and, usually, would not bother asking anyone of their own-- not in the sense that he already knew it, but that it wasn't worth knowing. his fingers curl into fists with a popping of the knuckles.

but so much was different here.]

And nor did I, yours.

You did.

[But she sweeps into a slight curtsy that would have been mocking from someone other than her, eyes never leaving his face.]

Chidori Yoshino. Quite the name you have there, Orphaner.

[he eyes her with distaste, though inwardly pleased with her apparent show of respect. the notion of it being mockery wouldn't even dare to cross his mind.

which is really for the best, all things considered.]

And a well-earned one, at that.

[She gives the barest tilt of her head to show her curiosity, brows giving that slight twinge upward again. She does not know much in the way of troll titles- nothing at all, really- but she suspects it may be in direct correlation to how he earned it. If so, she'll be a bit more wary.]

How so?

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i can remember what's happened in a thread oh yes i can

I have no clue what you're talking about, >.>