towerofanimus | In which Xemnas tries out being a new species.

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In which Xemnas tries out being a new species.

Who: Xemnas and whoever else is unfortunate enough to stumble across him.
Setting: Starting floor 86 (Locked for Sephiroth), and almost anywhere else.
Format: Action or prose, whatever happens! Starting with prose.
Summary: The spiteful fae of floor 86 do not like intruders, and see fit to punish Xemnas' intrusion by trapping him in the form and mind of a bloodthirsty monster and setting him loose.
Warnings: Violence. Possibly people getting eaten.

Floor Eighty-Six had looked harmless when Xemnas had arrived in midafternoon. Pleasant, even! Sumemry weather and meadows, like the one he'd found Xion in but one season later. He'd been content to roam, place this floor in his mental listing for places his corridors could reach, and see what there was to see. Few floors were harmless, and that this was one of them, apparently.

Until he happens to find one of those rings of mushrooms. Fae lore is not something the Organization has ever had to study, else he'd have avoided tresspassing very, very carefully. As it is he doesn't get far before being surrounded by strange lights he can't get past - and he does try. It's an effective and instant cage, and the beings beyond out of reach.

Their voices made all music sound flat and thin. A hollow place where his heart used to be ached upon hearing them speak, even if cruel humor edged their voices.

"Ahhh.. look. A beast seems to have stumbled into places it doesn't belong."

"It looks so human. Are you sure it's a beast?"

"Certainly it is. Look within; though clever of spirit and sharp of mind, that is not a human. Such a poor thing, trapped in such a form! Never let it be said that the Fair Folk are not generous. Let the monster within be the monster without, and let it run and hunt until it is content."

And then his world was pain as bones shattered and reshaped themselves, muscles twisting and pulling in new ways, entirely new limbs tearing free of a body rapidly becoming less humanlike in a bloody twisting of agony. The only mercy is its swiftness, leaving him shivering on the grass amongst the flowers and mushrooms, sides heaving with each uneven breath. Only after several minutes does he try to move, the pain fading as he did so. It felt ... normal, to be on four limbs instead of two, and to flex strong wings in the light breeze of this floor's eternal summer.

Xemnas' thoughts didn't feel different to him. He could still think clearly, could weigh his situation, but there's no surprise for it.

"There, you see? It is in its proper form now. Let's see what it chooses to do."

This time he ignored the shining voices. Where once had been a fairly tall Nobody was now a silvery white dragon, an elegant and refined looking creature with enough muscle to make up for its comparatively (for a dragon) small size of only a little bigger than a horse at the shoulders. His own blood marred the whiteness, the tattered remnants of his uniform clinging here and there. They're plucked off fastidiously. Rolling and rubbing was the next order of business, until every scale was free of red.

It occurs to him only eventually that he is hungry.

There must be something to eat on this floor; the cafeteria didn't seem agreeable. Something that can run. That can beg, and cry, and struggle and bleed...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hang on, was that a dragon?

This begged a double-take.

Having passed the entrance onto the Eighty-Sixth floor Sephiroth backtracked immediately and stepped out into the summary meadow of the Fae, careful to avoid the first ring of mushrooms that was nearest the door. He'd never fallen prey to the Fae himself, but had always carefully chosen where to put his feet first, it was one of those way too suspicious arrangements.

Besides this wasn't a floor where his powers were lost to him and it was a simple act of will for him to simply avoid touching boots to any blade of grass and Sephiroth called on that telekinetic power to lift himself from contact with the ground whilst he watched the monster finish rolling itself around on the grass.

Any moment and the monster would be sure to pick up on his scent, and indeed Sephiroth was already ready with the over-sized length of Masamune curled upwards along the back of an arm, hiding the great edge from view as light breeze stirred silken strands of hair out behind him. The green glint of Materia within it's hilt also mostly hidden.

How long it had been, since he'd slain a dragon.

It's definitely a dragon. Quadrupedal, with wings big enough to fly with unlike most from Sephiroth's world. A different breed, but a dragon is inevitably recognizable as a dragon. This one is working on being clean, but most predators preferred to be. It's only when the wind shifts that the creature suddenly becomes aware that there's someone else there.

The fae were gone, by now.

Xemnas recognizes Sephiroth perfectly well, even with his jacket on and Masamune in hand. His mind worked just fine. He recalled their conversation easily. It just really wasn't that important. He was a superior creature now, whatever reasons those shining creatures chose simply proved he was better than the rest. He'd always known, but proof was nice. Thoughtfully, he flexes the claws on one forepaw, studying the hovering swordsman with measured interest.

This isn't some dumb animal. Sephiroth is definitely being measured and weighed, with obvious interest and not animal cunning. Just.. there's still hunger there, by the way he sniffs, forked tongue flicking out and briefly running across jagged teeth, and keen, predatory interest.

There is no sudden lunge and roaring attack, the dragon that was Xemnas simply straightens up, neatly folds wings across his back, and heads for where Sephiroth hovers at a patient, measured stalk, picking his way sideways bit by bit to see if he can herd the ex-General away from the stairwell. Their conversation had been interesting, but well, Xemnas was more interested in the taste of Sephiroth's blood right now than having a friendly chat.

How long has it been since Sephiroth fought a dragon that could think?

Apart from tightening his grip on Masamune's hilt and the breeze that licked strands of silver along with it Sephiroth remained perfectly still in his hovered position as Xemnas the dragon first became aware of his presence, and then proceeded to size him up.

Well certainly this was no dragon as he remembered them. This one seemed blessed with some level of higher-intelligence at least, as surmised from the way it appeared to be studying him intently, flicking it's tongue out and about as if tasting the very presence he exuded. And then there was that stalk towards him, so very precise in it's slight sideways approach intended to shift it's preys' position - him, away from the obvious escape route - the stairwell.

Keen eyes never left the monster's approach towards him even as Sephiroth allowed the would-be predator herd him in the direction it intended. Sephiroth too, waited for the perfect opportunity to engage or defend, whichever would come first -

More interesting prey than the dumb brutes of Nibelheim's mountains, perhaps.

Xemnas had guessed that Sephiroth was a good fighter, and that sword was going to have reach. Reach he could match with reaching claws or the slap of a wing or tail, but then he'd be risking losing those same limbs. Not ideal. Ranged it would have to be, until he could get too close for that sword to be useful. But only when he's between Sephiroth and easy escape is anything at all done.

A crimson sphere seethes into being to the dragon's right, glowing a little. Another pops into place as Xemnas approaches, precisely to the same side as the first save the stride-distance between them. A third rapidly forms to go with the other two, but as soon as the fourth begins the first fires itself like a bloody red laser beam at the waiting swordsman.

They won't burn like a laser if they hit, however. In spite of obviously being made of energy, they strike and act like physical objects instead of energy. The second isn't long after the first, then the third, then the fourth; each one's aim will change if Sephiroth moves. They aren't homing precisely but their original point they're aiming from can and does alter.

It's a distraction. The blast of bitter cold and clinging ice that's spat at Sephiroth is the proper attack, to try to bind and numb and dull reactions.

Just like any other monster in the Tower. For Sephiroth at least. Unless the monster called for a pre-emptive attack by it's very nature, or if it was somehow more dangerous to not take the initiative - the Chosen One would always wait for the attack first. Especially with a monster he'd not encountered before; abilities and limitations had to be ascertained first and Sephiroth is nothing but the most calculated fighter.

Though, perhaps it was a premature assumption to consider that the dragon had already taken his weapon - his attack range, more specifically - into account? It certainly wasn't driven so completely to blood lust as to charge at him like much of the other fare that the Tower contained.

With the smooth sweep of an arm, Masamune was flicked forwards into defense in an instant - it's long edge also nicked the tops of a few blades of grass as crimson laser beams were blocked consecutively, the edge of his blade turned to deflect the energy away from him. Leaving the exposed blade to hum in their wake. Child's play for sure, but it would do for a warm up.

It was at some instant just before the fourth beam connected and that Sephiroth's sharp instincts caught some inkling of the actual intended attack. He had only a second to react and even then the steeling cold blast barreled across the ankle of one boot as Sephiroth dodged upward. The gripping cold clenching it's fist around his foot that had been struck, instant frostbite having jaw clenched against it as he kicked said foot against the sensation - well that certainly verified his suspicion with regards to elemental weakness, if the coloration of the dragon hadn't been enough of a giveaway.

A small fireball was issued forth from Sephiroth's right hand, down towards the dragon, but he could not waste the opportunity not to follow through. Calling upon his speed Sephiroth dashed to a position more in line with the monsters right side and then lurched himself into range - Masamune dropped and slashed diagonally before being returned to it's position at a shoulder as Sephiroth retreated away again. Testing, gauging.

Charging in blindly would put the hardness of his scales to a test he didn't quite want to try just yet. Tasty things shouldn't come wrapped in sharp pointy things that could get him killed. Patience was something of an artform for Xemnas, so there was no blind desperate need to simply charge in. What is needful, as Masamune swats away the bolts of Nothingness, is seeing if he can be rid of that blade. That he isn't as successful with numbing cold as he'd hoped is unfortunate, but there would be other opportunities - after the fireball is dealt with.

Instead of attempting to dodge, the magical fire is met with bitter cold in a sudden antipode explosion of steam and fog. It doesn't last long, and certainly isn't enough to foul Sephiroth's following attack, but it does prevent unpleasant burning. This time the dragon deliberately risks the blade; as Sephiroth moves to strike, the bright blade leaving a bloody line along ribs and flank, Xemnas deliberately pursues in a sudden lunge, wings fanning wide to give the further thrust and speed he'd need to do so.

He has no intention of letting Sephiroth get the distance needed to maximize the usefulness of that sweeping blade, to the point of half-rearing up to deliberately attempt to shove it aside and further close to Sephiroth's own head and foul a possible counter-attack that way. It's pretty clear exactly what the dragon's trying to do; magic is troublesome. Swords are worse. Whatever testing the scaly beast had been doing before, he's made his own conclusions already on what had to be done. No magic here, no unusual power, just sheer brute strength and an uncanny swiftness for something so large.

There's no snapping with those sharp, jagged teeth, not yet. It seems he's deliberately keeping his head and upper throat further back, allowing only the easier target of much harder lower neck and chest scales.

It was satisfying, that even in the wake of a veritable smokescreen of fog, Masamune's keen edge still managed to cleave a neat line along the side of the dragon-

Even if the following lunge was certainly not expected to be pursued so quickly after the successful slice. Sephiroth fought to twist Masamune around in such a way that he could still block and counter the sudden emergence of the creature slipping up and inside his attack range. It knocked him backwards and urged Masamune to the side though Sephiroth's weapon was too much an extension of his arm for his grip to be knocked so easily, even if a further attack had been foiled.

There was nothing to be done but to turn into the direction his arm was pushed aside but Sephiroth countered by forcing against the momentum - charging a knee up into those chest scales. Perhaps he might gain enough of a window to will himself higher into the air, deliver the rest of his leg into a kick at the monsters head as he ascended. His large black wing being erupted from the back of his right side as he sought the space needed in the air above, another fireball followed in his wake.

Flight might be an advantage anywhere else. As Sephiroth kicks up into the dragon's chest, impacting some of the hardest scales that silvery hide has, there's a quiet grunt and the brittle sound of something cracking, deceptively delicate looking fragments of broken scales tumbling free. It's not enough to keep the dragon from his patient efforts to try to murder the ex-general, however. A kick to the head misses clean, as it seems the creature is well aware that he needs to keep his head away from trouble - for his efforts Sephiroth receives another blast of bitterly cold clinging ice spat in his direction.

And then the dragon crouches low, tail lashing once, twice, before lunging upwards after the now-airborne man, powering straight through the fireball. He expects the sword to be brought to bear and he's already waiting for it, intending to plow right into Sephiroth and once more slap the sword aside. If it means dealing with the blade biting through his hide again, so be it. Close was the best way to handle a swordsman, and he intended to do that.

Having four limbs with which to grasp at someone helps as well; if the dragon can get into range, if the hammering thunder of wingbeats isn't enough to make his nearness problematic, all taloned limbs NOT occupied with warding off Masamune will be put to work attempting to catch hold and rend anything they can come into contact with.

A stinging blast of ice catches that leg that would have kicked at the monsters head. It wrapped ice around leather in an instant, frost creeping over black and aging it. But in the moment that Sephiroth throws the fireball, the ice was all kicked free - shattering from anywhere it had encased the limb. It left that right leg of his numb and tingly, threatened to bring his body temperature down and make him shiver - but the eternal summertime of this meadow would make short work of it.

If there were something not accounted for it was the haste at which the dragon barreled through the fireball as if it were nothing and came at him in much the same manner as he had before. Clearly intending to get inside his range and do as much damage as possible while there. Perhaps it thought it saw a weakness there, perhaps it wasn't as intelligent as he had hoped it might be.

Indeed Masamune was swung down up and around again at the advance of the dragon towards him but it was pulled back quicker than it had been before. Now airborne Sephiroth had another direction available for both attack and defense and it was towards the ground he dodged, though talons found purchase around a bicep during the maneuver and he had to twist the arm away before they could hold it. Burning lines through leather around the top of that arm pulsed wildly and Sephiroth knew without looking that he was bleeding. Though he also knew he wouldn't be for long. Dodging rending, grabbing talons and wings was more of the issue at hand.

On occasion, when successfully positioned below the monster, Sephiroth would look up for those scales he heard give under his knee before and aim to stab at that small window of damaged armor.

Ryoji had been on his way up the stairs when he heard something... some sort of rumbling, a shifting as something moved along the ground. He should have just kept moving. Something that big was definitely not something he'd want to stand around and chat with, but, unable to satisfy his curiosity, he entered the floor.

Almost as soon as he glimpses the dragon, he takes a step back, ready to bolt, only faltering for a second. It's bleeding... did someone attack it? How did it get hurt?

It doesn't really matter. It's a monster, and Ryoji could be in trouble if it caught him. He turns right away, ready to run back to the stairwell.

Things to not worry about in the Tower: how a monster got hurt.

Things to not do in the tower: draw attention to yourself.

The dragon isn't on floor 86 anymore. An earlier altercation had seen to that, and the issue of stairs and stairwells had been more important. There was an entire tower of things to hunt, staying on one floor was ... limiting. As Ryoji simply moves in Xemnas' field of vision, the reptilian head swings around. Movement is easily spotted.. moreso than before.

There's really only one direction to go, with the dragon between Ryoji and the upper floors: if he's going to run, it's going to have to be down, and the silvery-white creature is already headed in his direction with obvious predatory interest.

Thanks for the heads up. Ryoji honestly should know all of that after so long here, but it seems that he still has poor luck when it comes to staying out of trouble.

Ryoji lets out a gasp as the dragon senses his presence, and runs down the stairs as quickly as he can. He needs to try to outrun it. Fighting it, even with Thanatos, wouldn't leave a scratch, and he doesn't have control over his Nyx Avatar state. Even after all his training, he's still too weak.

After stumbling down a few stairs, trying to gain a bit more distance from the monster, Ryoji turns a tight corner and stumbles onto Floor 72. A maze floor. It should be a lot easier to lose the dragon here, as long as he doesn't stumble onto a dead end.

The dragon very noticeably does not bound after Ryoji with swiftness and enthusiasm. He's figured out stairs for quadrupeds can be a tricky business. So while there is immediate pursuit, and a blast of frigid cold and clingy ice in Ryoji's direction, it's not at tremendous swiftness but careful bounces down the stairs.

He has only a few seconds before the dragon rounds the corner and into the next floor as well. How far he gets, and how fast, is a pretty good question.

That dragon's relentless, though, and terribly hungry.

Ryoji is a bit taller than average, and is quicker on his feet, so he does manage to get at least to a spot where he can turn a corner before he spots the dragon arriving on the floor. He's got to move, and fast.

Shame he can't slow down to keep track of where he is going and where he has gone before. He also wastes a few precious seconds opening doors and then yelping and slamming them as he notices monsters lurking inside. He can hear and feel the dragon's pounding steps getting closer, and his breathing gets more and more panicked. There's got to be a way to shake him...

Stairs navigated neatly, the click of talons and rasp of scales on the floor a steady reminder that there is something there, the dragon pursues with interest. Running might make things taste better. Running ... might well exhaust his target too, and make him easier to catch. The scent of fear is easy enough to track, snuffling the floor briefly with cold breath.

Which might be why as Ryoji comes into sight again, scrambling to find a door to hide behind, the dragon inhales deeply, and then ROARS, the sound deafening in the closed quarters of these corridors. It's not meant to addle senses so much as inspire further terror and panicked fleeing, as the dragon's pursuit might be patiently relentless... but also not particularly hurried.

Ryoji has always been energetic, but when hunted down, it's easy to lose that energy, especially in a human form. Maybe he should transform, just to get a little more energy. The adrenaline and rage he experiences as Thanatos should be enough to keep him going...

He's distracted from that when he hears the roar, yelping with fright. His knees give out for a second as they shake, and he leans against the wall. It's only for a second, before he starts running again, but it may be enough to decide whether or not he'll outrun the creature.

Ahh.. there we go. Ryoji is running again. The dragon is definitely not rushing his pursuit, tracking the fleeing fellow by scent and sound instead of by sight, patient. There was something strangely intoxicating about the scent of fear, that he didn't quite grasp. Was it a feeling?

No matter.

The sound of a running dragon in these narrow halls is easy to make out. He keeps his wings pressed close to his sides, body held low just in case, attempting to find purchase on the cold floor just enough to attempt to suddenly close the distance between himself and his fleeing prey. Patience is rapidly losing out to simple hunger, and if the sound of each pawstep and claws isn't enough to tell Ryoji that his attacker is closing fast, the gusts of cold that roll through the hall with every breath will be, closer and closer.

Ryoji is clearly running out of steam, the panicked panting and slowing running evidence that he won't be lasting long. Despite the cold breath at his back making him shiver, Ryoji tries to push on, turning more corners and desperately trying to shake the monster...

But then he arrives at a dead end. He spins around to face the dragon, back pressed against the wall as his inhales become sharp gasps of fear. He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that not looking at the creature will help it become a little less frightening, and cries out in a voice that's shaky, but strong enough to be heard.

"I-I'm warning you, don't get any closer!"

Yes, his powers won't be nearly enough to hold the monster back, especially in these close quarters where a Megidola would just blast both of them, but maybe the dragon will back off if he sounds angry enough.

The monster is clearly not intimidated, by the way he leans in very deliberately to sniff at Ryoji, his hair, his shirt. Each sniff is terribly cold. "Don't get any closer, or what..?"

It can talk. 'He', apparently, there's no denying that's a male voice. A rather pleasant baritone, really, all velvety smooth and entirely without the growl one would expect of a dragon. It's almost a .. normal sound, in comparison to the rest of the beast. Claws, fangs, slitted golden eyes, a crown of horns, scales, wings ... and a voice that could belong in a human being instead.

"What will you do?"

It's a question he's going to test, on purpose, reaching with one claw to try to touch it to Ryoji's nose. Is there a real threat here at all?

Maybe it's all some horrible practical joke by some new Tower member. Maybe there's no danger to Ryoji's life.

Ryoji shudders and tries to lean even farther away. If only he could sink into the wall right about now. If only he actually was strong enough without using that overwhelming power. If only he just hadn't gone to that floor in the first place!

He looks over, surprised, when he hears the voice. It does sound shockingly normal, and Ryoji wonders if the dragon is human, somewhere in there... Maybe he can relate to the monster more than he originally thought.

He tries to stand his ground and keep his voice firm.

"If you try to hurt me, I'll hurt you. I have powers that could kill you. I don't want to hurt you, but if you force me, I won't hesitate to change."

He pushes the claw away as much as he can with his hand, glaring angrily, despite the fact that his heart is pounding in his ears.

It might work if Ryoji were dealing with a proper animal and not a thinking creature. Xemnas can process the sound of firm determination and the sweet perfume of fear, words of threat and the rapid patter of heartbeats. If Ryoji struck back it wouldn't be out of thought-out retribution but fear or adrenaline.

"Will you, now? What could you do that could kill me?"

The dragon settles back on his haunches, tail curling neatly over clawed feet. It's almost a catlike pose. Perhaps the dragon really could be reasoned with.. except there's really no way Ryoji's going to sneak past, he takes up a good bit of the hallway.

"What would you change into? Indulge me."

They're pleasant words, full of rational consideration and thought, not malevolent bloodthirsty hunger. But he is terribly, terribly hungry. There's even a rumble from his stomach, demanding to be filled in the way all hungry stomachs do.

Ryoji never actually thought attacks out anyways. He'd never wanted to fight. He was either forced to by powers greater than him, or out of anger and fear of some of the residents he'd met in the Tower. He wasn't violent unless he was sufficiently pushed to be so. Right now, Xemnas was pushing him.

"I would change into my true form. I am not human. I never was meant to be."

Minato changed all that, and some days Ryoji still had to remind himself that all the joy he'd experienced interacting with people was never meant to be. He was supposed to be a monster, like the creature in front of him now.

"I would become Thanatos, the god of death. A Shadow. If I wasn't fast enough to stab you in that form, I could send down an explosion, or banish you with the power of light. And if that wasn't enough, I could do far more."

Hopefully the lie isn't noticed. Ryoji isn't ever going to use that form if he can help it. He hasn't since the administrators forced him to several months ago, during a time when he had killed several friends, his lover, and someone he considered a father to him.

The dragon leans forward again, nostrils flaring. Sniff. "I met a god of death, once. His head was on fire. I was not particularly impressed, for all his power and noise. Surely he could have struck us down, but it didn't happen." Hades was ... not what Xemnas had expected of a being with the label of 'god'.

He was incapable of disappointment.

"Tell me more of this .. 'Shadow' you would become. A god of darkness, as well as death? You seem human enough. Smell human enough. Your heart thunders with terror just as a normal human. How does a god, become such a thing such as you?"

Perhaps distraction would be enough to keep the dragon from striking, although he's surely way too close for comfort. "Were you never meant to exist, I wonder, or merely not meant to exist in the form you are now?"

Ryoji might have been more bewildered by the comment about the god of death's head being on fire if he wasn't more preoccupied with trying to search for an escape, eyes still darting around as he answered the dragon's questions.

"Not all gods are similar. Your world's gods are different from the ones in mine. I promise you, you would have felt threatened by the gods of my world."

Not that Ryoji himself was exactly a god, but Nyx certainly was old enough and powerful enough to be one.

"It is possible for me to be both. I began my life as a fragment of darkness, just one piece of a bigger entity, one that ruled over the night. Through experimentation, I became my own entity, known as Death...

"And then I was sealed in the heart of a child, and developed a human side as I was confined within him. That's why I look like I do now... That's why I can feel fear."

He lowers his head, feeling a pang of guilt.

"But you are right. I never was meant to exist as more than just a piece of the darkness. I was both blessed and cursed with a life I shouldn't have had."

[Look at that blonde man dozing in the pleasant chill of fall in the tall meadow grass, content and lazy and plump. Like a surprise pastry found on the counter. It must be awfully tempting to just snatch him off his blanket for a snack...]

[...It's like someone left him a present. A delicious little sleeping burrito of a present, all full of tasty and questionable wrapping.

Really the dragon that was Xemnas really wouldn't be on this floor at all except that he thought perhaps Xion might be here and he wanted to know what a replica might taste like, but he's not really disappointed to find someone else here either. Given the sleeping person seems to be oblivious, waking him up isn't on Xemnas' to-do list, so he creeps closer as quietly as he can, sniffing.

Stealth and dragons don't really get along though he tries his best. If he can get close enough, he'll reach out with one taloned forepaw to ever so delicately see about dealing with this blankety and untasty wrapper to get to the delectable treat beneath. He didn't want to spend all night picking blanket out of his teeth.]

[Fortunately for Xemnas, Rick is an exceptionally deep sleeper, so even in his lighter, napping state he doesn't stir until the dragon is nearly beside him. Unfortunately he does wake; he took off his glasses before falling asleep and placed them on the blanket next to his face, but had thrown them off when, unconsciously attempting to ward off the cold, he curled himself in the cloth's loose edges.]

[There's a sharp crunching noise as the dragon catches said glasses underfoot.]

[Rick groans loudly and sits upright. He knows that noise and is cursing himself for it--this wouldn't be the first time he's rolled over his glasses in his sleep--but legally blind or otherwise, the large, ivory-scaled reptile standing next to him is very hard to miss.]

[The wrapping around Xemnas's treat is loosely bound, which makes it easy for Rick to scuttle out of. He throws himself backwards in a bleary haze of fear and surprise but is otherwise too stunned to react.]

[Crunch go glasses. It's not really relevant to him save a moment spent inspecting his own paw to make sure no shards got stuck. And then it's back to the burrito. Which is ... moving, actually.

The dragon regards this sudden scramble away evenly. There's no sudden roar and pounce, just a dragon with its claws in Rick's blankets, staring at him with interest and more than a little hunger. Maybe the lack of attack means he's safe! It's the wrong time of day for powerful monsters to be prowling!

But the scent of fear is tempting. Carefully, seemingly mindful of his claws, the dragon sets the blanket aside. It's inedible, it's not of interest, but there's no reason to destroy it.

Then quite deliberately, the scaly almost-reptile picks his way after Rick; humans are slow. This one doesn't look likely to escape. Why waste the effort? All he has to do is get in range before reaching out and attempting to pin the apparently normal and helpless little crumpet beneath one taloned foot. Time for lunch!]

[There is not a moment of this confrontation where Rick thinks he is safe. He's been careful to avoid encountering monsters so far in the Tower, unless intended or impossible, but he knows that they can appear just about anywhere, at any time. He's just been fortunate to not find any during the day is all. Until now, he thinks. And it just so happens to be a big, scary lizard with wings.]

[He's alone this time--alone and blocked from the stairs. Panic sets in and is quickly followed by that strange, paranoid mental babbling that comes when you realize you're about to die. Would it hurt? Would it be quick? Would he understand what was happening to him? Why is he so confused about it--he's already died twice, though they were, admittedly, under very different circumstances. One was drawn-out and excruciating, terrifying, and the other was--]

[--now there's a thought. Ruana's game. This is her month, isn't it? Awfully quiet so far. And it would be just his luck, to fall asleep as she fills the Tower with...whatever these are. Perhaps she's just let all the monsters loose as a precursor to whatever sinister terror she has planned.]

[In that case, Rick wants to be prepared. More importantly, he wants to send her a message. He prepares to fight for his life.]

[Fight for your territory, adds a deep, powerful voice in the back of Rick's mind.]

[Normally he would redirect the ornery reptile in favor of a faster form to scoot around to the stairs, but the delusion that this is some kind of messenger from their soul-eating administrator fills him with an uncanny, bubbling rage, one that he's never had and, thus, has no idea how to control. He welcomes the voice. Let's play her game this time, shall we?]

[That last passage of consideration fills a surprisingly short amount of time--just enough for Rick to scoot backwards a few more feet while the dragon advances. When he makes up his mind he stomps to his feet, his eyes glaze blue and then...]

[...Before Xemnas stands a small Tyrannosaurus Rex. He holds his ground and watches for movement; regardless of if the dragon continues his approach, he'll get a warning roar--just the one--and then immediately a charge for the throat. He's too angry to consider the element of surprise, but if it's on his side right now, the better.]

[Probably it would be quick. Hunger is imperative and toying with his prey really isn't on the to-do list in favor of doing something about that gnawing need to eat SOMETHING. Lunch was yesterday and he'd never gotten around to the cafeteria again and right now pumpkins just wasn't going to cut it.

Alarmed moving burritos on the other hand would suit him just fine.

But it has nothing to do with Ruana. Just a bit of bad luck with a certain faery circle and not knowing the possible consequences. Now that he knew the consequences, the dragon didn't mind so much. Later on, Xemnas very much would mind, and would be more careful in teh future. This.. does not help Rick at all, who is currently looking amazingly delicious as only the helpless and frightened can. Which means the dragon is taking his time, not bothering to waste energy on excessive pounces or attacks when a calm stroll will do.

Except then his snackable crumpet becomes a t-rex that is possibly a little taller than the dragon is. This is severely off-putting, by the way Xemnas balks. A dinosaur might be tasty but really he hadn't planned on fighting dinner.

The decision is made for him, as the rex roars and charges. It's definitely a surprise, and he's not going to get out of the way in time easily, which means the charging saurian is met with a blast of clinging cold and ice and a sudden scrabble sideways in a snap of wings and claws that kicks up all kinds of dirt and wildflowers. Those jaws looked powerful than his own, and he's not really keen on being bitten.]

[The Dinosaur continues forward--if he can't catch the dragon in his jaws, he'll catch him with his feet--but misses as his quarry ducks sideways. A combination of displaced dirt and cold catches his shoulder as he passes, which is uncomfortable but, as it's not a direct hit and he's too angry to care, whatever burns this causes are ignored for the moment.]

[He recovers alarmingly fast, whipping around to take advantage of the fact that the creature with wings is presently grounded and pin him with his mouth or feet. Perhaps he'll get lucky and cripple a wing while he has the opportunity.]

Edited 2013-10-18 19:46 (UTC)

[This is terribly inconvenient.

Xemnas had things he wanted to eat. Having them fight back was really more trouble than he wanted to contend with. But contend he would, as the idea of eating dinosaur seemed as appealing as eating a human. However there were those snapping, cavernous jaws to deal with.. and even in this form, the Nobody was incapable of rage. Clearheaded thought might well make this somewhat.. unfair, for the shapeshifter-turned-dino.

As the rex twists around and attempts to pin, the silvery dragon rears back, wings fanning wide for extra balance, and lunges in return, grasping foreclaws reaching to attempt to catch that tooth-filled and hellishly dangerous maw in a tenacious grip. Crocodiles had all their force in the bite. So did many other similar creatures, with so few muscles to reopen their closed jaw. He's willing to risk a finger or a wingtip or even a limb to see if he can shove the rex's mouth closed and keep it that way. If the saurian can't bite, then the risk to the dragon is all but nullified, surely..]

[At first it seems that the rex has indeed made a fatal misstep; his jaws snap on empty space, and as they begin to part for a second attempt at the rearing dragon, they're once again forced closed by forelegs much more powerful than his own. Unfortunately for his opponent, there's still considerable strength to be had in the Dinosaur's stout neck, which pulls away almost as soon as the dragon's claws land on his snout. Bloody gashes rake their way across his nose, but once again he is exceptionally lucky and manages to immediately retaliate. He sets his tooth's next target for the outstretched foreleg that just injured him.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

In which Xemnas tries out being a new species.

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Sorry for delay, hiatus happened. ;_;

It's not a problem! I can be painfully slow.

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Floor 25

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