towerofanimus | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Characters: AU Eridan Ampora, The Grand Highblood Subjugglator, and Willow Rosenberg
Setting: The floor with the pool
Format: Whatever, I'll follow what you guys want to do
Summary: Eridan will probably sass the GHB, and Willow will hopefully rescue him.
Warnings: Violence and swearing

Eridan boosted himself up out of the pool and reached for the towel he'd brought this time. He was wearing swimming trunks, a simple white speedo, because the bigger trunks they'd offered him caused too much drag.

He'd never been that into swimming back home, with the water so polluted, but this water was clean and clear, if a tiny bit chlorinated. It was just enough to make his gills tingle, but he always washed them out thoroughly in the ablution trap later so there wouldn't be any scarring.

He had hoped to meet Willow again and take her swimming, but she hadn't arrived yet. That was disappointing, and he hoped she'd just lost track of time or something, and nothing bad had happened to her. He'd maybe check the library on his way back to his respite block. That would be like the girl he was becoming to hope would be his matesprit one day.

Content and humming a fisher tune, he rubbed at his skin to buff away the worst of the water so he could put his clothes back on and make his way back to his room.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Damnit. This was what he had been trying to tell that Sufferer-spawn Kanaya. He could 'not tell' as many people as he wanted that in his own world he was a lowblood, but that didn't mean they'd assume he was a highblood. He didn't know how to be a highblood.

He scowled, then drew himself up. He wasn't about to give up that easily. "Wwhat makes you say that? I'm a fuckin' sea dwweller. Can't you see the fins? Wwhy wwould you think I'm different?"

"You sure don't act like a high and mighty motherfucker from the sea," the highblood commented, offering a casual shrug. He grinned a little wider at the sea blood's scowl. It was so much like Dualscar's, he was starting to find it more and more amusing, but if he had the same wonderful sense of humor like Dualscar did, he would be a little disappointed.

"What's your deal, motherfucker? You the kind of troll that all motherfucking battles against the hemospectrum, TRYING TO SHAKE THINGS UP A LITTLE?"

"A course I am," Eridan blurted out, then scowled even more deeply. He wasn't sure he liked this cultist at all. He had a very unsettling way of speaking. "You off your fuckin' meds or somethin'?" he added. In for a penny, in for a boondollar. "Wwhat's your name?"

The whole thing about meds sort of confused the highblood, but he was thoroughly distracted by the question suddenly asked.

"You may call me the Grand Highblood," he said with a low growl, looking down his nose at Eridan. This guy was starting to get a little fresh, and it didn't sit too well with him. He waited to see where this all went first before acting on his currently tingling instincts.

Eridan's fins went very rigid, and flattened against his neck in a terror reflex that he had often cursed. He had heard of this title, in the mouldy old books he'd managed to uncover along with his antique laser rifle and a few other trinkets passed down from Dualscar.

"You're a fuckin' subjugglator?" he squeaked.

"You only just noticed," the highblood noted, his lips peeling back into a displeased frown. "Are you not motherfucking SCHOOLFED about even the great class of Subjugglators, motherfucker? You are just too motherfucking old to be not even knowing about it."

His rising anger towards the sea dweller was only balanced out by some confusion and annoyance on his part, though at this rate, things looked like it was going to get ugly pretty quick.

Oh shit.

Eridan cowered a bit, his fins still rigid and his hand still hidden, clutching his knife. It was a puny weapon, but it was all he had right now.

"Wwhere I come from, there havven't been any subjugglators since the Summoner's rebellion," he said, his voice a little higher than normal, but mostly steady. "That's centuries ago. Not my fault I only read about you in history books."

The highblood recognized a defensive stance from a sea dweller when he saw one. He took note of the flattened fins, his slightly cowering position, and snorted. It was understandable though, he thought, seeing as this troll has never been in the presence of a Subjugglator. He was allowed some leeway.

Mentioning the Summoner just did things to him right now, and he outwardly bristled, though from Eridan's side he probably couldn't tell what he was so upset about. The nonsense this sea troll was spouting would've sounded thousands of times more ridiculous if he hadn't already met up with the Summoner. The idea of time travel and timey-wimey bullshit wasn't so impossible anymore.

"Is that so? The motherfucker actually succeeded in your timeline, is that what you're all telling me here?" His voice was wavering at a dangerously low tone, slowly escalating. "You're telling me that some shitstain maggot of a troll just up and ran a motherfucking rebellion, and THAT'S ALL IT TOOK TO MOTHERFUCKING BRING US DOWN? BULL FUCKING SHIT, MOTHERFUCKER!"

A large fist slammed into the wall, creating a huge crater of a dent.

Edited 2011-12-27 10:08 (UTC)

Shit. Shit. Shit. Eridan hadn't even realized he'd been so close to the wall until it exploded right next to his ear. A chip of tile flew off and nicked his fin, already ragged enough from a dozen street battles to look chewed compared to his highblood doppleganger.

He didn't know what the Grand Highblood was really angry about, but it sure sounded like he was angry at him. Fucking highbloods, always blaming people for things that weren't his fault. Dualscar and the Condesce had both done it, too, acting like he was to blame for things that had happened centuries before he was hatched, and that the only reason why sea dwellers were still lowbloods a minute after he'd come into being was because Eridan was lazy or cowardly.

With blood dripping from the wound in his fin, panic gripped him, and his survival instincts went into overdrive. If this monster got hold of him, he was dead, dead, dead.

The towel fell away and the light glinted on the small, wickedly curved knife as he slashed it straight at the troll's belly, then turned in one motion, intending to flee straight towards the pool.

The highblood should've been taken back by the sudden attack, seeing as he didn't even really try to hit Eridan, but he just grinned, ignoring the scratch on his stomach. The tip had barely grazed the skin, the distance between them in the first place playing a big part.

In all honesty, he wasn't mad at Eridan per se. He had provided the highblood with some interesting, if a bit unsettling, information. Whatever happened in Eridan's timeline hardly mattered anymore, especially to the highblood, seeing as he'll never be able to witness or live out such a downfall anyway.

But the troll reacted unfavorably. Being attacked set the highblood off pretty quickly, no matter the circumstances. It was more than enough initiative to retaliate and he reflexively swung his arm to either grab him or give him a hard smack.

Eridan had gone for speed rather than accuracy, and knew even as he turned that the knife hadn't done much at all except enrage the big troll further. He ducked his head and ran as hard as he could, but before he could take three steps, the Highblood's arm came out of nowhere and slammed into his side, throwing him hard against the wall.

He was dazed, but he came up screaming, barely able to see and frenzied with terror, and launched himself at the bigger troll with knife slashing.

The only thought in his mind now was get away get away get away.

The advantage of fighting against a troll that was completely losing his shit was that he finally had the level head around here for once. Sure, his senses were buzzing like crazy, trying to keep himself alert for any real danger, but at least he wasn't freaking out. That was more than enough for him and he could easily avoid the knife despite his size. He wasn't exactly the smallest target, after all.

"Hey, hey, motherfucker, how the fuck did you all survive with such motherfucking sub par skills?" He taunted him, swinging an arm out again in hopes of knocking the troublesome knife out of Eridan's hand. While the knife was no big deal, it still was really sharp, and still hurt. The last thing he wanted were more gashes and scars. If he had HIS weapon with him, this fight would've been much more interesting, but alas, he did not.

Though Eridan was indeed losing his shit, the one thing he would not lose, could not lose, refused to lose was his knife.

The second blow knocked him back against the wall again hard enough to bruise all up his back, but he kept hold of the knife like it was his last hope - which it was. The blow did bring back some of the world around the edges of his perception, though he stood gasping, pressed against the wall as much because it was holding him up as anything else. He was still pretty dazed from the first hit.

Hissing like a tea kettle, he held the knife between them and inched further to the side, trying to get around the other troll so he could dive back into the water.

The highblood gazed cooly down his nose at Eridan, waiting for him to make his move. His steps were deliberately slow, taking one step forward whenever the sea dweller inched to the side. Swimming away to safety was a good idea, though the highblood with a twisted grin. He didn't really enjoy being in water himself.

"Hey, motherfucker," he called out, almost gently in that raspy voice of his. "What are you all riled up about, anyway? Nobody came in here with intentions of killing your silly ass."

His words sounded as if they were meant to be reassuring, but the way he continued to advance on the sea troll probably was a dead give away that he wasn't trying very hard. To be perfectly honest, he could've just left the troll alone, it really wasn't worth the trouble. But at the same time, there were things that 'this' Eridan knew, and he was curious about him.

He kept coming closer. Every time Eridan made a move towards safety, the Highblood advanced, his steps larger and closing the distance. It was obvious the indigo knew where the sea dweller was trying to go - anyone would probably figure it out, anyway, unless they were completely stupid - and despite his slightly conciliatory words, Eridan didn't believe for a minute that the Highblood was going to just let him flee.

"You attacked me first!" he snapped, raising the knife a little more and baring his teeth menacingly. "Just leavve me alone, that's all I wwant! But if you come any closer I'll fuckin' kill you don't think I wwon't!"

He let out a roar of laughter, though it died down pretty quick. He held out his arms and shook his head, like one normally would in disbelief, but he was only doing it mockingly.

"ME? I don't remember attacking you, motherfucker! What I all remember is bringing down my motherfucking fist into a fucking wall, and then you all up and shit your shitty swimming briefs over it!"

Then took another step, followed by a few more, rapidly turning into a full sprint. No way he was going to leave Eridan alone after all this. The more logical side of his mind, where ever the hell it was, only wanted to chase him for more information regarding the Summoner... but the other, more chaotic side, wanted to just chase him for fun.

Eridan hissed. "Then wwhy am I fuckin' bleeding you piece a shit dirt munchin'--" Oh shit.

Eridan could be a coward at times. He didn't think of it as being cowardly so much as not wanting to die, especially stupidly.

But Eridan was a veteran of too many street battles he couldn't avoid, and he knew when he was cornered. And when he was cornered, he was a whirlwind of desperation with pointy ends.

He planted his feet and lowered his head, and when the Highblood came closer, he launched himself forward, straight towards his scratched stomach, knife first.

Whether the knife would connect or not wasn't any of the highblood's concern. If Eridan made it, then good for him! He wasn't so pathetic after all. If Eridan didn't make it, then well, he's a dead troll, because those wicked claws were curling out, ready to rip through anything it came in contact with.

Despite the lovely fight this sea dweller put up, he had a feeling it wouldn't be very gratifying in the end, much like the two other humans he had killed off in the tower. They were just there, and they were walking around with a 'Cull Me' sign, so he had obliged. This one wasn't much different, except he put up quite the fight.

But he quite liked the bright violet of sea-dweller blood. It would be at least worth all this effort to see some more of it.

Willow had walked into the room, filled with innocuous thoughts of going swimming again with Eridan, a saddlebag slung over her shoulder and head in the clouds. The second she stepped in and saw Eridan and the highblood mid-fight, mid-death it looked like-- and the wrong death-- her heart skipped a beat. She froze in place, in shock.

She couldn't help it: immediately she thought of Tara. It was blood on her shirt again, a shattered window, black eyes demanding that she be brought back and it not happening. It was unfair, so unfair, that no matter how many months it'd been, the flashback was instantaneous, and she was gasping.

Then it was like her mind clicked over. No. No, never, never was she watching this happen again. This wasn't Tara and Eridan wasn't on that level in terms of importance to her, was still a long ways off, but the association was there and any association was too much, pricked her into rage instantly. Her bag slid off her shoulder and to the ground with a dull thump.

She took a step forward and flung her hand up simultaneously, shouting Latin. "Iacere!" The highblood went flying backwards into the pool, the splash sudden and reverberating in the high ceiling.

This was bad. This was so, so bad. She felt out of control already, rushing forward almost before the spell had completed to come up to Eridan's side.

Luckily for Eridan, the Grand Highblood's claws had only just come around to rip him to shreds when he was launched away. The knife slipped from Eridan's grasp as it slid back out of the Highblood's belly, and clattered to the floor, spattering indigo blood on the tile.

Claws had ripped into Eridan's back, but he barely felt it, diving for his knife and coming up with it, his eyes wild and murderous as he looked for the next threat. He couldn't understand where the Highblood had just gone, though the spreading ripples and splashing where he'd landed in the pool gave him a clue.

Finally he saw Willow, and his eyes widened, a bit of sanity coming back into them. He swayed, but somehow stayed on his feet.

"Wwilloww? Wwhere did you come from?"

Fuck. Water. He was so not down with water. It's not that he couldn't swim or anything, but there were a lot of unpleasant distant memories attached to it, and he all but dragged himself out of the pool, dripping with chlorine water and blood, seeping steadily from the gash across his stomach.

Then after the wave of panic subsided, he growled lowly and looked around the room for the source of the interruption. He had heard a woman's voice yell something... and oh, there she was, running towards Eridan. He didn't charge right away, trying to regain his footing on the slippery floor and pressing a hand against the wound. Not to mention that this tiny woman had just blasted him away. That was definitely something to be wary about.

"We were going to meet here, remember?" she says, her tone frantic, urgent, her eyes wide. She's overwhelmed with concern at his reaction, and the blood everywhere. It's all too similar, indigo and purple, for her to tell the difference in her current mindset. "How badly are you hurt-- are you going to be okay?"

Willow sees the highblood getting out of the water in her peripheral vision, and her gaze flicks over to him briefly. Her entire expression changes: cold and closed off, voice hard and immobile. "Why is this happening?"

She's trying to contain her reaction, resist the boiling urge to grab onto black magic with both hands and not let go until this threat is dispatched. It's innate, reflexive. She wants power, needs it, to deal with this, but she's spent so long trying to train herself out of those reflexes. Internally Willow is waffling from worried and in shock, to the icy anger of uncompromising vengeance. It's a stark contrast and it's making her thoughts whirl incoherently, her previous taste of magic enough to influence her.

Right now, she's teetering on the mental precipice, still reeling. It terrifies her bone deep how quickly this was happening to her, and she tries to calm herself down even as she's reacting. No matter what's going on here, she can't afford to lose herself.

"I knoww but I thought you wweren't comin', and..." Eridan saw the Highblood getting out of the water, too, and raised the knife, backing away towards the stairs and plucking at her sleeve, trying to get her to move with him. "And he showwed up! He's a subjugglator, and he got pee ohed that I'm a lowwblood, or somethin', so he fuckin' attacked me wwithout any kind a provvocation!"

The fact that Eridan was pretty much incorrect about everything he just said didn't really bother the highblood at first. He was a little confused by the lowblood part, but this wasn't the time to really think about that or ask. The time for civil conversations were over.

He lurched forward, fangs bared, and staring directly at Willow. "Motherfucking aliens all getting in the way of my business get THE SAME MOTHERFUCKING TREATMENT." Of course he knew she had strange powers, but he was viciously stubborn, and admitting defeat wasn't exactly a thing he was very good at until it got real bad.

Willow had a very strong tendency to automatically trust anyone she liked, so when Eridan gave her his explanation, she didn't doubt a single word. It helped that the Grand Highblood already had a reputation to her that coincided with it perfectly. She'd known for a while that she'd probably have to fight him eventually-- to her, putting it off now would be senseless, because she was totally justified in needing to.

She ignores the tugs on her sleeve and in fact faces the highblood directly, demeanor chilling further. "Go ahead," she dares him, glaring openly and making sure that she's overtly between her opponent and the person she's protecting. "I've been practicing my brick impression. Eridan, you better give us some room."

It's easy, so easy, to reach for that inner roiling of energy, and when she lifts her hand up this time, black electricity starts to crackle between her fingers.