towerofanimus | (no subject)

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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.

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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.

Eridan hadn't lied, but his perception of what happened was obviously quite different from that of the Highblood's. He swore as Willow turned to face the massive troll, but dove for cover as she began to crackle with electricity. He ducked behind a bench and watched, eyes wide, and ready to absorb every trick she could show him.

He was her apprentice, after all. And she seemed to be determined to finish this battle, rather than running away.

Magic was an extremely foreign concept to the highblood, but he knew he couldn't deny the threat of it, especially when it was constantly being used against him. He eyed the crackling electricity, all of his senses going haywire, but willing his body to stay put for a moment. The wound on his stomach was still bleeding, but it didn't throb so painfully anymore, so he pulled his indigo splattered hand away to clench them into a fist.

He was still without a real weapon which made him uneasy, especially against a super-powered alien, but he didn't hesitate as he charged, head tilted down slightly-- only to unleash a flash step, a move he used rarely where he moves so quickly from one point to another that he seems to disappear, and reappeared in front of her. His hair billowed about them and he raised an arm to strike.

Willow is not a physical fighter. She'd never learned it, always been vulnerable to it; even when she'd beaten back Buffy under the heady influence of black magic, that had been simple invulnerability winning out. She's grown used to accommodating for herself, ducking quickly, running, all the things you have to do to keep your distance, but that doesn't mean she's good at them.

She doesn't have time to think about this, and the highblood is suddenly in front of her. The force of the strike on her jaw wrenched something; she went crashing back to the floor with a cry of pain, blood blooming on her skin, frame arched and immobile on the white pool-side tile. The electricity in her hand was gone.

But the second her back hit the ground, Willow realized: she didn't need to choose between in control and weak, and out of control and powerful. It was a hard line to walk, but there was power right here.

As she lay stiffly on the ground, wondering in a split second if her jaw was broken, she started to gather up the energy of the planet she was on and suck it into her, an invisible process from the outside. To them, it appeared she'd gotten hit, and went down.

Edited 2012-01-09 17:31 (UTC)

Eridan might have seemed like a coward the way he ducked and covered the moment Willow told him to. He had expected Willow to blast the Highblood to ashes, and didn't want to interfere or wind up getting hit by backlash. What Eridan was, was smart.

He was also loyal.

When Willow went down with a cry and a spurt of candy red blood, Eridan's fins snapped back and he growled. In an instant he was up on his feet again, and charging the Highblood, knife out and slashing. There was one deep wound in the Highblood's belly, and he intended to add a few more before the Highblood took him out.

The highblood was expecting more from the girl, but he didn't take things for granted. He believed in double taps, and making sure that what's dead is actually dead. Playing dead after a blow like that wasn't uncommon in his experience. Unfortunately, he forgot about Eridan who had been hiding in the back, and his gaze snapped back to the sea troll that was dashing towards him.

He snarled in response, using his arms as a shield, though they became pretty badly slashed all over. The floor stained purple as the fresh gashes on his arm bled profusely, making it hard to keep his footing on the slippery floor. He swung his fists wildly in hopes of knocking this punk out.

It didn't take long for Willow to recover. Even as the fight progressed, she rose from the floor onto her feet as if floated up or time had reversed. She reached to wipe the blood off her face, smearing it along her sleeve. Whether her jaw had been broken or not, it was fine now, and she was ready for more. The inner debate was over.

Breaking up the middle of a heated fight, though, wasn't something to be accomplished easily with everything moving so fast now. "Want to try that again?" she taunts, trying to distract them enough to provide her with an opening.

Eridan didn't expect Willow to speak at all. It was all he could do to keep the Highblood off of him, and he slashed at the swinging arms, backpedalling as best he could and slipping on the blood that dripped onto the tile.

He went down hard, jarring his spine. The fall knocked the knife out of his hand, finally, the hilt slippery with the Highblood's indigo blood.

The highblood whipped his head around to face Willow, a look of surprise flashing across his features. To be honest, he didn't expect her to recover so quickly. Most did not even survive his punches, much less get up from them with plenty of fight left in them. Especially one as small as this girl.

He spares a quick glance at Eridan, who had slipped and fell, and when only he was sure that the knife was out of his hand did he turn his attention back to Willow.

"Sure, bitch," he spat, ignoring the stinging of his arms. "We can do this all motherfucking day if we all got to."

"So far you seem like a one tricky pony to me, but hey, what do I know?" It felt good, probably better than it should, to let loose like this. To say all of the dark, selfish thoughts that lurked in the back of her mind, repressed out of guilt.

There was no guilt now. Willow spared Eridan on the floor a glance, and felt her resolve firm at seeing him so clearly injured. "I need to borrow your knife for a second," she says to him in a tone only slightly gentler than her previous one. She couldn't let go of her momentum now. With a flick of her fingers, the abandoned knife rose off the floor and into her hand, where it suddenly turned into something a lot larger: the blade ten inches, the indigo blood on the handle mixing with the red on her hand and sleeve. She held onto it easily, grip loose, because she didn't intend to fight with it herself. She intended to throw it.

Eridan was just throwing himself to the side, crawling to try to get at his knife. But then it skittered away, flying through the air. He yelled and turned over again, only then realizing that Willow had taken it.

Eyes wide, he watched from his prone position.

His eyes widened a touch as the blade suddenly grew in size. Her powers haven't really been fully demonstrated to the highblood yet, but he felt that her powers were truly frightening. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a twinge of nervousness.

Honestly, he hadn't come down here expecting a fight, although he should've always kept on his toes. But even if he did, he had no weapons available to him in that trunk filled with useless garbage.

With a deafening growl, he kept his stance, waiting for her to make her move first. Heading straight into a fight he wasn't sure of wasn't really smart, though he had a strange inkling that being on the defensive wasn't going to be any different.

Willow has her weaknesses, and she hadn't been expecting a fight, either-- but if her opponent isn't familiar with either her personality or her magic, it can be hard to guess what they are.

She certainly isn't showing any vulnerability right now. That was over with, she'd worked through her hesitations over using black magic; in the moment, she can't think any further. She runs a finger along the flat side of the blade, and the metal heats, an orange-red flare shimmering down the length.

It rises out of her hand into the air once more, tip pointing towards the highblood. Willow's expression doesn't flicker as it darts forward.

The highblood's eye went wide for an instant, a strange feeling overwhelming him. It felt like anticipation, but with a hint of something foreign. Fear? Was he actually feeling fearful of this little witch?

Unfortunately for him, he can't mull over these questions. Pushing all thoughts that were not critical to his survival aside, he barely made it out of the way. The white-hot heat radiating off the blade alone singed his hair, and the stink filled his nostrils. It was an unpredictable weapon, being wielded by magic, and there was only so much he could do to try and predict its next move.

Standing immobile and silent, her eyes track the floating knife, controlling it with will alone. Telekinesis of a small object like this is so simple, barely an expenditure of her power. She could kill vampires with pencils using this method over a year ago.

It swivels in place like a compass, turning to point at the highblood unerringly. Willow doesn't have enough skill in physical fighting, even by this method, to have any subtlety: it flies forward again for another pass.

A harsh gasp left his lips as the knife suddenly plunged into his shoulder, and he batted at it with a angry sounding grunt. It wasn't like any regular stab wound, what with its burning hot blade, and he felt excruciating pain rip through his body starting from the wound and down to his toes. The emotions this new sort of sensation ignited was an equally hot rage. His eyes flashed bright red from its usual orange, and he bared his teeth threateningly, like a corner beast.

"Motherfucker, do not think you can all hide behind your motherfucking magic forever," he snarled, clutching at his shoulder. The wound was cauterized from the heat, but it left a longer lasting pain than a normal knife wound would have.

"You will motherfucking rue the day I all get my hands on you, bitch."

The knife flew back to her hand, where she caught it neatly, the blood thick enough to almost completely hide the metal.

Willow stays as she is, responding instead of attacking. "You're wrong. I can hide behind my magic forever. In fact, I could suck the life right out of you with just a touch, and it'd only make me stronger. Not my fault you didn't believe me when I warned you." She speaks blandly, as if uninterested. Every second that passes, she better finds her balance between ruthless and composed.

If her words alone weren't enough, that bored tone of hers was equally infuriating. To be honest, he was sort of at a loss for what to do. Strategically, running away would've been best, seeing as he was at a disadvantage, but his pride and anger wouldn't allow him.

He roared, forgetting the pain in his shoulder and charged her once more, not even giving a fuck if it was futile or not. If she was going to rip him apart with her magic, then so be it, but he wasn't going down without seeing it to the end. No running away for him.

Teleporting was strong, deep magic, but Willow had seen this coming. She'd kept in mind what the Summoner had told her, that when the highblood got enraged, he got sloppy and mindless. Apparently he was right, and it was working.

There was no noise, no light show, she was just there one moment and the next she wasn't. Instead, she was behind him and to the left, some fifteen feet away. It left Eridan exposed and unprotected, but she was confident that she had the highblood's attention fully now.

"Hey, over here," she calls mockingly. "Time to get this over with." She was sinking deeper. She'd pulled her power from the Earth, but her intent was changing it, the channels for black magic well-worn and wide open in her mind, always waiting for an opportunity. She had to finish this, because there was a distant, nagging part of herself that kept insisting she was afraid she wouldn't come back from the darkness. It was faintly annoying, but she listened to it.

Willow was ready to be done with him.

He skidded to a stop, whipping around to face the witch who was now on the other side of the room. Fuck, she was even faster than he was with his flash step. Confusion subsided quickly and he rushed once more, blinded by his steadily building rage and raised a monstrous arm to pull back and swing...if he ever got close enough.

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Yay!

partayy

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OOC: Skip me, I guess. This is Eridan's face

poor baby

we can probably keep skipping Cnd for a little bit and you can hop in as needed for now? :|a

excellent

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AHH just for the hell of it <3