towerofanimus | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Characters: Mindfang, open to all
Setting: Around the tower
Format: Starting with action will follow with whatever's picked
Summary: Mindfang wakes up and flips some shit
Warnings: Shit being flipped. Violence. Will be edited if need be.

Dorm 1-15

[Even as she stirs, sleep paralysis clinging to her Mindfang doesn't freak. She doesn't allow herself to, doing that will only bring satisfaction to her captors, she's sure of it. Instead she waits, reaching out with her mind while she tests her body, waiting for it's response. And even when she does feel her muscles twitch and she finds herself able to sit up she doesn't rush, movements lazy as if she has not a fear in the world. The collar around her throat? An innconvience yes, but she knows she'll get it off with ease.

That doesn't mean she'll take this lying down though. If either of her room-mates are in the room as she wakes they'll find themselves grabbed by a rather tall troll, one eye a brilliant red, one arm completely robotic and her stare fierce even as her tone stays calm and controlled]

Where am I? Explain, now.

Throughout the tower

[Having changed out of that skintight white suit into one of her changes of clothes Mindfang swaggers her way through the tower, her seeing eye focused and all her senses on alert. She won't let anyone surprise her, and if they even try... well, she'll enjoy a good fight, and she's more than prepared, with a thin sword strapped to her side and her dice on her person.

Scratches of blue line her throat where nails have broken through her skin in her attempts to pull her collar off, a fight she only gave up because of her need to find out more about this place. She'll best the thing, and once she does, she'll find those that put it on her and tear them apart. The audacity, thinking they could collar the great Marquise as if she was nothing but a lowblood slave.

She'll show them. Once she finds them]

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[neophyte redglare, was it? the young legislator he'd met in the library? small world indeed. perhaps he should've treated her with a touch more kindness, if he were indirectly responsible for her death. not that that really matters to him, in the long-run. empathy for things such as those were unknown to him, which it is far from. but the fact that that buffoon of a clown had given her a task, without key information he'd supplied... perhaps she'd been the punchline to another of his jokes, too. he'd strive to make conversation with her later, anyway, seeing at they were on at least similar sides in his mind.]

I see.

[he points the sword to her chest, the tip just hovering a little ways from her heart. and his eyes hood just slightly as he contemplates the organ beating unhindered beneath her flesh. ]

Then, do you've anythin' more 'a importance to say?

[She can't help it. She laughs. He thinks he can scare her, with his sword, with his threats. Things Mindfang hasn't worried over in sweeps if ever. So she chuckles, lips curved into a smirk as the metal fingers of her robotic arm touch the tip of his blade, before sliding down the metal, the smallest shriek of metal on metal. She laughs, and she pushes his sword aside, taking a single step towards him, her real fingers touching his face, sharp nails running up his jaw.]

Everything I say is of importance, Orphie. And one would think you didn't miss me, didn't miss my touch or my bite.

[Another low chuckle as she closes the distance and moves to kiss his lips, only to let her teeth sink into his bottom lip, almost piercing the skin. All the while she watches him, hand still pressed against his sword]

[to say he's 'missed' her would be an understatement. and he'd had unsheathed his weapon with the full intention of running her through with it, but that soon crumbles too. of course he couldn't do it: just as he couldn't face her with his feelings of matespritship, just as he couldn't kill her himself. even though they both gave each other ample leeway to do such, with how often their guards appeared to be let down. and at the same time, weren't. he'd had to get a third party to do his bidding.

coward. surely, without a physical weapon, she must realize she's slowly killing him.

dualscar flinches back at first, a snarl on his lips, and shifts his sword for its flat-side to press against her thigh. she can probably feel as he pulls away just marginally, though not completely. god damn his missing arm, or the things he'd think he'd do with it... he lets a deliberately slow hiss out between slightly parted teeth, and waits.]

[Her body moves to press back against his sword, the flat of the blade firm against her thigh as Mindfang slowly pulls back. Carefully she wets her lips, missing the taste of his blood that would usually come from a 'kiss' like that. His irritation is clear and it almost makes her giddy, makes her want to laugh in his face, press her nails to his cheeks and dig into the flesh.

She want's more than irritation. She was loathing, and all the acts that come with it. The sharpness of a cut lip and the taste of two blood. But to make that move, bite first would leave her the loser. No, the game is to provoke him until he snaps and does it himself. Make him the biter. Make him loose control

Chuckling softly, she walks fingers up his front, watching him from under her half closed eyelids] My, my, Orphie... so tense... What happened to make you stick a stick up your ass...

Shall I guess? Is the sight of me that distressing? Another reminder to how you will always lose and I will always win.

[she did not understand, was the bottom line.

and it would almost make him feel sick to his stomach, watching her wet her lips, feeling her hands against his chest, the heat as she pressed tantalizingly closer. make him sick because this is what he wants, yet at the same time, it's not what he really wants. he does snap, but not in the way she'd like for him to.

but he'd still foolish hope that wasn't not the case: as he closes what little space remains between them, to press his lips full against hers, for his sword to clatter noisily to the ground as he instead wraps his arm about her waist. there is very little amount of hate to the action, in this moment, and what's been stopping him is his fear of rejection.

but as unreal as their meeting has seemed, he's accepted that.]

[She's playing a dangerous game she knows. Giving him this, allowing him so much and knowing of his mindset. So firmly decided that their romance would never bloom red she forgets that she cannot actually control him. Not properly. Which, while one of the reasons she even became so interested in him, leaves him a wildcard.

And she can't have that. She wants a kismesisstude, not a matespritship from him. It's all she ever wanted from him, but it's delicate. The lack of hate in his kiss makes her pause, mind quickly skimming through the possible outcomes of the actions she could take before she finally decides.

She bites. Hard and piercing, before yanking her head back. Lips in a cruel smirk she stays in his arms, voice slick and antagonising] You really are like a barkbeast Orphaner.

I could smack you to the floor, take my revenge and you'd take it and ask for more. Pathetic really, and it's nearly pathetic enough that I can overcome my repulsion of your weaknesses to pity you. But that would only encourage that behaviour, wouldn't it?

['wildcard' indeed, especially with one as flighty as him when it comes to romantic aspirations.

once bitten, he involuntarily winces, a rivulet of rich violet leaking from the corner of his mouth. and he'd wipe it away if it weren't for his hand at her hip, of which he'd rather keep in place. her nerve. but for as much anger there is in his countenance, there is a faint, momentary trace of sadness in his gaze. he's never trusted her, and to think her declaration of reciprocation to be truth would be foolish.

he'd go on as to how she should think this an honor, but he knows that would be breath wasted. so there's a different approach.]

Consider yourself fortunate. I doubt in your lifetime you'll find another so willin' to overlook your innumerable flaws, let alone feel compassion for the likes 'a you.

[yes, if only he knew.]

[A smirk on her lips as well as a smudge of violet she leans forward, slowly letting the tip of her tongue trace his lips. She kisses him again, prying his lips apart and sucking slowly on the bitten on. She can't help the shudder that runs through her, the intimacy of this act sorely missed, even as she pulls back and runs jagged teeth over the broken flesh.

And she laughs. Tips her head back, and laughs, cold and cruel. Oh if only he did know. Oh if only... it's cute how he tries to hurt her.]

Fortune favours the cunning. And you'll be surprised as those who'll find me attractive my dearest. You are not the last to flush red, and you were not the first.

You weren't much at all, really. [Another stab, another rejection. Honestly now she's just trying to provoke him into getting angry]

[one rejection too many.

that little spark of hatred within his chest swells to a flame once more; always been burning, though once nearly suffocated by his more flushed feelings. and the warfare would continue unhindered. he feels the shudder as it runs through her, feels the friction between them. if her emotions were truly flushed, he thinks, and already knows that they aren't, then there wouldn't be any friction in the first place.

because fuck. her.

he gives in. if only because, at the moment, it suits his interests. or so he'd like to tell himself, if only partially true. and he knows he's lost as he returns to crush his lips against hers, making little effort to be mindful of his teeth. the gentle caress at her waist becomes sharp; for claws to slide up her bodice, catch on lace, and almost run the fabric through.]

[His anger thrills her, the crush of his lips, the scrape of his teeth and she laughs. Arms wrap around him in a mockery of an embrace as she pushes back against him, her own teeth nipping his lips till she tastes both her blood and his. She swallows it and rakes her nails across his cheek in return for the almost ruin of her clothes, her body thrumming with her loathing.

She's won. Just like she always has, and always will. He's so easy to manipulate, even without her abilities. So easy, so fun, to toy with his heart before crushing it in his fist and reshaping it into what she wants.

Mindfang kisses with a bite, and she laughs as blood is smeared on their faces.

She's won.]

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Whoops only 4 days later....

/pets

;u;

/beats you with lateness

Nope

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