[ It's certainly not the first time Otome has found herself in a situation where she's surrounded by monsters - demons - all out for her blood. If anything, it's almost kind of nostalgic, in a way she would rather have avoided ever feeling again.
But that was then, and this is now, and while she looks vaguely uneasy at her current predicament (which so happens to involve ending up in an unfamiliar place with no familiar faces and her still in her pink scrubs and her doctor's coat), she's also slipping her hand deep into the pocket of her coat and pulling out a...
... Cellphone.
It's not the most impressive weapon, but she's certainly clasping it close as though she's about to wage war with it. ]
I don't suppose you'd want to negotiate this peacefully?
[ From the answering snarl she receives, the outlook isn't promising. ]
They don’t look like the kind patient enough for negotiation, if you ask me.
[The voice carries just enough to be heard over demon claws scuffling the pavement, the hiss and gurgle of a hungry call for blood. Padded footsteps herald the approach of a dark-haired man in black, the click of his cane pairing each step in an even tempo.
He stops only a few feet away from her, behind and slightly adjacent.]
In fact, you might want to put the phone away. [The point of his cane, decorated in strange filigree, stills against the ground. He leans against it, adding to a strangely lopsided silhouette that his frame already possesses, a body frailer than most.] It won’t do you much good here.
[ While there's a faint amount of surprise in the amber eyes that gaze back at him over her shoulder, the medically-inclined half (more than half, really) has her studying him for reasons other than mere shock or curiosity.
There's a certain... pallor to him, a listing that she notes can't be healthy. He's frail. Carries a cane. Unwell, perhaps? He doesn't appear to be someone who ought to be talking rather confidently amidst a horde of demons, but then again, neither does she.
It takes all kinds, after all, Otome reminds herself, though she'll file away her sense of concern regarding him for the time being and glances down at her phone with a smile that might seem out of place at the moment. ]
Thank you for the advice, [ and indeed, her tone is soft and sincere. ]
But I think it might actually do more than anything else I happen to have on me right now.
[Unwell. Unwell and slowly unraveling, making "unwell" an understatement to those in the know. Not that there are very many of those, mind.
It is odd, her composure. His is reflected in a languid sort of way, curiosity stretching forth with an obviously assessing gaze. His lean on his cane becomes more pronounced, but not by way of difficulty -- merely exuding his intrigue, an almost-request for her to sate it.]
Then if that's the case, I'd like to see how.
[Like ants crawling across his skin, he can feel the thrum of anxious readiness of his familiars, ready to leap and gouge and assail the demons around them. Hissing, ugly things. Hungry for blood, fangs gnashing.]
[ It's a fair enough suggestion. Otome's perceptive enough to know skepticism when she looks for it, but at the moment, she's not looking. There's no sense of derision in his voice, just a probing stare similar to the one she'd given him only seconds ago, and she can't fault him for that.
But she is grateful that it's not concern, or outright doubt, that he's not instantly brushing past her with a brusque demand to stand aside when she likely knows nothing--
Much like the chief with civilians, a thought that comes with mild amusement. Otome had proven herself long before there had truly been a need for her expertise, an amalgamation of her medical skills as a doctor and the spiritual power required to truly tend to demon-inflicted wounds.
Again, she smiles quietly, shifting her gaze forward again as she takes precisely two steps forward. It's too soon to call completely for the aid of the ones currently residing in her phone, but it's got more uses than summoning. ]
If you stare at me too hard, you'll make me blush.
[ But that's all she says, letting the phone (an older model) flip open. The screen, strangely enough, sparks and glows, and Otome responds to the tug inside of her that calls to the power she'll need to act.
The demons she faces are unfamiliar, but the fighting is not, and as some odd, swirling mass of blackness bearing giant shears and an expressionless white mask finally spins, shrieks, and lunges for her--
The air crackles and twists itself into a sparking mass of light, violet and ivory and pale blue, descending down upon the closest group of enemies with a roar upon impact. It's blinding, but more importantly, it hits hard enough to lower some of those numbers. ]
[It’s an assumption, but one he would bet money on. There’s an assuredness to this young woman that most would not expect; in fact, most would be turning tail and running the other direction when faced with such a terrible sight. The fact that she doesn’t is telling on its own, enough to dredge up his already burgeoning curiosity into something greater.
When she takes out an older model phone, he can’t help but raise a dark brow. The demons are getting restless, limbs twitching and scuffling closer in their direction like broken insects. One of them shrieks above their heads, shaped like a dark, masked banshee with a massive pair of shears, swooping down low and lunging in her direction.
He can’t quantify exactly what comes next.
The air crackles, like the whole atmosphere is ionizing in a pressure that feels warm and heady. Then a blinding light, violet and blue and white, presses down upon the nearest group, that screeching demon, and all V can do for a moment is cover his eyes with a forearm.
When he opens them again, brow furrowed, there’s none left of that group. Maybe faint traces of disintegration, or splatterings of bodily evidence, but little else.]
A little overdone, don’t you think? [—he asks in the stead of his real question: what the actual heck was that]
Don't have to be rich To be my girl Don't have to be cool To rule my world...
[ A muffled voice echoes across the Void and bounces off the walls of dilapidated buildings. Out of an open window, a dark-haired young woman leaps out and lands on her feet. Her eyebrows furrow, expressing a frown that is hidden behind a dark mouth mask with a bright white 'X' that decorates the surface.
The Void was annoying in a sense that there are familiar landmarks due to the mishmashed architectural styles it featured, but the landscape would shift every now and then befuddling the explorers and raiders alike. Outside in the normal world, dedicated scientists, researchers, and conspiracy theorists have come up with all sorts of reasons why the otherworldly environment behaved like this, one being that the Void connected to other alternate universes and when a new landmark appeared, it was its way of trying to reflect that other universe. ]
... Alright.
[ But for a normal(?) hardworking young woman like Nikola Chang, it was just another obstacle during her weeknights when she collected precious materials and thus, she wasn't entirely concerned about the implications. What she IS concerned about is the fact that her hunt has yielded poor results. Not great. She's had the fortune to not run into any other rival raiders or government goons who would give her heck, but there aren't as many monsters around and even less of the beautiful white plants and moss that glowed with the light of the moon (and made great healing potions aka Big Cash Money).
What Nikola DOES find are a different kind of plants or at least what she's interpreting as roots. And they are goddamn ugly roots at that. They're bumpy, twisted, grayish black things, with lumps of red that reminded the Raider of pustules. Gross. And they're EVERYWHERE, blocking her view from what's ahead. Brows furrow even more if possible and she walks up close to the roots, reaching for her knife that's on her belt.]
Alright, alright. What the hell IS this??
[Her knife stops, inches away from a red lump. Nikola is thinking things over, perhaps even thinking of a smart plan??]
...
Wonder if I can overcharge for it since it's unknown?
The roots are familiar, of course, possessing the look of the Qliphoth tree, its gnarled tendrils tearing through the terrain like a parasite, burrowing in and around the ground and structures adorning the landscape of the void. When they taper off, they curl up towards the sky like grasping fingers, reaching towards the unknown, while bulbous crystallizations of red rest at their bases, glowing, silent.
Yes, that part is familiar, but the rest isn’t. V can sense that this place is… other. That these roots mimic the dread reality of his world, but it's mimicry only. This is a reality only tangentially connected, making his nerves tingle along the lines of dark tattoos — disconcerting, curious.
But a path forward often means there exists a path back. Thus is the faith he relies steadily upon, cane clicking in time with his walk, spotting a figure in the distance whose knife gleams in the warping light of this place.]
Blood, mostly.
[The answer to her question, as he draws close enough to speak, leaning his weight heavily onto his cane, planted to the ground.]
I’d leave it alone. Piercing that will take some effort.
[ Nikola is startled and she whips around wielding the knife in front of her with the intention of defense. She doesn't lower her guard, but the incredulity in her eyes spikes as she observes this unknown factor.
(And for the briefest second, her pupils dilate into a different shape, but it's hard to catch.)
There's no immediate symbol she can make out from his person about what agency he's affiliated with. Then again, there's no agency she can think of that employed a lanky and frail man with intricate tattoos that covered most of his surface, a fancy cane, or black sandals (seriously???).
There's a tense silence that she breaks a few seconds in.]
Depending on the blood, then I'd probably still make it worth my while. I don't suppose you're here for a harvest?
Blood of innocents. Humans, mostly. Will that still fetch a worthy price, or is it an unworthy venture?
[He’s unbothered by the knife, unbothered by her caution. They’re nothing but strangers to each other, and to expect comfortability in an unknown place like this? A fallacy.
Also leave his sandals alone. His feet are comfy.]
What do you mean— [He gently lifts his cane with one hand, then tucks it beneath an arm as he moves forward, closer. Eyes track the path of the roots, which converge into a tight tangle just beyond where she stands. A path blocked.] —a harvest?
[ The white lit 'X' on her mouth mask changes shape into a symbol of confusion at his question and the revelation of the red bulbs:
Σ（￣□￣；）
She does lower her knife slightly but takes a step back as he moves closer. Nikola's had the wool pulled over her one too many times when it came to this job and while being less guarded got her more allies in the Void, it wouldn't filter out the persistently rough individuals.
The revelation of the tree consisting of human blood is nevertheless unsettling and looks far more dangerous than this man for the time being. And he sounds like he knows what he's talking about.
Her mask light changes to: ( ﾟдﾟ)]
Uh... Well. [ She reaches up to scratch her cheek. ]
I mean, emergency transfusions are a thing? [ Back to 'X' on her mask and she gazes at him curiously ]
And for that last part, if you're asking me that, that definitely means you're not raiding right now.
[ As a show of courtesy, she sheathes her knife. ]
So hopefully if I do this, I won't get beat up or stalked. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt you know.
[V only waits, having found himself a seat on a bench beneath a large tree, branches shivering and blocking out the rays of the sun overhead. It's rather nice, really, an open space at the base of that hill that they had both gone tumbling down; he still feels sore in his arms and legs, but you wouldn't guess it by looking at him. His cane is propped up against him, glinting in the sun, and in his hand is his usual book of poetry, a page idly turned with a thumb.
At his feet rests a large, midnight-black panther. Shadow has his massive head resting on equally large paws, eyes open and observant, unmoving.]
[ It's a lovely day. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, there's a Miqo'te on the warpath.
Wait.
Contrary to what V may think, Luka does not show up, sword swinging, ready to take the head of everyone in his way. In fact, he would appear perfectly calm if not for the hard lines in his expression, the way he openly glares at the man on the bench as he makes his approach. The rather deliberate presence of Shadow does not go unnoticed. Oh boy. ]
[Dark eyes don't even lift to greet Luke has he approaches. Shadow doesn't even so much as raise his head or flick a tail, as if reflecting his master's apparent indifference.
Instead, V only speaks in a steady, almost lyrical voice. It would make sense, given that he reads from the printed page.]
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air Does to Rags the Heavens tear The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
[A grin, the smallest tilt of his head, strands of black hair falling across his forehead.]
[ Okay, first of all, this nerd needs to stop being so pretty. But second of all, he really doesn’t appreciate the casual tone – and the gibberish even less. ]
Yeah, I noticed. [ Crimson colored eyes dart once again to the panther resting easily at V’s feet. ] You think I’m here to fight you?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
herpaderp
But that was then, and this is now, and while she looks vaguely uneasy at her current predicament (which so happens to involve ending up in an unfamiliar place with no familiar faces and her still in her pink scrubs and her doctor's coat), she's also slipping her hand deep into the pocket of her coat and pulling out a...
... Cellphone.
It's not the most impressive weapon, but she's certainly clasping it close as though she's about to wage war with it. ]
I don't suppose you'd want to negotiate this peacefully?
[ From the answering snarl she receives, the outlook isn't promising. ]
derp!!
[The voice carries just enough to be heard over demon claws scuffling the pavement, the hiss and gurgle of a hungry call for blood. Padded footsteps herald the approach of a dark-haired man in black, the click of his cane pairing each step in an even tempo.
He stops only a few feet away from her, behind and slightly adjacent.]
In fact, you might want to put the phone away. [The point of his cane, decorated in strange filigree, stills against the ground. He leans against it, adding to a strangely lopsided silhouette that his frame already possesses, a body frailer than most.] It won’t do you much good here.
no subject
There's a certain... pallor to him, a listing that she notes can't be healthy. He's frail. Carries a cane. Unwell, perhaps? He doesn't appear to be someone who ought to be talking rather confidently amidst a horde of demons, but then again, neither does she.
It takes all kinds, after all, Otome reminds herself, though she'll file away her sense of concern regarding him for the time being and glances down at her phone with a smile that might seem out of place at the moment. ]
Thank you for the advice, [ and indeed, her tone is soft and sincere. ]
But I think it might actually do more than anything else I happen to have on me right now.
no subject
It is odd, her composure. His is reflected in a languid sort of way, curiosity stretching forth with an obviously assessing gaze. His lean on his cane becomes more pronounced, but not by way of difficulty -- merely exuding his intrigue, an almost-request for her to sate it.]
Then if that's the case, I'd like to see how.
[Like ants crawling across his skin, he can feel the thrum of anxious readiness of his familiars, ready to leap and gouge and assail the demons around them. Hissing, ugly things. Hungry for blood, fangs gnashing.]
no subject
But she is grateful that it's not concern, or outright doubt, that he's not instantly brushing past her with a brusque demand to stand aside when she likely knows nothing--
Much like the chief with civilians, a thought that comes with mild amusement. Otome had proven herself long before there had truly been a need for her expertise, an amalgamation of her medical skills as a doctor and the spiritual power required to truly tend to demon-inflicted wounds.
Again, she smiles quietly, shifting her gaze forward again as she takes precisely two steps forward. It's too soon to call completely for the aid of the ones currently residing in her phone, but it's got more uses than summoning. ]
If you stare at me too hard, you'll make me blush.
[ But that's all she says, letting the phone (an older model) flip open. The screen, strangely enough, sparks and glows, and Otome responds to the tug inside of her that calls to the power she'll need to act.
The demons she faces are unfamiliar, but the fighting is not, and as some odd, swirling mass of blackness bearing giant shears and an expressionless white mask finally spins, shrieks, and lunges for her--
The air crackles and twists itself into a sparking mass of light, violet and ivory and pale blue, descending down upon the closest group of enemies with a roar upon impact. It's blinding, but more importantly, it hits hard enough to lower some of those numbers. ]
no subject
[It’s an assumption, but one he would bet money on. There’s an assuredness to this young woman that most would not expect; in fact, most would be turning tail and running the other direction when faced with such a terrible sight. The fact that she doesn’t is telling on its own, enough to dredge up his already burgeoning curiosity into something greater.
When she takes out an older model phone, he can’t help but raise a dark brow. The demons are getting restless, limbs twitching and scuffling closer in their direction like broken insects. One of them shrieks above their heads, shaped like a dark, masked banshee with a massive pair of shears, swooping down low and lunging in her direction.
He can’t quantify exactly what comes next.
The air crackles, like the whole atmosphere is ionizing in a pressure that feels warm and heady. Then a blinding light, violet and blue and white, presses down upon the nearest group, that screeching demon, and all V can do for a moment is cover his eyes with a forearm.
When he opens them again, brow furrowed, there’s none left of that group. Maybe faint traces of disintegration, or splatterings of bodily evidence, but little else.]
A little overdone, don’t you think? [—he asks in the stead of his real question: what the actual heck was that]
✘ location unknown
To be my girl
Don't have to be cool
To rule my world...
[ A muffled voice echoes across the Void and bounces off the walls of dilapidated buildings. Out of an open window, a dark-haired young woman leaps out and lands on her feet. Her eyebrows furrow, expressing a frown that is hidden behind a dark mouth mask with a bright white 'X' that decorates the surface.
The Void was annoying in a sense that there are familiar landmarks due to the mishmashed architectural styles it featured, but the landscape would shift every now and then befuddling the explorers and raiders alike. Outside in the normal world, dedicated scientists, researchers, and conspiracy theorists have come up with all sorts of reasons why the otherworldly environment behaved like this, one being that the Void connected to other alternate universes and when a new landmark appeared, it was its way of trying to reflect that other universe. ]
... Alright.
[ But for a normal(?) hardworking young woman like Nikola Chang, it was just another obstacle during her weeknights when she collected precious materials and thus, she wasn't entirely concerned about the implications. What she IS concerned about is the fact that her hunt has yielded poor results. Not great. She's had the fortune to not run into any other rival raiders or government goons who would give her heck, but there aren't as many monsters around and even less of the beautiful white plants and moss that glowed with the light of the moon (and made great healing potions aka Big Cash Money).
What Nikola DOES find are a different kind of plants or at least what she's interpreting as roots. And they are goddamn ugly roots at that. They're bumpy, twisted, grayish black things, with lumps of red that reminded the Raider of pustules. Gross. And they're EVERYWHERE, blocking her view from what's ahead. Brows furrow even more if possible and she walks up close to the roots, reaching for her knife that's on her belt.]
Alright, alright. What the hell IS this??
[Her knife stops, inches away from a red lump. Nikola is thinking things over, perhaps even thinking of a smart plan??]
...
Wonder if I can overcharge for it since it's unknown?
[ Priorities!! ]
no subject
The roots are familiar, of course, possessing the look of the Qliphoth tree, its gnarled tendrils tearing through the terrain like a parasite, burrowing in and around the ground and structures adorning the landscape of the void. When they taper off, they curl up towards the sky like grasping fingers, reaching towards the unknown, while bulbous crystallizations of red rest at their bases, glowing, silent.
Yes, that part is familiar, but the rest isn’t. V can sense that this place is… other. That these roots mimic the dread reality of his world, but it's mimicry only. This is a reality only tangentially connected, making his nerves tingle along the lines of dark tattoos — disconcerting, curious.
But a path forward often means there exists a path back. Thus is the faith he relies steadily upon, cane clicking in time with his walk, spotting a figure in the distance whose knife gleams in the warping light of this place.]
Blood, mostly.
[The answer to her question, as he draws close enough to speak, leaning his weight heavily onto his cane, planted to the ground.]
I’d leave it alone. Piercing that will take some effort.
no subject
(And for the briefest second, her pupils dilate into a different shape, but it's hard to catch.)
There's no immediate symbol she can make out from his person about what agency he's affiliated with. Then again, there's no agency she can think of that employed a lanky and frail man with intricate tattoos that covered most of his surface, a fancy cane, or black sandals (seriously???).
There's a tense silence that she breaks a few seconds in.]
Depending on the blood, then I'd probably still make it worth my while. I don't suppose you're here for a harvest?
no subject
[He’s unbothered by the knife, unbothered by her caution. They’re nothing but strangers to each other, and to expect comfortability in an unknown place like this? A fallacy.
Also leave his sandals alone. His feet are comfy.]
What do you mean— [He gently lifts his cane with one hand, then tucks it beneath an arm as he moves forward, closer. Eyes track the path of the roots, which converge into a tight tangle just beyond where she stands. A path blocked.] —a harvest?
no subject
Σ（￣□￣；）
She does lower her knife slightly but takes a step back as he moves closer. Nikola's had the wool pulled over her one too many times when it came to this job and while being less guarded got her more allies in the Void, it wouldn't filter out the persistently rough individuals.
The revelation of the tree consisting of human blood is nevertheless unsettling and looks far more dangerous than this man for the time being. And he sounds like he knows what he's talking about.
Her mask light changes to: ( ﾟдﾟ)]
Uh... Well. [ She reaches up to scratch her cheek. ]
I mean, emergency transfusions are a thing? [ Back to 'X' on her mask and she gazes at him curiously ]
And for that last part, if you're asking me that, that definitely means you're not raiding right now.
[ As a show of courtesy, she sheathes her knife. ]
So hopefully if I do this, I won't get beat up or stalked. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt you know.
moves this here to avoid captcha
[V only waits, having found himself a seat on a bench beneath a large tree, branches shivering and blocking out the rays of the sun overhead. It's rather nice, really, an open space at the base of that hill that they had both gone tumbling down; he still feels sore in his arms and legs, but you wouldn't guess it by looking at him. His cane is propped up against him, glinting in the sun, and in his hand is his usual book of poetry, a page idly turned with a thumb.
At his feet rests a large, midnight-black panther. Shadow has his massive head resting on equally large paws, eyes open and observant, unmoving.]
no subject
Wait.
Contrary to what V may think, Luka does not show up, sword swinging, ready to take the head of everyone in his way. In fact, he would appear perfectly calm if not for the hard lines in his expression, the way he openly glares at the man on the bench as he makes his approach. The rather deliberate presence of Shadow does not go unnoticed. Oh boy. ]
Hey buddy.
[ The brightness in his voice is 100% false. ]
What are you up to?
no subject
Instead, V only speaks in a steady, almost lyrical voice. It would make sense, given that he reads from the printed page.]
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
Does to Rags the Heavens tear
The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
[A grin, the smallest tilt of his head, strands of black hair falling across his forehead.]
Just catching up on a bit of reading.
no subject
Yeah, I noticed. [ Crimson colored eyes dart once again to the panther resting easily at V’s feet. ] You think I’m here to fight you?