stick 'em with the pointy end [Charade]

cass
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stick 'em with the pointy end [Charade] Nov 22, 2012 2:46:09 GMT -5

Post by cass on Nov 22, 2012 2:46:09 GMT -5

Doing everything that I believe in
Going by the rules that I've been taught
More understanding of what's around me
And protected from the walls of love
All that you see is me

It was a battlefield. Tall broad shouldered soldiers stood tall and looming just meters away from Adele Hail’s small force. Her armour, which had once been gleaming with the newness, which once had reflected every colour of the sun as the light bounced off of it, throwing long patterns everywhere she turned, but now it was blood crusted and stained with multiply scratches. Her helm had been destroyed thanks to a bloodthirsty rider who had driven her backwards his double handed broad axe slashing at her. She had barely escaped with her life; her sword lighter and quicker had only just managed to dive forwards. Plunging past chain mail, skin, blood and bone and piercing his chest, she killed him. There had been a cost, her daring stunt had left her wide open and with the last of his strength the man had swung that axe and it had hit her in the head.

If the blow had been any more powerful it would have crushed her skull, but instead it caved in her helm and she had had a nasty time trying to get the tattered piece of metal away from her skull. Her fiery red hair spilled around her shoulders, blowing carelessly in the cool breeze that sung the song of sorrow. It whispered to her and told her to not fight. It already mourned those that had fallen; the battlefield was littered with their blood and some of their bodies. Crows circled high in the sky, spinning twirling and cawing. They were waiting and watching diving down as mean fell and clawing their way back up high and out of the reaches of spears and swords as the fighting continued. The sword she held in her left hand was shiny and alive, it shimmered with every movement of her hand and the light danced off of it, even though it was slick with blood.

The wooden stick in her hand was nothing special. It was old and the handle was worn with age of use. The end was not pointy, the stick was covered in rough edges. There was nothing dangerous about it. But it was not the sword that carried the air of danger, but the girl who held it. There was a casualness to the lift in her arms as she brought it down and down again, hammering the air with it, swift strokes, left, right, up, down, parry, backhand, overhand, parry. There was ease to the way she moved an almost soothing motion that would lead anyone watching to believe that she knew what she was doing. She did. Fire spilled across her back in a red mane, it fell well past her shoulders, spinning and twirling around her arms and down her beak and across her chest as she moved.

No matter how fast she spun her hair never got in the way. It was frizzy and wild and yet she had it tamed, for it would never intrude on her random sequence of movements. Her feet moved swiftly, with grace and co-ordination as she fended off the invisible foes that dared step into her field of view. She drove forwards, the sword halting, before she yanked it backwards, as though tearing it from the very chest of some monstrous fiend. In the blink of an eye she had already spun, her legs moving as fast as lightning a blur of motion as she gracefully spun, facing her next opponent. This was the way it went, enemies, unseen to anyone being cut and stabbed and killed. There was no hesitation in each of her movements, a devilish grin playing across her features as she twisted and turned out of the way of invisible men who seeked to kill her.

With a roar they all rushed forwards, feet clambering down the grassy hill, where due still clung to the blades of grass. The sun kissed the horizon, sending trails of red burning across the sky, like that blood that had already been spilled. And the sky bleed and cried for the blood that would be spilled that day. The sweet sound of the wind roaring give her hope as she jumped forwards, her men, only a hundred of them trailing after her. They faced over three hundred men, but those kinds of odds had never stopped Adele before. She was a warrior and the queen of the dragons and no one would stop her. A scream tore from her throat, her battle cry joining others. The thundering sound of the opposing men rang out louder. Sword raised high Adele leapt forwards into the thronging mass of blood and gore. Where the sounds of the world around them died and were replaced by echoing screams of dying men, men that begged for mercy and cried for help. There would be no help.

Men fell before her, her sword singing, as it slashed and hacked at anyone who stood in her way. The screams and cries became a deathly song and she listened to it, letting it sink into her and feed her. Filling her mind and washing away the fear that often came to her in the heat of a battle. A lucky man got through her guard and shoved his copper head spear into her leg. She let out a gasp of pain before sending him away to the gods of death with a jab of her own sword to his throat –but another man was already there eager to take his place and try and kill the queen. She dodged away from him, but everywhere she turned there was another enemy. The sounds of the screaming, the heavy thuds of metal on metal and calls filled her as she hesitated. Her hesitation earned her a shallow cut on her cheek, before one of her own men dispatched him.

Adele stumbled backwards, feeling the sword fall from her grasp.

[/i][/color]

She could feel the wound in her leg, the bleed racing down, warm and sticky -but when she looked down there was nothing there. She let out a grunt a her hands scrambling to grasps the hilt of her sword once more. She pulled herself up and swung it around, aiming to hurt any enemy that tried to get her while she was down. It was a wild swing, so uncoordinated and wrong for the girl who usually had controlled and well-aimed hits. As she lunged out her wooden sword hit something. She tumbled backwards as the shock of it filled her arm. “Ahhh.” She cried, before she drew the sword towards her, turning and facing her victim. A smirk tugged at her lips as she angled the sword to point threateningly at the boy.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

And all I truly believe
That I was born to try
I've learned to love
Be understanding
And believe in life

Last Edit: Nov 22, 2012 8:23:40 GMT -5 by cass

charade
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stick 'em with the pointy end [Charade] Nov 22, 2012 3:57:16 GMT -5

Post by charade on Nov 22, 2012 3:57:16 GMT -5

Lions always stalk their prey before leaping in to crush it with powerful jaws or to rake their claws across the flesh, tearing chunks of flesh and fur off off of the weak as the rest of the herd scattered in fear, bleating incessantly as they escaped the fate they had abandoned one of their own to. A triumphant roar would sound across the fields as the lions devoured their prize. The royalty of the animal kingdom, kings and queens that saw fit to only leave their scavenging subjects with barely edible scraps to satiate their hunger, little bits of meat clinging to bones that were gnawed through until they cracked and the marrow leaked out onto the ground or into a questing tongue. Feared and respected with no natural predator other than each other, it was no wonder that so many other animals fell before them, scattered to the wind like so many leaves.

The boy named Sebastian was on a prowl of his own, though the prey he sought was not breathing. Not this time. While his homeless underlings fought among themselves or wandered the streets looking for food or an easy mark; while his beloved Zanita was otherwise occupied with being a den mother to the rest of the teenagers, Sebastian was searching for food to bring back to the camp. As per the usual he would eat his share before ever returning to others, but that was a fact that none of them needed to know. Unless they wanted to face his wrath. Most people still earned his ire relatively quickly, the only exception to the rule being the Luzell girl, as the love he shared with her was enough to keep his anger simmering at a more tongue in cheek fierceness that often devolved into nothing more than playful snark. But that side of him was reserved for her and no one else. Some were slow to learn this fact; a pity for them and their bruises.

This day, the hunt for sustenance had brought him to an area only a little bit off of the beaten path. There was a small grocery that would be getting rid of its day-old produce soon. Still very much edible, but not exactly the best to sell. Fine by him. It had been awhile since he had eaten any kind of fruit other than the occasional handful of wild berries. And the last few he had had were poor fare indeed, small, sour things that did little to fill his belly. It was only by constantly moving that he was not emaciated. Lean muscle still covered his body, showing through the rag that he called a shirt, and still lending its majesty to his imposing frame. His jet-black hair had been cut raggedly with a knife only a few days ago to keep it from turning into a mane, and that was the way he liked it.

It was quiet at this time of the day, the sun barely risen in the sky,and out here near the outskirts away from the town center few people could be found. The peacekeepers patrolled this area infrequently, but even if they did run across him, were they really going to take him in for stealing someones garbage? Even if they did try, they weren't going to get him. Maybe one of those Labbinac boys would fail so miserably at finding stuff like this, but not he. In the three years he had lived on the streets, his already sharp mind and been honed into a razors edge more deadly than any blade. Woe to those who thought they could best him in a battle of wits. And few were those who were able to best him physically. Zanita among them; but that was not a thought he wished to dwell on, keeping his eyes peeled for the eventual opening of the back door of the grocery shop.

His ears pricked at the sound of someone approaching, footsteps mincing, advancing and retreating the way that they were, it almost like someone was dancing; a someone who was too light on their feet to be a man, and certainly not an enforcer wearing a pair of thick boots. Sebastian rolled his green eyes and dropped to a crouch behind a metal trash can. It wouldn't do to be seen now, not when he was so close to earning his prize. Whoever it was had better continue on their merry way and leave him in peace. Few people ever paid attention to the various vagrants that haunted the district anyway, so he was not particularly worried about anything ruining his day. That is... until the moment that something hard struck him across the back.

He is eleven. An attempt to clean the house the way his father specified has gone awry. Useless! The man had shouted before striking him across the face. To his mounting horror, an oaken stick appeared in his fathers hands as he was beaten mercilessly, expletives spat this way and that as he was once again blamed for the death of his mother. He had cried hard that day. In pain. In fear. In confusion. But this and other events like it would only harden him into what he was now. And Sebastian Rothul never backed down from a fight. It didn't matter if he was outmanned, outnumbered or outgunned, he would fight and he would either win or they would lose. Simple mathematics for one such as he.

Spinning around in disbelief, Sebastian took in the sight of a flame-haired girl waving around around a wooden facsimile of a sword, not only that, but she smiled at him in a threatening manner as she dared to point the wannabe weapon in his direction. Who was this girl? And what did she want? Baring his teeth, his eyes flicked around the area as his fight or flight response took over. She held a blunt object and was only standing a few feet away with what he felt was an air of superiority etched on her face. What could he do? Disarming her was out of the question, though she did seem to be alone. Snarling, he pulled the trash can down between them with a clatter, sending its rotten contents spilling forth to bridge the gap.

"You attacked me."He spat. "What do you want?! You looking to get injured?! Got nothing better to do than gawk?!"Each of his questions was asked in a demanding tone as he tried to determine whether or not the red headed girl was alone. If the answer to that unspoken question turned out to be a yes, she would pay dearly for her insolence. If the answer was a no, then he'd have to adopt a hit and run tactic and find his packs meal somewhere were they didn't employ people like this to protect their trash. Where she had come from was a mystery, but her intentions? Those would be laid barer than a skinned rabbit by the time he was done. Balling his right hand into a fist, he pointed a finger at the girl with his left hand. As he made his final demand."Out with it! Answer me!"

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

cass
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last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

stick 'em with the pointy end [Charade] Nov 22, 2012 8:24:20 GMT -5

Post by cass on Nov 22, 2012 8:24:20 GMT -5

Doing everything that I believe in
Going by the rules that I've been taught
More understanding of what's around me
And protected from the walls of love
All that you see is me

Black hair sat on top of his head. It was messily cropped and looked as though someone had simply grabbed a knife and hacked and slashed at the hair. Chopping and shipping with quick hurried strokes until it rested away from his shoulders. Her eyes took him in. Brown eyes filled with a wild fire, eyes that burned with more spirit and soul then her hair. She lingered for no longer than a heart beat on the pale thin scar that ran vertically across his right eye. It stood out like a saw thumb; the colour of it was so much brighter than the tanned skin that it sat on. Yet her eyes flickered over it easily. She was not a girl that cared for scars, deformities or anything over than her world of dreams.

In that very world she had seen many deformities, she had seen people burn on a stick, witches fry people with words and dragons bite people in half with one nip of their razor sharp teeth. A simple scar did nothing to disturb her. And it was not the scar that had her staring at the boy she had accidentally hit; it was not the haggard crop of hair, or even the clothes that hung pitifully from a strong hard lean body. It was the fury, the rage and the anger that smouldered in those deep, dark eyes that made her stare.

It had been a very long time since she had last stared at a person that held such hate. She could remember the last time; the boy had been so filled with anger, spite and pride that his own actions had gotten him killed. The poor thing had fought those that had tried to help him and by the end of it he had tripped and fallen off the edge of a cliff. Adele had been the only one of her knights to be brave enough –no it was more foolery than bravery- to look. In the darkest parts of the nights, when the moon had moved the furthest away from Earth as it could go and a lonely cloud covered it she could still see it. She remembered as clearly as water in a glass cup. Oh the eyes. Even in death the burning hate filled them, not even the release of life could extinguish a flame that had burned with more ferocity then Hell itself.

For a moment a twinge of doubt flickered across her mind. The boy spoke with authority, his voice harsh and demanding. His words were straight to the point, and yet there was always that hidden meaning. He wanted to hurt her, you could see that much in the way he stood there. He wanted to know if she was alone. Jabbing a thin finger at her, demanding, ordering her to answer him. Her smirk faded from her lips, and like that she no longer felt burning with excitement. The normal feeling of power and control that eased each of her steps and made her movements perfect was gone.

She already didn’t like this boy.

A chilling breeze swept through the deserted area. It was a little hide away, tucked away from the rest of the busy streets. A little back corner where no one went, where no one could see you. Adele liked it because no one could pry on her and watch her as she fought her enemies. None of them believed what she saw; she had tried countless amounts of times to tell people that there were other worlds out there. She had pleaded with more people than she cared to remember. She wanted desperately for others to share in her world, in the power that she held. She wanted them to see. See the way she did, but no one could.

Instead they all sneered at her. Throwing fiery words at her, which burned her and made her hurt more than she would ever admit to feeling. Some even screamed and yelled, telling her she was stupid, pathetic and silly. They spat words filled with venom and scorn. They didn’t believe her, they never did. The sneering always hurt her; the words were always scornful and contemptuous. None of them believed her; they thought she was insane, crazy, and stupid. She wasn’t though, she knew she wasn’t. The worlds really existed, because if they didn’t she would have nothing and no one.

The battle was over at least. Dead bodies covered the floor, the men that lived were blood stained and most struggled forwards from the injuries that covered every single one of them. The crows that circled the sky hovered above the bodies, cawing and flapping downwards before diving for a body. They would fight each other over scrap bits of bloodied human flesh. Their screeches echoed above the moan of the injured and even that of the mumbled cries of the dead. Adele took a deep shuddering breath, the slightest of a breeze rushing over her tired worn out body.

The point of her sword was touching the ground, too heavy for her to lift it even a touch more. She was tired, past the point of exhaustion. Dead bodies were everywhere, so many of them she had killed. She had watched them as they died, as they screamed and cried.

[/i][/color]

”I didn’t attack you, it was an accident, you got in my way. So I suggest you move before I make you move.” She spat back with equal venom. However, the tip of her wooden sword planted itself on the ground. Effectively telling this boy that she wasn't scared of him, she had no need to draw it up defensively. If he even hinted that he would attack her, the sword would be up and she would be ready to fight in less than a second. “Talk to me like that again and I will hurt you.” She said coldly. If the boy wanted to fight she would fight. She was not afraid of no street rat. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

And all I truly believe
That I was born to try
I've learned to love
Be understanding
And believe in life

Last Edit: Nov 29, 2012 0:58:30 GMT -5 by cass

charade
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stick 'em with the pointy end [Charade] Nov 27, 2012 19:22:13 GMT -5

Post by charade on Nov 27, 2012 19:22:13 GMT -5

The law of the jungle stated that prey belonged to predators and that scavengers then subsisted upon whatever was left over. So into what category did this flame headed girl fall into? Did she think herself a fearsome predator to slap him with her little wooden stick? Who did that? What kind of person wandered the district whapping people with weapons? She must have been some kind of wannabe career to do so. District nine hadn't been in the business of killing animals in years, or hadn't she been paying attention to the industry? Sebastian's eyes narrowed as he studied her stance. Solid. As if she wasn't afraid. But then why did it seem like her knees were knocking; that her lips had gone a shade lighter? Was it the light, his imagination, or the girl herself? No, the fear was almost palpable. This girl was no predator.

But was she a scavenger then? If she was, then she would've known to leave him be until he was done finding what he was looking for. She also looked a little too well-fed to be only eating others leavings too. Which meant that in the grand scheme of things as she stood there like a deer in the headlights, she had to have been...

Prey.

Lonely prey too, one without a herd, all alone in the alley with not a person to be seen but him. Nothing for protection but false bravado and a stick. With a guttural growl forming in his throat, he judged the distance between them before lunging over the trash can and knocking the wooden sword from her grasp to the ground with a clatter."You'll hurt me? You'll. hurt. me. I'd laugh if the thought of that wasn't so pathetic. Don't talk to me as if you know me girl. You haven't earned the right to speak like that."Sebastian smiled viciously, showing all of his teeth as he spat a few words out in her direction.

"Your move Princess."

It had been awhile since he had gotten into a proper scrap for no good reason, and he was just itching to get some of his pent up anger out.

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

cass
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stick 'em with the pointy end [Charade] Nov 29, 2012 1:15:04 GMT -5

Post by cass on Nov 29, 2012 1:15:04 GMT -5

Doing everything that I believe in
Going by the rules that I've been taught
More understanding of what's around me
And protected from the walls of love
All that you see is me

He was fast, she had to admit that. He sprung forward without a word, a growl tearing from his lips. And in a second he was there right in front of here. Like lightning he swiped the sword from her grasp. Her hands were empty and she could feel the place where the sword had been. She heard the dull thump of the wooden sword hit the ground, away and out of her reach. Her eyes flickered for a brief second to where it lay, too far away. From the sped that this boy had she knew that he would get it before she did. So instead she turned her burning gaze to his, her browneyes burning like smouldering coals. There was nothing cold about her; she was fire, the very essence of fire burned within her.

She could feel it clawing at her inside as she looked at him. She hated the way he spoke, scornful, hateful, and spiteful. This guy new he was good, but he had no idea what she was capable of, he had no idea that she fought everyday against invisible enemies, monsters and fiends that only she could see. She had battled with a dragon, a serpent, witches and blood thirsty wizards. A boy with a temper was of little comparison to the other dangerous people she had fought and yet she knew he was different.

She had never met a boy, a girl or anything really, that was willing to hold her gaze and not show fear. And that, although hard to admit, did scare her. She had faced a many of people, but when they saw her their fear was always evident in their eyes, she was a burning soul. A light and ember and all of them fired light because she was the goddess of the sun, and she burned with a single touch. All her enemies had heard of her and all of them knew that if they saw her they knew they were next. She was dangerous, in her fairy tales.

It was also that little fact that worried her; she had never faced a real person. She believed that she had faced many real people, but none of them seemed as real in contrast to the living, breathing sack of blood and bones that stood poised, threateningly in front of her.

"Your move princess."

He spat out some words, and she flinched away from him as if he had slapped her. Snarling she stepped forwards, angered at her need own stupidity and act of cowardice, she was not a coward. “I am not a princess.” She spat back at him. “I’m no princess, you idiot, I am the queen of Light.” She was a queen, she was the goddess of light, the daughter of the sun, she was no princess, she was a ruler, a leader a winner.

A sour smirk crossed her lips. She knew how to fight. As fast as lightning her open palm comes flying out and cracks against his jawline, it was a powerful slap that was known for actually shaking the brain, normally it would knock a person out straight away, if it was strong enough. As soon as her open palm touched his face she moved away from him, dancing lightly on the balls of her feet, out of his reach.

"Come on, have a go, if you think you're hard enough."

And all I truly believe
That I was born to try
I've learned to love
Be understanding
And believe in life

Last Edit: Dec 10, 2012 8:24:01 GMT -5 by cass

charade
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stick 'em with the pointy end [Charade] Dec 2, 2012 3:37:19 GMT -5

Post by charade on Dec 2, 2012 3:37:19 GMT -5

So what was with this girl? What kind of person just went around picking fights with strangers? And it was a fight she wanted as her hand flew at his mouth, causing him to lose his footing for a second, more from the shock of her actually laying a hand on him than from any feeling of pain. No one attacked him and didn't expect to suffer for it. Those numbskulls that he ran the streets with had learned that one way or another, whether by blood being drawn or a bone being broken, all of them had fallen in line.

The king of the jungle has no natural enemies, with perhaps the only exceptions being others in his lineage, other lions that haven't yet learned that he is the one in charge. Why else would all others in the pride be subservient? Why else would his mate be as fierce as he? It was not enough for him to be the best, the rest of them had to fail as well. What was the point in having enemies other than to hold it over them once they had been thoroughly thrashed and soundly beaten?

A snort of derision escaped his mouth before he rubbed at jaw with a free hand, tasting a little bit of coppery blood coming from his lip. What did she mean by whether or not he thought he was hard enough? Was she referring to how hard the ground was going to feel once he had shoved her face into it? Because if that was the case he was more than willing to oblige.

So a queen was she? Weren't those rulers supposed to have a retinue full of soldiers and prissy attendents? "Heh. My girlfriend hits harder than you, and that's on a good day." The girl bounced on her feet and he rolled his eyes before bringing a fist around to sink into her stomach with a meaty thud that should have caused the air to rush from her lungs. "I go where I want Queenie. And you still haven't answered my questions. The name is Sebastian. A name I'm sure you won't soon forget."

This...this privileged girl that fought with sticks and thought so highly of herself needed to be brought down a peg or two. It was not right; that which she was doing. And Sebastian was far past caring what other people thought of him; unless it was a mixture of fear and anger. It was enough to keep the other homeless teens in line and he felt it should be enough to deal with this one.

Well...

That and his fists.

Last Edit: Dec 2, 2012 4:07:25 GMT -5 by charade

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

cass
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last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

stick 'em with the pointy end [Charade] Dec 10, 2012 8:25:06 GMT -5

Post by cass on Dec 10, 2012 8:25:06 GMT -5

Doing everything that I believe in
Going by the rules that I've been taught
More understanding of what's around me
And protected from the walls of love
All that you see is me

In every fight there is always a share of blows. No one leaves a fight uninjured, or unarmed. It is not the way of fighting that allows someone to escape unscathed. Not even when your opponent is less then you. You must never underestimate the people that challenge you, even a stupid, dull person with no experience in the art of fighting can land painful, vicious attacks. Like right now. This guy did not know how to fight, he moved heavily on his feet, there was no lightness to each step and yet he held speed, he was really fast. Faster than he showed be, it was unnatural. The way he carried himself, the deep, heavy treading and the slump in his body, it wasn’t right.

The boy should have been moving slowly and clumsily, he shouldn’t have cat-like reflexes, reflexes which happened to evade the full thrust of her first hit. No one evaded her hits; no one was faster and more agile then Adele. In every fighters life there is that moment when you hesitate. When your eyes widen in shock and you lose all concentration for a brief second. It is truly quite odd how stunned a person becomes when they realise they have meet someone with equal capabilities to them. It is even more frightening when they realise the person could be better than them.

She didn’t even notice it. As she moved back and out of his reach she had no time to register it. Her shock raced through her veins, her mind was still processing what she had just seen. She had seen s person, no this boy move faster than her. Not even instinct prevented the fist from crashing with full force into her stomach. She felt it as the air slipped from her lips in a giant thrust as though someone had squeezed her so tightly that everything was just shoved out of her body. Adele’s feet collapsed under her and she stumbled a few steps backwards, away from the menacing boy.

Her eyes narrowed in pain, as her mouth moved soundlessly, trying to force oxygen back into her body where she needed it. As a first breath trickled down her throat she felt a dull sense of pain slowly spread through her chest. She muttered a venomous curse, which ended with her wheezing for more air. Her face burned brightly with embarrassment and red hot anger. She wanted to hit him. No one hit her like that; no person ever hurt her and lived to tell the tale. More so this boy had embarrassed her, he had bested her in that first round and no one did that.

His taunts hit home and her eyes blazed with fury. But she was a seasoned fighter and she knew how to blanket down the flames of anger so that it would not cloud her vision. ” ‘Tis very nice to meet you Sebastian, I’m Adele. Oh and for your question of course I will hurt you.” She gave him a sweet smile, before leaping forward, her arm came out in a wide arc, aiming for his face, but at the last moment she feinted and instead of striking him with her left arm, her right arm shot out straight forward and hit him square in the face. She hoped she had broken his nose.

”I may not hit like your girlfriend, but at least I’m not the one being beaten by a girl.”

And all I truly believe
That I was born to try
I've learned to love
Be understanding
And believe in life

Last Edit: Dec 10, 2012 8:26:44 GMT -5 by cass

charade
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stick 'em with the pointy end [Charade] Dec 13, 2012 2:01:58 GMT -5

Post by charade on Dec 13, 2012 2:01:58 GMT -5

Greedy.

Greedy for punishment is what it felt like to Sebastian.

It was so easy to make peasants like Muskox or Dhaval cower with a punch or to have Akasha turn away after a sharp word or two. This girl was something else, one that refused to turn away, even the face of overwhelming superiority. While he wasn't sure whether or not that made her brave or stupid or both. Sebastian decided to make a mental note about her actions for future reference.

She introduced herself as Adele and implied that she could hurt him, to which he simply shook his head. A girl like this wouldn't last long on the streets, not with peacekeepers and people like himself on the prowl. "I may not hit like your girlfriend, but at least I’m not the one being beaten by a girl.” "You say that like its a bad thing." he smirked. Keeping one's opponent off-balance was key when trying to get or retain the upper hand.

She continued to bounce around, feinting and swinging her arms about. In his opinion it was quite comical. Her fist managed to go straight for his face tapping his nose with a little pop and staggering him back a step. He clasped a hand to it frantically, but nothing was amiss. Not like the time Zanita had broken it completely. That had taken weeks if not months to fully heal.

"You're really starting to piss me off Queenie."

The way she moved reminded him a bit of a rabbit;or perhaps a squirrel. It was infuriating, but unfortunately for her it made her rather predictable. Sebastian's arm shot out in one fluid motion, gripping her by the forearm and pulling her close with a grin that ended in his forehead smashing hard into hers. Headbutting was not something people tended to expect.

A loud crack resounded throughout the alley as he released her arm."How..How dy'a like that for beating me? Trying to scare someone only works if the other person cares what happens to them. And I? I don't."He smiled again, but it was the farthest thing from friendly. It was more like the way a cat bared its teeth as it toyed with a mouse.

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

cass
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stick 'em with the pointy end [Charade] Dec 16, 2012 21:57:24 GMT -5

Post by cass on Dec 16, 2012 21:57:24 GMT -5

Doing everything that I believe in
Going by the rules that I've been taught
More understanding of what's around me
And protected from the walls of love
All that you see is me

She was being very stupid, that was apparent enough, but her head ached immensely, the pain splitting her skull and making her stumble backwards so far that she thought she might fall. A gasp of pain escaped her lips, but that only caused a searing strike of agony to make her gasp even more. Her anger was getting in the way, her need to prove herself and stand tall, but she wasn't use to this, this... this getting her hurt. The sensation of pain felt foreign against her body, it was too real. Her fiery hair was pasted to her skull and she carelessly wiped it away and out of her eyes, which were tightly screwed shut.

Pressing a shaky hand to her head she closed her eyes tightly, trying desperately to force back the pain that seemed to hit her and hit her, like a spiked iron pressing itself against her and stopping her from moving, whenever she tried to move a new bit of pain lanced through her skull causing her to wince. As she drew her hand away she felt it come back wet and looked down in shock at the hand laced with her own, warm, sticky blood. It was a rare thing for her to see her won blood, she was use to it in her mind, in her little fantasies, but in real life? It was something completely different and strange. She stared it with mixed curiosity and wonder, the warmth of it was weird. She decided that she did not like seeing it, it was better in her body. She had not realized this boys headbutt would be so powerful, powerful enough to make her bleed.

Flicking her eyes open she turned herself to face the boy, his taunts stung her, but she hide it behind her mask of pain, because right now her pain was more important then a few words, falling from the mouth of some giant idiot. She hung back and away from him, for a brief second letting her fear get the better of her. She tried to hide it, but her whole body was shaking, this guy scared her. She had never seen him before, but then again she didn't know many people. This whole fight had become too real. It was so much more than he had expected, too real than what she was use to. She was so use to fighting in a world where when she was hurt the wounds where never real, when she fought she always won.

She had never felt such real and agonizing pain.

"I'm starting to piss you off? Good. That will make this even more fun." She spat, this time she didn't try to be tricky, instead she just leaping forward, fast, as fast as she could. She darted forwards, sending a gut-wrenching kick straight between his legs. "I am super pissed off with you. One. You are extremely annoying, two, you talk to much, and three you hurt me."

Venom particularly dripped from each word as she drove her knee as a follow up between his legs. She pushed him away from her, hoping that she had made him hurt as much as he had made her hurt. Adele's head pounded and her breathing was ragged, but her anger bubbled beneath her skin, making her stupid enough to want to keep fighting.

And all I truly believe
That I was born to try
I've learned to love
Be understanding
And believe in life

Last Edit: Dec 16, 2012 22:07:48 GMT -5 by cass

charade
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stick 'em with the pointy end [Charade] Dec 26, 2012 7:04:26 GMT -5

Post by charade on Dec 26, 2012 7:04:26 GMT -5

For a moment forever suspended in time like a fly trapped in amber, he had dared to believe that he and Zanita could live in the outskirts of the district with not a care in the world but their next meal and the activities of those they ruled over. But that moment had just been shattered as the red headed girl reminded him that the world was the cruelest place to live. Stars exploded in Sebastian's eyes as pain blossomed throughout his body. A fire burned in his nerves as he let out a scream. It was not like the time Zanita had broken his nose, or the event of his childhood that had left his face forever marred. This was simply humiliating. And he had suffered far too much humiliation in his life to let this one slide. All his life, an anger had simmered in his psyche, bursting free at certain provocations. The kinship he shared with the love of his life had quelled those flames to a degree, but it had not put them out.

You talk too much

"You stupid idiot! You never pay attention!" The open palm slaps his face, leaving a red mark and a stinging sensation in his cheek. "I-im sorry da- The hand strikes him again. "Don't sorry me boy, I'll give you a reason to be sorry! You don't tell me what to do, If I want to drink myself into a coma so help me I'll do it!" "I was just trying to hel- This time, a bottle smashes on the wall behind him. "Help?! By pouring my good whiskey down the drain? You little..." It is a flurry of blows that rains down on his head and arms. He counts himself lucky that while his father is inebriated his aim is less than stellar. But that doesn't mean the swollen lips or the black eye hurt any less. "Just like your mother, you don't know when to shut up."

You talk too much

"No I don't know him. Get lost creep." "But Natalie... I...you...we..? "Ugh, you a stalker or something? How do you know my name?" "But the nights we spent together... the meals... She leans in conspiratorially, eyes darting to and fro as if worried that someone will see. "Who's at the door pumpkin?" "No one mom!" The reply tastes like ashes in his mouth. "I dunno what you're talking about, these fine people have adopted me from the group home and you had better get lost. I don't need my past catching up with me. Get my drift?"The smirk in her mouth and the roll of her eyes cuts him deeper then any knife ever could. "Quit moping Sebastian, I got nothing more to say to you, so stop trying to talk and get lost. "

You talk too much

"This is unforgivable." "But I didn- "Silence! You've been found guilty of crimes against the Pride.""You always take that little pricks side, just liste-" The shouts of the others, the ones he thought could be his new family, the one he called brother, drown his pleas out in a cacophony of sound. "You are hereby banished from our gang and our home. Leave."I-" There's nothing more to say Sebastian. You will walk the path that all other undesirables have walked in the past. Join Zanita and her lackeys wherever they are. We don't want you here anymore, and quite frankly we're tired of hearing you speak. You talk too much."

He is staring at them in shock as they each turn their backs on him. It is a quiet march down the stairs, his feet taking each step as if they were each a mountain. His face is twisted somewhere in between betrayed hurt and livid fury. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. All he had wanted was the same treatment as the others. The ones who were never reprimanded. The ones who could do one wrong. The ones who were looked up to with respect. But all they had given him was the open door. It was a cold night, but no colder than the hearts of everyone he had ever met.

And the taunts that still rung in his ears.

You talk too much

[/i]

With an anguished roar, Sebastian bodily hurled himself towards the girl, tackling her off of her feet and pinning her arms to the ground. He spat in her face before snarling an anger fueled tirade.

"Hurt you? I HURT YOU?!

"You don't know the meaning of the word.

Allow me to teach you a lesson.

You think you've suffered?!"

The blows were slow, methodical; but they increased in speed as he alternated between jabbing at her chest twice and once at her face, a vicious cycle that continued as both the volume and the fervor of his baritone began to rise.

*smack*

"Have you been tossed out into the cold world that I've endured?"

*smack*

"You think you know what it means to watch your world crumble around you and force yourself to rebuild the pieces?!"

*smack*

"Hope is a poison."

*smack*

"Comfort an illusion."

*smack*

"There is only power, and those too weak to wield it."

*smack*

"Which one are you?"

*smack*

"Which one am I?"

*crack*

"The world is an unforgiving place."

*smack*

"The slightest misstep could have dire consequences."

*smack*

"Remember that the next time you decide to pick a fight with a stranger."

Any attempt to fight back during his rant was largely ignored; oh, he could feel her fists and hear plaintive cries or curses but he chose to be deaf to them. With his knuckles cracked and bleeding, palms covered in blood that was not his own, Sebastian Rothul got up to his feet and regarded his fallen enemy with a cold malice, breathing hard as his shoulders rose and fell in a rhythmic fashion. He laughed dryly in that moment, before swaggering out of the alleyway with a sense of renewed purpose. It felt...good to let it all out. Playing house with Zanita could only distract him for so long. A pleasant distraction, and one he had come to appreciate more than anything else, but a distraction nonetheless. I've let myself become too soft. I've let what I feel for Zanita cloud my judgement and weaken my resolve. There will be a reckoning, and I can't let myself forget that. There is work to be done.
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{OOC:} I just wanted to note this for future reference, but this is my one thousandth post. I'm pretty happy that it was with Sebastian. I don't know if this is a good place to end the thread, but let me know when you get back from your trip. Here's to another thousand posts =D<3[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle