skippedabeat | Round 3: Test Drive

Entry tags:

test drive

Round 3: Test Drive

Welcome to the third test drive!

Please don't worry too much about using your Personas correctly or following the prompts exactly. They're meant to give you starting ideas, but by all means, go wild and add more options!

The objective here is to try out characters and see who you could have the most fun with in the game's setting. However, feel free to follow this link to request a Persona be generated for you as if you were part of the game. (Please try to limit this to only one of your test drive characters if you can as to not overwhelm us!)

If you have questions about the test drive itself, you can ask them here! If you want to play an AU don't forget this entire post can be used for you to get AU scenarios set up and see who your character might have been related too or know before Awakening.

Now then, let's begin...

Prompt 1 - The National Leviathan Habitat

Eddan's shimmering sapphire of an aquarium, the National Leviathan Habitat, is holding a series of special events at its location in Royal Mount. Students and family groups get half off, with certain events being completely free. This include a full night's stay at the aquarium sometime during the week for any person who checks in with their card. While spots are limited, it's such a large aquarium, and nights can be booked in advance, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem. So come, everyone! Enjoy whale spotting, aquarium strolling, educational shows, and a night surrounded by water. However, unknown to you, something else might be starting to beat in the deepest, darkest depths of your heart.

Similar to the flower festival that was used in the prior TDM, Unawakened characters can get a flash of memory sometime during this prompt and Awakened characters will be able to occasionally pick them out. For more information on the National Leviathan Habitat, which is a player introduced location, please check here.

Additionally, if both test drive player and game players agree, the aquarium test drive threads can also become game canon! As long as the test drive character is played as being completely unaware of what has happened in the game up to this point. Keep in mind that they would NOT have had a message on their phones. Two Test drive players can also make these game canon if they get accepted (and they keep the same requirements as above).

Prompt 2 - From Dawn to Dusk

The city has been abuzz for the past few weeks. A new string of murders is making front page news and serving as a grim reminder why the nightly curfew is so important. As families, perhaps even someone close to you, mourn, pressure continues to rise at the many police stations and at city hall. The people are afraid and they’re demanding answers.

There's not much time for you to dwell on this.. Like everyone else in the city, you have a lot to do, and a tight schedule to do it in, even on summer vacation. (Or maybe because of summer vacation for the local schools.) You don't even notice the application that has appeared on your phone's screen. The headache that follows, however, is strange and disorienting, and it brings with it an odd sensation that something is wrong today. You’re just not sure why.

The day passes by and soon, it's close to midnight. Your body, if you're not in bed by now, is completely exhausted. Despite your best efforts, you'll find yourself closing your eyes. Too bad it's quickly interrupted by a strange noise, and movement like something pulsating softly.

It's your phone, or at least you think it's your phone, but it's never glowed this orange before. There’s mist rising above it almost like fire...something's definitely bizarre about this. Despite your fears, you forces yourself to open it, and click on that strange snake-like icon.

It opens revealing a single statement and blank box;

To begin, please write your name.

Your fingers move on their own. Before you have time to really think about it, and as the pain inside your head becomes so terrible you start breathing rapidly and sweating, you've entered a series of letters and pressed enter. Now you're in a large chatroom with many others...but your 'name' you've never even heard of it...have you? It almost feels like you have...

Prompt 3 - Awakening

The last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon almost an hour ago, yet here you are, walking through the apple orchards located behind one of the campus wings. The strange app that's been sending you strange clues the past seven days now says you're ready to face the truth. It told you to come here tonight, but never to travel alone. Repeatedly, it warns you to make sure to have someone close by if you're to survive…but besides some friends, what else did you bring with you? Did you pack for this, or did you figure you'd make it up as you go? Are you in a position to be able to bring weapons with you that no one would suspect?

Something is out there, and it's getting closer.

Before you can think, you see it: a large, blackish mass, almost like slime, slithering along the ground resembling a vaguely humanoid shape with glowing yellow eyes. When it roars again, it reveals rows and rows of teeth. This was a mistake your brain warns. The strange name from the chatroom, the days leading up to this...you're fairly certain even if you are prepared that you're going to die.

And yet, something inside you stirs. Even as they move closer, you find yourself charging instead of running, as your heartbeat increases. A voice inside is guiding you, each movement bringing forth a surge of memories of a past that you had lost. You’re angry and confused, but your pain, your fears, your rage for all of this… all of that needs to be taken out on those creatures.

All you need to do now is to tear out your heart.

Prompt 4 - A new, old life

Now that you have your memories back, the strange veil of this world has been somewhat lifted. Things that seemed simple now seem strange. You have so many questions, but not enough answers. Then there's the new weapons you wield and the strange creature inside of you...your Heart Persona.

During the day, you are encouraged to continue to live as you did before, but with old and new memories together, sometimes it is difficult to keep acting like you did. Will it cause issues in your job or school life? Will it change your reactions to whatever life you had here? Do you notice others like you who have awakened?

Maybe it would be a good time to send a chatroom message, just to ask others what they are planning to do. Maybe you should set up a meeting to fight shadows at night. Maybe you’ll organize a plan of attack or set up a club to escape the strange looks others have been giving you. Maybe you just want someone's opinion on the best place to have pizza. Hey, no one said you had to use the AppleNET just for serious things, after all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[there's a soft sniff from Vincent that sounds more disappointed than thankful, the only acknowledgement of the money in existence before the soft thumping of the vending machine in action overtakes the quiet lobby.

it's an apparently fascinating endeavor to witness, as his eyes never leave the case even as Kit tenses up and begins talking with a low sense of urgency. you'd think that he was completely alone in the world with nothing to rely on but the promise of hydration and a huge shot of sugar. he doesn't even turn around when the other boy cuts off sharply and begins to shake dangerously in place.

whatever Kit thinks about his attempt to broach this subject more aggressively, a soft tap on his chest will force him to reopen his eyes soon after the pain strikes. it's Vincent's hand, roughly shoving his recently purchased soda at the other boy. hope he likes cherry.

Vincent himself still hasn't turned around, choosing instead to watch his candy bar drop agonizingly slowly from the machine's coils into the dispenser slot. if one didn't know better, they'd think that this sign of compassion was nothing more than a hallucination, because he certainly wasn't acknowledging it.]

If you pass out I'm not going to catch you.

[maybe it really was a hallucination, despite the soda's unwavering presence until Kit decides to take it from him. his tone sure didn't sound anything more impassioned than faintly annoyed.]

[Kit's reaction was swift, eyes snapping open as he caught Vincent's wrist before he could pull it away. However, as soon as he realized that the other boy was only thrusting a can of soda at him, he let go of him immediately, instead staring down at the drink he'd been left to hold onto.

It was cold against the palm of his hand, painfully so, and that pain was almost enough to distract from the way his vision was still spotting and his temples were throbbing. Almost, but not quite. The physical backlash may as well have been testimony to his suspicions, and that was all he needed to keep thinking about the oddities he'd experienced so far. Something more was going on there. Something unnatural.

What else could explain what was happening, the wrongness of that vision, of some other life that wasn't his, or his inability to mention certain things without finding himself under attack again?]

I'm alright. It's just a headache.

[As he popped open the can of soda and took a sip, his vision slowly becoming less spotted and blurry, he studied the smaller teen. The pain was still present, dancing with a fearsome violence behind his eyes, but if it was anything like before, he suspected it would slowly begin to fade in a few minutes. That was, provided he didn't do anything to make it worse again on purpose...which he had no intention of doing. Not yet. Not when he'd proven his point, in a manner of speaking, although he still wasn't sure if Vincent had seen anything like the hallucination he had.

Oblivious to, or purposefully ignoring the other teen's attempt to appear completely indifferent and unhelpful, Kit clasped his shoulder with his free hand.]

Thank you, though. For your concern.

[for all of his soft beginnings and relative avoidance of intense violence, the black metal scene was hardly without its pockets of true darkness. the tight grip on his wrist is understandable, easy to deal with. the hand on his shoulder? that was another matter entirely.

from the way his entire body goes completely rigid one might make the mistake of assuming that Vincent had just been electrocuted. indeed, his already unruly hair seems right on the edge of bristling as if it had been shot full of static - or as if it belonged to an angry cat.

he jerks down suddenly and with far more force than necessary, aiming to completely dislodge the offending appendage on his quest to retrieve the candy bar from the machine. between the creaking of the plastic flap as he fishes his prize out, his voice rings out with as much accusatory petulance as you'd expect.]

Are you still dizzy? You're spouting bullshit.

[he rights himself again, shifting his feet to angle himself further away from Kit. he'll move away from the machine in a moment or two, but for now he wants to make it as difficult as possible for the other boy to touch him in any sort of friendly manner.

rather than continue immediately, he busies himself with peeling back the candy's wrapper. it's some chocolate and nougat nightmare, enormous in size and likely possessing enough sugar to knock a diabetic into a coma - and as soon as its protective cover is out of the way, half of it immediately disappears into Vincent's mouth. it's truly fearsome in its own way.]

Shouldn't you be a little tougher than this, anyway?

[for someone who'd acquired such a frightening reputation in prison, that is. not that the question is terribly frightening on its own when spoken around a gigantic mouthful of candy, but it's pretty clear that Vincent doesn't care very much for manners.]

[The resulting laugh from Vincent's startled reception of his gratitude was cut short by the second question and its implication. So, his reputation preceded him yet again...

Smile fading, replaced with something of a neutral if still stony expression, Kit shrugged his shoulders. His head was still aching, making critical thinking difficult, but he knew better than to feel insulted by being underestimated by a stranger. The less people thought of him, the greater his advantage should things between them ever come to blows.

It was that simple: not revealing all one's secrets unless absolutely necessary was how to ensure survival.]

I don't know about that.

[To listen to him, it would be quite difficult to determine if he was still experiencing any of the discomfort from a moment ago, and it was no more obvious by looking, either. He tilted back that cherry soda with complete nonchalance, no more wobble in his stance, and only mild curiosity reflected in the way he gazed at the smaller boy over the rim of the can when it was lowered again.

It required great concentration to maintain such composure with the walls of his skull still feeling like they might collapse inward upon themselves, but he had always been rather expert at enduring. A determination to always remain the last man standing would do that.]

Maybe you've mistaken me for someone else.

[Or maybe it wasn't a mistake at all. In many ways, he wasn't the same person who'd been admitted to the juvenile detention center. He'd cut ties with many of the gang members he'd used to know, had given up that way of life, and the only thieving he participated in these days was, while still self-serving, also considerably more honest. His style of dress was more respectable, and he even had a steady part-time job and practiced respectable hobbies while maintaining an excellent GPA while attending Green Valley. For all intents and purposes...he'd been reborn.]

Maybe. [he admits easily, pausing only to swallow.] Does it matter?

[people would think what they liked, after all. it was something that Vincent was accustomed to himself by now; between his often lousy attitude and the frightening way he dressed he found that the 'first impression' had already been made long before he ever spoke with anyone.

it was simply a part of life, something that would never change. all anyone could do was decide how they themselves would react - to continue the way they were, or to become what people already assumed of them. in this case, however, he doubts that the options aren't one and the same for Kit. there was no reason to respond the way he had unless he'd immediately grasped the implication beneath the comment, not when it could so easily be taken as another run of the mill jab. and to be so cagey about the whole matter..? well.

there's a air of quiet contentment as Vincent swallows the second half of his candy bar whole and wanders off in search of the nearest garbage can. he's gotten everything that he'd wanted out of this little excursion: sugar and satisfaction.]

You tell me. You're the one with the expectations.

[Troublesome, those, and like opinions, everyone seemed to have them. Dress this way, behave that way, be more like this, don't be like that... It was exhausting just to listen to, let alone try and keep up with. Not that deviating from his old routines didn't have its advantages.

He was closely watched these days, but with a little patience and time, he would be rewarded with more freedom than he'd ever had before. Or at least, that had been the plan, but sometimes Kit couldn't help wondering... Would he ever really escape the rumors of his past?

As Vincent wandered away in search of a garbage receptacle (what a proper boy) Kit turned and started back towards the stairwell. He'd proposed a sort of return question, but it was clear he didn't care very much about the answer.

And as for the other answer he'd come this far seeking? Well...he still wanted that. Enough to wait at the top of the landing at the very least, still nursing that soda and musing to himself. How might Vincent have learned about him? Who might have told him, and what rumor would have been shared? He didn't like knowing less about other people when they clearly knew more about him...

He didn't like it at all.]

[Vincent was enough of a blight on the environment, there was no reason to compound that by littering. and some habits died harder than others, after all.

it's not a long journey, the garbage can being thoughtfully placed with the vending machine's location in mind, and he soon joins his companion at the top of the landing. the brief respite from other people's companionship was enough for him to shake off the unease that Kit's gratitude had dropped onto him; by the time he's returned he's settled more comfortably into that sense of satisfaction.

he pauses before replying, rubbing a hand idly beneath his lips to make sure that no wayward smears of chocolate had gotten caught on his snakebite. that would be just unacceptable.]

I'm hardly the only one.

[his continued presence here only confirms what had been abundantly obvious after that little dizzy stunt: Kit is trying to glean more information about Vincent's own earlier collapse, specifically what he may or may not have seen during it. the thought of someone else having suffered through the same thing is intriguing, to be sure, but not enough to goad him into giving up any information without further pressure.

it must really be chafing Kit, he thinks idly as he stares off at the stairway winding down below them. not only is he at a disadvantage, all of his efforts to turn this excursion into something fruitful have been summarily thwarted. Vincent knew some of his past, while the other boy couldn't even lay claim to his name.

it's enough to make him chuckle quietly as he looks back at his companion with a small smile.]

But at least I can say that I got everything I came for.

[it's unfair to tease him over his failures, but he can't help himself. it was all in relatively good fun...for him, at least.]

[With the same measured stride as before, Kit allowed Vincent to take the lead and started down the stairs after him. The jab at his success, or lack thereof, was unkind, arrogant...and not the sort of thing he appreciated.

It was exactly the sort of boastful response he would expect from someone of a small mind and even shorter temperament. It was disgraceful.]

You're quick to make assumptions.

[With another sip, Kit finished off the cherry soda, letting the hand holding the empty can fall gently to his side. The gesture made no sound, not unlike his footsteps, which seemed almost to disappear in Vincent's own.]

If there'd been anything worth finding to begin with, it wouldn't have slipped my notice.

I doubt you were hanging around because you're scared to go back downstairs by yourself.

[or maybe he was? they'd both be liars if either claimed that the clammy feelings of apprehension had completely deserted their company after the little snack interlude. it wasn't just a natural inclination to rush that kept Vincent's pace so brisk. even without his companion's footfalls adding to the clamor, his heavy boots made it sound as if a horde of elephants were clattering down the stairs.

if he were in a worse mood the obvious implications of Kit's words might've been enough to rile him up into a more heated argument. but he's taken the edge off his monstrous appetite and knows that his supposed uselessness reflect even more poorly on the boy who'd wasted so much time trying to pull information out of him, and so he takes it in relative stride.]

Or maybe you're just worried you'll trip and fall, seeing as you're so blind.

['relative' being the operative word here.]

[He'd given the other boy several chances. Many more than he might have if their paths had crossed one year ago, instead. But the time for being patient had passed.

Coming to a stop upon one of the steps, Kit placed his free hand upon the railing at his side and braced himself. Then, precisely when one of Vincent's feet was still in the air, he began...]

I see clearly a coward before me.

[There it was, a mounting pressure behind his eyes practically summoned by his choice of words, or perhaps the decision to speak them aloud. Could that strange otherworldly something read their minds?

And how was it behind them now? It didn't matter. Kit pressed on, letting the feeling of impending doom slip ever nearer, like Death stalking toward them down those stairs.]

Just as I saw you collapse. [His hand clenched the railing more tightly as the pain intensified. Black dots spotted his vision. But he did not surrender.] The same thing happened to me.

You saw someone who wished you dead, didn't you?

[Was that what that feeling was?

It was so close now, almost like...if he turned, he'd be face-to-face with the something and it would rip his tongue straight out of his mouth for daring to speak so boldly.]

[it's a strategy almost guaranteed to pay off, although it doesn't take a master of observation to have sussed that out. Vincent's foot completely misses the next step and he nearly tumbles right down the remaining stairs; thankfully his reflexes are sharp enough to allow him to grab onto the railing and turn the downward motion into a sharp turn to glare daggers at the other boy.

the fact that there's only one figure behind him when he spins is a surprise that he forgets to register in his ire. all he can think now is to curse the fact that his swift pace has carried him several steps down from Kit, further underscoring the disparity in their height by the time he was provoked. it didn't matter. he'd fight both him and the specter likely looming over his companion's shoulder by now.

...or, he would if such a thing actually existed.

if he weren't so riled up then he may have remembered to choose his words carefully and deny the inquiries for a second time. instead anger clouds his judgement, and he lets out a harsh bark of laughter.]

You wish.

[or rather, he did. a single person who wanted him dead...no. it had been an entire race of people who'd railed desperately for his destruction, an entire tribune of powerful old women who stared down at him with looks of mingled disgust and fear. for so many people to loathe his very existence, it was no wonder they'd found the power to fling him from their world with prayers of a swift fall.

if it had been one person, maybe the force of it all would never have driven him to his knees.]

Who's making assumptions now?

[he plants a foot on the step above him, climbing higher with each belligerent word. calling that vision back to the forefront of his mind had also conjured up the emotions that had coursed through 'him' at the same time - he can feel them pouring through his veins now, that unnatural fiery anger. someone very well might fall from the stairwell tonight.]

[In truth, he'd had no way of knowing for certain what sort of vision the other boy might have had, only that it was powerful enough to stagger him. Operating on the theory that it was possible their hallucinations had been deliberately induced, he'd guessed that Vincent's waking dream was similar to his own.

And, based on the way the other boy had reacted, based on the confrontational approach he'd taken to turning around and climbing back up those stairs, Kit wagered he was right.]

It's only an assumption if it isn't true.

[He stood his ground, unwavering as ever. The look in this boy's eyes wasn't anything like the bottomless well of mirth in the face of despair that the other dark-haired man had worn. Vincent's expression wasn't that of a predator pursuing his prey, but someone whose wound had callously been exposed to prove a point.

He had a right to be angry. He even had a right to lash out. And if he chose to do so...

...strange. Kit almost wanted that to happen. Not because he felt any sort of misguided need to be punished, but rather...because he felt if he didn't do something soon to cut the tension building in the stairwell, much of which had been brought on by the threat of invisible jaws at the nape of his neck, he thought he might burst.

And it was clear he wasn't the only one too tightly wound at the moment.]

[they may both be tightly wound, but it's clear between the pair of them which was going to crack first. Vincent's hateful eyes remain locked on his target as he retraces his steps, anger only welling further at the other teen's completely unwillingness to back down. over-analytical asshat. exactly the kind of person who'd decided they'd figured everyone else out before ever starting a conversation. intolerable.

his pace doesn't slow until he's on the same level as Kit, heedless (or perhaps all too aware) of how uncomfortably close he was standing. without warning his hand flies out to grab a fistful of his companion's idiotic shirt, roughly jerking him down to his own height with far more force than is necessary. he can only pray that it hurt.

for the span of a breath he remains there, inscrutable and coiled up like an enraged snake. suddenly, hatefully, he hisses out -]

Live.

[Kit offered no resistance as the front of his shirt was seized. He found himself bending slightly at the waist and toward Vincent, whose meted violent gesture was simply not returned. Instead, Kit offered only his rapt attention, but when only one word was uttered between them, he was left to draw his own conclusions.

He was only sixteen, but he was much too old to be cowed by scare tactics, especially those that sounded a good deal like the beginning of an ultimatum.

Live or...

He didn't wait to find out what came next, instead posing his own question.]

Have you heard of Cicuta maculata?

[He stared down at the smaller boy, the same infuriatingly calm expression on his face despite the itch to throw down growing inside.]

Also called water hemlock, it's said to be one of the most toxic plants native to North America and is often confused for edible parsnips and celery. A lethal mistake, to be sure, as its toxins provoke painful convulsions and aches, nausea, and death. For those unfortunate enough to survive ingesting it, the prognosis is grim: a body wracked with lifelong tremors and a mind wiped clean from memory loss.

[Suddenly his free hand shot outward and, with surprising strength, he planted his bare palm against Vincent's chest and shoved him back towards the railing.]

Do you see how dangerous it can be to make erroneous assumptions?

[whether he was guarding against retaliation or not (he was, but not enough) there was really only so much resistance one could offer on an industrial stairway. Vincent hits the opposite rail with a soft grunt, the wind briefly knocked out of him from the impact.

it stings and may even bruise later in the night, but he barely even feels the pain. all he can see is an outlet, finally, something concrete that he can understand - and more importantly, an easy excuse to vent the tension that's been steadily mounting since this god damned headache first pierced his skull. he's glad, more than anything else, that Kit's proven unreceptive to the overtures of the very thing he'd come to fish up.

the irony's enough to get him laughing, an unkind sound that only serves to make his ugly smile all the more worrisome. the majority of the experience in fights likely goes to his foe, but Vincent is hardly posturing with his choice in fashion. he's hopped up enough on someone else's rage that he's certain he has more than a fighting chance here.

the idea that this is perhaps the worst possible place in the world to brawl never occurs to him.]

No, but you're going to in a moment!

[it really was fitting that Kit had essentially slapped away the product of all his hard labor. those arrogant enough to believe they could understand a stranger's mind perfectly inevitably ended up allowing their misconceptions to blind and misdirect them. for once, he's grateful to have been misunderstood.

Vincent may be short, but he's never counted that as a disadvantage. especially not here and now when he can move with startling rapidity to try and headbutt the other boy, knocking both his breath away and hopefully sending him crashing to the floor. on the ground everyone was equal.]

[Inevitably, theirs was a first meeting destined to be volatile in nature.

Between the nauseating pain reverberating inside his skull, the phantom sensation that Death itself might be stalking him, and Vincent's many verbal jabs, poorly timed choice to lay his hands on him, and horse laugh...was it any wonder Kit had missed the window he'd been looking for?

If there was any other way to perceive the smaller boy's actions and tone of voice, Kit was beyond caring, now. Whatever hostility he had thought he recognized by the tell-tale signs was hardly imagined. He was certain of that when his companion came at him again.

Nimbly dancing back on that step and very narrowly avoiding a tiny head to his chin, Kit ducked down and kicked out his leg to sweep at Vincent's ankles. On stairs, the advantage wouldn't be in aiming high, but in knocking the feet out from under one's opponent. Provided that opponent wasn't just as nimble as him, anyway.]

[unfortunately his foe's diminutive stature has practically forced him to remain swift if he ever wants to be a credible threat in a fight, and so he swoops out of range of the other teen's kick in time. it's a movement that might almost be called elegant, certainly something out of place with the rest of him.

Kit's inner assessment is completely correct: on such precarious battleground, it would be wisest to focus on toppling over one's enemy. it would be prudent, and easy, and everything proper about approaching this fight with victory as the goal.

Vincent acts as if the very concept is foreign to him.

if asked about it during a quieter moment, he'd claim that it wasn't entirely his fault; he was certainly capable of fighting intellectually, but only so long as his temper remained in check. with enough aggression for two men ringing through his head there was no hope of that tonight. and so, when he sees Kit drop down to sweep him and avoid his own attack at once, he acts on instinct and moves to bring a fist crashing down on his skull.

hurting them until they hit the ground counted as attacking their feet, right?]

[They were two very different beasts, weren't they? Each of them was resilient, each completely unwilling to retreat once the challenge had been issued, but where one was motivated by his sharpened instincts, the other was guided by a rather shrewd sort of intelligence.

Who between them would stand victorious in the end wasn't a matter of time so much as opportunity.

As Vincent's fist descended, Kit's shot upward. The smaller boy's arm reached its target, producing an unrivaled shock wave that blasted through the entirety of the skull it had come into contact with. But before his vision blurred and danced unsteadily before his eyes, Kit had launched a counterattack of his own—

—in the form of crushing his empty cherry cola can against Vincent's face.]

[it's a testament to Vincent's confidence in himself, if nothing else, that he makes no attempt to dodge the ascending fist. he's more than willing to take the hit in order to maintain his current position and move in for an excellent follow-up; dazing an opponent was a chance that didn't come around very often. a few stars or a bloody nose was more than a fair trade for that.

he's braced for a retaliation from a normal fistfight, but what he gets instead is...some demented variation on the world's oldest barroom party trick. the crunch echoes in the otherwise silent building, the reverberations of the sound seemingly magnifying the utterly stupidity of the moment.

even if his wits were entirely about him rather than number by shock, it would be difficult for Vincent to react quickly. the can had crumpled almost square in the middle of his forehead - exactly where his bizarre headache has been localized the entire time. it practically burns, the pain far more intense than anything he'd have suffered if it had simply collided with his nose.

he reels back a few steps, hissing through clenched teeth. it's only when he finds his vision is still obscured that he realizes the can's never hit the ground, the edge of the pop top catching on one of his eyebrow piercings instead. he growls lowly under his breath as he rips the damn thing off, the sound acquiring a pained edge as the piercing is ripped off along with its uninvited passenger.

fucking fantastic. not only was that going to bleed, but he was going to have to comb the stairs after this whole thing was over to find his piercing again.

the only silver lining is that his ire doesn't allow Kit even a breath of air with which to laugh at his foe. with another growl, this one infinitely more feral, he charges forward in some rage-blinded attempt to make good on his original strategy. there's nothing educated about this attack either, only a body like a battering ram and grasping arms looking to close in around the other teen's neck and squeeze.]

[If Kit had so much as considered laughing at the fool sight of his foe struggling with his piercing, the thought was gone the moment Vincent ripped out that piece of jewelry just to be rid of the can attached to it. When he elicited next a guttural growl and lunged, Kit was prepared. But, from their angle, even if he'd wanted to catch Vincent and throw him down upon the steps, there wasn't time, and there was no way to brace himself against the impact.

Both of their feet left the ground in that instant and, coupled with Vincent's momentum, they flew backwards into the air and down the stairs.

What had he said about knowing how to land? Those words flashed through his mind as the other boy's arms attempted to entangle around his neck. He could grab Vincent and, in a split second, reverse their positions. Kit could use him to break his fall...and he even thought he should.

But he didn't.

He wasn't sure why, but he decided to take the full brunt of the last steps against his own back, followed by the concrete tiled floor at the bottom. He endured the wind being beaten out of his lungs and the back of his head striking the ground with an unpleasant crack, during which the only silver lining was that he didn't immediately feel a rush of warmth at the back. Not that he could tell what he felt through the veil of biting pain in his head and running down his spine.

Why? He didn't owe this person any such courtesy. But he didn't want him dead, either. And if someone so much larger like Kit were to land on top of him after falling from such a height, bones would be broken, or worse. This had been the only solution...hadn't it?

His head swimming, he pushed at the other boy from where he lied on the floor, a breathless cough escaping him as he tried to sit up...]

[it's a surprise that breaks him free of his blinding anger, at least temporarily. Vincent is completely prepared for there to be a power struggle the moment they finally went careening down the stairs, an even fiercer battle to see who would hit the ground first. he's prepared even as the steps buffet them both, steeling himself against the pain as he doggedly seeks out his target of the other boy's throat.

he's determined to hang on. even if Kit uses his superior size to flip him and force him to absorb the worst of the hits, he was going to hang onto his neck and make him regret every second of it. those are the only coherent thoughts floating through his head as they fall beyond a wordless preparation for further pain - but that never comes to fruition.

at this point it's all but certain that his opponent has been an infamous figure in the juvenile detention circuit. even if he prefers not to fight for whatever reason, there's no doubt that he's a man who knows how to take advantage of his opportunities and, more importantly, survive. someone like that ought to be fighting tooth and nail to come out on top of this encounter, and yet Vincent feels almost no resistance in their current struggle. if anything, he seemed to be attempting to remain beneath him as they rushed towards the landing.

what?

the confusion jars him even more than crashing onto solid ground does. his hands loosen from Kit's neck, falling away completely in the chaos of sliding to a stop. he's been spared from the worst of the impact, but the force still knocks the breath right out of him. he's going to be a mess of bruises after all is said and done; it'll be a wonder if he can go about his business for the next week without falling over in pain.

for now, however, his thoughts are the most troubling part of his existence. he allows the other boy to shove him away, rolling bonelessly to his side as he tries to make sense of it all. there's no attempt from Vincent to rise just yet. he remains on the floor, staring with an uncomfortable intensity at Kit as he makes the effort to move into a more suitable position as if he expects some great answer from the scene.]

...tch.

[it's nowhere close to a laugh, but the exhale of breath that Vincent allows to seep out is filled with...something.]

Some fight.

[Everything everywhere hurt.

His temples, the back of his skull, and his jaw from when his teeth had reflexively clenched together upon impact with the concrete steps and floor; even the slender circumference of his neck and the whole of his back were both alive with a fiery ache, eliciting a quiet groan of discomfort as he sat upright and slowly, carefully, began to brush off his clothing.

In light of what just happened, perhaps hurt was even too mild a descriptor, but in the wake of his companion's breathy exhale and what appeared to be an unspoken ceasefire, Kit could scarcely bring himself to care. They were a mess of injuries between them, with his own being more severe but also more subtle than Vincent's, whose face was awash with his own blood — but here they were, both still very much alive.

The feeling of impending doom had dissipated some time ago without his realizing, too. Whatever terrible spirits might linger in the kimon corner of this building, they weren't here now. How could he not share an exhaled sigh of relief and satisfaction when he felt so much like he'd cheated death? This was a victory, if not the one he'd come seeking in the beginning.]

We might still be fighting if you hadn't been so reckless.

[Kit glanced up and smiled, a true testament of his amusement for how genuine it appeared through his discomfort.]

I'd rather it isn't a fall that defeats either of us if we ever fight for real.

[What a waste that would be.]

That's your fault for not breaking my neck.

[it's amazing how someone can tackle another person and themselves down a full flight of stairs and still come out of it blaming his adversary for the outcome. at least the curve of his lips suggest a smile as he says it, making it safe to assume that this is merely Vincent's way of joking around. hopefully.

he doesn't seem to be currently aware of the ghastly state of his face, making no motions to wipe any of the blood away or even check to see how he's doing. it was something of a letdown at the end, but the scuffle had left him in the best mood he'd been in all night. even he isn't certain whether that was the gratitude at not having come out of this paralyzed from the waist down or some strange passing bloodlust.

whatever the reason, Kit's implication that he'd want a more serious rematch someday coaxes what may be the first laugh free of cynicism he's heard from the other boy. it's a surprisingly sweet sound.]

You'd have to actually take it seriously if we ever did that.

[as if Vincent would mind that - quite the opposite. he finally decides that laying on his back for the rest of this conversation is probably not going to work out and grabs onto the nearby railing, pulling himself upright in a single fluid motion. despite his best efforts to make it seem simple, there's no disguising the wince of pain in his expression. god damn, but he was sore.]

Is that so?

[Break his neck, he said, as casual now as he'd been when they were discussing being eaten by oni. Kit would have laughed if every part of him wouldn't have regretted being jostled.

How was it that such an insufferable little punk had turned out to be so likable?

So like the people in the circles he'd used to run in: unpredictable and wild. The people he'd eventually walked away from. But they didn't seem to have the same spark as this boy. He wasn't intimidated by anything or anyone. Kit's own reputation didn't even spook him! It was...refreshing.]

I suppose I'll have to remember that for next time.

[With Vincent standing, it was his turn. He took his time, knowing better than to risk all the blood rushing from his head and causing another collapse. Probably, he had a very mild concussion and pushing himself now would not only be foolish, but it would hinder his ability to make good on his promise, one that even he was surprised he cared to extend.

After all the ways this boy had pushed his buttons...but wasn't that the source of his curiosity?

Slowly rising to his full height, Kit held himself steady with one hand against the wall, the other wrapped around a sore rib cage. Nothing was broken as far as he could tell, but he wouldn't be the least bit surprised later to find a number of black and blue bruises all across his skin.]

There isn't any point in hiding it, not now. You know who I am. [Who he really was. Or had been, at least. Some days Kit felt closer to his old self, while other times he felt a pull in a different direction. But no matter how much he'd changed, one thing would always remain true...] I haven't fought seriously in a long time. I'd like that very much.

[as he watches Kit gingerly get to his feet, he can't help but wonder if he should extend a hand to make the transition slightly less painful. although he doesn't act on it, the thought's existence alone is enough to startle him. hadn't it been only five minutes ago that he was ready to see this douchebag's brains splattered across the concrete?

the sentiment still holds true, judging by the excitement that a potential rematch filled him with, but there was something more casual about it now. this scrap wasn't enough to merit Vincent deciding he liked the guy (he didn't care for much of anyone, bandmates included) but something had undeniably shifted.

he was interesting, that was all. arrogant and too repressed for his own good, but burning hotly enough that even his own sense of restraint couldn't completely disguise it. there was very little in the teen that resembled the wild tales Styx had told him...but that wasn't much of a bad thing.

it's potential, he settles on eventually. he's only vaguely concerned because he wants to see what a real fight might bring for both of them.]

Could've fooled me. [no one who brawled on the regular would have even considered pulling that stunt with the soda can. but Vincent's voice is still amused rather than bitter.] Just remember that you wanted it when you're chewing dirt later.

[he's not an open enough person to be able to say it plainly the way Kit can, but he's confident that the other boy can easily read the message between his boasting: that he'd like a true fight just as much.

that uncomfortable concern rears its ugly head as Vincent's gaze shifts from his companion leaning against the wall to back up the stairs they'd recently toppled from. it would be best to get him back to the guest rooms so he could lay down and rest, that was certain, but if they left now then the odds of him being able to return and successfully retrieve his piercing were almost nil. as soon as the sun rose there would be too much traffic to keep the tiny thing in its place.

could he stand to wait a few moments while he made the search? ...hell, why was it his problem what Kit could or couldn't handle?

irritation at his own erratic thoughts pushing him on, he pushes off the railing and begins to warily mount the stairs back up to the start of their encounter. there may not be any point in hiding things now, but Vincent's pride still dictates that he make it look like this simple task isn't causing his muscles to scream out in protest. even with his best efforts, however, his pace remains slow and gentle.]

Assuming you don't drop before then, anyway.

[...irritation can only defeat so much. he can't help throwing out that backhanded expression of concern even after deciding he wasn't going to care; it was acceptable so long as he made it a demand rather than a worry, he presumed.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject