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

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.]

[The so-called stunt with the soda can just so happened to be the most effective way to both launch a counterattack and free up his hands. Kit had never intended for the tab to get caught on Vincent's piercing in the process...but neither was he sorry that it had.

Vincent had chosen to allow his anger to get the better of him and, as a result, he'd lost one shiny piece of face metal somewhere in the stairwell. He had only himself to blame for that. Much the way he could only blame himself for Kit's decision to withhold a response until the smaller boy had nearly reached the first landing.]

Don't worry about me. This is nothing. [In his youth, Kit had been a frequent fighter. He'd often wandered back 'home' covered in cuts and bruises, but the same could not always be said for the other party. For all the damage he incurred, he had a penchant of doling out much worse. He'd never taken a life, of course. But with some of the things he had done, perhaps death would have been more merciful. Not that he was that person anymore. A year and some months later, he may not have outrun the rumors or the way the promise of a good fight made his blood boil, but he was...different. Not shaved of his thorns, but perhaps possessing fewer. But always the same barbed sense of humor.] You, on the other hand...you may well be the one in a sorry state if you're not careful.

[Despite the discomfort, this time Kit made no attempt to hide his amusement, muffle his soft laughter, or for the sake of Vincent's dignity refrain from pointing at his posterior. When the can and piercing were thrown earlier, they must have come apart. One was stranded somewhere on the stairs still, and the other had made its way down to the ground floor where it must have gotten snagged on the smaller boy's clothes.]

If you fall from there, you could wind up with a piercing you didn't bargain for.

[he's only half-listening to Kit prattle on as he climbs the stairs, pain and his own thoughts taking the majority of his focus. it was infinitely more pleasant like this, the other boy's self-important drivel transformed into soothing white noise. he had quite a pleasant voice, now that he thought about it, so long as it was put to the task of saying nothing with any real meaning.

from the bits and pieces that filtered through his ears it only seemed like the usual good-natured banter that occurred between people looking to spar at some point. nothing that he couldn't respond to in kind without actually having paid attention.

despite the constant siege of aches and pains, Vincent only pauses once before nearing the first landing to bend down and pick up the twice-damned soda can that had started this all. it's a mistake he regrets immediately, his back shrieking out in horror as it's forced to contort in such unholy directions; he's forced to pretend to inspect the nearby surroundings for his piercing for a moment or two before gathering up enough strength to stand again and proceed.

the fact he's taken it with the intention of recycling later is a secret he'll bring with him into death.

at some point a few moments later he finally registers that Kit has been laughing at something, the gentle sound wafting its way up the empty stairs. despite having only known the other boy for a grand total of fifteen minutes he can already tell that mirth is an ominous portent and whips around to stare at him, finally zeroing in on the conversation.

his eyes narrow suspiciously when he sees that his companion's gone through the effort of raising a hand to point at something. just what was he trying to say..?

the awful possibility settles upon him with a crushing suddenness as he wracks his brain to reconstruct the world as it would have been when Kit first began pointing. his own hand, already braced on his hip, mercifully has no trouble in investigating without much sign of what it is he's doing exactly.

the results are just as damning as he'd feared: he can feel his missing piercing snagged on the hem of his shirt, dangling right atop his ass. of course. this would happen on a day when he'd chosen an outfit relatively free of studs and rivets.

Vincent honestly can't say what's more enraging, the humor at his expense or the fact that Kit must have deliberately allowed him to make the near-crippling journey up here before cluing him into the joke. either way he's glad for the sharp edges of his jewelry; the pain as his fist clenches it tight enough to break the skin is enough of a distraction to keep him from contemplating reigniting their fight right now.]

Not with such an obnoxious target to aim for.

[there's no point in shielding the fact that he's flustered, not when Kit is already laughing at him over it. might as well indulge himself a little in some good old-fashioned threat making.]

It'd probably be a better look in you anyway.

[in, not on. because you're damn sure that if by some miracle he did actually fall he'd be ramming that thing right in one of the other boy's eyes.]

[Hmm? That's strange.

Kit half expected the other boy to hurl the can at his head for all his chuckling, but Vincent's arm doesn't so much as twitch in his general direction. Had he overdone it by tackling the stairs again in his condition, perhaps? Or was he truly that committed to environmental practices?

Not that the latter was something Kit would judge him for. On the contrary...it was quite a respectable trait to find in someone, just not the sort of thing he'd expect from someone so poked full of holes he could shred cheese better than a cheese grater.

As he took a steadying breath and righted himself, standing apart from the wall now, Kit tilted his head back and gazed up at Vincent...but it was as if he were actually looking down at him.]

I wouldn't advise trying anything so strenuous in your condition.

[He made no mention of his own physical state, standing now as if he didn't feel the aches that had settled into his bones. They were, all of them, very much still there. And they would slow him down with certainty if Vincent chose to engage, too. But, with a little bluffing, perhaps he could at least determine how ready to fight his companion actually was? For he hadn't begun descending those steps the way he'd climbed them in an awful hurry the last time Kit had crossed a line. Surely he'd reached some limit and was barking because he was too tired to bite.]

I promised I would be serious the next time we fought. If you wish to do so here and now...I'll only hold back enough to keep from killing you.

[there's not a moment of hesitation before Vincent spits out his reply.]

Even if you get serious it'd still only be half a man.

[he's not in any condition to make a sincere go of a fight, yes, but even if he'd come out of their previous tussle unscathed his answer would still be the same. there was no point in feeling satisfied about triumphing over someone while they were diminished. it had nothing to do with the 'honor' of a fight, or morals - it was simply common sense.

he makes a low noise of irritated disapproval in the back of his throat that in the silence manages to carry all the way down the stairwell. because the right answer was so obvious he had no doubt that Kit was just trying to lie his way out of accepting consequences for being an asshole, which only served to make him feel even more petulant.]

Don't rupture something trying to look cool.

[it wouldn't work anyway is the unspoken follow-up, although he doesn't feel as if he needs to say it aloud. instead he busies himself with shoving the piercing and can alike into his jacket pockets - and making no motions whatsoever of intending to struggle back down for the time being.]

Even diluted, poisons from the most toxic plants are still lethal.

[The same could not be said for his threat, however. Upon confirming that Vincent seemed unwilling to further engage, Kit found that he was not only able, but completely inclined to relax. At least insofar as standing there required. That the habitat's sleeping quarters were all the way down at the other end of the hall was not a fact that escaped him, and he knew very well he should be heading back before what was left of his strength was expended.

But...his feet were reluctant to move, legs not incapable of supporting his weight, but unwilling to carry him away from his companion. After all, if he left now and that something returned...

...what a foolish thought that was. He hadn't felt that presence since before they'd toppled down the stairs. It was gone now, and the two of them were all that remained. They were safe, weren't they? Apart from their own injuries, of course.]

In any case, you should take your own advice.

[Lifting one hand, Kit gestured to his face, indicating where on Vincent's he was bleeding from.]

I'm not going to carry you back to the dormitory if you collapse.

[again with the unnecessary plant analogies. he can't help but wonder if the juvenile detention center Kit had spent his time in possessed a library filled with nothing but botany texts. he'd have to ask Styx about it the next time they had practice.

his hand rises up to mirror his companion's, brows crinkling gently in confusion. when his fingers come into contact with something sticky it pulls another laugh from him even as he does nothing to staunch the bleeding or wipe it off.]

It's nothing I can't handle.

[a light-hearted jab, but still an ironic echo of Kit's own words all the same. there were a great number of people who paid to see looks like this in the black metal community; it seemed a bit wasteful to banish it over something as trivial as health concerns. if he couldn't deal with something like this then he deserved to pass out.]

I'm not going back to the dorms anyway, so you'd be a busybody and wrong if you dragged me there.

[he inclines his head slightly, indicating the landing above him and the doors to the lobby. if Kit thought that he wasn't stubborn and bratty enough to hold onto his displeasure over the piercing joke, he's in for a rude awakening now.]

[And Styx would be able to report that there had in fact been a library on site, though not one stocked with the sort of material most people liked to read. Nevertheless, after the first two months of his stay at the detention center, Kit could hardly be found without a book in his face. He was always reading something, though anything to do with plants seemed to be a favorite, especially for his ability to put much of his knowledge to use working on the property's gardens.

That was about the time he'd started to change. It was slow at first, many of his wilder tendencies not yet weeded out, and several fights and incidents transpired. Then, by half a year, he'd seemed to find a level of control over himself and his actions that many of his peers didn't care to possess.

Still he read. Books about gardening and wildlife, psychology and history, even familiarizing himself with law and aesthetic practices such as cosmetology and sewing. By the end of his year-long stay at the center for juvenile delinquents, it was quite possible he'd read every single book in the facility's library...and forced one of his roommates to do the same, typically rewarding him with some form of physical training. He hadn't lied when he said he hadn't fought seriously in a while. Not for lack of people wanting to pick fights with him, but for lack of anyone worth going all out against.

Maybe that was even what triggered the change. The one person he spent time training with was very childlike at times, not the sort of person Kit felt inclined to bloody. On the contrary...there'd even been times when he'd stood up for the other boy, always telling himself that it wasn't sentimental, it was only a matter of protecting his territory.

He got the impression with Vincent that he didn't need to be so careful, however.]

Of course.

[Hearing in Vincent's words an echo of his own was something Kit could handle. Truth be told, though they hadn't known each other for very long, that seemed just the sort of thing the smaller boy would do and say. There was no cause here for concern. Whether Vincent wanted to go back to the sleeping quarters or head above to the lobby, it was his choice and his alone.]

Then...don't get eaten before our paths cross again.

[Even turning caused his body to protest, but the pain didn't show upon his face until Vincent could only see his back. And, with a rather tired wave, he announced his departure.

This was fine...]

Worry about yourself first. The dying emit a stronger stench.

[it's a rather macabre choice in how to part ways with someone, especially when the intention is to caution them to be careful during their return trip, but somehow it seems to suit Vincent perfectly. he doesn't return the other boy's wave, but Kit may catch the soft inclination of his head out of the corner of his eye if he's fast enough.

there had been flashes of concern earlier, but he doesn't feel any of them now. the sleeping quarters weren't that far off. his companion would make it there without issue, or else be found quickly enough to prevent any real harm. things were back to the usual, with Vincent's thoughts mostly preoccupied with just himself.

he mounts the rest of the stairs at a leisurely pace, taking his time now that there aren't any prying eyes to put up a front for. the idea of sleeping on a bench or the floor isn't exactly thrilling, but it's far and away better than having to return to the same room as the constant reminder of that fucking laughter.

by the time he manages to hobble through the lobby doors, he suspects that the discomfort of his future 'beds' won't be able to stand up against the lethal mixture of fatigue and soreness. reaching the trash bin to toss his soda can alone is a herculean effort, one from which he seriously considers simply not returning at all. only the proximity to the soft glow of the vending machine dissuades him.

truth be told, he couldn't help feeling a little nostalgic as he painfully settled himself down onto one of the benches scattered throughout the lobby. few things in his life had been premeditated, chief among those his departure from home. there had been no safe haven waiting for his stormy presence, and the shift from home to his current place of residence had been nothing but rocky. it was a reminder of what he's managed to defeat in his life already, wrapped up in a slightly more palatable bow.

there was nothing in this world capable of cowing him. Kit Florentine was no exception.

unfortunately, it seemed that his own body was interested in making a bid for the title anyway. the minutes drag by into hours as he tries and fails to fall asleep, constantly hounded by the throbbing of his own flesh - and the general uneasiness he felt whenever he glanced too long at the lobby doors.

time after time he runs through the same cycle of rising from the bench, wandering idly, then trying to stretch out on a clean-looking patch of floor before giving up and returning to his original resting place. it's maddening, but he refuses to give in. after several hours pass he at last manages to induce something vaguely resembling a doze, his surroundings fading away into nothing more than a hazy suggestion as idle thoughts and memories of headache visions stretch out in his mind...]

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