Fight For Your Life!

Independent roleplay and ask blog for a canon divergent Reverb from Mystery Skulls Animated

[teomodo]

my moms reaction to my bat incident tonight

[burnittdown]

Oh, he's definitely going out tonight. Probably to use his powers to scare the shit out of people, maybe steal their candy in the process. And if someone gets murdered? Well he's just adding to the ghostly-ness of the holiday!

[townofcadence]

Silly meme and pose doodles for @teufelsaugenn , @ssnowbunnii, @gunslinginnhogtyin , and @burnittdown !

[xanaxfarts]

Various species of bats covered in dew during hibernation

[townofcadence]

"Pfffshh---" Artair makes a noise that's at least some measure of a laugh and scoff. "You're not gonna get a rise out of me that easy, batboy. I know you'll probably get more out of this than me, anyways."

He spits his tongue, before moving towards the open area a flat space of tamped earth ringed by low grass, heather and moss. There are a few lacquered boxes of practice weapons, though he doesn't make his way for any of them. It's a place he's set up for sparring specifically for Caelan and Kiran, but in the recent year he's gotten more than his own fair use out of it as well. Fighting with Reverb would be somewhat new, but he's sure he'll learn a lot.

"You can use a weapon if you want. I'm probably going to stick to my hands for now. Maybe I'll switch up to a knife to get more practice if you're cool with that. Just--- whenever you're ready, try and hit me. I'll be waiting for you." He brushes back his hair and ties it up in a quick-woven braid, before fitting his glove and resting a hand on his hip.

[burnittdown]

"Tch, you wish. You and I both know that if anyone was gonna get off to having their ass kicked it'd be you." He scrunches his nose up, a playful gesture to mirror the spit tongue.

He follows into the ring-- it's something he's watched the others use but has never partaken of himself. He doesn't even know if he's capable of keeping it all contained here, but it's still cool to get to use it finally.

"Mm, nah. You wanna have some hope for winning, don't you? It'd be downright unfair if I used anything." His teeth flash. "You can use whatever you want, though, I don't care. Not like it's gonna help." He watches as practiced fingers move to tie back hair, a sharp brow raising at the easy stance after. He huffs out a surprised sounding laugh. "You look confident, Kingston. Too confident. I wouldn't get comfortable if I were you-- even if you are too chicken to make the first move."

He hardly takes even a moment before he launches towards Artair, a balled fist aimed towards the low center of his chest.

[townofcadence]

There isn't an answer for now, besides the reverberation of his own call. There is evidence of a fight here, broken stalagmites and furrows that his own cavern didn't mimic. There are also dark feathers, dried blood, and dried pools that reflect with iridescent shimmers. near the center of the chamber is a small raised platform of stone, forming a rough-hewn dais. A large rune carves it's way through the face and it is ringed on the edge of it's incline with more, bleeding magic into the air.

The silence is enough that the skitter of movement, the loosing of a tiny stone, echoes louder than it has any right to, as something small and dark darts further into the grotto, away from Reverb.

[burnittdown]

"Hm." An audible hum at the lack of given response, and he glances down at where his heavy boot lands on the stone floor. It lands on a dark feather, speckled with something that shimmers in his light. A pause, and he takes in more of the scene around him, pushing past familiarity to notice the different. He tries not to think about it too hard, about how there's only one creature he knows of with feathers like that, that leaves shimmering pools in place of blood.

It had to be recent. Artair didn't-- he wasn't always like that. Why hadn't he heard about this?

He's taking in the runes on the dais when the noise hits, that echoing misstep that has glowing eyes snapping to attention. He grins again, and it is so much more hateful than before. "Oh what's wrong, coward? Running away? Where's the fun in that?" It could have been a small animal, sure. But he knew himself. He knew other Reverbs, and creatures like him. And depending on the situation, well... small and running was far from being off the table.

[azzehkarla]

My toxic trait is that I truly believe I could win a fight against anybody if I was mad enough. U might have the strength and size but I have pure, unfiltered rage.

[burnittdown]

What do you think about Batman?

"Fucking... who? I mean-- I guess he sounds okay, if he's not a prick. Some things like that are. Like fucking Fitzpatrick. Humans call him mothman, I guess? But I swear he's the most pretentious motherfucker you'll ever meet. I swear, you get ONE statue made of you and suddenly you're some kind of god! Ugh."

[townofcadence]

Artair doesn't lift his head. His hair is matted in gold and iridescence, and it covers most of his body, weighted by mud and dirt where it dragged along his journey to home. He knows Reverb, and even if that sharp, cold terror that gouged through him wasn't felt, he knows Reverb well enough to know what's under the sharp words. His words are angry, but his hands are gentle.

He's glad it's Reverb. He couldn't handle anyone else seeing this. Still, he can't look at him. He know how much it hurts, how tight it squeezes Reverb's chest. He's doing this to him. He tears up without a sound from everything swirling inside him like a hurricane.

Still, when Reverb kneels, Artair's fingers climb beneath the threads of the holes in his jeans, touching warm skin. It hurts to move them, the arm cooked black and the shoulder torn asunder. But he needs it, he needs it so bad. He clings until Reverb nudges it away in order to lift him.

It hurts. Every injury screams in crescendo as Reverb brings him up against his chest. Artair doesn't make a sound. There's a soft grunt, and his head leans forward to bury against the spikes of Reverb's jacket and collar. He doesn't move even if they jab him. His right arm tucks against himself painfully, and doesn't move. The prosthetic raises and grabs Reverb's lapel on the other side, clutching it tight. But there isn't enough pressure in the world to erase the tremble in those fingers, metallic or not. It's all too much. He's weak and he's broken and he's such a fucking failure for even asking for help at all, for hurting him like this. But still he clings, trying to lose himself in a warmth that's far more comforting than any he'd felt the last few days.

[burnittdown]

Wether molten or frozen, there's a heavy steel weight in Reverb's chest. It's... hard, seeing him like this. When there's so much wrong it's hard to see him beneath it all. Even his eyes are different, one of them entirely wrong. Red. The weight in his chest throbs when Artair reaches for him, touches any part of him with desperation. That's how he knows it's bad, that Artair is acting like this at all. Reaching for him, for help. He bites down on his tongue. It helps him blink away the moisture at the corners of his eyes. He just needs to fucking focus, to get Kingston somewhere better. Somewhere... alone.

Artair is hoisted into his arms and tucked close to his chest. He looks down at him, weak and frail and so small for once. But he holds no aggravation about it, he doesn't feel the need to call it out and mock. Not when it's him. Seeing his spikes press to flesh he breathes, maybe for the first time, before shifting just enough to slump his jacket off of the shoulder Artair rests on. There's no need to make him suffer even more.

Eyes flick to the area around the porch, and the forest that lays beyond. Despite himself, he sees nothing other than the shining tracks in the dirt left by Kingston. How long had Artair been crawling? It doesn't matter. Turning on his heels Reverb heads back inside, wing extending behind him to swing the door shut. He's not willing to let go of Artair for it. Without a word he heads straight for the basement. There's a special place where they can be alone, just beyond his facsimile of a cave. That's where he'll take him.

And he doesn't stop until he gets there, that duplicate of Artair's apartment. They would be alone here, it was safe. Reverb goes to the bed, and lowers Artair with as much ease as he can manage. "There..." He looks at him for a long moment, heart pulsing painfully in his chest. "You know, I always fucking hate seeing you like this." Even his words are softer than before, even though it's clear hes still trying to edge them. It hardly comes across when he looks so worried and upset, though.

[gunslinginnhogtyin]

Half-breed? He's not sure why, but he feels as though that comment would have probably irked him if he were in a sour mood, even if it didn't quite make sense for his particular situation. Not that this fella would know.

“Well, I ain’t usually all that sen—hu-whOAH!” The demon blooded cowboy yelps, yanking his arm out of the weapons line of fire and taking a quick steps back, narrowly missing the impact. Following his look of surprise, a smile curls at the corners of his lips once more.

"Sheesh! Yer a wiley one, ain't'cha? I'll take that as a truce!" He decides despite the lack of contact. "Where'd ya get a neat lookin' weapon like that?" The demon blooded cowboy asks, wiping his spit onto the side of his pant leg, seemingly unbothered by the violent display.

[burnittdown]

The swing was so hard that the weapon continues on even after Butch scrambles out of the way, it's sharp edge sinking into the ground with a heavy thunk. Reverb expects anger, maybe a whole 'what was that for?!' spiel. But it doesn't come. Butch is... smiling? His eyebrows raise.

The weapon is hoisted back up, coming to rest against Reverb's shoulder. "Oh you're a special kind of stupid, aren't you?" He's still smiling though, and despite the mocking tone he sounds amused. When asked about the bardiche he pauses a moment, thinking as his thumb rubs lightly at the handle. "Someone made it for me." His fingers re-tighten on the grip.

"Try calling me some stupid name again and I'll give you a better look when I embed it in your face."

[townofrisquedence]

It's so easy to tell he's enjoying it, just by even the way his mouth wavers. It's a pleasing warmth over his skin that compounds the earlier enjoyment. "I told you. And hey, I'm just naturally cold-natured. We can't all be basically made of fire." He teases, pulling him close to the center. A hand warmed by the hot water comes up and touches Reverb's cheek. "See? Not even chilly this time. Though it is funny when you jump."

The playful lilt is finished with a small peck to his forehead.

[burnittdown]

"Tch, I dunno Kingston, that sounds like a skill issue to me." It was a phrase he'd heard from Jace originally, and to be honest he liked it. Yeah, it is a skill issue that you couldn't do that thing. Get better at it. Loser.

"Still, I'm surprised you can handle it this hot." He smiles when Artair kisses his forehead, the kind that's so big it scrunches his nose and closes his eyes. The genuine kind that rarely rears it's head with Reverb. "The last time I was in a spring that was hot enough for me, it was the kind that was only safe for humans by them consistently fucking with the water with these big wooden boards."

[townofcadence]

ᕙ( •̀ ︿•́ )ᕗ

@burnittdown // Challenged to a Fight

"A sparring session with my favorite greenbean? I'm down." He smiles, glancing down at Reverb. "I bet I'll have to work pretty hard to take down someone as tough as you. You won't go easy on me, right? I won't learn anything if you're not actively trying to kill me, you know."

[burnittdown]

"Damn right you will, Kingston." It's said with that familiar air of ego, nose turned up over a confident grin and closed eyes. "But I wouldn't hold your breath-- I'm still here, right? That means nobody's beaten me yet." His lit cigarette is flipped back into his mouth in a fluid move, it wouldn't serve him to have it while fighting.

Eyes roll at Artair, as Reverb cracks his knuckles. "Oh don't worry, I won't hold back. Wouldn't wanna keep you from getting your sick kicks in, huh?"

[townofcadence]

Reverb strolls casually into Resonance's cave, hands in the pockets of his jacket. He's examining the place. "Hm, decent cave. Wonder what holes up in here." Hopefully, it was lots and lots of bats.

@burnittdown // Unprompted!

The cavern Reverb enters is remarkably familiar. The entryway is a tunnel that leads further in, before bifurcating into two thinner paths, smoothed by time. One snakes its way upwards and into darkness, while the other descends at a steep incline. The space is quiet as the underground tends to be. There's a steady, periodic drip of water that echoes through the air, and the unending hum that seems to thrive in caves such as these, like the place itself is breathing.

With a sensitivity as acute as Reverb's, there was definitely no question that something lived here. There were so many seals and magical energies gathered and twisted in the space, ready for intruders; a clear sign of a lair for something strong.

[burnittdown]

There had been an inkling, judging from the outside of the cave. It looked similar enough sure, but the feelings were what really got to him. Tragedy and magic rolled off the stone in waves, the kind that made him feel right at home. Maybe not exactly at home, it wasn't his after all, but close enough that he knows what he's getting into.

The familiarity grows tenfold when he actually wanders in.

And even better, he can tell whatever lived here was home still. He wonders how far along they are-- it was Artair's world, after all. And for all the comparisons to what normally happened to things like him, there were so many differences. He could be faced with anything, really.

He hoped it was someone he could make fun of. Or fight. Preferably both.

Jagged beds of stalagmites meet him with a wave of nostalgia after taking the lower of two paths. It really was nearly identical to his own. A sharp grin flashes, hands nonchalantly stuffed into his pockets. He steps forward with a dramatic sweeping kick. "Helloooo, anyone home? I don't bite-- much."

[pedrasacorns]

“Vengeance is bad for you” I’m not doing it for my health dude

[1anonyymous1]

nobody is coming to save you. get up

[townofcadence]

“Where she stops...”

@burnittdown // Wheel of Misfortune "Burned"

The night had been----he doesn't want to think about it. Artair pushes it from his mind. He just... has to make it home. All his focus strains through each aching pull of his arms. Thankfully, Ares had not ruined them as much as the rest of him. He needed free hands for 'dinner'.

Now those same hands drag him through the grass.

At least home is secluded, near the woods. No one will see him. He drags himself up those last steps with a determination he doesn't feel, until he spills on the porch. He is starting to feel the burns again, the molten scream that pounds through the whole of his form from the bands of charred flesh still wrapped around his arms. They're healing on their own and it is too much. Will they scar? Please don't let them.

Artair's throat is equally ruined-- he doesn't have it in him to call for anyone. All he can do is scratch at the door with his nails. It's shameful, begging like this, allowing any of them to see him like this..... he hates it, he hates himself for putting this on them when he's--- what he is.

But he just....wants to go home. After tonight, please just let him go home.

[burnittdown]

It's that time of night where everyone is either asleep or won't come out of their rooms for the rest of the night. The time of night where Reverb feels he can roam the house the most freely, do whatever he wants in the perceived emptiness. It's lucky he had been heading for the front door anyway, box of cigarettes in hand prepared for a nice long smoke outside. It was a warm night after all, he might as well.

Except there's scratching at the door. A sound that breaks the normal silence. An animal, maybe? But Reverb knows better, knows the sounds only a human's dull nails would make on the wood. He swings the door open but the sense of nonchalance fades fast as he sees who it is. Of course, who else would it ever be?

His eyes flick over Artair fast, upper lip curling. The box is crushed in his hand, and despite the grit in his teeth his voice comes out flat when he manages to unlock his jaw. It does nothing to hide the sharpness at its edge. "Ugh-- Jesus christ, Kingston. What the fuck did you do this time?" The feeling is twisted in his chest, freezing cold and scorching hot at the same time. Like being soaked in liquid nitrogen and then hit with a blow torch.

The box is shoved unceremoniously back into his jacket pocket, uncaring if it's contents are ruined or not. What he cares about being ruined is the person before him. He moves forward, one heavy boot planting on the porch as Reverb takes a knee next to him. "Come on." It's a murmur, as clawed hands reach to pull Artair into his chest. It's a secure but (hopefully) gentle hold-- he's sure it's gonna hurt like a bitch regardless, but at least it'll get him inside without causing more damage. "Let's get you in."

[burnittdown]

“Im thinkin’ maybe we got off on th’ wrong foot b’fore… I was bein’ a smidgen too sensitive.” Spits into the palm of his own hand before extending it out towards Reverb for a shake with a bright grin. “What d’ya say, greenie weenie? Put ‘er there!”

"Tch, leave it to a half-breed to be the sensitive type." Reverb mocks, grinning at Butch with crossed arms.

It fades only slightly at the extended hand, before returning in full force. "Oh, you want me to put her there, huh? Well alright, if that's what you really want." Arms unfold into a shrug, and in a flash of green flames a weapon appears in his hand. It's a wicked-looking bardiche, all custom made. There's hardly time to admire it's beauty before it's blade is swinging right at Butch's outstretched hand, though!