[adsfadsfasdfgfhgfhgf-deactivate]

  Nash’s insult, being the lesser of two affronts, was temporarily ignored in favor of the greater offense: White’s.

The alchemist did not reply with a retort of his own. He took a brusque step towards the seething young man, and, still without the faintest trace of irritation on his immovable face, replied, instead, with his fist.

It was bad enough that the old bastard was strong, but even worse was that his gloves had capped his hard knuckles with brass. The strike was as brief, harsh and sudden as the throw had been: probably unanticipated, but likely not undeserved.

Unfortunately, the abuse did not stop there. If White wasn’t able to recover quickly enough, Hilarius would follow up that blow to the face with one to the gut, delivered via the sharp-edged heel of a heavy boot.

[datprosthetic]

Oh, fuck all, if it couldnt get any worse! One moment White was on his feet; the next, a fist of holy righteousness was smashing into his face. This fist must have been holier than most - because he could feel the brass, the fist, and the terrible force behind it. It felt like he'd stuck his head in front of a speeding train.. but it didn't stop there.

He went reeling, but had hardly enough time to voice his displeasure before the violence returned. White's reflexes had it all wrong; his arms rose to protect his face, leaving his stomach open for the second blow. This time, he found the air forced from his body in the form of fashionable damnation: a boot. It sent him back, his knees buckled. He hacked and retched loudly, but his onslaught of insults was nowhere to be found.

Fuck. Fuck. He could taste the metallic hint of blood, his face and gut hurt like hell, and any pride he'd attempted to muster up after being felled by Nash's flying body was obliterated by now. His wheezing body was already breakable enough without Hilarius' aid, damnit!

Fucking old man hit like a champion. If Hilarius was quite finished with administering his violent punishments, he would hear no more sass from the sickly lad, who had apparently opted to remain on his knees for the time being as he attempted to regain some sliver of either his breath, his mentality, or his pride. He spat blood, wiped it away with the sleeve at his wrist and glared intently at the ground. Okay, he'd be quiet. At least for now.

[nashrumack]

Nash had decided before White's beating was over that he was going to get the hell out of there. Hilarius beating on the sickly kid was bad enough as it was, and it was only made worse when... that thing showed up wanting to torture and kill them. He wasn't about to have any of that, so he quickly turned and ran for the door.

His speed was incredible, especially for someone who wore such bulky-looking robes and was as small as he was, and within milliseconds, his hand was on the doorknob, desperately twisting it.

He wasn't sure where he would go, but he was certain that anywhere would be better than here at the moment.

[nashrumack]

Ah, shit. He'd forgotten about Hilarius, though the surly bastard hadn't forgotten about him or Nash. Lucky enough, the alchemist seemed more focused on removing his aggravating and temporary sparring partner, and White took the opportunity to snicker as Nash found himself uprooted.

"Hah! Serves you ri--" wait a minute. The look of horror that flashed across the pale boy's face was but a fleeting glimpse before the mage was sent barreling into him as if he were a human bowling pin. There was an explicit, steady and colorful string of curses, and before he knew it, his ass was on the floor, Nash on top of him. White was momentarily dazed, but when he blinked the stars away, the fleshy projectile was still there!

"Wh-what the flying fuck, get off of me!" hurt knee or not, the snowy-haired lad wasn't going to just sit there with this damned conglomerate of people watching their dispute. His prosthetic hand was shoved into Nash's face, and he set to work trying to hastily untangle himself from his adversary.

If successful, he'd brush himself off, shooting a burning glare at Hilarius.

"And you, you stone-faced fuckwad! What the fuck?!" 

Nash was easily shoved off of White, purposely rolling off of him and to the side as the hand was shoved into his face, but, perhaps amazingly, he didn't fight back this time. He seemed to be a little on the flustered and embarrassed side, even in his silence, which was honestly probably the very reason he suddenly went so quiet.

It was very simple to knock him down a few pegs just by doing something so simple. However, it turned out that he wouldn't stay silent for very long. Perhaps he couldn't stay silent. Maybe he had just been too busy recovering to say something, or maybe he had been trying to think of a way to insult them.

It turned out that he couldn't insult them with more specific terms, since he didn't know anything about them, so he had to settle with something on the more generic side.

"Uncivilized plebeians," he muttered, hauling himself to his feet.

[adsfadsfasdfgfhgfhgf-deactivate]

datprosthetic:

[nashrumack]

The sparks were hardly given the time of day. White looked like he was just about ready to pounce on the mage, though Hilarius had successfully deterred him previously.

"If I die you’d better prepare your ass, because I’ll be haunting you first, asshole." He’d taken a step towards Nash by now. Seemed not even Hilarius could keep either of these boys under control for long with just a simple insult.

Finally he noticed Nash’s crackling arm, but it only ushered on another brazen verbal barrage.

"What are you going to do with that, zap me? You think I’m afraid of a little electricity, hair boy?"

There weren't a lot of people that were so unwise as to ignore Hilarius. The few that were--like this whinging duo--were often educated rather quickly.

The alchemist had, as it were, passed the threshold for words long before either of the snippy youths had, and he wasn't even a part of the conversation. Indeed, quite without warning, Hilarius went from ominously docile to frighteningly and undeniably active.

In a sudden movement, he had snatched up a fistful of the back of Nash's robes and hauled him sharply backwards, away from White, brutally enough to cause the mage to stumble; it was vicious, unrestrained force, as though he did not know his own terrible strength.

Heedless of anything the brown-haired lad might have done or said, silent, frowning and as inevitable as a tidal wave, Hilarius then proceeded to lift him an inch off of the ground, and twisted to hurl him violently into his sickly adversary as though he was little more than a doll.

Before Nash could so much as respond to White, or even move, he had found himself being yanked around like a rag doll. Probably unsurprisingly, it took little effort to haul him backwards and even off the ground, and it seemed to take only a tad bit more effort to toss him.

In the moment before he was thrown, he did tell the old man to unhand him, and was promptly rewarded as he went sailing through the air and crashing right into White.

At least the guy had been there to break his fall, although it had been anything but cushy. It had actually felt... sort of pointy.

Unless he was pushed off, he didn't remove himself from the other right away, just sort of sitting up over him, propping himself up with one hand and rubbing a knee that was apparently hurt in the process with the other.

Lesson learned? Probably not.

[adsfadsfasdfgfhgfhgf-deactivate]

  The squabbling young men had probably been too busy arguing to notice the slow approach that ended with the tall man looming over them like a broad shadow. Hilarius’ heavy presence eventually asserted itself more strongly, however, in its burning odor of blood and bleach and in the sepulchral roll of his accented monotone. It boomed right over their heated exchange like a peal of thunder, as if to compliment the bared teeth of Nash’s lightning.

"Sᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴏғ ᴀ ʀᴀʙʙɪᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜᴘsᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏ ᴅᴇᴇᴘʟʏ," he rumbled, slowly turning the white leer from Nash’s face to White’s. One of his hands lifted as though in preparation to restrain the mage’s crackling arm. "Oʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴀᴄᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ? Sᴜᴄʜ ᴘᴇᴛᴛʏ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴜᴄᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅᴀᴍɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇǫᴜɪʀᴇs ᴄᴏᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ."

[datprosthetic]

Ew, other people.

White’s own agitation was present in the gritting of his teeth, but he’d restrained from doing anything -too- rash.

"I might be a little lacking in etiquette, but at least I don’t look like a—” he cut off as Hilarius boomed right over his words, and, of course, proceeded to fold his arms. His open glare seemed to fade as he found himself staring right into the grisly man’s face. Soon his own expression seemed to be a struggling mix of discomfort and displeasure, as if simply looking at that permanent scowl inflicted some microscopic dose of pain. Goddamn, that guy had a creepy sense of authority.

But that didn’t stop the sickly lad from continuing to flap his gums like an idiot.

"Hmph. This guy can’t tell the difference between a walkway and a grandstand; he’ll probably get us all killed anyway." says the human. The human with no survival skills.

[nashrumack]

More sparks threatened to fly as White began to insult the mage's appearance, despite the creepy old man looming over them. Hilarius's presence did not seem to calm Nash down, but rather make him even feistier. This was the boy's fatal flaw; he did not obey anyone unless they had proven their worth to him. Since he didn't know anybody here, it was only natural that he didn't seem anyone worthy of his submission.

It was a defense mechanism so that he wouldn't look weak to strangers, and it did in fact land him in trouble almost every single time.

"If you get killed, it would be your own fault. It would be a blessing to the rest of us, at least."

[nashrumack]

[datprosthetic]

The mage could feel the cold gaze of the tallest man on him, but that wasn’t all. There was also a faint hint of magic, which is what attracted his attention towards the other. He did narrow his eyes to glare at Hilarius, though, as a response and also somewhat of a threat to the man for staring.

He just barely noticed White as the other shouldered him, knocking him out of the way due to the force that was created. With nearly catlike reflexes, he took a few steps back, rather than falling, righting himself as he did so. How rude!

With a glare of his own, he stepped toward the one who pushed him.

"Hey! Were you raised in a barn?!"

There was so much more he could have added to that, but he chose to at least allow the other to form a response before he began to completely belittle him.

~~~since I suck at reblogging on my tablet~~~ Ugh, of course. New guy couldnt just keep his mouth shut; no, he had to make a big deal out of it. White’s brow furrowed in a deeper glare. He turned back to face Nash, though propping his prosthetic hand on a hip. “You’re one to talk. Is it polite to block the door and stare like an asshole where you’re from? Didn’t fucking think so.” If anyone was staring, the sickly lad gave no signs of knowing or caring. “Don’t block the way unless you want to get pushed. Its not a hard concept.” Way to bitch it up, White.

[nashrumack]

If Nash hadn't looked offended before, he definitely did, now. He also seemed to be a little flustered. He hadn't been staring, as far as he was concerned. He had simply been working up the nerve to say or do something!

He had to admit, though, that he was sort of glad it began like this, because he wasn't the best at starting up conversation of any sort unless he was comfortable with the person. At least this could be some sort of ice breaker.

"You could have asked nicely! Did nobody ever teach you any manners?"

His hand twitched at his side as a jolt of electricity went through it, the crackling sound filling up the room between the bouts of yelling.

[nashrumack]

Nash had woken up alone in his room long after the other participants of the game had already left theirs, the effects of the drugs he had been given still lingering, as they had been more than enough to knock out a large man. He fell quite short of being even in the average range for males, so,…

[datprosthetic]

White’s face at the rabbit’s response was a sour one indeed; his face flushed slightly, his mood only further fouled. His arms had folded, head lowered some. With a short “tch,” he turned on his heel, headed for the back of the crowd.

Fucking rabbits. Again.

There was quite a bit of blabber afterwards. Rules, puns, nothing the sickly lad cared to deal with. His first plan had been to simply leave, maybe get a small explanation from Jasmine or Mort later, since they were his top trustees at the moment. But as he made a beeline for the door, he was haulted - there was another now, some guy with confusion on his face and one hell of a hairdo.

So more were joining up, were they? Fine. Let them play the damn game. White just wanted to break his foot off in Zero’s ass.. that, and to go home. Fuck.

Being the gentleman that he was, White’s first move was to attempt to shoulder his way past Nash, offering only the fellow a rather welcoming glare as he did so. Nice to meet you, cannon fodder. Get out the fucking way.

[nashrumack]

The mage could feel the cold gaze of the tallest man on him, but that wasn't all. There was also a faint hint of magic, which is what attracted his attention towards the other. He did narrow his eyes to glare at Hilarius, though, as a response and also somewhat of a threat to the man for staring.

He just barely noticed White as the other shouldered him, knocking him out of the way due to the force that was created. With nearly catlike reflexes, he took a few steps back, rather than falling, righting himself as he did so. How rude!

With a glare of his own, he stepped toward the one who pushed him.

"Hey! Were you raised in a barn?!"

There was so much more he could have added to that, but he chose to at least allow the other to form a response before he began to completely belittle him.

[nashrumack]

Ew, other people.

Nash had woken up alone in his room long after the other participants of the game had already left theirs, the effects of the drugs he had been given still lingering, as they had been more than enough to knock out a large man. He fell quite short of being even in the average range for males, so, naturally, they had lasted longer. However, when he realized that he was no longer in a familiar setting, the haze quickly wore off and he jerked himself into a sitting position. Even that movement was lightning-quick.

The first thing that he did was search himself for his mirror, but quickly found that all of his belongings had been taken and were instead replaced with a note and something that appeared to be a bracelet. It was a horrible fashion statement, but at least it matched the red that was on his robes. When trying to electrocute it did nothing but give himself a bit of a shock, he turned his attention to the piece of paper.

After reading the note, he disregarded the message for things that were more important, namely, his hair. It didn't take him long to seek out the bathroom and the mirror there, being able to look himself over after a few minutes of learning what a light switch was. His hair was a mess, and that was a huge offense, but luckily for him, there was a comb and a brush on the vanity. After fixing up his hair, he stuck the comb into his robe and then set out to figure out what the hell was going on.

It wasn't long at all before he had figured out the puzzle to the room; he was much, much more intelligent than his attitude and terrible luck would suggest, and found the answer to the puzzle pretty obvious once he had discovered the chest at the foot of his bed. The bigger problem for him was figuring out what the card reader did, and that the card keys were used in it. It took him longer to figure this part out, but eventually, he did, and made his way out of the bedroom, only to be greeted with the announcement that he should find the living room. To suddenly hear a voice that seemed to come from nowhere was nothing short of startling, and for a little while, he didn't want to move. There didn't appear to be a threat, though, so he began to explore.

His naturally quick pace meant that it didn't take very long to find the room he was looking for, and as soon as he opened the door, he froze, not unlike a deer in headlights. Other people.

He had been certain that he was alone here, at least until the mysterious voice spoke, so it was a little surprising, even though it probably shouldn't have been. His instincts told him to flee, but his pride wouldn't allow him to, so he took a deep breath and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind himself. As there were so many gathered here, he figured that this was probably the place he needed to be.

He didn't say a word, though, and kept his place in front of the door.