PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
shark vs the universe
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almost home
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Keni
sheepfilms
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will byers stan first human second
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@nocercido
notice!
as of today, may 3rd, 2014, this blog is going to become an archive. basically, i’ve found that this blog has become too inactive and too cluttered for my liking, and as such, i’ll be moving to another blog. i won’t be disclosing it publicly, however; so if you would like to follow it, either like this post or message me for the url, and i will gladly give it to you.
thank you for understanding! please feel free to unfollow this blog, as it will no longer be active.
notice!
as of today, may 3rd, 2014, this blog is going to become an archive. basically, i’ve found that this blog has become too inactive and too cluttered for my liking, and as such, i’ll be moving to another blog. i won’t be disclosing it publicly, however; so if you would like to follow it, either like this post or message me for the url, and i will gladly give it to you.
thank you for understanding! please feel free to unfollow this blog, as it will no longer be active.
notice!
as of today, may 3rd, 2014, this blog is going to become an archive. basically, i’ve found that this blog has become too inactive and too cluttered for my liking, and as such, i’ll be moving to another blog. i won’t be disclosing it publicly, however; so if you would like to follow it, either like this post or message me for the url, and i will gladly give it to you.
thank you for understanding! please feel free to unfollow this blog, as it will no longer be active.
Eridan rubbed his eyes, pressing his glasses up a bit. New world, new stuff to explore…god, this was kind of dull. It was just another clone of that one planet, “Earth.” Boring as ever. Buildings, humans, buildings, buildings, air that would suffocate him…ugh. He was going to be bored out of his skull before he died of air poisoning. And “death by poisoning” would fall short from “death by boredom” by an inch.
He actually had to stifle back a yawn, it was seriously that boring. He groaned and shoved his hands in his pockets. Yup, boring. Boring, boring-
Oh god, don’t talk to me. Eridan stopped, grinding his teeth. He could’ve sworn he had his human disguise/illusion up, but that was not to be so, it seemed. Well, he wasn’t going to explain himself. He shouldn’t have to, that guy could go screw himself.
"I’m not exactly goin’ anywhere," he replied, blinking once and glancing at the silver haired man. Seriously, what humans had white hair that weren’t freaks like a certain reaper he knew? (Well, there was the shark-man, but that’s a totally different case). "There is such a thin’ as ‘wanderin’,’ an’ that’s exactly what I’m doin’." No, he was totally lost. Just walking around through a maze of buildings turned Eridan around so much that he had gotten hopelessly lost. At least he wasn’t walking around in circles…or…he thought he wasn’t doing that. Hell if he’d admit it, though.
Who even are you to question me? he thought, his eyes pretty much revealing the arrogance, haughtiness, and appall that had roots in disgust. A glare from under his brow was enough to convey it, and he just stood there, looking over the man in red. He wasn’t against red (okay, yes he was), but the bright shades just made him want to vomit.
"Just who are you?" was his rebuttal question to this human. It was simple, and to the point for once. So he’d figured he’d leave it at that, considering he may have been single-minded like other people he knew. who couldn’t take the time to break down a long-worded reply and respond intelligently.
Defensive was the way in which the younger male reacted to Dante's inquiries and observations, and truthfully, that only made the male's amusement further itself. True, he might not have appeared to be the most brilliant person that Eridan could have bumped into; but the hybrid was far from stupid, that much could be said. It was fairly obvious from where he was standing that the kid was lost -- however he chose to word it was entirely up to him, but no matter which way he decided to put it, it didn't change the reality of the situation. Ah, well -- for the moment, he'd let the other believe that he'd deluded him, in that regard.
"That right? Y'fooled me, then; that's for damn sure." His words sounded less than sincere, and if he was truly intent on making Eridan believe that he believed his words, the job he did of it was near-laughable. Amused smile never quite leaving his features, he falls back onto the balls of his feet, his posture straightening slightly in the process. It was hard not to ask, straight-out, why the boy looked so strange in contrast to the rest of the citizens -- but he managed, somehow, his gaze even as he supplies a response to the others' question.
"The name's Dante, kid -- and didn't your mother ever teach you about a little thing called 'manners'? Y'know, it's rude to demand a guy's name when you haven't even given your own." Not that he was particularly a stickler for such formalities under any circumstances; in essence, this was an attempt to get under the male's oddly-colored skin. A brow raises slowly then, his left shoulder almost immediately following suit to offer him a one-shouldered shrug.
"-- So, you got a name, or what?" Yeah, about those manners he was preaching of earlier --.
list of replies i owe (as of march 27th).
connor, to korra.
elijah, to estelle.
estelle, to alexei.
dante, to eridan.
harvey, to mike.
harvey, to emma.
marluxia, to malik.
if you'd like to plot or if i missed you please let me know. ;uuu;
lux.
Having heard a crashing sort of sound, Malik had quickly moved to investigate. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had expected to find when he did so, but it was definitely not another person. He was ready to rush over and offer his assistance, but he paused and backed off slightly as the pink-haired individual managed to bring himself to his feet, waiting to see if maybe he was alright.
Even less expected, perhaps, was the weapon, which he appeared to summon completely out of thin air. He would had like the time consider how that was possible, but it would seem like his presence had prompted the strange to draw his blade. He might have to work out the particulars later, after this situation was diffused.
Clutching his own weapon but not drawing it—he didn’t come here to start a fight, after all—Malik stepped forward into the other’s line of sight.
"No need to draw your weapon, I was merely passing through. I thought you might need some assistance—you seemed like you might be injured when I first arrived. Is everything quite alright?"
Assuming the incoming being to have been the one that had set out to exterminate both himself and his companions -- there was a certain sense of shock that came with the realization that that was not exactly the case. The person that had appeared from the shrubbery was not the Keyblade Wielder he had expected to see, but an unfamiliar male; adding to the list of things that had a sense of unfamiliarity about them, at the current moment. He claimed not to be out to cause him harm --
-- And it was not as though Marluxia had room not to believe him. At least, for the moment. There was always the chance that the other was, in some way or another, affiliated with Sora; but he had yet to prove such. In all the watching that the Nobody had done of the group, never had such a person traveled with them before. Of that, he was sure.
Caution would still be taken, however; his weapon having yet to dissipate as he studies the blond. "Disoriented." He corrects the other, it seems; as though loathe to admit what had transpired prior to his ending up here. Even now.
"And not quite. I seem to be a great distance from home." The slightest curl of his lips, almost disarming in nature. It was in his nature to be deceiving, was it not? "It might do me some good to learn where I am."
An expectant look, thrown in the others' direction. It was a question, but not phrased as such.
pending additions to the muselist: 3/15.
n/a, laurent. — fire emblem: awakening.
n/a, owain. — fire emblem: awakening.
n/a, virion. — fire emblem: awakening.
estheim, hope. — final fantasy xiii.
villiers, snow. — final fantasy xiii.
Waiting Game
Alexei had hoped to avoid this, knowledge now of where she was and now knowing he had a ‘job’ to do so-to-speak, this was difficult. Keeping eyes away, keeping his stomach from clenching as he heard that soft, almost confused voice and he tried to ignore it. Tried to pretend he was just some servant of her majesty that would not mind the problems to find her. Not that there had been any, none at all. Her habits all too well understood by a man who had watched her grow up from a child to the young adult she now was.
However, her silence, cut off and the feeling of blue eyes on him made his back slowly straighten. Keeping his eyes out of sight in hopes that maybe, just maybe she would think to be mistaken. But soon, the sound of the stutter to the first syllable and he nearly flinched. Head turning away, picking the closed door and calculating just how long it would take him to run and just how many guards would come to the princess’s call.
Though, with a swallow past the lump in his throat, mouth dry, he slowly agreed in the question, though not in the way one might have thought to have answered. “It’s… it’s an honor to have your highness remember my name.” Something that should have been obvious as to why she would. Though that tone in voice … it was different than any of the times he had spoken to her most recently prior to his ‘death’.
He sounded tired, something he never allowed to dip into his voice, even as a Captain when having worked within the same building as the young child. Fearful, pained … something that didn’t fit in his voice, deep and soft. Something that much more was fitting to someone who wasn’t so strong, the icon for most knights until his views were shown to be so skewed.
There was a glance backwards, red eyes now revealed that his disguise had fallen through as that smile. So like what she might have known, might have remembered, but the pain hidden there, hidden behind eyes begged to differ. Thought to know that she would disgrace him, hate him, push him away as so many had.
His entire purpose for being here would be forgotten, destroyed. The way he was dressed showed no capable ways of fighting to get himself free in case of any heavy-armed guards came to her call. He wasn’t putting up much a defense…
“My Princess, it was presumptious for me to come here, please allow me to leave.” It was a slight bow as he began to leave, wanting to disappear before her voice could shatter the air. Shatter his cover and destroy the fragments of past he clung to in desperation to love. His life having forgotten the desire of wishing to hold the girl close to his chest and whisper apology after apology in her ear and tell her everything would be okay in his own fear.
He knew he was already to be hated, forgiveness was forever out of his reach. But to be reminded of it with her presence alone felt like someone sticking him in the back, a hand, nimble fingers, soft yet calloused going to try and open the door.
One word was all she had to utter to get him to drop the door handle.
One word and he would stay, whether to be captured or otherwise.
Stop
And he would
The words, the glance in her direction -- they had confirmed not what she had feared, but what she had believed to be true. This man, the man she thought to be one of the many servants whose help and care she so appreciated, was not that; but rather, someone of much higher status, wearing a guise to make himself seem ... lesser. The purpose of his clothes, of his attempt at disguising his voice and hiding his facial features -- it had been to come into this room without Estelle recognizing him in even the slightest of ways, wasn't it? But ...
But why?
She could not very well ask him for the answer to that question, for not long after he acknowledges her realization of his identity does he suggest that he leave the room altogether. "Allow you to ...?" There's a certain strain to his words, such that is only magnified by the weary smile that becomes visible as he turns to look at her. So unlike the man she had come to know and care for in the past -- the man that she had thought to care for her as well, all that time ago. Things had changed when he revealed his true intentions, showed her that he was not who she'd thought he was all that time.
And it had hurt. And, for all the agony that he had caused her in the shrine of Zaude, she should have let him walk out of the room without so much as another word. Even more than that, she should have called for the guards, the knights, anyone that could hear, in the loudest voice that she could possibly muster. It would have been justified; she knew as much, and she was certain he knew as much himself. Perhaps, even, he'd come to expect it, once his identity had been revealed. It would have explained his sudden haste to leave, to be sure. Yet ...
"Alexei --! You must --"
Yet, she finds herself calling out not to the guards, but to him. Turning quickly on her heel, so as to face the man whose hand was already on the doorknob -- a hand raises from her side and stretches itself out toward him. As though asking him to stay. The words that leave her lips next would confirm that same intention.
"-- Stop, please; don't go any further! I ..."
If only for a moment. This might not have been in her best interests, and she was certain that, had Yuri or any of her other companions been in the vicinity, they would chastise her for her words. Her actions. Even still.
"I ... I want to know ... why." Why he'd done what he had; it was obvious. She had to know why.
"Better me than anyone else though, right?" A smug little grin settled on his lips as he eyed the mutt, waiting for a confirmation. "After all, I’m sure you love having me around. This place would be dull as hell without me to liven it up. Don’t want my favorite mutt to get lonely, now do I?" One after another, he just fired the shots with no care where he was aiming. It was so much easier on him to speak freely with nothing in his voice but a playful little hum.
He placed a hand against the other’s desk, leaning against it for a moment as he hovered over the other, running a few more things through his mind about the office he’d so casually explored. It’s not like he was trying to butt into Dante’s privacy, but Squalo was a curious man, and he’d never exactly been given a proper tour to the place. Thankfully he had the tact to notice any invisible ‘off limits’ signs that were laying around.
"Your hide is too fucking thick for that, mutt. I should know, I shoved my damn blade in it the day we met." Squalo kept that little bout of theirs fresh on his mind, one of those rare experiences where he felt a rush of adrenaline. A challenge. Squalo could never be satisfied by someone that wasn’t even good enough to lick his boot, no as a swordsman he desired growing stronger and perfecting his craft. At this stage, a challenge was hard to come by and very appreciated, and sometimes he latched himself on to the challenger as he’d grown fond of the mutt.
"Didn’t have a camera on me. Hell, most of the time I barely remember to bring my phone." The damn thing didn’t have signal here anyways, so what was the point? He’d just thrown it on his desk. "Don’t worry I have a photographic memory— or whatever the fuck it’s called. Too bad I’m not an artist or I’d paint you a pretty little picture of your sleeping face. Since it’s about the only face you make that you can’t marvel at yourself in the mirror over."
Squalo was tempted to let the other down by replying that he’d merely come on a whim, though to be fair that was how the venture had started, but he did have something in mind. “Actually, I had a little proposal for you. Something fun, I promise. You interested?”
"You’re getting carried away with all that flattery, sharky. Dont’cha know I liven this place up all on my own?” It’s the verbal answer he supplies, but the reality of the situation is that Squalo isn’t exactly far off from the truth. More often than not, it was Dante playing the role as the sole occupant of the shop; Lady came in and out on this job and that job, and the clients would leave as quickly as they came. Truth be told, it did get a little lonely around the place, when he had time to sit and think about it —
Not that he would admit such a thing aloud. What would that do for his big, tough, demon-hunting image, after all? “‘Sides, I’m not always here on my own. There’s Lady. Y’know, whenever she decides to grace me with her presence.” Gaze rising to meet that of the man that hovered over him, at his seat behind the desk; one would think that the words he spoke would bother the hybrid more than they actually did, but instead, he turns around and laughs them off. "Ha!"
"You would know about that, wouldn’t you?” A hand raises to scratch at his cheek, the grin he wears never faltering. "Guess it makes sense now, why you thought you had to blow me up with all those explosives to get away from me. What can I say? I don’t let people get it easy.” The innuendo is spoken rather casually, as though he was talking about something as minute as the weather; however, the grin he wears transforms into that of a smirk — and a rather devious one, at that. The only sign that he was fully aware of the implications of his words.
Another snicker, followed by a dismissive hand wave. “So, here’s an idea: bring a camera next time, and get me that portrait painted. I mean, if you’re making this big a deal out of it, I must look damn good. It’d be a pity for me not to get to see it, y’know?” But that’s the end of that conversation — especially since Squalo had suggested something else. A fun proposal, huh?
"— Did you really need to ask? Lay it on me; I’m all ears.”
// pending muslist additions: march 6th.
gerard, marcellus "marcel". -- the originals.
n/a, crowley. -- supernatural.
Rare was it for a man to be dressed in such a formal manner, especially when simply strolling through the streets. Of course she could notice the smoother materials from a glance; after all, her entire upbringing had been surrounded with such. But it certainly wasn’t an outfit one would don for everyday interactions, so the curious question of why did appear onto her mind.
Though that thought was quickly dismissed when she nearly ran herself into the male, too absorbed by - ironically - the man himself.
“Oh no, it’s quite alright. I admit that I wasn’t quite paying attention myself. Please accept my apologies,” she spoke kindly, offering the man a small and respectful bow in return. It wasn’t necessary by any means. But considering how polite the man was in the situation, she couldn’t help but feel obligated to give him the same respect. Besides, it certainly didn’t hurt to give the male a wonderful first impression, should he be one of formalities like herself.
Though certainly, the neutral expression on his face was a bit disconcerting. It was almost as if his words could not reach his face as many had the ability to. But she decided not to remark on such a thing; after all, mentioning such would surely be far too rude for simple pleasantries. So instead, she simply continued to hold the small and cordial smile on her face.
”It seems we’re both quite distracted today! A strange coincidence, don’t you agree?”
Regardless of his own words, stating rather blatantly that the near-collision was in no way the girl’s fault, she seemed to insist upon the fact that she shared some of the blame. Her reasoning was rather similar to his own, stating that she had not been paying as much attention as she ought have to the road ahead; which, in turn, almost led to the two of them bumping heads, though not quite so literally. He was a fair deal taller than her, after all. His brow raises with the apologies that she so graciously offers him — and at that point, it seemed, he had no other option but to accept them.
"Very well, then; if you so insist." She was certainly curious, wasn’t she? If there was anything that his countless experiences with humans had shown him, it was that, in most cases, they were more than willing to place the blame on another in problematic situations — even moreso were they willing when one offered to take the blame. Honesty was a positive quality that was not seen very often, in this day and age; Elijah supposed he would have to admire that about her, if nothing else at this point.
It was about then that the observation regarding their similar clumsiness arises, and the being can not help but let out a soft, slightly breathy chuckle. "A coincidence indeed; and an unfortunate one, at that. However, I suspect our reasons for such behavior differ quite drastically." She must have wondered about his peculiar appearance at least once, thus far; and he’d been wondering about where he was this entire time. There was no point in procrastinating further.
"— Might I ask for the name of this city?" A single question that would, most likely, confirm at least some of the questions on both of their minds. "Forgive my abruptness, but I find myself unable to … place myself, at the moment.”
;old times' sake. | au, requiem-of-blades.
"He’s a poor sap, but I suppose he might have been a handsome one. Who knows, I didn’t get a look at his face before I sliced it clean off." Squalo replied, the teasing tone to his voice as he danced around a compliment without quite giving the mutt the satisfaction of hearing one. Though, Squalo did think well of Dante, and in an odd way, he was showing it. There was no malice to his voice, and it was clear to anyone that what he said wasn’t meant to be taken at face-value. Perhaps they were both dancing around, acting like fools, trying not to be the first one to misstep since they’d never hear the end of it.
"Missed you… huh? Never thought of it like that." Squalo noted, turning that idea over in his head. He did actually miss the mutt when it was pretty easy to tell when a presence like this was absent from his life. Left an odd little hole that Squalo had never really found someone to fill in. "You’re a hard fucker to replace, I’ll give you that much. No one else out there with your… character. Or your failed attempts at wit and charm." There was a bit of a hum to the shark’s tone now, showing how comfortable he was. Normally when he threw banter back and forth against someone there was an air of bitterness, and his words became harsher than he intended. It was just the right balance with this man, because with Dante there weren’t any restraints. The day he actually managed to say something that pissed off the mutt would be a sad one, really. It would have meant Squalo failed in some way.
"Trying to keep up with what, old man." Another little chuckle, this time followed by a slight raise in the shark’s eyebrow. "After all, you’re just so many years ahead of me you’ve already got one foot in the grave. I’ll take it at my own pace. And I’ll stick to my own outfit. Since you’re right, I couldn’t work the look of a clown. Suits you fine, though. You must be really damn good at giving little brats nightmares." Someone stop the man, he’s on a role. Squalo honestly had to pause and shake his head, even he realized that if Dante let him keep going he wasn’t going to fucking stop. He might as well balance it out by playing nice for the remainder of the visit. Or at least until Dante baits him with a comment that the shark just can’t help but sink his teeth into and spit right back out at the mutt.
Some things never did change. Squalo was grateful as hell for that. And he almost let Dante know, but it felt too sentimental for the moment. Maybe that’ll be a good way to say goodbye. Squalo wouldn’t mind being teased on the way out.
"Alright, so I’m a little on the short side." Squalo gave him that one, since there wasn’t much of a backlash to something that was a physical property. "The hell have you been eating, though. I’d think a mutt like you was finished growing, but you’re a fucking beanstalk. Don’t fucking break the couch when you sit on it, big boy." Squalo motioned to the furniture as he spoke, the closest he’ll get to offering the mutt a seat. This was the headquarters of an assassination group, not a hotel. And Squalo didn’t have plans on playing the gracious host, but he wasn’t going to be a terrible one either. Dante had, after all, let him hang around the shop after paying the initial fee of battle. Since neither of them really needed any wounds to lick, Squalo figured that firing shots back and forth was enough of a payment for some hospitality.
Squalo opened his mouth to respond to the little bout about women, but the more serious topic caught his attention instead. He leaned back a big against the couch, sighing a bit like he was blowing out a puff of smoke from a cigar. If one didn’t know better, they would have assumed Squalo was the leader of this establishment. When he was younger, Dino used to tease him about looking just like a mafia boss from an old black and white movie whenever he got serious. “There’s… a lot going on right now. The Vongola is under a lot of pressure from an outside organization, and there’s talk of war breaking out between the two. With everything so tense, a couple of smaller fractions have been splitting off and some smaller scale arguments have escalated among partner famiglias. Since the Varia is run a little different than most, and since Xanxus is a man people don’t choose to cross, we’ve had less trouble within our borders.”
"But that doesn’t mean we don’t have what people want. Besides the Intel Organization that’s stationed in the main branch on the Vongola, the Varia has the biggest and most detailed gathering of information among the major mafia families. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what they were after. If someone wanted to destroy the Vongola from the inside out, we’re the best place to look for a ‘how-to’ book." They’d used that intel to get as far as they had during the cradle incident, and if it weren’t for 9ths technique that froze Xanxus, they would have pulled it off. Just one missing piece of information had sent their whole plan crashing into the mud, but that didn’t mean the rather frightening possibility of the Varia pulling a full-scale uprising didn’t exist. That was one of the reasons people feared them. A case of ‘knowing too much’.
"It’s nothing I’m really concerned about, though." Squalo lied through his teeth. With full knowledge of the possibilities, and being a man of speculation, Squalo himself was behind most of the updated security and screening of new recruits. Perhaps he was just paranoid, or as Bel put it ‘being a punk ass bitch’, but if a war really did begin, if this ‘Byakuran’ really wanted to crush the Vongola— well, Squalo didn’t want to think about it. Not right know. They still had time, and the mutt’s visit wasn’t about all this mess, so Squalo quickly deviated from the subject, erasing the lines of worry from his brow.
"Che, you actually cleaned up? Must have been one of your coworkers, I would have thought a mutt like you was content with living in squalor." Right back into rhythm, like Squalo hadn’t even missed a beat. "Any swords among those weapons? I must admit, I was never really a fan of anything more than a traditional blade, but I’ve seen some interesting swords the past ten years after all those damn challenges I made. When you fight 100 swordsman, someone is bound to have a few cheap tricks. Though I suppose the weapons of a half-demon like you must be much more entertaining then some explosives stuffed into a blade."
Squalo leaned back again, completely relaxed, glancing over his shoulder towards the kitchen while mulling the offer over in his head. “I might take you up on that after things cool down. Would be nice to take a little vacation. And to me, even your hell hole of a universe is fucking paradise compared to here. Demons are a lot easier to deal with.”
Deciding to act on his hospitality, Squalo hoped to his feet, rolling his left shoulder a bit to ease the tension he’d built up. “Care for something to drink? I told you I’d treat you to some Italian wine at some point, didn’t I?”
He danced around the subject blatantly, avoiding having to make use kind words to get his point; it had always been that way between them, though, hadn't it? Naturally so; for it to have been any other way at this point would have been plain odd. And it was thanks to that distinguishing quirk of their relationship that Dante knew for sure his words were of a more lighthearted nature than they might have sounded to be. A chuckle escapes his lips, the discussion of this man being offed having seemingly no effect on him. That was the business Squalo was in, after all -- best not to question, or so he had learned. "That's a shame; it's a tough job, having a mug this good-looking. Guess I'll have to keep shouldering the burden on my own."
"-- I'll take that last bit as a compliment, by the way. Then again, with all the time we've spent together, I'd be offended if you did manage to replace me." And truth be told, he did like to make an impression on people, both when they first met and for whatever time remain afterwards. He imagined he'd done as much when he'd practically joked off Squalo's attempt at killing him, that first time -- grabbing hold of his sword-hand while the blade was still thrust through his gut after giving off the impression that he'd been slain. Always one for theatrics, this one was. "Y'know, 'failed' gives off the impression that I never succeed. Didn't you just see me with your lovely lady co-worker? She's head over heels for me." Always, with the theatrics.
The beginnings of a grimace upon being called 'old man' is visible upon his features, and for two reasons. For one, there was a certain kid back home that referred to him as that day in and day out, and he was never exactly fond of it. And secondly ... "You've gotta be kidding me -- last I checked, you were the older one between the two of us. Don't tell me your memory's starting to slip ..." A ragged sigh would escape his lips, because -- well, he did look to be older, between the two of them. That was mostly on part of his demonic heritage; which caused him to age just slightly faster than the average human. Still ... was it so noticeable? "You should've let me know. I would've brought you something to help you along; memory pills, a notepad, something. You know, being the caring friend that I am."
He'll simply laugh at the comment against his own height, already seating on the couch that Squalo had gestured to. "Woah, there -- sounds like someone's a little on the envious side! Sorry to break it to you, sharky, but this," He now gestures to himself, "happened naturally; no special diets needed." That was the last joking retort he'd be able to supply, however -- as the conversation took a more serious turn, having been in regards to work, and the things going on within Squalo's famiglia and outwards. The lighthearted smile would dissipate, if only for a brief moment, as the hybrid listens.
"Sounds like an ordeal if I've ever heard one. With all that happening, I'm surprised this place is as quiet as it is right now." He comments, glancing about the floor of the headquarters so as to observe the continuing quiet. Save for Squalo and the woman that had met him at the front door, Dante had not seen anyone about the area -- and he knew for a fact that there was more than just a handful of people populating this building.
Another moment, and he glances back over at Squalo, brow slightly furrowed. "-- You're damn calm about all of this, despite it sounding like you guys've got the short end of the stick. How's your boss holding up?" A question of both courtesy and curiosity. He'd never actually had the pleasure of meeting Xanxus, which was a shame -- considering the stories he'd heard up 'till now only furthered his want to meet the man in person.
A soft chuckle at the sudden topic change; he hadn't even missed a beat with the reversal, and Dante wasn't all that surprised. Rather, he played right into it. "C'mon, now; I can be responsible when I want to be." And that 'want' usually occurred when Trish or Lady complained about the clutter, so Squalo wasn't very far off. Best not voice that, though -- the last thing the half-demon wanted was to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. "And as for the swords you'd asked about, there was one." A pause, as though deliberating how he should go about addressing it.
"-- Yamato. My brother's katana. I reclaimed it and restored it, but ... well, let's just say getting your hands on it to check it out is gonna be tough." For he'd given it to Nero, the kid that so kindly referred to him as an 'old man', and for reasons that were far too complicated to get into at this particular moment. A hand raises to run through his silver-white locks. "For now, anyway. It's a pity, though -- I figure you'd like it."
As for the offer of a drink -- well, who was Dante to ever refuse such a thing? "What a generous host." He'll grin whole-heartedly, offering the other a nod. "I'm going to have to take you up on that offer, I think. We can talk vacation plans over wine; how's that sound?" Classy, for certain.
"-- You're lookin' a little lost there, buddy."
Crystalline hues would light up with sheer amusement as the words are voiced, this situation being taken as light-heartedly as any other would. Dante was never one for seriousness, after all; he seldom expressed such emotions even when the situation specifically called for it. It would make sense, then, that this situation transpired as all the rest. He closes the distance between them at a leisurely pace -- having noticed the other by chance, as he'd made his way from the general store to the shop that he called 'home'.
He might not have behaved in a very serious manner, nor may he have seemed mannered in the least. But he did have a conscience; and leaving the oddly-complexioned kid to wander the streets of his own accord seemed to make it shout in protest.
Rocking back on his heels as he stops before the other, leaving a few feets' distance between them, he cracks a signature grin. "So, what's the deal? You headed somewhere specific? You're not gonna make it there walkin' around in circles, y'know."
lux.
The light had chewed him up and swallowed him whole -- but it had been the darkness that spit him back out.
Which had, for lack of a better way to put it, come to the former Organization member as a shock. Front-first, he lands in the snow, coughing and sputtering as though he'd just been submerged in icy waters, thus losing the ability to breathe. The final battle with the wielder of the Keyblade had left him weak, his body battered and sore, and yet ... somehow, he'd come out of it alive. Or so it would seem. He knew not where he'd been tossed, however; for all he knew, this could have been banishment, having been sent away into a twisted, icy hell.
With some effort, he brings himself to his feet; rosy locks swaying in the process, and a soft groan escaping his lips. It only causes his already-aching limbs and torso to further cry out, but he endures it. Rather, he tells himself that he will.
For the sound of rustling to his far left would alert him to a second presence in the area he'd previously thought unoccupied, save for himself. A hand raises to call out his weapon, his Dahlia, and his body jerks into position -- facing the way from which the sound had originated. As if from nowhere, it appears; a scythe whose size is fitting for a man of his stature, only a flurry of glowing petals signifying its appearance moments before it is within his grasp. If this new being meant to finish him off -- current status or no, he would give it hell.
"-- Reveal yourself to me; I'm not in the mood to play."
”I’m not a tour guide. If you want to know where things are I’d suggest a map.”
"-- Easy, there. I'm not here on a field trip; a guide's unnecessary."
"And for the record, I did ask around for a map. All I got in return was an assortment of stares." None of which were on part of his handsome features, at that. "Well, that, and the advice that I should keep my eyes peeled for one 'Sheriff Swan'." He goes on to ask his next question, but the way he looks her up and down suggests he might already know the answer -- perhaps due to the fact that he'd already been given a description of said sheriff.
"You wouldn't happen to know where I could find her, would you?"
systématique.
Curious were the devices and objects that lined the walls and cluttered the desks in the room; each one larger than the last, and all of them blinking and flashing brilliant lights, as well as words in a language that the princess could not understand. Her hand moves from her side to swiftly pull her star-adorned hood further over her head, in a poor attempt to shield her eyes from at least some of the intense luminosity. There were one or windows, of course, small in nature -- but the light that they allowed to filter into the room from the outside paled in comparison to the light that the gadgets supplied.
"Mm ..." A thoughtful hum escapes Velvet's lips as she nears one of the instruments in particular: it sat alone on a desk in the center, smaller and more thin than the rest. A finger taps her lips as she squints at the screen, lines upon lines of what she assumed to be letters scattered across it. Attached to the screen was a keyboard, not that she would know such. All she saw was a board with raised squares, and a screen that stayed stationary, unmoving. But, perhaps, if she touched it ...
Her supervisor away, thus unable to advise her against such a thing, a single lithe digit reaches out to poke at one of the buttons; curiosity getting the better of her, if only for a moment. Should he wish for his laptop and its contents to remain in-tact, he had but another moment or so to stop her --
{ *;flux. | velvet&richard.
Ah… the surprise showed briefly in Richard’s expression, but he had understood her reasoning once he had heard them. Those that were going on with his council were very important. They had covered certain matters that concerned Windor’s economy and how to manage and ease the debt they had put upon themselves, on top of working out needed international support with both neighboring countries.. There was also the matter of conference schedules, and also of the monster hunts in which Richard himself leads in the frontlines. Those, among many, were very important matters among many that he couldn’t ignore as king. Such was his duty, whether of birth or of his strong personal desire for both assistance and penance.
But at the same time, if his foreign companion had such inner turmoil in her mind that she wished to work out, he would gladly be of some assistance to her if needed. He had known the princess for a short while now, as she was still an honored guest throughout the duration of her stay. He had hoped that, despite the short time they’ve known each other, they were considered casual friends in the very least. Why else would she think of informing him of her troubled thoughts?
"I must thank you for being considerate, Velvet." he began. "Though should you have these thoughts again, I would be happy to help if I can. Council meetings can’t be helped when they happen, of course. I have my duty as king. Even so, if you have need of me being a confidant, I could come find you when matters are settled. As a friend." She was strong… he could see that. Being away from her homeland for so long and being in a foreign world while still keeping her wits… Richard couldn’t help but to admire that strength. But even so, everyone has need of a friend at some point. Even in trying times. After all, he himself would’ve been lost without it.
Richard nodded at the mention of Pascal when she came up as the subject. “Indeed. Pascal’s a unique woman, but there’s no question of her genius. I was glad she was able to accept my request.” He was a bit worried to tell the truth, as he had known of Pascal’s involvement in Fendel’s own system recovery. He was worried that the matter would have her overworked, though worry had turned to relief thanks to Pascal’s high enthusiasm over the request as assurance. But so soon… it was almost frightening to realize how fast it took her in retrospect. But, Richard had to chalk it up to luck on that one.
"She went into deep detail about the process and the result in her letter, so I would hope that she has." Why else? Richard had learned quickly upon catching up that when Pascal gets into detail, she knows what she’s talking about. "Pascal mentioned that through one of her devices, she was able to record and see the other side of the pathway she made for a short period of time. She had mentioned something about seeing some sort of forest. Does that sound familiar to you, Velvet?"
Pascal had verified the connection with another world, but if they ended up with somewhere else that Velvet couldn’t recognize, then it would turn out to be a waste. Richard, for her sake, didn’t want that to be the case. Especially since she looked so relieved just now. “Either way, we could arrange to go to the Amarcian Enclave where Pascal lives to confirm it for you. Otherworldly travel is… well, almost unheard of through this method.” he said, but he was willing to see it through and try,
The sincerity that he displayed was genuine, she could tell; as was the case with every kind gesture that the king had extended to her, up until this point. And as though in response to his words, the princess offered him a gentle smile. "You are far too kind, Your Majesty. I shall heed your words, then; and come to you, should these troubling thoughts return to plague my mind in the future." Would she really, though? Most likely not, though -- that was due to her own discretion, not so much the fact that she did not trust him enough to confide in him.The days in which her behavior towards him was hostile, distrusting -- they felt so long ago, even though they weren't; not entirely. Her stay in Barona had been far longer than she'd wished it to be, this much was true; but it had not been years, and barely months. Yet, in that time, she had come to trust and care for the monarch that stood before her, truly so, and that was a feat in itself.
For she had loved and lost, trusted and been betrayed, too many times to be so open. And yet, with this man -- it seemed to come almost naturally. Perhaps it was due to the debt she currently owed him. Or, perhaps ... it was something she was yet unaware of.
"And I am, as well." She knew only so much of the political struggles within this world, but from what she did gather, the issues were nothing to sneeze at. Pascal, as she understood it, worked elsewhere -- in a neighboring principality, trying to fix a device that was broken, in a very literal sense. A Valkines Cryas, similar to the one they stood before now, whose name escaped the red-clad woman, for the moment. "'Twas a daunting task to be asked of a person so suddenly, I'm sure. And with so much else occupying her mind, I'd feared she would not be able to take up the torch ..."
But she had, and for that, Velvet was eternally in her debt. A gentle shake of her head would cause golden curls to bounce slightly, and her amethyst eyes lower their gaze to the ground beneath her feet; mulling over the king's words with a pensive expression adorning her features. "Yes, it does. There is but one notable forest in all of Erion -- that of Elrit." Where she came from, where she'd lived since fleeing her grandfather's wrath. That much, she'd neglected to mention. "I'm more than certain that is what Pascal saw, when she managed to connect to my world and 'view' it. However ..."
Her gaze rises again, fixed upon Richard as he mentions traveling from the capital city to Pascal's residence. "Leaving your kingdom now ... -- would such a thing truly be alright?" Creases of worry would cross her brow, her hands tightly clasping themselves together. "Your subjects, your knights and your people -- they need you, do they not? After what you've told me of the situation in Barona ..." It wouldn't be right for her to simply take their guiding hand away from him, to further her own ideals.
"-- My presence here has done little more than inconvenience you many a time; I do not wish to further cause you trouble, or place you in harm's way." That said --
"I could very well make the journey to this Enclave myself, if you would tell me the way."
