Prompt: strip poker (THANKS PARISA)
Characters: Virlask/Tau
Rating: PG
“We have our own version of this game,” Tau says, eyes glittering from behind his projected screen.
Virlask hunkers down to avoid eye contact, but he catches sight of Tau’s sharp grin anyway. He taps his own screen, selecting his counters and watching them appear on the 3-dimensional board between them. “Strip poker, I’m aware.” He pauses. “And you must be mistaken. It’s not the same at all.”
Tau laughs, an easy sound for someone who is already half naked from the waist up. He leans forward, propping his arm on one knee to hold his chin. Several of his pieces on the board disappear and Virlask’s score ticks upwards by a slight margin. An orange light flashes on Tau’s side.
“Same betting principle,” Tau argues, though his tone mild. He starts unzipping his pants.
A part of Virlask wants to argue that point too, but once Tau stands up to shuck his pants the rest of the way off, Virlask knows it’s not worth the time. There isn’t any fussiness to it either, no teasing moves to prolong it — though for certain Virlask knows Tau is having his fun — just an efficient strip until Tau is only in his short innerwear and mark.
“You could transmat that to my side,” Virlask suggests, finally peering over, and gets a face full of human pants thrown his way. He tugs it off one horn, folding it neatly before setting aside with the rest of Tau’s clothes and armor.
Meanwhile, Tau sits back down on the floor, going back into the same position he had been in, one arm propped over his knee. Without his pants, the pose looks even more self-satisfied, which should not be the case for someone who is losing so badly.
Virlask himself is only missing his secondary talon armor. The rest of his losses are in the form of weapons and food. Players don’t normally put down the literal clothes off their back. Ether rations, breather parts, chores — sensible things to bet away. And Tau is a clever enough player, picking up the rules and basic strategies after a few practice games. It’s only after he’s gotten a good grasp that he’s now manipulating the betting pool, and it’s abundantly clear to Virlask they’re playing a different kind of game now.
So much for cultural exchange. Virlask isn’t sure if Tau is bored or in need of a better challenge.
Tau starts shuffling his game pieces around, brow furrowing. Virlask guesses that it does take some thought to lose on purpose after all. He watches Tau this time, liking the concentrated expression. It doesn't last too long, unfortunately, and Tau is back to smiling.
Virlask eases up, struck by a sudden thought. He keys in a few commands using his secondary hands.
“I thought you were giving me a handicap,” Tau comments, reading the board once more. He types a response, a little slower with his two hands.
“I’m only adding to the betting pool.”
Tau pauses over the new take, frowning when his limited vocabulary can only get him so far. He reads the word aloud, pronunciation passable, and Virlask bares his teeth.
“Servitude,” Virlask clarifies in Human Universal. “I’m betting my will to you, for a day.”
Tau’s head lifts, just by a fraction.
“It’s usually done when some idiot has already lost all their ether,” Virlask continues, leaning back. One of his secondaries furrows into Tau’s folded shirt. “But ether isn’t much of a prize for you. I feel like this is more adequate.”
“I remember this last time you offered me servitude. It wasn’t under the best pretense,” Tau says, cautiously, and Virlask would’ve liked to reach over with all four arms to kiss him for it.
“Trust me. I’m much more willing right now,” Virlask says with a rumble in his chest.
“Well, same here,” Tau replies, his stare full of intent.
Virlask lets out a hissing laugh, watching as Tau starts making the moves to win back his clothes. “If you win.”
And what they play after, is definitely not strip poker.
Tau/Virlask - pre-relationship, pre-ketch. The two are still meandering around the cosmodrome Hive-hunting and having big awful crushes on each other.
The rhythm of battle still sings strong in Virlask’s mind, concentrated ether running through his body. His scorch cannon is hot and overheated, but if it breaks firing its last two rockets, Virlask knows it would have been worth it to see two of the five Hive Knights go down. He takes a quick glance around the cavern, assessing, and sees Tau fire the last round of his own rocket launcher into a Witch.
Virlask remembers the last steady three-bursts of pulse rifle ammunition, the staccato of an auto rifle—Tau hasn’t taken the time to reload any of his guns, running them dry one after another. The risk is nearly as great as the reward; he is a constant whirlwind of damage, right until he has no more bullets to fire
There’s a faint irritation Virlask feels, being tuned to the way Tau likes to fight. He knows Tau likes to keep a steady pace, doesn’t matter slow or fast, as long as he’s always in constant motion.
Tau draws back his arm, one last blow into the Witch’s abdomen to finish her off. There is a Knight towards his right. Tau’s hands are empty except for blood.
Virlask doesn’t think. He draws out one of his shock swords before Tau can unholster his gun.
“Tau. At left, sword ready.”
Tau’s comm gives an audio cue of acknowledgement. He puts his back towards the Knight, turning to Virlask, bloodied hand reaching out. Virlask tosses him the shock sword.
“Do you know how to use it?” Virlask asks, even before Tau catches it.
Tau whirls around and cleaves the sword across the Knight’s chest. The angle is odd, but the brute strength behind it causes the Knight to stagger back. Tau’s voice is harsh over Virlask’s channel; “Yes.”
It’s a sufficient answer, along with the proof. Virlask fires the second to last rocket from his scorch cannon. The Knight disintegrates, and Tau doesn’t break rhythm. They continue the fight.
About one more Knight and ten thralls later, it begins to dawn on Virlask that Tau actually does not know how to use a shock sword. Or possibly any other sword for that matter.
A shock sword is a difficult thing to damage. It has very little parts, and Virlask has spared no expense in maintaining his weapons. He receives the rare opportunity of witnessing someone use a blade to bludgeon several Hive to death.
It’s absurd. Almost painful to watch. Virlask doubts his sword will ever be in the same condition.
By the time the last thrall dies, Tau’s hands and armor are dripping with rotted Hive flesh. Calling it a butchering would have been an insult to proper butchers.
Virlask holsters his cannon, ignoring the burn of the barrel against his back, and looks down at Tau, incredulous. “You said you knew how to use a sword.”
Tau has the audacity to look insulted with Virlask’s sword in his hand. “I do.”
Virlask glances around. Most of the Hive bodies could be considered pulpy rather than cut or stabbed. He has seen other guardians with swords. It isn’t a matter of differing styles between their species. “That wasn’t swordwork.”
“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Tau says, handing Virlask back the shock sword. He pauses when the hilt and blade rattles—something even he recognizes a good sword shouldn’t do. “... I broke it, didn’t I?”
Grim, Virlask holds the sword up, eyeing down the blade. Somehow Tau has bent it. The grip feels off as well, all twisted and unbalanced in his hand. Without looking at it, Virlask knows the hilt is cracked. Sparks tingle at his claws, arc core malfunctioning.
“You did,” Virlask confirms. The parts he can salvage into his remaining sword, which may be a small blessing in disguise. Keeping two swords in proper functioning condition has been difficult with his minimal supplies, and it occurs to him that Tau has never offered the means to do so, only because the guardian hadn’t known in the first place, not because he had wanted Virlask to be at a disadvantage.
To his surprise, the well of frustration Virlask has been holding back lessens. He’s still angry, of course. It’s still a waste of a good sword.
Tau ducks his head. “Shit. I’m sorry. It really did help me back there though.”
“I should have thrown you the scorch cannon instead,” Virlask says, trying not to be surprised by the apology. The remark earns him a quiet huff from Tau. A part of Virlask still wants to be furious, but he’s mostly in disbelief. “You have lived for hundreds of years. I thought you would be… proficient with a sword. At minimal.”
“Swords are old tech. Never had the need.”
“Swords don’t need reloading, or ammo,” Virlask says, daring to be critical.
Tau holds up a hand, fingers curling in. “I know. But why bother when fists don’t need reloading either.”
Virlask stares, uncomprehending. He switches to Human Universal to avoid the offensive terms he’d rather say in Eliksni. He can plead ignorance if it comes out insulting in human words. “Fists aren’t true weaponry. You do not have claws.”
“Oh,” Tau says, lowering his hand. “It’s a… titan joke.”
“A bad one,” Virlask concludes, though he is growing used to Tau’s unthinking arrogance that seems to run in most guardians. He also doesn’t mention that Tau should learn how to handle a sword. It isn’t his place, nor his concern. If an undead immortal has chosen to not learn any kind of swordsmanship then Virlask sees no benefit in correcting it. He sheaths the broken shock sword. “Will we continue forward?”
There is a pause while Tau consults with Theta in the privacy of their link. He gives a short nod, reloading all his guns; pulse and auto rifles, rocket launcher, all his motions as even and steady as the shots he takes. “We will. Need any telemetries?”
“There is only the last Ascendant Knight left to find, yes?” Virlask draws out his remaining shock sword, air thurming with arc energy when he activates it. “This is all I will need.”
Even with his helmet on, Tau looks doubtful. A hand to his hip conveys the true depth to his annoyance; Tau seems to be just as irritated. “I don’t need you trying to kill yourself and calling it duty-bound. Again.”
Virlask hisses. He had faltered once, at his lowest point weeks ago. Tau hauling him away from battle had been humiliating, and Virlask doesn’t like the reminder. He has been disgraced enough—crewless, bannerless, and exiled. Yet some old part of his still wants to prove his worth, even if it’s to an undead ghoul. “You underestimate my skill with a sword. I will show you.”
Tau tilts his head to one side in the way Virlask recognizes as taking a moment to translate unfamiliar Eliksni words. To Virlask’s dismay, he realizes he has used the formal honorifics of address, much like how he would have issued a challenge to the Archon Forge to prove his captaincy.
It doesn’t help at all when Tau replies in the worst possible way.
“Then I’ll be watching,” he says. The judgemental weight of his voice makes Virlask feel as if he should be looking up at Tau from the Forge’s pit.
Virlask’s grip over his sword tightens as he points the tip upwards in an ironic salute, though he thinks it might not as mocking as he wants it to be. It’s too late to take it back. Tau seems to not care in any case, turning away to lead them deeper into the Hive cavern. His apathy is both a relief and an annoyance.
Virlask curses, soft within his helmet, and follows.
The Ascendant Knight lies dead on the ground, Virlask’s shock sword through its chest. Virlask pulls it free with little effort, giving the blade a quick flick to shake off the fading tendrils of its essence, and watches as the corpse disappears entirely, back to the Ascendant realm.
Tau has never doubted their success. The Knight is as good as dead from the start, whether he brings it down himself or allows Virlask to do it. He just doesn’t expect a sword to do the job. After all, why bring a knife to a knife party when you can win faster with a gun?
Shooting is often more efficient, but even Tau admits there was something pretty with how Virlask wields his shock sword. Both Eshan and Rael have used swords in the past—all grace and dance and the kind of lightness in their steps that Tau knows he can’t manage. Eshan had tried once to teach him, the memory so far off Tau doesn’t remember why they stopped.
He still remembers how Eshan fought though, and it had been nothing like how Virlask fights. Eshan’s speed had been essential, quick to attack and quick to react. With Virlask, his speed with the blade shows differently, more of a constant driving force, each movement deliberate and patient. There’s a weight behind his arching swings—something Eshan hadn’t shown, only because it hadn’t been needed with their agile reflexes.
Virlask doesn’t dance, not like the Hunters do, but there’s still a rhythm to it, something Tau can follow for once.
Tau reloads his rifles, clips snapping into place in automatic habit. He walks up to Virlask, grabbing one of his secondary forearms. The incoming swing is thoroughly deserved, but Tau blocks it by meeting the blade his left arm guard. The arc shock blows out his shields, alerts flashing through his screen, but Virlask doesn’t follow up with a second hit, only stilling as Tau steps closer.
“Hey. Teach me how to use that shock sword,” Tau says, as if he hasn’t just been hit with one. His shields stop wailing as Theta fixes up the damage. He signals a silent thank you in return. Being a former striker grants him some tolerance to arc energy, but the shock still sends a nasty crackle through his entire body.
Virlask looks down at him, teeth clicking. He draws back, the secondary arm first and then the blade at Tau’s forearm. Tau allows Virlask the space, but not by much. Virlask has a weird habit of being slightly more agreeable within the range of a good punch. Then again, most people are.
“Why?” Virlask asks, wary.
“Why? Because you’re good. I haven’t seen swordwork like yours before,” Tau says and then quickly amends, “Swordwork that I didn’t need to put a stop to. Never got the chance to really watch how Eliksni fight with it.”
Virlask pauses. He sounds incredulous again. “You were actually watching.”
“You were keeping the Ascendant Knight to yourself,” Tau says, half-joking. At Virlask’s extended silence, he frowns. “Should I have helped? I didn’t want to mess you up.”
Virlask uses all four arms to shrug. He sheaths his sword, looking away to adjust the straps with his secondary hands while his primaries seem to be checking the damage at his arm guards. “I defeated the knight with no serious injuries. Your help was not needed.”
Tau blinks. The flurry of movement looks a whole lot like nervous fidgeting. Is Virlask embarrassed? Even while bragging? Tau glances at the arm guards. The spikes are blunted, covered in Hive gore. Pretty banged up. Tau shakes his head, putting out his hands as he does.
“Here. Give me your arm guards and I’ll have Theta repair them,” he says.
Virlask’s eyes narrow. It’s funny how Virlask seems to think that he can’t say no when he obviously wants to. Gives Tau all the smartass comments in the universe, but still manages to follow his lead anyway.
“I’m keeping that Hive cache and glimmer, but I still owe you for taking down the knight,” Tau says, exasperated. He motions for Theta to appear and gestures to the arm guards. “Theta, use the mod package I dismantle earlier. Those should work.”
Virlask hisses again, this time in short bursts. It takes a moment for Tau to realize he’s sputtering. He catches half formed words in Eliksni, all of them protests and then, interestingly, the word ‘inappropriate’ gets thrown into the mix. Tau double checks the translation through Theta and—yes, it’s the right definition.
“Why? Then call it a gift if you’re so uptight about it. And you’re going to teach me how to use a sword,” Tau says, brisk. Virlask has never liked offers so he might has well make them orders, if Virlask insists on being so indebted to him.
Virlask eyes are flickering brightly, almost like a flashing fire alarm. There’s no doubt about his embarrassment now. “Rewards are unnecessary. There must be some kind of basic Eliksni etiquette articles in your human databases—I am asking you to please read them.”
Tau points a finger at Virlask, a mixture of both anger and confusion. “I have read a quarter of the stuff Theta keeps finding on Eliksni culture. And ‘rewards’—?” The exact term Virlask uses is vaguely familiar. There are multiple synonyms in the databases, but the context makes it clear what exactly Virlask is referring to. Inappropriate makes more sense now. “—That honor offering stuff only counts if I’m Eliksni with a Prime Servitor or whatever.”
“Archon or Kell,” Virlask corrects stiffly. “Only if you are an Archon or Kell. And we no longer practice that ritual, not in decades.”
Tau makes an agreeing ‘there you have it’ motion with his hand. “Don’t make this complicated. In my culture, a gift is sometimes just an expression of thanks. Even if I am technically holding you captive.” And then another thought hits him—or maybe because of. Tau frowns at himself.
“Very ethnocentric of you to say,” Virlask fires back, but luckily he sounds mollified.
Tau has to look up the Eliksni meaning of ethnocentric through his HUD, so his response ends up lacking and childish. “I can accuse you of the same thing,” he says in Mandarin.
“Add high-minded and white-eyed as well,” Virlask retorts, also in Mandarin, which is how Tau finds out for the first time that Virlask can speak in other Earth languages other than Human Universal.
Stupid of Virlask to reveal that, but somehow Tau feels like he’s the one who has the disadvantage. He gets to be content with Theta sneaking in a full repair for Virlask’s arm guards though. All that arguing had been good for something.
Virlask inspects the repaired armor, still looking miffed about the whole thing, but at least he’s not complaining about it.
“Thanks,” he says in Human Universal. Nice and informal. None of that Eliksni honor reward bullshit. “I will teach you proper swordsmanship in return.”
Tau finds himself grinning from inside his helmet, pleased and excited. He forces himself to stop and tell Theta to transmat them out. And then he’s back to grinning again when Virlask shimmers away with a startled snarl and back into the ship.
White-eyed stupid, huh? Maybe Virlask had been on the mark with that after all.
