[closed : // a man can change the world with a bullet in the right place]
Who: Heine Rammsteiner stray_gunner & Lust sonvisage
When: After this exchange.
Where: The ruins.
Format: Idk we will surprise ourselves, maybe.
What: Heine vs. Lust REMATCH.
Warnings: Swearing?
( let the screams in your head be the last thing you hear )
When: After this exchange.
Where: The ruins.
Format: Idk we will surprise ourselves, maybe.
What: Heine vs. Lust REMATCH.
Warnings: Swearing?
( let the screams in your head be the last thing you hear )
A whip of ink, her hair as s stumbles backward, only off-kilter for a step, seconds, really, but by the time she's righted herself, he's fired, and there are---
Bullets.
Again.
She falls with the sound still ringing in her ears before rising to her feet. There's blood on her throat, swirling against the curve of the ouroboros there and changing the brand. A tiny plink as the bullet pushes itself out of her flesh and strikes the blood spattered ground at her feet. By the time it makes that plink there is no longer any wound at all.]
There were more last time.
[Rasp of claws extending - one sharp spear out of many aiming for the wrist of the hand that fired - to pierce clean through if he doesn't move. The rest of her blades only strike the ground around him.
It's a little like a prison.]
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-- oh.]
You'll be seeing more before this is over.
[He manages a grimace-scowl-grin just as a spear (what the hell?) extends from her fingertips and pulls back, managing to avoid most of the strike but receiving a deep cut that immediately begins to steam and hiss as it begins to heal.
The fingerspear blades make him frown, and the bars are just icing on the cake.
Guns both cocked now, and his expression is just slightly calmer.
i will (we will) kill
Just slightly.]
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But this one - there's something beneath, no?
And she grins at him, here. Let him shoot the blades if he likes, there are always more where those came from.]
That's good. Hate to think I came all the way out here for one little shot.
[Retract. Smile. Rushing at you, Heine.]
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His scowl twists into something even uglier.]
Expecting a bit much, aren't you?
[There's a bit of a sneer in his voice, but there's a tremor in his hands as she charges.
They steady as he raises his guns, and without hesitating this time, fires at the vital points - the head, mostly, and the heart. This time he doesn't run.]
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I like people to rise to my expec---
[Her head snaps back, claws retracting - swiping as she falls amidst a hail of gunfire. Blood (is it is it really?) flowing and pooling out beneath as she strikes a patch of stony ground.
It's nothing compared to what it was in Dismas.
The ghost of a memory (a real one this time, yes?) - the last conscious thing she remembered before almost-oblivion; her weight being hefted Scar's back - the smell of gunfire and blood and sweat and - the heat of his skin against hers.
It's enough to really piss her off, now because it's done with, and she's here and Remus has a hole in his throat and she doesn't want to care about an of this.
It's enough that she rises to her feet, wounds already sealed. Blood beading up and dispersing.]
I don't like being interrupted.
[Spear shooting out toward his leg, right above the kneecap.]
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He pauses, just barely hesitating when she crumples (this is nothing like Dismas, not when she stands back up and argues and growls and there is nothing that he can blame for the madness within).
His expression is almost the bare bones of a smirk until the finger-spear-things shoot out again (no one ever said he had good manners) and then it's almost business-like.
Moves as fast as he can, but the spear still cuts deeply into his leg as he darts forward. The wound hisses a little as it starts to close, but he's rather more occupied with firing again and again.
(Conservation of ammunition is overrated.)]
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She's growling now, too.
Slowed by the gunfire, she swipes at him with her left hand.]
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The empty magazine is dropped to the ground as he clicks another one in with the heel of his hand, movements far too familiar to be unpracticed. The barest pause, and he fires again, and then stops to try and avoid her next attack.
His own blood splatters quite nicely on the ground, and it's not quite as easy to stay still and content with just shooting. ]
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There's no guilt because he's shooting again and her flesh has already begun to knit itself back into place before it's torn away fresh. She staggers after the swipe - a spray of red from him and her own in answer as a bullet tears through her throat.
She's still on the ground as the next round strikes, a gurgling scream under the crackle of gunfire - a cry of frustration and mute rage not entirely meant for Heine's ears.
He'll do, though.
On the ground when she fires off another spear - aiming for his gut.]
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His laugh is cracked and more like a growl than anything, and now he's too far gone for the pain to reach him. The air already smells like smoke when he pauses, grinning a skeleton's smile, as she screams. Good, the Dog thinks, unaware of the truth, but Heine can't say a word.
He doesn't succeed in avoiding the attack this time, taking it almost all the way through the left side of his torso.
Snarling now, he tries to either break the spear or pull it back out. ]
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I like the way you growl.
[His smile is positively frightening. Which only makes her smile more as she advances. The move is his, she's just baiting him.]
I could dance like this forever.
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The response he makes is incomprehensible, a raw, horrifying laugh mingled with a strangled cry and coated with a layer of visceral blood.
But finally:] No.
[The only syllable distinguishable in his snarls, and even then dipping into a register deeper than his usual one. He hesitates for a moment, and then as she draws closer, raises his gun again.]
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[Really, Heine? It's not often she hears that these days. Can't say that she fully dislikes it, either.
Further ruminations are interrupted by an (oh, and it's clean through, isn't it?) onslaught of bullets and the wet sound of blood and bits flesh striking the ground - spattering on the broken rubble behind her.]
Still no?
[Hasn't done this since her arrival (and a fair bit before if she counts her turn of loyalty at home.) Tch. Home.
Unguarded interest at the wound in his side.]
Or is your no really a yes? I'll stop if you want~
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[The hole is sealing slowly, still leaving a nasty tear in his clothing, but he can deal with that later. Heine is more preoccupied with the diminishing pain from the wound and the - woman in front of him.]
I'm - [not going to die] - no.
[He pauses, regards her with eyes slightly wider than usual.]
Why would you stop?
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[No threat of spears, hands down and at her sides as she cocks a brow, still surveying the damage in his side. Her own wounds are gone.]
I have no interest in killing you. It was only meant to be ...friendly fire. [She's sincere, but her grin is no less wicked.] Is it just me or are you always this ...twitchy?
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[Still snarky, despite the (now sluggish) stream of blood from the hole clear through his torso. A moment later and the hole is gone, but the blood is not.]
Tch. Friendly. [Right.]
[And instead of answering, he shrugs, still uneasy and ready to fire again.] ...that's a weird question. [But this whole exchange is weirder, especially for him.]
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