also im stopping myself from going on another 3-paragraph ipc worldbuild tangent this time or so help me--
[Well. The silver lining to this. Is that, at the very least, the coffin isn't somehow crammed in here with them too...
Closets are still not generally very well-suited to holding two people at once, though. Even unnatural closets manned by some incredibly rude invisible entity--"invisible", because there sure hadn't been anyone else in the room at the time, had there? When, upon opening this wardrobe's door to check inside--Blade hovering warily beside him--the both of them had been quite forcibly shoved in by a force unseen, the door slamming quite firmly shut behind them.
And now here they are.
It's quite dark, of course, save for the outline of the closet door in itself, the lighting of the room outside seeping through the cracks but illuminating little. No sign of a light switch even with some fumbling at the walls. Luocha sighs, and tries to turn around...whoops, accidentally stepping back into Blade. Also accidentally bumping an elbow into his--side, probably? ...Oh, alright, so that was definitely his chest he just accidentally put a hand on. Okay. Turning around may already be proving harder than anticipated...]
--My apologies. Are you alright? I can't seem to reach the door from here, so it may need to be you. [To find the handle, of course. To open this closet and get them out, of course!] ...Quite an uninspired prank. Rest assured this is not at all what I was looking for here...
[In fact, Luocha is starting to rather strongly suspect that this entire stop may have been a wash altogether in the business sense, but well. That'll be a bridge to cross in a few minutes, once they're back out. ...It should only take a few minutes, right?]
( ooc. your worldbuilding powers tho... eats them up )
[ It should only take a few minutes, and yet that's not what happens.
After the first few adventures, filled with shenanigans, Blade thinks he's grown used to the random odd scenario happening here and there. It seems to just naturally come with the territory, while he travels the galaxy with his current employer, especially given the myriad of planets they visit with their own set of quirks. Getting shoved inside a closet, however, appears to have caught both of them off guard. Blade even more so than usual, because it's new. A mercenary like him doesn't end up in situations like this quite often.
There's a first time for everything, he supposes.
The closet affords them very little space. It's proven easily when Luocha all but places a palm on his chest, but he barely reacts to it. No need to make this any more awkward than it already is... Then again, it's not like this is the first time they've had to get nice and cozy. ]
I'm fine. I'll have a look.
[ To the point, as always. His hand feels around for anything that resembles a handle and... finds none. It's a flat surface no matter where he touches. ]
... I don't think there's a way to open this. I can't find the handle. [ ... ] Is it not on your end?
[ If it's a prank, then maybe they've done things in reverse? The way out is actually in front of them? ]
RIGHT...lbr tho it could apply to p much anyone in blade's life not actively trying to kill him--
[Mercenaries don't usually end up in situations like this, and merchants generally don't either, all told. Honestly, closet-shoving probably shouldn't be that common in the known universe overall...surely. ...But that just means they've tripped upon a stroke of impressively bad luck here, yet again. Perhaps by now Blade has started to notice it, the paltry fortune Luocha tends to carry about on his travels wherever he goes...he might joke about it sometimes, but really though.....
At the least, Blade's agreeable traits of "not making things weird" and "going straight to the point" readily emerge in the sort of way Luocha has come to find reassuringly reliable. This sure isn't the first time they've had to share close quarters, at this point...but, still. For his own part he's not letting that hand linger on Blade's chest for longer than a second or so anyhow, though Blade's complete lack of reaction to it is also very appreciated. Instead he's moving right on to getting the door back open, which is just as well, since--
--Hmm? There's no way to open it?]
There is no handle over there? ...I suppose this might be a sort of closet with a one-sided entrance... [Since, technically, most closets likely aren't designed with closing in people as an intention. ...But that would mean rather unfortunate news for the two of them here and now, so. Yeah, hold that thought--] The other end, however--right, that's not a bad idea either. Let me try to check.
[There's even a couple of old coats hanging towards the back, because of course there would be, goodness forbid this whole affair be too easy. Anyway, pushing those aside, and then shifting forward to plant his hands along the closet's back...after a moment or two, there's a dissatisfied hum from Luocha's end.]
Hmph. It appears solid. I do not think there is a door here either...and so our options are--oh? [Hold up. There are a few more shuffling noises.] ...Wait, there seems to be something hanging here. Flat, with a frame...a picture? [????] Or--perhaps some sort of placard? ...A light would certainly be useful about now...
it's basically everyone who has a use for him, lbr
[ Since it has been happening more and more often, Blade wonders if there is some truth behind Luocha's statement regarding his bad luck. At first, he thought it was just his imagination, but nowadays, it's looking more likely that they'll be haunted by this regardless of where they go. It's even hard to consider the fact that most situations they end up in are ultimately "harmless" when it happens so frequently. Alas, there's not much he can do about it now.
When Luocha confirms that there's no door on the other side either, he begins thinking about the best ways to break through their confinement. He's got the strength, after all, to destroy what needs to go down, but then— ]
A placard? Let me see.
[ He excuses himself quietly before he tries to shimmy his way over to where said placard was found. It's a tight fit, but neither of them is carrying anything to light things up in here, so his eyesight would be the closest thing. Even still, the complete darkness makes it a hard read. ]
... There's a story on it. It's hard to make out, but I think—
[ He narrates the part that involves two souls walking into a box where they need to pay a price. One kiss is all that's needed, and then they'll be set free. ]
Is it a riddle?
alas to be a man in high demand when all u wanna do is die 😔😔
[It sure is a bit of a tight squeeze, as Blade shifts over to have a look for himself. Try as Luocha might to flatten himself accordingly against a wall to one side...now that they're both occupying this end of the closet, their shoulders end up bumping a bit anyway--another mildly awkward thing to be happening twice in a weirdly short span of time. Let's worry less about that, though, and more about what Blade's able to make out a bit painstakingly--
Luocha's frown in turn is a practically audible thing.]
That's...well. Exceptionally direct language, for a riddle. If we take that simply as surface-level instruction, though, it would mean...
[...........Well.
Honestly, maybe. It's a bit of a silver lining after all, that it's rather too dark in here for either of them to see each other's faces. In the brief pause that falls, Luocha doesn't have to avert his eyes from Blade, and Blade doesn't have to see the look that crosses his face either, so all that's left to do now is keep his tone perfectly composed. Composed, and not hinting even a bit at the very weird combo of brief feeling he finds himself suddenly having: something that's somewhere between exasperated and...
No, surely, the solution can't actually be as compromisingly simple as that--]
Of course, conclusions shouldn't be jumped to in a situation like this. [Maybe that came out a bit too abrupt, after that pause just a bit too long, but let's not worry about that. More importantly!! There's a slight shift of movenent, where Luocha's standing, as he cranes his attention back in the direction of the closet door.] ...Let's properly assess our options first. Blade, do you think you may be able to break open that door by force? Provided I stay out of the way back here, to give you an optimal amount of room to work with...
[ It might be a tight fit, but it's not the first time they've had to share a personal bubble so Blade hardly pays it any mind. Of course, if he had a say in the matter, he would rather they weren't in this situation, since that would mean they aren't stuck in a closet with no easy way out. Until they locate this placard with the weirdest riddle known to mankind— and what's worse, Luocha is implying it might not even be a riddle in the first place. ]
... Right.
[ First things first: they might as well exhaust every other possible avenue. He moves towards the opposite side, right where the "door" closed shut behind them. There's not much room for him for him to simply slam into the wooden surface so he does the next best thing— which is punching it with all the force he can muster. Repeatedly. Which is growing sillier by the second, but hey. They might as well try this one before giving up.
But after a while, it becomes clear that this isn't going to work. His closed fist rests against the door before he shakes his head at Luocha. ]
Got any other ideas?
[ Because the alternative would be to consider the placard again, and surely...? There must be another way? ]
Unless you'd rather do what the story is talking about.
[Quite literally trying to punch a way out of this closet sure is kind of silly no matter how one really slices it huh.....the good news on that front, at least, is that Luocha is the only one around to see it happen right now. Not to mention the fact that it's too dark to actually see how ridiculous it looks either, and also sometimes ridiculous times call for ridiculous measures. This brief lapse of dignity will be a secret kept safe within the confines of this closet, if nothing else!
(Not that it'll be the only secret staying in this closet forever, as they're soon to discover, but anyway......)
The bad news, of course, is that the punching does not actually work at all whatsoever. Not even necessarily for a lack of strength on Blade's part, either. Luocha is sighing sharply himself afterwards, something a bit surprised in the draw of breath. Because--]
Hmm--just now, when you were making that attempt, I sensed...there is some sort of power at work here. Holding that door shut. Not the result of an individual, but... [Well, frowning up at the closet ceiling is also completely useless at the moment, but still.] This entire compartment might be some sort of...curio?
[He's ever heard of one exactly like this...though then again, it's said there are a countless number of curios in the universe, in countless variations. Not that he has the faintest idea what function a curio like this is supposed to have...
But this revelation doesn't exactly solve the problem either way, and Blade brings up the question of the hour. Luocha is quiet for another moment or so, clearly mulling for any other ideas himself...but, honestly, it's difficult to think of any other metaphor that placard might be implying. And physically breaking out in any other way doesn't seem to actually be an option. So much for other options to check first. ...Hmmm....]
...I do not want to do anything you wouldn't be willing to do. [At length the answer comes, the words set down slowly. But there's an audible shifting sound too, and a couple steps, as Luocha draws back over to Blade.] I'm still unsure of any other way to read that "riddle" over there, but. [....] May I see your hand, at the least?
[You know, the one you were just using to punch a door for a hot minute.]
[In retrospect, this entire affair...will decidedly not be worthwhile.
All the signs were already there, after all--warnings that really should have been heeded. From the strange lack of detail in the business request, to Blade's disquiet ever since they'd first set foot upon the Luofu...truly, this is an occasion where Luocha's curiosity should have left well enough alone. But the odd framing of the trade deal had only drawn his intrigue; he always does have a bad habit, for this sort of thing. Stepping into false setups, just to find out firsthand where the aim really lies. Perhaps if he'd more firmly insisted upon investigating this on his own, this time--ah, but no. If he'd done that...
Well, it would probably be him dead on the ground right now. And not Blade, collapsed in a thickening pool of his own blood, a spear from one of the more heavily-armored mara-struck soldiers driven into his torso. ...A sort of wound even Luocha could not reach fast enough...
--Especially not midway through being restrained, after all. There's a large number of soldiers here indeed--a veritable ambush of them, springing forth from behind the containers in this remote corner of Cloudford where a meeting had been insisted upon. Disciples of Sanctus Medicus, as they now proclaim themselves, while two of them busy themselves shoving Luocha to his knees--twisting his rapier from his grasp, wrenching his arms behind his back, a third pair of hands fisting in his hair and yanking up his chin. "Speak," comes the demand, "Where is it? That coffin you carry?" They've been lead to believe it contains a fragment of Yaoshi's power, it seems. (Luocha had not brought it along to this meeting, on a suspicion. It sits inert in the inn they had earlier discreetly booked all the way back in Starskiff Haven...) "You'll lead us to it now, or you'll be joining your dead friend over there!"
Luocha can only laugh.
Which is a bit refreshing, the sole silver lining of this entire situation. There is nobody here to hear it in this moment, after all—-just as there's nobody here to see it, the sharpness of the smile that settles upon his features. Nobody who matters, anyway...not for the next several seconds. Try as his adversaries might, to force his attention upon them, Luocha's glance remains affixed upon Blade's form so carelessly left behind their backs. His posture is loose, hardly even pretending to struggle; his tone lilts amused, practically mocking.]
Oh? You certainly have killed him, it seems. ...Goodness, I rather wish you hadn't. You're going to regret that.
[What a mess this is about to be. Quite...unfortunate....]
Edited 2023-09-19 04:15 (UTC)
some minor gore + violence, but it's v. vague! i hope that's okay flsdkfm
It all started going downhill as soon as they stepped foot in Luofu's territory. Not only did Blade's memories start going haywire, but he kept quiet about it and didn't say anything until the mara's whispers grew louder. By that point, the two of them were already ambushed by the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus and soon found themselves in the thick of battle. It should have been an easy thing to win— with Blade's prowess with the sword and Luocha's healing abilities, the two of them should have swept this up cleanly.
But Blade is distracted, careless. He sees and hears things that aren't really there, ghosts from a past that was long gone and dead. It's a miracle he hasn't lost his mind just yet, but when the spear is driven right through him, the sight of blood appears to make things even worse. His vision blacks out. His body crumbles to the floor, forgotten by those who killed him in the first place. It's not long before they're hassling Luocha, demanding they're given what they seek.
That turns out to be their first mistake.
When Blade rises, he is deathly silent. There's hardly any trace of himself left in his eyes, a vibrant blood red that betrays the monster that has finally been unleashed. He cuts down the men closest to him, killing them in one fell swoop. Once the others realize what's going on, it's too little too late: Blade murders them all too. This repeats until the only ones left standing are those who were wise enough to run away and the one who brought him here in the first place.
He's now focused on Luocha, but he doesn't say anything. His whole self is covered in blood from head to toe; most of it doesn't even belong to him. The spear's blade is still in his chest, but when he moves to remove that, it's almost mechanical. Automatic. The wound starts to heal itself just like it always does when someone is cursed by Abundance.
[It's a massacre, in the plainest sense of the word. ...Not unfamiliar on an objective level, by any means; Luocha had grown long accustomed to the concept of violence in the bursts of occasion where it might occur even before he first set out to travel as a merchant, and nowadays necessary combat is ever a close shadow in this line of work. Then there's Blade's brand of violence in itself, something that had also grown familiar to work alongside of late--that unique combination of technique and careless aggression which could truly only be taken on by a man immune to any permanence of injury. He's efficient and without hesitation, when death must be delivered to the enemy...and now is no exception.
...Especially not now, it seems...
The rising of a corpse is an incredibly effective distraction, at the least; Luocha is summarily unhanded and left where he kneels on the ground, while his would-be captors become thoroughly preoccupied with scrambling for their lives. The gold-black edge of Blade's namesake sings in the air; there is screaming, and flesh rent asunder, and a great deal of blood. Luocha retrieves his rapier carefully, but with little haste. After all, he can tell--and it is already so--that by the time he slowly draws back up to his feet...
Their surroundings are already littered with corpses--that will not be rising, ever again. ...But.
For a long moment Luocha is very still, though his glance alights quite intently upon the features of the last standing man across the way. ...This is a face he knows well by now, of course. The expressions it often makes...and the eye contact it often makes, or declines to. The eyes that look back now, however...
Ah, to say nothing if how very deafening this silence is, too.
...It's a sinking sort of feeling, that accompanies a certain conclusion already being drawn. But even despite that--even despite better judgment--(even despite himself)--the blade of the rapier remains at Luocha's side, pointed downward. While his left hand is what he slowly extends, instead, the charm wrapped around his wrist loosed from his sleeve.]
Blade. ...Come here.
[This is probably a mistake. He is well aware.]
ofc, anytime 💜💜💜 more minor cw 'cause blade, dying, and violence go hand-in-hand
[ The smell of blood is thick in the air, all metallic and dangerous. It continues to drip down from the tip of his own sword, pooling at a spot near his feet. The whole sight almost feels like a setup for something more sinister, but there's a split-second where something fragile flashes through those red eyes: a flicker of someone lost until it's buried underneath the noise of mara.
He can't hear Luocha, not anymore. Seeing the charm dangling from the man's wrist should have brought him comfort, and yet— what happens is that it lures him in like a moth to flame. A moth that doused itself in gasoline, ready to set itself on fire. If only it would be easy to snuff out his own life too, but that's not a blessing he'll ever be granted in this lifetime.
Still, he walks towards the other. One step forward, followed by another, lifeless and robotic. The silence would have been deafening if it weren't for his own footsteps, but even that doesn't last forever. All it takes is another second to pass by. He raises his sword, gets into the proper position; a stance beaten into his body until he remembers it even from the grave.
He gives no warning.
And then he charges at Luocha, sword raised until he brings it down in a sweep, aiming to cut across the chest. To get rid of that arm that's trying to offer him peace disguised under the cloak of Abundance.
The only thing that shows he might have been holding himself back is how much slower this attack is compared to how it should be. Perhaps he's still trying to win against the discordance.
Perhaps he might not be completely lost. ]
just lil blade things.....our man do be goin thru it always rip
[Still no response...still not so much as a sound made. Yet there's at least plenty of information to glean all the same, from every other cue practically dripping from Blade's body alongside the actual blood. Gone are the familiar tics, the reserved cadence of his pace, in the dragging mechanical deliberation of the approach he makes now--in the absence of expression upon his face--in the blank purpose with which he readies his sword. ...But Luocha did see it, that flicker in a breath of a moment. Of someone drowning, behind the crimson in his eyes...
Someone that could yet be pulled free. If only he could be reached--
Dragging steps quicken, staccato into a charge. The sword lashes out. But Luocha doesn't draw back so much as a pace, no, because it is a slower attack--far slower than Blade would ever normally permit, when truly set upon killing intent--another small evident crack, in the mara's tightening steel grasp. (Is Blade still trying to fight it, even now? Railing against the prison of his own immortal body, overtaken by the mindless will of another?) Something tightens very strangely in Luocha's chest, in noting this, entirely divorced of the lethal danger of the sword sweeping in. ...But there's no time to review such a matter right now.
The delay is taken full advantage of; Luocha's own sword arm whips up to meet Blade's, the slender line of his rapier flashing up in a narrow parry to bat the attack aside, open up his opponent to a counter. Muscle memory, but still no easy feat; even slowed, there's still no cushioning the vicious strength of even this attempted blow, most of the impact shed sidelong but the rest still a reverberating ache through Luocha's forearm, powered through with set teeth. Act fast. This could be finished now, a coolly detached part of him says, as his glance alights upon the split-second vulnerabilities before him. The gaps in the ribcage, the tender hollow of the throat, both unarmored. Impale the heart, pierce the windpipe--succinct deaths. Kill him if the mara ever gets out of control, Blade had told him once.
Though Luocha is no longer sure if death would actually remedy this--not when Blade had just emerged from death in this state. .......And there's that other notion too, stubborn, that doesn't...want to. Snuffing Blade's life by his own hand--the idea sits surprisingly repulsive, all objective judgment aside. After all the time they've been working together. (After other feelings that have started occurring, of late.) Besides. Had they not tested this together, once before? If he could invoke his own healing here...
But he'll have to get close.
--So that's what Luocha does, in the end, against better sense. A risk taken, when he declines to drive the point of his rapier into Blade's body after all, and instead drops it once more to close the remaining distance between them instead. One step, two--reach out with his left hand, and the charm that still glints--to grab at Blade's arm, hold him still.]
Blade, listen--receive-- [--But can he invoke the divinity of the Abyss quickly enough? Even as its symbol at his wrist flares, with the Abundance's healing power...]
he's trying his best.. also feel free to decide if blade does end up stabbing him or failing!!!
[ He'd once told Luocha to not hesitate when the opportunity arises. That it's better to kill him off when he loses himself to the mara, because who knows what would happen if he's left unchecked? The opportunity comes and goes, but the opposite is what Luocha ends up doing: he engages him. He gets close. He dodges his attack, but rather than delivering the final blow, he drops his sword and destroys what little distance they had left between them.
Blade hesitates once again, as though he realizes what's happening. Fighting against the discordant noise of mara is difficult enough to do once, but doing it twice is almost impossible— and yet he does it again, in favour of giving the other man the opening he needs. He grits his teeth. His eyes flash wildly with the madness that lurks deep within. But the warm glow of the Abyss is familiar. It's salvation, he knows that. Realizes that it's exactly what he needs.
But the mara barely listens to him.
It pushes forward evermore, forcing his hand to drive his sword towards flesh. This close, it's difficult to get the momentum he needs to plunge it deeper against a solid frame, and even then, there's the added struggle of the part of him that remains lucid holding his own strength back. The blade aims to graze along the other's side, a haphazard attempt to stab the other to get rid of every obstacle that remains standing.
It's difficult to tell if Blade even realizes what's happening. If he remains lucid enough to understand what would happen if Luocha doesn't move away from him—
He wants to tell him to run. To leave him here until the mara dissipates once its hunger for blood has been satiated. But he also knows that it's the last thing the other man will do.
After everything they've been through together, it's not surprising that he hasn't left. But that's why he tries, and tries, and tries to prevent any fatal blows. ]
slaps top of luocha's head, this guy can fit so many stabbings tbqh (It's Fine he can heal!! ✨)
[It would be kinder, perhaps, to take the more sensible course of action. If not to kill Blade outright, then to at least flee when the chance was provided--earlier on, and even now, the painful flickers of hesitation that are clearly taking every ounce of Blade's stolen lucid efforts. It's not as if Luocha doesn't notice them as they happen. That he doesn't appreciate it, the immense willpower it's doubtlessly taking. When all this is said and done, he will have to apologize to the man, for the selfish route he's decided to take in insisting upon staying close.
Indeed, were it not for Blade's agonizing attempts at restraint, that sword would have likely dealt a far more grievous injury. ...But it still--
--does plunge into Luocha's side, even if it lands miraculously shy of any vital organs. The burst of pain accompanying it is immediate, nearly wrenching out a cry that Luocha just barely bites back with gritted teeth, frame shuddering as crimson promptly blossoms through clothing. --But. It's nothing new, now is it? Hardly even something major. Painful, yes, but not the worst he has known. (Nothing like the first time, under the watch of white irises, when the contract was still freshly new and he hadn't yet numbed to the thorns that would accompany it--) The hand upon Blade's shoulder doesn't loosen...tightens, even, in tandem with the other hand that now grabs at the wrist holding that sword. Not even to pull it out--can't, not yet, or risk bleeding out--but to instead drag Blade closer. Pulling their bodies near flush together, a strange embrace. The purpose is two-fold: to rob the mara of any immediate chance to properly extend Blade's limbs for another attack, and also...to bring the Abyss properly and truly to them. To envelope them both...
For this close, and in a state this heightened within Blade, Luocha can properly feel the presence of the mara for the first time. A far cry from that stirring thorny prickle in that abandoned cabin back in Jarilo-VI--no, here and now it's fully unfurled, blazes with a violently demanding hunger clawing at the body hosting it. ...It's hard to believe, but it's unmistakable, the tones of the Abundance singing through it...yet another facet, of that ravenous power. Far beyond any typical instance of mara among the long-lived Xianzhou for a fact. The potency is...practically on par with that of an Emanator--and in a vacuum that would be incredibly fascinating. But here, and now, as it tears through Blade despite his most fervent efforts...Luocha cannot help but look upon it with a vehement contempt.
How dare it try to bleed him?
As if they don't both drink from the same poisonous well. As if it has a say. As if he'll be refused. No--so long as he must carry this power--his own resolve will ever remain the same. To use it to its fullest extent, for worthwhile means. And right now, what he wants, is to speak to Blade.
How dare it try to take that away from him?]
...Quiet. Quiet. You will listen to me. [No, Blade hasn't said a word. This isn't addressed to him. There is perhaps something rather distinctly possessive about the way Luocha's hand drags from the line of Blade's shoulder to his collar, to nearly cup at his cheek in the way it curves over the side of his neck--to hold him in place, and more importantly, press the flickering rosary wrapped about his wrist practically against his pulse. The way his tone drops is uncharacteristic, even compared to past occasions of battle, a shift in key from requesting to commanding; pairing alongside it is the intensity upon his features, pain promptly forgotten, and something aflame in pale green eyes as they lock with the crimson madness in Blade's.] Stand down. Repent.
[Overpowering even the blood and death that clings to Blade's frame is the heady scent of white irises; all about their immediate vicinity, the phantom flickerings of the flowers and fluttering petals that signify Luocha's healing field spring to life, that distant sound of faint windchimes accompanying. The mending sensation accompanying it has probably always felt something like a warm breeze passing over, but this time there is a renewed fervency and intensity here. Something that means to wash over the mara, overtake it, drown it. Will it struggle?]
[This is a sort of planet that tends towards a rainier climate; it certainly doesn't make things any simpler. It's too easy to lose Fragmentum monsters in the misty fog...and companions, too, in the thick of the fray. This is a concern that niggles about now, even as Luocha manages to hold his own one on one against a particularly tenacious Voidranger. One, two blades parried, and then a drive of the tip of his rapier through a very precise weak spot in the torso--
But he isn't pausing long enough afterwards to watch it disintegrate. Instead Luocha moves right on from there, breath puffing in the cool air to join the mist that swirls, steps hasty and eyes darting as he scans the winding mountain path.]
Dan Heng?
[He was just this way--Luocha's sure of that much, though Dan Heng had been getting into a clash of his own before the footwork of the fight had swept him out of sight. Now, though, sounds of battle drift through the air no longer...and--ah?
There, a head of dark hair and the customary green of his garb. But his silhouette is curled on the ground...which is hardly a posture that bodes well. Luocha's steps quicken.]
Dan Heng! [Kneeling down beside him, he's already reaching to check the young man's vitals, a gloved hand curling over one wrist while he scans his overall body for signs of injury.] Speak, if possible--can you hear me?
this is the only jesus-related shitpost i have rn im sorry
[......Hmm. Not a normal thing, is it? That red gaze. There is a weight, there, even benevolent as it might currently be; it's not something Luocha flinches under, but it's certainly reminiscent of a covered window opening just a bit, for just a moment, letting seep a surprisingly bright light from the other side.
It might be brief, but in a way it tells almost as much as his words do.
Words that are acknowledged, after a moment, with a slight and further bow of Luocha's head.]
...If it is well, then. Thank you, sir.
[Perhaps he will pray, then. A small thing. Soundless, the only indication being the pause that settles and his own eyes falling closed just a moment, as the gold charm about his wrist is slipped to clasp lightly between his palms. The subject of this brief appeal will go unsaid--if it is even an appeal at all, and not perhaps something rather different...but either way, he'd be loath to tell, even if Hatsutori did ask. It's appreciated, that the latter does not.
And then the pause passes, and then Luocha rises slowly to his feet.]
When you're ready as well, I would be happy to follow you there. ...This is quite a beautiful sanctuary, I must say. [Regardless of his own feelings or alignments, it must be noted; after all, that's just an objective fact. Luocha peers thoughtfully at the cross on the altar, thoughts turning over the shape of Hatsutori's earlier words. Not hard to extrapolate, then...] Was this a place constructed in your name, or that which you now inherit? ...Or perhaps, it is both those things at once?
i spat at that image im crying, would you like a frog in this trying time
[ he's honest when he speaks, it was given to so that he could feel closer to those that comes to and from this place. due to how weak he is, those that know him well find that allowing him to frequent a place where he can feel closer to god will help him some, but he is no different from a caged rat.
he knows every location, he can find every dead end and wonder if it'd ever change— it doesn't, but he doesn't dare complain about that either. this was made for him out of love and good will, that's what he's told all the time, a star should remain in space. this place is his space. ]
......Those that visit may let me listen to their worries, or I can offer them words to revitalize their spirits. There are other things, like what you've brought with you. Sometimes I must get rid of things so individuals are not plagued in the future.
[ he believes that luocha will be fine from how hatsutori perceives him, but it's better safe than sorry. slowly hatsutori pushes himself up off the pew, and with his arms behind his back, he begins to lead the other out through the exit of where he arrived so they can walk around the building towards the back.
as they come upon the garden, they'll have to walk underneath an arch covered in vines upon a rocky path. the leaves within the arch's tunnel allows the sunlight to filter in, the shadow and sunrays dancing along their person and the ground until they come out on the other side to a location filled with flora: trees, shrubs, flower buds of all kinds have made their home in this rather large area. there's no ceiling covering the top of the garden, but around the parameter are bushes in the form of walls to keep in the flowers, and out the trespassers.
in the center of everything is both a small bench for then to sit if interested, and a well in the center to pull water from.
it's when hatsutori takes a step off the gravel onto the grass that the area springs to life, the flower buds curling open, the limb of trees expanding, and their leaves growing. the hedges offer them something too, white roses peeking out from the inside to welcome them both. ]
You may sit if you wish, and I'll take the gloves afterwards.
it's always a good time for a frog lbr. new church pr idea: jesus-themed frogs
I understand, then. Your consideration is quite appreciated, sir...it will be an honor, too, to observe the work of a divine one within his domain.
[Well, for at least one definition of domain, hm? Recalling Hatsutori's admission that he isn't often allowed to move freely, back during the course of their first conversation, Luocha indeed wonders now if this is where the man is normally relegated. ...There are worse cages, to be sure--but elegant guilding doesn't change the term for the container.
Either way. Aloud, Luocha's words are thoughtfully neutral, quiet in prudence to the remaining people praying among the pews, as he follows Hatsutori back out the front doors. Around the building, and to the enclosed space of...ah, a garden indeed, isn't this?
Flowers and leaves spring open the moment Hatsutori steps upon the grass. Objecticely, a lovely and wondrous sight....and it's also one, that--prompts the slightest pause, in Luocha's own steps. A reaction both to the power evidently exerted here once again--and how very familiar this particular instance happens to be, manifesting like this. Blooms abundant....
Merely a moment's lapse, of course. With a breath taken, slightly tensed nerves settle, and he follows Hatsutori the rest of the way to the bench.]
...Thank you. I think I will sit, yes. Here... [Settling onto the bench, Luocha places the bag into Hatsutori's hands when the latter seems ready to receive it. Then, his glance settles upon his face, studying Hatsutori's features with a fairly open curiosity.]
Will this process result in the gloves being destroyed, I wonder? Rest assured, if so, I would not mind it.
looked up frogs in the bible and saw they were used for evil but we can workshop this
[ from where luocha sits, he can see how far the limbs of the trees outstretch here, how apples hang in various colors waiting to be picked, and the sunlight that filters between the leaves to cast patterns along the grass. there's a short breeze that passes through, various scents of flowers merge together to tickle under their noses, just a little sweet, and some of the flora sways left to right in the wind. ]
You are right, I'll be destroying them.
[ the other is smart and aware, but it's not like hatsutori never said he wasn't going to get rid of them. besides, his request for him to bring what his gloves are made out of is to weave a new pair, and that's only doable if he has a starting point. god used his surroundings to make men and women, of course, as his son, hatsutori would be able to do the same thing. ]
......If I was not as clumsy, it could have been avoided.
[ upon his face, luocha can see the area has already cleared up where hatsutori bumped his head just like in the image. there's also a warm smile on his face as he seems a bit sheepish that he managed to even cause this to happen in the first place. he squats down, slowly opening the bag to check on the material that's inside, and what he searches for first is where the gloves are. they're a bit weighty from being soaked, but that's fine, hatsutori holds the bag up in front of him to "look" at the design despite his eyes still closed. ]
But with you here, it does allow me to act with your discretion. Is there a flower that you prefer?
[ their trip to the garden did have meaning then, a purpose, as he turns his head towards the other to await his answer. ]
Here, I have tended to different kinds... it'll be useful in making your new set.
omg...ok well. first of all we dip them in some holy water. cleanse the evil...IT COULD STILL WORK--
Hmm, and perhaps it also could have been avoided if we hadn't gone on that outing in the first place...or if we'd never met at all, for that matter. But such hypotheticals remain behind us--and, besides, a pair of gloves is a small price paid for the experience. I truly do not mind this.
[The warm and sheepish smile is returned with a mild one of Luocha's own; this, at least, is a genuine sort of sentiment. ...Otherwise, Hatsutori really doesn't seem any worse for wear in the least after the previous night's mild injury--as if none of that had ever transpired at all anyhow. Just as it'd seemed in the picture. He watches attentively as the gloves are examined, but the question earns a faintly startled sort of blink. Of all the things he'd been expecting, it hadn't been quite this, all told...]
Making a new set? I had been prepared to simply purchase another pair at a later date, of course...but, that would be especially generous of you. That is...also rather interesting, I will admit. I have never heard of flowers being involved in the tailoring of gloves as a general rule, but... [Well, he does rather suspect that Hatsutori is about to pull a feat rather beyond the bounds of standard tailoring here. Trailing off with some thought, Luocha casts his glance all about the lovely gleaming of the garden about them--as immaculate a place as something out of a picture book. The fruit upon the tree, the colors in the flowerbeds. ...At any rate. To the actual question at hand, there's only one answer he could give anyhow:] Are white irises included, among the flowers you've grown?
luocha and hatsutori could start a church and cast a miracle that frogs are amphibian angels
Our meeting was God's will, something determined a long time ago that was meant to happen.
[ the same could be said about hatsutori's clumsiness, but their meeting came to fruition because he decided to leave from where he was supposed to be. it was his choice to stray, so what was he given in return for his actions? a bump on the head that isn't there anymore, but also a pair of gloves that remind him he should be more careful. ]
They are not... [ needed, really this is a choice of his. ] all I need is what your gloves are made of, but I thought something a little extra, a gift from me, could be nice.
[ the general rule of creation means hatsutori cannot make things out of the blue, but if he has a starting point then it's all in his power. he doesn't have to do this, but he wants to, it's part of his own will and maybe a small "thank you" to the other for taking care of him like he did, and being so concerned. hatsutori is the type to love attention and while it isn't easy to tell, the act of giving a small gift to the other just seems like something he'd do because it's him. ]
They symbolize faith, hope... sympathy, yes... they can be found around here, we need a proper bed to raise them in.
[ he turns his head left and right in search of where they could be planted, he comes to a pause before turning the other direction. ]
You may choose that as well.
[ hopefully luocha doesn't mind a little gardening... ]
golden end for them both tbh, the joint beginning of the church of latter-day frogs.........
[Something softens just a bit in Luocha's smile--maybe on account of the mention of a little extra gift, and maybe on account of the meaning that's recited easily, where the traits of white irises might be concerned. When he nods it's in response to both those things, at any rate.]
Then, if it is a gift entirely of your own volition...receiving such would be quite the honor indeed. [He might have only just sat down, granted, but the direction things seem to be moving now is rather just too interesting for sitting and passively watching; as Hatsutori scans the flowerbeds around them, Luocha slowly rises to his own feet, and drifts to stand beside the man, following the turn of his head to the beds in question and humming in curiosity.] As I recall, irises favor more sun than not, and soil that drains well, as they require more water than average...soil acidity is a lesser factor, since they're adaptive to such things. ..."To raise them"...we'll be growing them now?
[Seems he's familiar with gardening, at the least, if that little flower-based infodump just there is anything to go by whoops--]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rencha energy. to me. is this anything
new curio unlocked: cursed walk-in closet
also im stopping myself from going on another 3-paragraph ipc worldbuild tangent this time or so help me--[Well. The silver lining to this. Is that, at the very least, the coffin isn't somehow crammed in here with them too...
Closets are still not generally very well-suited to holding two people at once, though. Even unnatural closets manned by some incredibly rude invisible entity--"invisible", because there sure hadn't been anyone else in the room at the time, had there? When, upon opening this wardrobe's door to check inside--Blade hovering warily beside him--the both of them had been quite forcibly shoved in by a force unseen, the door slamming quite firmly shut behind them.
And now here they are.
It's quite dark, of course, save for the outline of the closet door in itself, the lighting of the room outside seeping through the cracks but illuminating little. No sign of a light switch even with some fumbling at the walls. Luocha sighs, and tries to turn around...whoops, accidentally stepping back into Blade. Also accidentally bumping an elbow into his--side, probably? ...Oh, alright, so that was definitely his chest he just accidentally put a hand on. Okay. Turning around may already be proving harder than anticipated...]
--My apologies. Are you alright? I can't seem to reach the door from here, so it may need to be you. [To find the handle, of course. To open this closet and get them out, of course!] ...Quite an uninspired prank. Rest assured this is not at all what I was looking for here...
[In fact, Luocha is starting to rather strongly suspect that this entire stop may have been a wash altogether in the business sense, but well. That'll be a bridge to cross in a few minutes, once they're back out. ...It should only take a few minutes, right?]
that is the best meme ever, omg
[ It should only take a few minutes, and yet that's not what happens.
After the first few adventures, filled with shenanigans, Blade thinks he's grown used to the random odd scenario happening here and there. It seems to just naturally come with the territory, while he travels the galaxy with his current employer, especially given the myriad of planets they visit with their own set of quirks. Getting shoved inside a closet, however, appears to have caught both of them off guard. Blade even more so than usual, because it's new. A mercenary like him doesn't end up in situations like this quite often.
There's a first time for everything, he supposes.
The closet affords them very little space. It's proven easily when Luocha all but places a palm on his chest, but he barely reacts to it. No need to make this any more awkward than it already is... Then again, it's not like this is the first time they've had to get nice and cozy. ]
I'm fine. I'll have a look.
[ To the point, as always. His hand feels around for anything that resembles a handle and... finds none. It's a flat surface no matter where he touches. ]
... I don't think there's a way to open this. I can't find the handle. [ ... ] Is it not on your end?
[ If it's a prank, then maybe they've done things in reverse? The way out is actually in front of them? ]
RIGHT...lbr tho it could apply to p much anyone in blade's life not actively trying to kill him--
At the least, Blade's agreeable traits of "not making things weird" and "going straight to the point" readily emerge in the sort of way Luocha has come to find reassuringly reliable. This sure isn't the first time they've had to share close quarters, at this point...but, still. For his own part he's not letting that hand linger on Blade's chest for longer than a second or so anyhow, though Blade's complete lack of reaction to it is also very appreciated. Instead he's moving right on to getting the door back open, which is just as well, since--
--Hmm? There's no way to open it?]
There is no handle over there? ...I suppose this might be a sort of closet with a one-sided entrance... [Since, technically, most closets likely aren't designed with closing in people as an intention. ...But that would mean rather unfortunate news for the two of them here and now, so. Yeah, hold that thought--] The other end, however--right, that's not a bad idea either. Let me try to check.
[There's even a couple of old coats hanging towards the back, because of course there would be, goodness forbid this whole affair be too easy. Anyway, pushing those aside, and then shifting forward to plant his hands along the closet's back...after a moment or two, there's a dissatisfied hum from Luocha's end.]
Hmph. It appears solid. I do not think there is a door here either...and so our options are--oh? [Hold up. There are a few more shuffling noises.] ...Wait, there seems to be something hanging here. Flat, with a frame...a picture? [????] Or--perhaps some sort of placard? ...A light would certainly be useful about now...
it's basically everyone who has a use for him, lbr
When Luocha confirms that there's no door on the other side either, he begins thinking about the best ways to break through their confinement. He's got the strength, after all, to destroy what needs to go down, but then— ]
A placard? Let me see.
[ He excuses himself quietly before he tries to shimmy his way over to where said placard was found. It's a tight fit, but neither of them is carrying anything to light things up in here, so his eyesight would be the closest thing. Even still, the complete darkness makes it a hard read. ]
... There's a story on it. It's hard to make out, but I think—
[ He narrates the part that involves two souls walking into a box where they need to pay a price. One kiss is all that's needed, and then they'll be set free. ]
Is it a riddle?
alas to be a man in high demand when all u wanna do is die 😔😔
[It sure is a bit of a tight squeeze, as Blade shifts over to have a look for himself. Try as Luocha might to flatten himself accordingly against a wall to one side...now that they're both occupying this end of the closet, their shoulders end up bumping a bit anyway--another mildly awkward thing to be happening twice in a weirdly short span of time. Let's worry less about that, though, and more about what Blade's able to make out a bit painstakingly--
Luocha's frown in turn is a practically audible thing.]
That's...well. Exceptionally direct language, for a riddle. If we take that simply as surface-level instruction, though, it would mean...
[...........Well.
Honestly, maybe. It's a bit of a silver lining after all, that it's rather too dark in here for either of them to see each other's faces. In the brief pause that falls, Luocha doesn't have to avert his eyes from Blade, and Blade doesn't have to see the look that crosses his face either, so all that's left to do now is keep his tone perfectly composed. Composed, and not hinting even a bit at the very weird combo of brief feeling he finds himself suddenly having: something that's somewhere between exasperated and...
No, surely, the solution can't actually be as compromisingly simple as that--]
Of course, conclusions shouldn't be jumped to in a situation like this. [Maybe that came out a bit too abrupt, after that pause just a bit too long, but let's not worry about that. More importantly!! There's a slight shift of movenent, where Luocha's standing, as he cranes his attention back in the direction of the closet door.] ...Let's properly assess our options first. Blade, do you think you may be able to break open that door by force? Provided I stay out of the way back here, to give you an optimal amount of room to work with...
he just wants eternal sleep...
... Right.
[ First things first: they might as well exhaust every other possible avenue. He moves towards the opposite side, right where the "door" closed shut behind them. There's not much room for him for him to simply slam into the wooden surface so he does the next best thing— which is punching it with all the force he can muster. Repeatedly. Which is growing sillier by the second, but hey. They might as well try this one before giving up.
But after a while, it becomes clear that this isn't going to work. His closed fist rests against the door before he shakes his head at Luocha. ]
Got any other ideas?
[ Because the alternative would be to consider the placard again, and surely...? There must be another way? ]
Unless you'd rather do what the story is talking about.
dont forget tho, eternal sleep is not the end :^)
(Not that it'll be the only secret staying in this closet forever, as they're soon to discover, but anyway......)
The bad news, of course, is that the punching does not actually work at all whatsoever. Not even necessarily for a lack of strength on Blade's part, either. Luocha is sighing sharply himself afterwards, something a bit surprised in the draw of breath. Because--]
Hmm--just now, when you were making that attempt, I sensed...there is some sort of power at work here. Holding that door shut. Not the result of an individual, but... [Well, frowning up at the closet ceiling is also completely useless at the moment, but still.] This entire compartment might be some sort of...curio?
[He's ever heard of one exactly like this...though then again, it's said there are a countless number of curios in the universe, in countless variations. Not that he has the faintest idea what function a curio like this is supposed to have...
But this revelation doesn't exactly solve the problem either way, and Blade brings up the question of the hour. Luocha is quiet for another moment or so, clearly mulling for any other ideas himself...but, honestly, it's difficult to think of any other metaphor that placard might be implying. And physically breaking out in any other way doesn't seem to actually be an option. So much for other options to check first. ...Hmmm....]
...I do not want to do anything you wouldn't be willing to do. [At length the answer comes, the words set down slowly. But there's an audible shifting sound too, and a couple steps, as Luocha draws back over to Blade.] I'm still unsure of any other way to read that "riddle" over there, but. [....] May I see your hand, at the least?
[You know, the one you were just using to punch a door for a hot minute.]
wow don't curse him like this
😌✨️ wouldn't! dream of it!! also 1/2
2/2
luocha's smooth...
:') gotta build up blade's tolerance for the Real kiss after all--
this is way to go tbh... gg luocha
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
ah...now it's blade's turn to be smooth.......
he's not doing it on purpose
accidentally smooth is still smooth too!!
don't give him too much credit
well now he rly is doing it on purpose clearly???
i'm sure luocha can out-smooth him
he'll try his best huffs
he's already doing it
:') well look......they're both just so thirsty ur honor,
the thirst continues...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
are you tired of being nice? don't you just want to go ape shitt
All the signs were already there, after all--warnings that really should have been heeded. From the strange lack of detail in the business request, to Blade's disquiet ever since they'd first set foot upon the Luofu...truly, this is an occasion where Luocha's curiosity should have left well enough alone. But the odd framing of the trade deal had only drawn his intrigue; he always does have a bad habit, for this sort of thing. Stepping into false setups, just to find out firsthand where the aim really lies. Perhaps if he'd more firmly insisted upon investigating this on his own, this time--ah, but no. If he'd done that...
Well, it would probably be him dead on the ground right now. And not Blade, collapsed in a thickening pool of his own blood, a spear from one of the more heavily-armored mara-struck soldiers driven into his torso. ...A sort of wound even Luocha could not reach fast enough...
--Especially not midway through being restrained, after all. There's a large number of soldiers here indeed--a veritable ambush of them, springing forth from behind the containers in this remote corner of Cloudford where a meeting had been insisted upon. Disciples of Sanctus Medicus, as they now proclaim themselves, while two of them busy themselves shoving Luocha to his knees--twisting his rapier from his grasp, wrenching his arms behind his back, a third pair of hands fisting in his hair and yanking up his chin. "Speak," comes the demand, "Where is it? That coffin you carry?" They've been lead to believe it contains a fragment of Yaoshi's power, it seems. (Luocha had not brought it along to this meeting, on a suspicion. It sits inert in the inn they had earlier discreetly booked all the way back in Starskiff Haven...) "You'll lead us to it now, or you'll be joining your dead friend over there!"
Luocha can only laugh.
Which is a bit refreshing, the sole silver lining of this entire situation. There is nobody here to hear it in this moment, after all—-just as there's nobody here to see it, the sharpness of the smile that settles upon his features. Nobody who matters, anyway...not for the next several seconds. Try as his adversaries might, to force his attention upon them, Luocha's glance remains affixed upon Blade's form so carelessly left behind their backs. His posture is loose, hardly even pretending to struggle; his tone lilts amused, practically mocking.]
Oh? You certainly have killed him, it seems. ...Goodness, I rather wish you hadn't. You're going to regret that.
[What a mess this is about to be. Quite...unfortunate....]
some minor gore + violence, but it's v. vague! i hope that's okay flsdkfm
It all started going downhill as soon as they stepped foot in Luofu's territory. Not only did Blade's memories start going haywire, but he kept quiet about it and didn't say anything until the mara's whispers grew louder. By that point, the two of them were already ambushed by the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus and soon found themselves in the thick of battle. It should have been an easy thing to win— with Blade's prowess with the sword and Luocha's healing abilities, the two of them should have swept this up cleanly.
But Blade is distracted, careless. He sees and hears things that aren't really there, ghosts from a past that was long gone and dead. It's a miracle he hasn't lost his mind just yet, but when the spear is driven right through him, the sight of blood appears to make things even worse. His vision blacks out. His body crumbles to the floor, forgotten by those who killed him in the first place. It's not long before they're hassling Luocha, demanding they're given what they seek.
That turns out to be their first mistake.
When Blade rises, he is deathly silent. There's hardly any trace of himself left in his eyes, a vibrant blood red that betrays the monster that has finally been unleashed. He cuts down the men closest to him, killing them in one fell swoop. Once the others realize what's going on, it's too little too late: Blade murders them all too. This repeats until the only ones left standing are those who were wise enough to run away and the one who brought him here in the first place.
He's now focused on Luocha, but he doesn't say anything. His whole self is covered in blood from head to toe; most of it doesn't even belong to him. The spear's blade is still in his chest, but when he moves to remove that, it's almost mechanical. Automatic. The wound starts to heal itself just like it always does when someone is cursed by Abundance.
But something's wrong.
He hasn't said a single word. ]
you're totally fine!! ty for the discretion 💕
...Especially not now, it seems...
The rising of a corpse is an incredibly effective distraction, at the least; Luocha is summarily unhanded and left where he kneels on the ground, while his would-be captors become thoroughly preoccupied with scrambling for their lives. The gold-black edge of Blade's namesake sings in the air; there is screaming, and flesh rent asunder, and a great deal of blood. Luocha retrieves his rapier carefully, but with little haste. After all, he can tell--and it is already so--that by the time he slowly draws back up to his feet...
Their surroundings are already littered with corpses--that will not be rising, ever again. ...But.
For a long moment Luocha is very still, though his glance alights quite intently upon the features of the last standing man across the way. ...This is a face he knows well by now, of course. The expressions it often makes...and the eye contact it often makes, or declines to. The eyes that look back now, however...
Ah, to say nothing if how very deafening this silence is, too.
...It's a sinking sort of feeling, that accompanies a certain conclusion already being drawn. But even despite that--even despite better judgment--(even despite himself)--the blade of the rapier remains at Luocha's side, pointed downward. While his left hand is what he slowly extends, instead, the charm wrapped around his wrist loosed from his sleeve.]
Blade. ...Come here.
[This is probably a mistake. He is well aware.]
ofc, anytime 💜💜💜 more minor cw 'cause blade, dying, and violence go hand-in-hand
He can't hear Luocha, not anymore. Seeing the charm dangling from the man's wrist should have brought him comfort, and yet— what happens is that it lures him in like a moth to flame. A moth that doused itself in gasoline, ready to set itself on fire. If only it would be easy to snuff out his own life too, but that's not a blessing he'll ever be granted in this lifetime.
Still, he walks towards the other. One step forward, followed by another, lifeless and robotic. The silence would have been deafening if it weren't for his own footsteps, but even that doesn't last forever. All it takes is another second to pass by. He raises his sword, gets into the proper position; a stance beaten into his body until he remembers it even from the grave.
He gives no warning.
And then he charges at Luocha, sword raised until he brings it down in a sweep, aiming to cut across the chest. To get rid of that arm that's trying to offer him peace disguised under the cloak of Abundance.
The only thing that shows he might have been holding himself back is how much slower this attack is compared to how it should be. Perhaps he's still trying to win against the discordance.
Perhaps he might not be completely lost. ]
just lil blade things.....our man do be goin thru it always rip
Someone that could yet be pulled free. If only he could be reached--
Dragging steps quicken, staccato into a charge. The sword lashes out. But Luocha doesn't draw back so much as a pace, no, because it is a slower attack--far slower than Blade would ever normally permit, when truly set upon killing intent--another small evident crack, in the mara's tightening steel grasp. (Is Blade still trying to fight it, even now? Railing against the prison of his own immortal body, overtaken by the mindless will of another?) Something tightens very strangely in Luocha's chest, in noting this, entirely divorced of the lethal danger of the sword sweeping in. ...But there's no time to review such a matter right now.
The delay is taken full advantage of; Luocha's own sword arm whips up to meet Blade's, the slender line of his rapier flashing up in a narrow parry to bat the attack aside, open up his opponent to a counter. Muscle memory, but still no easy feat; even slowed, there's still no cushioning the vicious strength of even this attempted blow, most of the impact shed sidelong but the rest still a reverberating ache through Luocha's forearm, powered through with set teeth. Act fast. This could be finished now, a coolly detached part of him says, as his glance alights upon the split-second vulnerabilities before him. The gaps in the ribcage, the tender hollow of the throat, both unarmored. Impale the heart, pierce the windpipe--succinct deaths. Kill him if the mara ever gets out of control, Blade had told him once.
Though Luocha is no longer sure if death would actually remedy this--not when Blade had just emerged from death in this state. .......And there's that other notion too, stubborn, that doesn't...want to. Snuffing Blade's life by his own hand--the idea sits surprisingly repulsive, all objective judgment aside. After all the time they've been working together. (After other feelings that have started occurring, of late.) Besides. Had they not tested this together, once before? If he could invoke his own healing here...
But he'll have to get close.
--So that's what Luocha does, in the end, against better sense. A risk taken, when he declines to drive the point of his rapier into Blade's body after all, and instead drops it once more to close the remaining distance between them instead. One step, two--reach out with his left hand, and the charm that still glints--to grab at Blade's arm, hold him still.]
Blade, listen--receive-- [--But can he invoke the divinity of the Abyss quickly enough? Even as its symbol at his wrist flares, with the Abundance's healing power...]
he's trying his best.. also feel free to decide if blade does end up stabbing him or failing!!!
Blade hesitates once again, as though he realizes what's happening. Fighting against the discordant noise of mara is difficult enough to do once, but doing it twice is almost impossible— and yet he does it again, in favour of giving the other man the opening he needs. He grits his teeth. His eyes flash wildly with the madness that lurks deep within. But the warm glow of the Abyss is familiar. It's salvation, he knows that. Realizes that it's exactly what he needs.
But the mara barely listens to him.
It pushes forward evermore, forcing his hand to drive his sword towards flesh. This close, it's difficult to get the momentum he needs to plunge it deeper against a solid frame, and even then, there's the added struggle of the part of him that remains lucid holding his own strength back. The blade aims to graze along the other's side, a haphazard attempt to stab the other to get rid of every obstacle that remains standing.
It's difficult to tell if Blade even realizes what's happening. If he remains lucid enough to understand what would happen if Luocha doesn't move away from him—
He wants to tell him to run. To leave him here until the mara dissipates once its hunger for blood has been satiated. But he also knows that it's the last thing the other man will do.
After everything they've been through together, it's not surprising that he hasn't left. But that's why he tries, and tries, and tries to prevent any fatal blows. ]
slaps top of luocha's head, this guy can fit so many stabbings tbqh (It's Fine he can heal!! ✨)
Indeed, were it not for Blade's agonizing attempts at restraint, that sword would have likely dealt a far more grievous injury. ...But it still--
--does plunge into Luocha's side, even if it lands miraculously shy of any vital organs. The burst of pain accompanying it is immediate, nearly wrenching out a cry that Luocha just barely bites back with gritted teeth, frame shuddering as crimson promptly blossoms through clothing. --But. It's nothing new, now is it? Hardly even something major. Painful, yes, but not the worst he has known.
(Nothing like the first time, under the watch of white irises, when the contract was still freshly new and he hadn't yet numbed to the thorns that would accompany it--)The hand upon Blade's shoulder doesn't loosen...tightens, even, in tandem with the other hand that now grabs at the wrist holding that sword. Not even to pull it out--can't, not yet, or risk bleeding out--but to instead drag Blade closer. Pulling their bodies near flush together, a strange embrace. The purpose is two-fold: to rob the mara of any immediate chance to properly extend Blade's limbs for another attack, and also...to bring the Abyss properly and truly to them. To envelope them both...For this close, and in a state this heightened within Blade, Luocha can properly feel the presence of the mara for the first time. A far cry from that stirring thorny prickle in that abandoned cabin back in Jarilo-VI--no, here and now it's fully unfurled, blazes with a violently demanding hunger clawing at the body hosting it. ...It's hard to believe, but it's unmistakable, the tones of the Abundance singing through it...yet another facet, of that ravenous power. Far beyond any typical instance of mara among the long-lived Xianzhou for a fact. The potency is...practically on par with that of an Emanator--and in a vacuum that would be incredibly fascinating. But here, and now, as it tears through Blade despite his most fervent efforts...Luocha cannot help but look upon it with a vehement contempt.
How dare it try to bleed him?
As if they don't both drink from the same poisonous well. As if it has a say. As if he'll be refused. No--so long as he must carry this power--his own resolve will ever remain the same. To use it to its fullest extent, for worthwhile means. And right now, what he wants, is to speak to Blade.
How dare it try to take that away from him?]
...Quiet. Quiet. You will listen to me. [No, Blade hasn't said a word. This isn't addressed to him. There is perhaps something rather distinctly possessive about the way Luocha's hand drags from the line of Blade's shoulder to his collar, to nearly cup at his cheek in the way it curves over the side of his neck--to hold him in place, and more importantly, press the flickering rosary wrapped about his wrist practically against his pulse. The way his tone drops is uncharacteristic, even compared to past occasions of battle, a shift in key from requesting to commanding; pairing alongside it is the intensity upon his features, pain promptly forgotten, and something aflame in pale green eyes as they lock with the crimson madness in Blade's.] Stand down. Repent.
[Overpowering even the blood and death that clings to Blade's frame is the heady scent of white irises; all about their immediate vicinity, the phantom flickerings of the flowers and fluttering petals that signify Luocha's healing field spring to life, that distant sound of faint windchimes accompanying. The mending sensation accompanying it has probably always felt something like a warm breeze passing over, but this time there is a renewed fervency and intensity here. Something that means to wash over the mara, overtake it, drown it. Will it struggle?]
LSDMFOSDFLS pls......... he can't keep getting stabbed like this
there's always room for future stabbing?? also jfc how has it been weeks since i hit this back 😭
future stabbing, i see....... also pls it's okay!! u know i'll backtag into infinity 💜
how they go from chilling over food to combat teamwork tbh
just lil healer things
But he isn't pausing long enough afterwards to watch it disintegrate. Instead Luocha moves right on from there, breath puffing in the cool air to join the mist that swirls, steps hasty and eyes darting as he scans the winding mountain path.]
Dan Heng?
[He was just this way--Luocha's sure of that much, though Dan Heng had been getting into a clash of his own before the footwork of the fight had swept him out of sight. Now, though, sounds of battle drift through the air no longer...and--ah?
There, a head of dark hair and the customary green of his garb. But his silhouette is curled on the ground...which is hardly a posture that bodes well. Luocha's steps quicken.]
Dan Heng! [Kneeling down beside him, he's already reaching to check the young man's vitals, a gloved hand curling over one wrist while he scans his overall body for signs of injury.] Speak, if possible--can you hear me?
this is the only jesus-related shitpost i have rn im sorry
no subject
It might be brief, but in a way it tells almost as much as his words do.
Words that are acknowledged, after a moment, with a slight and further bow of Luocha's head.]
...If it is well, then. Thank you, sir.
[Perhaps he will pray, then. A small thing. Soundless, the only indication being the pause that settles and his own eyes falling closed just a moment, as the gold charm about his wrist is slipped to clasp lightly between his palms. The subject of this brief appeal will go unsaid--if it is even an appeal at all, and not perhaps something rather different...but either way, he'd be loath to tell, even if Hatsutori did ask. It's appreciated, that the latter does not.
And then the pause passes, and then Luocha rises slowly to his feet.]
When you're ready as well, I would be happy to follow you there. ...This is quite a beautiful sanctuary, I must say. [Regardless of his own feelings or alignments, it must be noted; after all, that's just an objective fact. Luocha peers thoughtfully at the cross on the altar, thoughts turning over the shape of Hatsutori's earlier words. Not hard to extrapolate, then...] Was this a place constructed in your name, or that which you now inherit? ...Or perhaps, it is both those things at once?
i spat at that image im crying, would you like a frog in this trying time
[ he's honest when he speaks, it was given to so that he could feel closer to those that comes to and from this place. due to how weak he is, those that know him well find that allowing him to frequent a place where he can feel closer to god will help him some, but he is no different from a caged rat.
he knows every location, he can find every dead end and wonder if it'd ever change— it doesn't, but he doesn't dare complain about that either. this was made for him out of love and good will, that's what he's told all the time, a star should remain in space. this place is his space. ]
......Those that visit may let me listen to their worries, or I can offer them words to revitalize their spirits. There are other things, like what you've brought with you. Sometimes I must get rid of things so individuals are not plagued in the future.
[ he believes that luocha will be fine from how hatsutori perceives him, but it's better safe than sorry. slowly hatsutori pushes himself up off the pew, and with his arms behind his back, he begins to lead the other out through the exit of where he arrived so they can walk around the building towards the back.
as they come upon the garden, they'll have to walk underneath an arch covered in vines upon a rocky path. the leaves within the arch's tunnel allows the sunlight to filter in, the shadow and sunrays dancing along their person and the ground until they come out on the other side to a location filled with flora: trees, shrubs, flower buds of all kinds have made their home in this rather large area. there's no ceiling covering the top of the garden, but around the parameter are bushes in the form of walls to keep in the flowers, and out the trespassers.
in the center of everything is both a small bench for then to sit if interested, and a well in the center to pull water from.
it's when hatsutori takes a step off the gravel onto the grass that the area springs to life, the flower buds curling open, the limb of trees expanding, and their leaves growing. the hedges offer them something too, white roses peeking out from the inside to welcome them both. ]
You may sit if you wish, and I'll take the gloves afterwards.
it's always a good time for a frog lbr. new church pr idea: jesus-themed frogs
[Well, for at least one definition of domain, hm? Recalling Hatsutori's admission that he isn't often allowed to move freely, back during the course of their first conversation, Luocha indeed wonders now if this is where the man is normally relegated. ...There are worse cages, to be sure--but elegant guilding doesn't change the term for the container.
Either way. Aloud, Luocha's words are thoughtfully neutral, quiet in prudence to the remaining people praying among the pews, as he follows Hatsutori back out the front doors. Around the building, and to the enclosed space of...ah, a garden indeed, isn't this?
Flowers and leaves spring open the moment Hatsutori steps upon the grass. Objecticely, a lovely and wondrous sight....and it's also one, that--prompts the slightest pause, in Luocha's own steps. A reaction both to the power evidently exerted here once again--and how very familiar this particular instance happens to be, manifesting like this. Blooms abundant....
Merely a moment's lapse, of course. With a breath taken, slightly tensed nerves settle, and he follows Hatsutori the rest of the way to the bench.]
...Thank you. I think I will sit, yes. Here... [Settling onto the bench, Luocha places the bag into Hatsutori's hands when the latter seems ready to receive it. Then, his glance settles upon his face, studying Hatsutori's features with a fairly open curiosity.]
Will this process result in the gloves being destroyed, I wonder? Rest assured, if so, I would not mind it.
looked up frogs in the bible and saw they were used for evil but we can workshop this
You are right, I'll be destroying them.
[ the other is smart and aware, but it's not like hatsutori never said he wasn't going to get rid of them. besides, his request for him to bring what his gloves are made out of is to weave a new pair, and that's only doable if he has a starting point. god used his surroundings to make men and women, of course, as his son, hatsutori would be able to do the same thing. ]
......If I was not as clumsy, it could have been avoided.
[ upon his face, luocha can see the area has already cleared up where hatsutori bumped his head just like in the image. there's also a warm smile on his face as he seems a bit sheepish that he managed to even cause this to happen in the first place. he squats down, slowly opening the bag to check on the material that's inside, and what he searches for first is where the gloves are. they're a bit weighty from being soaked, but that's fine, hatsutori holds the bag up in front of him to "look" at the design despite his eyes still closed. ]
But with you here, it does allow me to act with your discretion. Is there a flower that you prefer?
[ their trip to the garden did have meaning then, a purpose, as he turns his head towards the other to await his answer. ]
Here, I have tended to different kinds... it'll be useful in making your new set.
omg...ok well. first of all we dip them in some holy water. cleanse the evil...IT COULD STILL WORK--
[The warm and sheepish smile is returned with a mild one of Luocha's own; this, at least, is a genuine sort of sentiment. ...Otherwise, Hatsutori really doesn't seem any worse for wear in the least after the previous night's mild injury--as if none of that had ever transpired at all anyhow. Just as it'd seemed in the picture. He watches attentively as the gloves are examined, but the question earns a faintly startled sort of blink. Of all the things he'd been expecting, it hadn't been quite this, all told...]
Making a new set? I had been prepared to simply purchase another pair at a later date, of course...but, that would be especially generous of you. That is...also rather interesting, I will admit. I have never heard of flowers being involved in the tailoring of gloves as a general rule, but... [Well, he does rather suspect that Hatsutori is about to pull a feat rather beyond the bounds of standard tailoring here. Trailing off with some thought, Luocha casts his glance all about the lovely gleaming of the garden about them--as immaculate a place as something out of a picture book. The fruit upon the tree, the colors in the flowerbeds. ...At any rate. To the actual question at hand, there's only one answer he could give anyhow:] Are white irises included, among the flowers you've grown?
luocha and hatsutori could start a church and cast a miracle that frogs are amphibian angels
[ the same could be said about hatsutori's clumsiness, but their meeting came to fruition because he decided to leave from where he was supposed to be. it was his choice to stray, so what was he given in return for his actions? a bump on the head that isn't there anymore, but also a pair of gloves that remind him he should be more careful. ]
They are not... [ needed, really this is a choice of his. ] all I need is what your gloves are made of, but I thought something a little extra, a gift from me, could be nice.
[ the general rule of creation means hatsutori cannot make things out of the blue, but if he has a starting point then it's all in his power. he doesn't have to do this, but he wants to, it's part of his own will and maybe a small "thank you" to the other for taking care of him like he did, and being so concerned. hatsutori is the type to love attention and while it isn't easy to tell, the act of giving a small gift to the other just seems like something he'd do because it's him. ]
They symbolize faith, hope... sympathy, yes... they can be found around here, we need a proper bed to raise them in.
[ he turns his head left and right in search of where they could be planted, he comes to a pause before turning the other direction. ]
You may choose that as well.
[ hopefully luocha doesn't mind a little gardening... ]
golden end for them both tbh, the joint beginning of the church of latter-day frogs.........
Then, if it is a gift entirely of your own volition...receiving such would be quite the honor indeed. [He might have only just sat down, granted, but the direction things seem to be moving now is rather just too interesting for sitting and passively watching; as Hatsutori scans the flowerbeds around them, Luocha slowly rises to his own feet, and drifts to stand beside the man, following the turn of his head to the beds in question and humming in curiosity.] As I recall, irises favor more sun than not, and soil that drains well, as they require more water than average...soil acidity is a lesser factor, since they're adaptive to such things. ..."To raise them"...we'll be growing them now?
[Seems he's familiar with gardening, at the least, if that little flower-based infodump just there is anything to go by whoops--]
you know that tiktok about the frog army that can be them but frog apostles