| closed / incomplete |

[eatasam]

CHARACTERS: Famine (eatasam) & Kokabiel (kochab)
DATE/TIME: Sometime in the afternoon
LOCATION: Coney Island
RATING: R
WARNINGS: Potential violence and swearing. And evil.
SUMMARY: Famine catches a fly in his web.

Comments

[kochab]

“Yup, very much try.” Hell if he was going to sit still. Kokabiel was tired, of course, like many filling up the city. But he had laid low, low enough to conserve energy, to sleep in small periods of time. And he was an unconventional fighter from birth. Had to be. Born in a weird neighborhood, orphan, two brats to look after, he was no innocent boy. And he just hated to do things the hard way. As soon as he saw the bat coming towards him, he was already moving to the side, sidestepping neatly from something his head wouldn’t appreciate.

And the light show wasn’t just - well, to be redundant - for show. In his sword, it was useless like a pretty bauble. Kokabiel simply drew it back to his right hand, a small ball which was thrown into the other’s face like a would-be fireworks show.

“You know, you guys need to lighten up,” he commented almost too calmly. “Leave it for the big finale instead of trying to off people before time.” Yes. He never shut up either. The angel took a step back, sword deceptively still at his side, his guard arm lightly raised in front of him.

If God was involved in this, he had the weirdest sense of humor.

[eatasam]

A quick step to the side followed to avoid the ball, exhaustion betraying Famine as his body showed signs of exhaustion before his face did. In the way his knees appeared to almost buckle with the swift movement. How how he gripped the handle of his weapon like it was about to slip from his hand. Tired or not, though, he wasn't about to set the bat down and join the good doctor for a bag of chips, a drink of water.

The hood over the horseman's head fell lower over his eyes as he spared a glance at the sword. Not exactly bright, shiny and new. An antique. Kokabiel might have had a special little power, but he was far from worried. It was the sword that could do more damage. Would the bat stand up to an antique blade or vice versa?

Only one way to find out.

"We're not going to kill everyone," he just as calmly informed the fallen, raising the bloody bat again to swing.