SMASHQUERADE
Who: Halloweenies (that's you).
What: A fabulous masquerade ball.
When: Monday, October 31st (that's Halloween). The deep, dark hours of the night (that's like eight PM onward).
Where: The Stadium.
Warnings: ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN ON HALLOWEEN
( It was a dark and stormy night… )
What: A fabulous masquerade ball.
When: Monday, October 31st (that's Halloween). The deep, dark hours of the night (that's like eight PM onward).
Where: The Stadium.
Warnings: ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN ON HALLOWEEN
( It was a dark and stormy night… )
Samus had only a very few close and trusted relations left in this academy that made the merit of these social gatherings and (dressing up in costume with impractical high-heels) worth going to. Too few, unfortunately, to keep her completely distracted and to keep her working mind from turning 'off'. It was difficult picking out many of those in costume, and therefore even more difficult picking out the trouble-makers and keeping an eye on them. Her costume, while it concealed most of her face still allowed her blue eyes to scan across the crowd and systematically identify who she could.
Which would eventually land the Valkyrie's piercing, cold gaze on the pirate. He had a face she recognized but that wasn't enough to settle a name. She'd stare at him, arms crossed and unmoving until she figured it out... or until midnight struck and supposedly all would be revealed.
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In fact, he preferred nothing like that to happen in the first place. Even if it brought him closer to Angelus, he really wanted nothing to do with the ridiculous notion of fighting them here. Especially considering that he felt nothing good would come out of it. The gods were selfish creatures and unforgiving. Caim knew well enough that Caerleon could live in a state of ever atonement and they would simply be punished enough that salvation really would have been the same thing as wiping the world clean and starting over again.
He had since caught Samus's eye. Even without a voice, he wouldn't have said that his ability to judge someone's character was better. That wasn't a sense like hearing or tasting, both of which he liked to think were above average since he lacked a speaking mechanism of the colloquial form. So even as he stared at her, he realised to an extent that he truly was clueless. He didn't know who he was looking at, or how long she'd been looking at him, or why she was.
He only knew that she was and it was going to bother him until he figured out what the point was. His curiosity - the unending and unforgiving curiosity - coerced him to stride across the floor until he stood before her. He watched her carefully, as though she were a serpent, ready and willing to strike, for he believed his reflexes were grand enough that he could evade if it ever came to that.
Yes? He could only think it, but if he'd been granted the ability to speak, it was precisely what he would have said to her.
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And then there were the curious ones, and even more curious when those gazes met. She also had a rather damnable curiosity and held an unmoving, fearless ground as her target approached. He was also fearless, but not foolish and maintained an acceptable breadth of personal space. It was communication on a very basic level.
"..." Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to read beyond a greeting. If she knew this was Caim, she would know to ask only yes or no questions (or at least until she knew he had a writing utensil with him)...
"You are?"
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All the same, there he stood in front of Samus, somewhat clueless as to her identity. Mostly clueless. Completely clueless. Not so much interested in who she was, as he was in why she was staring at him. The pirate getup was not exactly charming in his opinion and if he'd ever had the interest to be honest, he would have said he thought he was more handsome without.
Her question made him pause and consider. To speak at a masquerade was a bit silly. But it was her voice that made his brow furrow. He knew the voice, didn't he? He wasn't quite familiar with too many of the ladies in the academy. But he definitely knew it wasn't the same young lady as the one in the greenhouse. Not to mention that the hair was different.
So he pointed to his mask. Even you should know that to speak would be like handing off your identity. Except it really wasn't, because he still wasn't sure who she was.
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Her mask tilted, chin jutted towards the school's mammoth clock tower a couple of buildings away, then quickly centered back on the pirate. She was stoic and unmoving, spare whatever drifts of wind that made the feathers on her shoulders sway and shift.
"It's nearly midnight. You can tell me, or we can have a staring contest for the next two minutes."
If this was sounding more like an interrogation than a conversation, that was appropriate for the bounty hunter who tended to have more experience of the former than the latter.
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Whether he saw it as interrogation or not, lacking a voice, there was little Caim could reply with. Under a mask, his expressions could not be as amplified as he would have liked them to be. Well, not have liked, but what would have been considered remotely 'useful'. He continued to stare down at Samus and shook his head very slowly, as though to indicate she simply didn't get the situation.
He probably would have spoken - even if only one word - if he'd had a voice. And the word likely would have been affirmatives and negatives only. But he had to make do with what he had and in the end, a staring contest didn't seem like the most terrible thing. After all, she could have been an unsightly creature and if Samus was something, it was far from unsightly.
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They stared and they stared, like two warriors on a windy plain ready to quick-draw at the moment of truth... except this windy plane was a Halloween-themed dance floor and any wind generated was from the movement of others. The air around them seemed to dull and slow down; everyone became just a peripheral object and not the focus of her attention. Time became lost in a haze. One minute seemed to speed by, the other seemed to drag on, purposefully, as if time were mocking her decision to pick out a person who seemed equally as stoic and stubborn as she.
How similar, she wondered...? Samus often felt the only way to truly know someone was to face them in combat. At best, she couldn't even distinguish thick, ratty cloth from any distinguished muscles or scars. Not even his stance was particularly unique. Provoking an attack without good reason wasn't in her nature, however. Still, she stared, debating how easily she could get away with flipping the mask off him, even if just to satiate her curiosity.
Then, the deep bellowing chimes came from the clock tower. The moment of truth.
The Valkyrie did not move. Her mask remained on, and stared relentlessly into her target.
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They were so very blue. Water, clear like that, once existed in Caerleon. Before it was stained with the blood of Empire and Union soldiers alike. He supposed that to some degree, it was still beautiful. But there were differences in the kind of beauty in the natural order of the world versus what a man's hands could create.
Ladies first, he might have said if he could speak. And yet he couldn't. So as per the usual, he said absolutely nothing.
But he did decide to play by the 'rules', as hideously stupid as they were. His hand lifted and with careful manoeuvring, he removed his mask. Except he looked like a convincing man in a convincing wig and beard. But perhaps she'd get something a little more out of his face, even for as covered as it was. Caim didn't think that was likely, however.
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He was still a nameless pirate. Samus continued to stare, unmoving as she tried to figure him out.
"I've seen your eyes before." The blonde could garner that much. She had spent quite some time staring at them when he introduced himself over the network. They were rife with hardship and battle... instability, and perhaps a little loneliness. Try as she might, the rest of his costume was too obscuring for her to put her finger on a name.
That was frustrating as much as it made him suspicious. She shouldn't even care.
It may not of been his intention, but Samus, and for all her dislike of this dance and its stupid tradition, was suddenly feeling rather bold. Bold and inwardly cursing her curiosity. The pirate's silence only made identifying him that much more challenging, and Samus thought to return the favor.
"If you can remove my mask," Samus knew fully well this was a risk--she owed nothing to this person and similarly they may not even be interested in her proposed challenge. She slowly raised a finger and pointed him out.
"I'll lend you a favor in a time of need."
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Her invitation, her offer, enticed him. But he supposed at the bare minimum, her stoic behaviour and demeanour was equally tantalising. It was an odd way for him to view someone, but all the same, it was the truth. Samus was, with or without knowing her, gifted with the ability to draw people in. And even Caim had fallen victim to that.
Perhaps he was capable of sensing her strength beneath everything else. Or perhaps she offered him the kind of companionship that no one else had yet to do. Or perhaps he was simply crazy. And he was beginning to think it was that last one. The leash maintaining his sanity could only last so long. When it broke, which it inevitably would, things were certain to become... interesting.
His eyebrows lifted and he edged in closer to her. He lifted his hands, looked between them, showed them to her in all of their unarmed glory. But how was he to remove something at her face? The idea of moving so swiftly as to lose his disguise was not something he was interested in. He could make the attempt at being gentle, however.
...Whatever it was that she meant by her exceedingly attractive... 'trap'.
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Regardless, gentle was not going to get her mask. If he came within a few inches of her mask, she would be sure to swat his hand away.
As he showed his hands, she simply nodded and lowered hers. She had nothing on her person either except for whatever flimsy excuse of a helmet her mask acted as. The terms of engagement were met with a silent approval.
Her posture hadn't changed since the beginning of their conversation; still firm in her stance, unintimidated and fearless. Her chin tilted upwards slightly, as if to say Come at me bro on and show me what you've got.
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She wasn't going to make it easy, though, and he knew it.
His right hand reached over first, not for her face, however. Well, not the front of her face. His hand shifted to the side, estimating where her temple was. He was expecting her to fend for herself, however, so the moment she had any plans to smack his hand aside, his every intent was to grab for her wrist with the free hand.
Distantly it occurred to him that laying a hand on her was grounds for assault. Or at least a counter attack. Did they really want to cause a spectacle of that magnitude, however?
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Said performances started with a slight apprehension, she could tell. He was feeling her out. That was fine. As expected, his hand was quickly met by hers once he got too close for comfort. Just as quickly, his hand found her wrist. One hand was left, and it was hers.
She didn't need to say anything to let him know that was a mistake. Her free hand gripped his wrist like a vice and twisted it. There was nearly an inhumane strength in her arms, but there was no intent to break his.
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Unfortunately, that meant that for the right person who enjoyed torture and torment, Caim was ripe for the picking. And he had the feeling that for as 'friendly' as everyone seemed to be, there was at least one person who was not so pure. Whoever that was, he would need to avoid them at all costs. Until he saw Angelus again. If he saw Angelus again. He still hadn't been any closer to discovering a way back to Caerleon and he had to assume that as he stood before Samus, taking in stride the pain she sent rippling up his forearm, that clearly his kingdom had not been entirely lost.
He grit his teeth at her and twisted his arm enough that he could eventually over power her grasp and catch the other wrist. His grasp would be far more unforgiving, he thought. At least it could be. He'd avoided excessive force intentionally. She had stepped over that line and he took that as permission to show her precisely what he was capable of. Assuming his grasp even worked to begin with. He'd have to catch the woman with canary hair before he could maintain a hold upon her.
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He had strength and wasn't afraid to hold back. Samus appreciated this.
"Good." The Valkyrie breathed, then tensed and fought back in a show of double arm-wrestling; palms and wrists sliding against skin as they struggled for dominance. Briefly, she considered using her leg to trip him. It might of been a dirty move, but she was currently wearing these damnable heels she was not well experienced with. It was risky.
...but better than sweating and struggling against his arms until one or the other (or both) snapped in half.
Without so much as any warning, she curled her heel behind his and gave a firm yank.
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But Samus was before him. She could see how he was, not that it would help her put the puzzle together. Caim was certainly more than a little pleased with his enigmatic behaviour and really had no desire to change any of that. Who he was, how he operated, how his mind thought, and so on... Those were all things that only the privileged could learn about. Those were positions to be earned. Samus was beginning to gain precisely that, however, and Caim's respect - something equally nigh impossible to obtain.
She was warmer than he was, he thought in hindsight. But he wondered how much of that was physical versus emotional status. He often felt so cold on the inside, whether subconscious thought or not, that he'd assumed all of him was entirely cold. But when the odd things happened - like Ai hugging him, or this rather charming banter with Samus - he felt a bit of him warm up. To the idea. To the people. To the situation. And so on.
He thought he'd had the upper hand with strength that was greater than hers. Brawn was not everything, however, and Caim prided himself on his intellect as well as his abilities with a sword. (To be fair, hand-to-hand combat was not something in which he had prior experience. He didn't believe the number of times he'd punched Verdelet in his head to count for anything.) He would have said that he was both tactically brilliant and a master of taking the initiative, and could have gotten away with it given an impressive history.
But he'd only thought such vain considerations, and they only lasted as long as he was on his own two feet. Her heel caught onto one. He was captured by surprise momentarily and wondered how he'd managed to not expect that from her. (Evidently he'd given her too much credit to assume she wouldn't fight dirty. He found respect with it, however, as he eventually would have done the same.) His balance was taken from him in only a matter of moments. He forgot about his grasp on her while he attempted to regain his composure, his balance, and his dignity.
There was the sinking feeling, however, that as he pulled her this way and that in the process of remaining upright, he would eventually topple over. And it was with every intent as his mind began to work again that he would simply bring her down with him. Ah, yes. Enjoyable indeed.
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