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… )
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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His hands, rough and calloused, gripped on her arm tightly and the rest became dead weight. Samus couldn't tell if it were accidental, intentional, or a very spur of the moment decision to bring her down too... but before she knew it she was careening for his chest. Or... more like most of her chest was careening for his face.
This would not do.
As quickly as she fell, she rolled off him with a growl and got back to her feet in one smooth movement. Frustration had her hands still tightly clamped onto his, and she yanked Mr. Pirate back up on his feet too... in a less than friendly manner. Her free hand supported his back, and somehow, now, she realized, this was not at all unlike a dancing position. A frown.
"You're clumsy." Her mask was askew, but still on her face.
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But to be fair, he wasn't sure which he would have preferred more. Letting a woman help him up or... getting an overly endowed woman in his face. All right. 'Overly endowed' wasn't exactly quite true either. If he had to compare, not that he was going to, but if he had to, then there was a noticeable difference between Furiae and Samus's sizes. That was not something that should have crossed his mind, but it did. Just... in the very, very back where he could pretend it wasn't there at all.
His expression wasn't so much different from hers. His lips held in distaste for the predicament only became more prominent when he heard her. Caim had never claimed to be the most graceful man, and to be fair, it was hard to be graceful in armour. But he wasn't in armour, was he? No. He supposed not. He did know how to be graceful when it came to dancing, however, which was exactly what it looked like they were about to do.
How long had it been since he'd danced with someone before, anyway...?
There was a brief moment where with his free hand, he thought about smacking her. But there was something that stopped him from doing any such thing. He wasn't sure if it was Ai. He wasn't sure if it was the lingering memories of Furiae. He wasn't sure if it was himself, but he grit his teeth behind his frown and did nothing of the sort. Instead, he shook his head at her, as if to disagree.
Oh, please. Like you would be at all graceful when someone trips you intentionally. Highly unlikely.
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This perpetually silent stranger. She would have to goad him more.
"Are you going to go this entire night without saying a single word?" A couple of steps to the beat of the midnight hour music, and then Samus treated him to a eloquent (and probably emasculating looking) dip. He was taller than her, by far, but again her strength was something to behold.
If, quite literally. She brought him back up quickly and then released him, taking the opportunity to straighten her mask.
"It's still on. You're not trying very hard."
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More because she was prodding at his inability to talk. Except she didn't know it was an inability. She thought he was doing it intentionally. And to be fair, unless Caim really had something to say, or unless he was asked a question, he probably wouldn't have said anything anyway. (Never mind that she'd just asked him one anyway.) So any considerations she might have had probably weren't too far from the truth, provided that it had been the proper circumstance.
The second reason he hated her was that dip. And the strength behind it. It meant that she was remarkably strong and Caim could not - would not - accept a woman somehow proving she was better than him. A man, perhaps he could understand that, but a woman's place was to either be resourceful or to be as demure as Furiae had been. In hindsight, Arioch seemed neither, and Caim had momentarily forgotten why a cannibalistic elf was dragged along on his never-ending journey of torment and anguish.
He pointedly turned his head aside and gestured to his mouth. How did one explain his disability? Was that even possible to do? He was beginning to think it wasn't. Not without something to write with and on, anyway. Unless of course, he'd had Riley there to translate for him. Then he shook his head as he narrowed his eyes at her.
You are nearly the most infuriating woman I have ever met.
Like his look could simply get his thoughts across to her and he was certain the stare didn't even come close. And as if to dismiss her like she were a simple insect, his right hand reached forward. But instead of attempting to remove her mask, he lightly flicked her in the nose with only a small fraction of the annoyance she was beginning to stir up in him.
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Samus quickly became more puzzled than perturbed from the sting on her snout. The blonde took a step back and gave him another long and cold stare.
Who in this school can not speak...?
There were only a few possibilities, and one came to mind more than the others. Samus had only his eyes to go by.
"...Caim."
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A hand lifted to remove his hat and he offered a surprisingly sincere bow. And perhaps it was too elegant for him to do. Perhaps too much of the prince showed through it. He couldn't imagine what people would have thought of him if they knew of his status where he came from. They'd likely wonder why he had turned out the way he had... for royalty, anyway.
The free hand drew up to his face as he remained inclined and he removed his mask for her benefit. And there he was in all of his mute glory. That wasn't a surrender. It was simply him. Being. Honourable. At least for the next few minutes.
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"That explains a lot." She was a little surprised. The pirate's identity was one mystery solved, but that still didn't explain why their eyes crossed at all to begin with, why they had actually managed to share a few steps in a dance and why they hadn't killed each other yet as a result of that.
And then strangely enough, the woman under the mask smirked. Playing with Samus Aran was almost guaranteed trouble. For all the unanswered questions mulling through her mind, she somehow, miraculously, managed to push them aside and accept what it was. Fun? Not quite, but...
It wasn't enough to earn him a favor, but a reward (however tiny and vague it was), she felt, was warranted. Call it a bounty hunter's strange sense of honour.
"I warned you to say out of trouble."
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