tokito ☆ 004
Who: Tokito and whoever else is unlucky enough to be caught outside after 9 \o/ Oh, and the rats.
Where: Warehouse halls!
Style: Whichever =3
Status: Open
[Tokito was not having a good week. People were babbling gibberish, fricking nightmares of something wouldn't go away, he was tired, and now they'd been stuck in this warehouse where people were ( Read more... )
Where: Warehouse halls!
Style: Whichever =3
Status: Open
[Tokito was not having a good week. People were babbling gibberish, fricking nightmares of something wouldn't go away, he was tired, and now they'd been stuck in this warehouse where people were ( Read more... )
She whips her scroll again. Another burst of fire, rats burning left and right and the survivors clambering over dead bodies, devouring, scrabbling and tenacious as heck. Sullen swear words, she turns to run again, when she nearly trips over Tokito.
An angry shout.]
Hey, watch it!
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Watch it!
[But hey she has fire. And is just going to. You know. Stare.]
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Oh gods are those rats launching themselves at her?
One second, she's watching rats doing a valiant attempt at mimicking birds, and the next, she shoves both herself and the other boy against the wall in an attempt to dodge those very same rats, whose teeth aren't so much teeth as they are razorblades.]
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He shoves Rita off with one (his left) hand, flinging aside a rat into the wall with his right, before prying one off his neck.]
What the hell's your problem?
[Oh Rita, and you were trying to be nice to him too D=]
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Cursing angrily, she whips her scroll again, and another dozen fireballs singe hair off rats. Shrieks.]
Dammit, quit the chit-chat. Run!
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Hey! Wha-OI!
[But he still runs because the alternative is apparently to get eaten by rats. His breathing thoguh, is getting unnaturally laboured, when he trips over something (dead rats?), sprawling into the girl]
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[afskojs;adsfl
She smashes face-first into the ground. Suddenly, the rats swarm them, and the cold began its assault. A snarl -- she's not about to go down without a fight, after all, and damn this deadweight pinning her down -- frantic movements, a sudden flare of magic that nearly roasts them both, and yet, the rats still come.
It doesn't take long for the cold to start seeping in from the cracks in her defenses, and by the time it overtakes her, blood is everywhere.]
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[Tokito is prying himself up from the ground when he finds himself overrun by the goddamn rats - and from underneath, the girl's movements only hinder his attempts to right himself. That is, until a fricking fire ball explodes above him and he'd much rather be down.
When it dies down, he rolls off, reducing his efforts to just shielding his face. The fire girl--]
Oi, get up!
[Tokito winces as one gets through and lands on his cheek. More than a few curses escape his mouth when, taken by surprise, he can't help but feel the sharp nips of teeth on bare skin and through a thin cotton t-shirt. Claws dig into his midriff, his arms, as heaviness drags them down - the girl. Snarling at the damn things, he should...at least... help...her ...a bit...too...]
...
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He strides forward, slicing through the mess of rats with little difficulty, sword and blastia working together rather fluidly. He has practiced, after all. He never goes without discovering the full value of something that has been given to him, and he is making full use of it now.
He slices through the rats swarming over Rita and Tokito, and of course he does not hesitate or feel any sort of remorse--they are rats, and surely he has had to deal enough with a similar creature in his lifetime?--as he does so.
And so it is that, within a matter of moments, the small area around them is cleared of living rats, blood coating the floor, his sword and some of his sleeves.
He tsks (blood is so hard to remove), and slices through a rat that dares to jump closer.]
My, this is happening quite often, Rita.
[Slash. Slash. Three more rats cease to live.]
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Her arms, at least, were relatively free. However, pulling herself up was out of the question, and not only that, the stupid deadweight had draped itself over her shoulder, and try as she might, her arms really don't bend at the angle that is required for her to remove the weight by herself. A disoriented huff, and then-
... is that...
No, it couldn't. A groan.]
Ugh.
[She must be hearing things. If anything, she feels like an idiot right now, and Break... well, Break wouldn't be out and about amongst the rats. That would make him as much of an idiot as the rest of them ( ... )
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Well, this is good.
He turns back in time to cut through the rats that took advantage of his momentary distraction, but he knows he can't keep this up for long. He can already feel the effects of this week and this place on him, weighing down his limbs. They have to get out of here. That, or they have to survive until morning.
A tight, dangerous expression, and he calls back without turning.]
Are either of you able to move?
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Dear lords, it's his voice. And why the hell is he here? There's no reason for him to be- and besides, she-
... well damn. The fog in her mind is palpable, but she bites down on her lip, and hisses. Stupid deadweight -- the floor is wet from the blood and doesn't allow proper purchase for her hands, but by the time she pseudo-pulls herself up, her fingers and her palms are soaked.
A weak laugh, and she collapses again. The fatigue. Stupid rats must have done something. Her voice barely carries as it is.]
Move, yeah. Just... not getting anywhere.
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He can read the situation well enough to know that the odds are most certainly against them here. He's stuck with two more or less useless brats, against an army of rats.
...It's almost symbolic.
He smirks, tightly, and steps forward to cut out, to clear slightly more space in which they can breathe.
He retreats a few steps, wary, and let's out his breath in a slight sigh, an indicator of how tired he already is.]
Fighting off this many rats is certainly growing...bothersome.
Perhaps you should attempt to 'get somewhere', Rita dear, or you or your friend shall not be moving anywhere for quite some time.
[A pause, as he beats off the rats that come closer, claws scratching and teeth bared. It's an indication of his weariness, that his reaction time is slowed to the point that one rat is able to pass his defenses and latch onto his sleeve. He makes a 'tch'-ing sound, shaking it into the air and slicing it neatly in half.
He cannot keep this up for long.]
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Dammit. Listen.
[A sharp intake of breath.]
Wave your sword forty-five degrees to your left, and swing it in a wide arc over your head. Concentrate, and imagine a cage of light.
[She's running out of breath, so she takes another. She's giving him the formula to a spell. She just hopes that he has enough sense to just do as she says, seeing as he can't afford to take time off slaughtering rats, and she can't do anything until mister deadweight rolls off.
A grimace.]
It's tractor beam. Lift this stupid... dead-weight off.
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