TYL BACKLOG POST

[soul_mods]

Characters: OPEN
Location: Everywhere
Rating: R
Time: Between October 2009 to August 2019
Description: What happened between the present time and ten years later?

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[blue_darkslayer]

Having crested a ledge several meters above, Vergil glanced downwards as he detected not so much movement, but the flailing limbs as something closer to beast than human was barreling headlong towards him. Another berserker Kishin, I suppose. It certainly hadn't been the first, but Vergil was torn between disappointment and anticipation. He preferred the souls of Weapons and Meisters, but he often found that Kishin tended to make for more enjoyable fights. They didn't run nor hide; they fought until they were dead or simply incapable of moving, and they possessed much greater stamina and resilience. He could take his time and enjoy this.

First, he had to take control. Gauging the distance between him and the creature and measuring its approximate reach (that tendril of shadow may be able to extend further), Vergil sprang, ran partway along an adjacent cliff wall and dropped down fluidly to a lower ledge, lining himself up with the Kishin. His right hand gripped Cambion tightly and he settled back into an iaido stance, preparing to draw. His eyes closed for a moment, and he began to murmur beneath his breath in what resembled a quiet chant. Falco Falcon Falconnen... He wasn't a servant of the Witches for nothing. His powers were somewhat diminished compared to even a mod-Witch, but he did possess some magic of his own, to say nothing of his powers as a Kishin and a former Meister.

Opening his eyes, he waited for the perfect moment and then, a spoken command: "Cut!"

A powerful gust of wind rocketed forth as he sliced the space in front of him with his katana, the sudden wave solidfying into the visual form of a translucent blade of force. It scythed cleanly through the mountain air with a keening noise, heading straight towards the intruding Kishin. It wasn't nearly enough to kill it; Wind Talon was an opening move that he used to ward off enemies or open a momentary gap in their defenses. Of course, left un-guarded it would actually cut into the enemy and injure them moderately. The tendrils that the enemy possessed gave Vergil small concern, so if there was a way to halt its advance for even a moment he'd capitalize on the moment as best he could.

Without waiting for the results, he sheathed the black blade and stepped halfway over the ledge in front of him. He braced his feet against the cliff wall and launched powerfully, propelling himself forward to streak rapidly towards the Kishin like a comet, shrouded in his purple, burning aura. His right hand crossed his body, still gripping Cambion in preparation for the second draw as he hurtled downwards, whereas the air began to distort around his left promisingly.

[soulparadox]

Not a witch. Need the witches's souls. The fear and the hunger were distorting his thoughts that much more. Get it out of the way. Cold thought slipped through and stayed within his mind along with the other disjointed thoughts. The immediate threat was to kill the Kishin in front of him. Eat its soul. Devour the souls it holds. Move to the next. If it were not for the fact that his movements were less than fluid, one could almost think that he was thinking logical and not just that of a crazed Kishin.

Up the mountain. Need to get to the facility. The souls. So hungry. His thoughts abruptly ceased as soon as the first attack came his way. The shadow tendrils snapped out to the mountainside, wrapping itself around a ledge far out of the way of the strike, before abruptly jerking Nataku toward it. Out of the way, but dragged just a bit across the terrain to get to safety. The force of the attack whipped past his head, almost deafening him in the process. He turned his head slightly at the buzzing, but otherwise ignored it. His left arm - though a ribbon - snagged and ripped slightly before hanging off the ledge that his shadow had clung to. Dangling in a precarious position like he was not sure if he would rather drop or continue upward. Red washed over the white material on those small tears before he pulled himself up onto the new perch.

Altair would be proud. So scared. So scared. More disjointed thoughts.

Tear the whole mountain apart. Tear the facility apart. Tear that one- His head turned upward back toward his initial goal, before remembering himself. Too far. Can't reach. These thoughts now about the one heading toward him. It was not ideal or wise, but he began to have both shadow and his own partial weaponized body dig into the cliff side to climb his way upward to where the other was. Few shadows hold him onto the rock while the others swung out wildly as a means to try to catch the other - constantly snapping out with the ribbon and blackness to ensnare and break. Crack open and eat the souls.

[blue_darkslayer]

Vergil watched intently as the other Kishin wrenched itself out of the way of his oncoming attack with the use of its tendrils. It appeared as if his earlier estimation of its abilities had been somewhat correct, even if underestimated; in terrain like this, with steep cliffs and numerous protrusions of rock, his opponent possessed enough of an advantage to keep up with his own extensive maneuvrability. Coupled with its extensive reach was fast reflexes, together proving that this creature was on a level that Vergil hadn't faced in quite some time. The thought intrigued him immensely; fighting had been all too easy, of late. In the precious fractions of a second that he had, he reassessed his opponent.

With the power he had mustered, he could more than likely halt his forward motion and ground himself on one of the cliffs. With the Kishin below him, he could easily cause at least one of the ledges to collapse, sending rock hurtling down the mountainside to crush it. Its movements were somewhat erratic, which made it difficult to read, so forcing it to continue evading would provide an opportunity to analyze it for any recognizable patterns. At best it may even successfully injure it; it depended on the state of the creature's mind, overall.

That brought forth another approach: attack from below. Vergil could alter his trajectory with the power he had already gathered and quickly overshoot his target to land further down. Crazed Kishin Eggs possessed the habit of attempting to leap onto their prey, overwhelming them with their greater strength; it also left them completely open to counter-attack, and if this Kishin was as strong as he seemed, the need for an opening to present itself was all the more necessary. Even if it intended to trap him with its tendrils, it would be very unlikely for it to be able to dodge a Wind Talon whilst mid-attack.

The thought processes droned at the back of his mind like dull murmurs. To Vergil, it was as if somebody else was imparting supposedly 'useful' advice in a monotonous voice, utterly uncompelling. Were they given precise words, to him they might have sounded mildly muffled, or rather, partly drowned out by another sound. Far more audible was the quickened pounding in his ears of the sound of his own blood pulsing in a metronome. Bloodlust. His aura began to steadily thicken with darkness and then writhe about him more animatedly, stirred to life of its own by the promise of wanton violence. A grin carved itself across Vergil's countenance.

The time for thought was long over, and with utter abandon the Kishin continued in his trajectory towards the other. Cambion whipped from its saya and across to Vergil's side, dark shadows trailing in the wake of its passage, before thrusting forward to strike like a snake for the promised prey before it.

[soulparadox]

It was not ideal - the manner in which he was ascending toward the other Kishin. Frenzied motions of digging shadow and weapon tendrils into the mountain side to sprint his way to where his enemy was, it naturally caused large holes in the rock. Some shattered under both the force of the initial strike and weight of Nataku. Not to mention, the swinging of the other that were not helping him ascend occasionally slammed against the mountain, causing small accidental rockslides below his direct line of movement and unsteady vibrations to where he was hanging on. The only thing that kept him from losing his balance completely, from falling when the cliff support fell, was the speed at which he was moving across the cliff side.

If he were to stop, it was uncertain if he would be at a place in the mountain that would hold, or if he would fall. If he were more himself, he might have cared and thought to find a safer means to climb along with facing his opponent.

Kill. Kill. So hungry. The ribbon whipped out toward the Kishin yet again, finally able to reach the other. His eyes widened slightly when the blade tore through the tendril. Sudden red burst forth, splattering down to where Nataku was - ruining both clothes and face still tilted upward to keep his enemy in his line of sight. Get it away. No longer caring for his own bones or how injured that he would become, the injured tendril continued to strike forward - tearing itself more into the sword in the process, until all of the material had turned red down its length. Wrapping around the sword, it tried to coil around the Kishin's hand to hold the sword where it was. Tried to break both the hilt and hand that held it.

The shadow tendrils that were free fell backward to coil around themselves. No longer blunt ended as the twisting of the blackness turned them to points. Take its soul and the other souls inside. Twisting of them continued to keep them moving like a barrage of barbs, each struck forward at random - some swinging about just as randomly to try to cut into the other's body, the others striking forward to pierce. Even if it seemed like he was thinking logically and beyond constricting, restraining; it was more just the hysterical desire to see blood that was not his own. If he caught and held the other, it would not be seen.

Of course, the issue of his initial ascent came back. The rock began to fracture as Nataku hanged where he was. Noise of the breaks was more than audible, but the Kishin could (or would) not hear it. The crazed wish of a creature that wanted retribution for the injury given would not allow him to move from his ample position to strike. Breaks spread out around each of the tendrils that were dug into the mountain wall. It would not be long before he would fall, bringing a rush of rubble with him in the process.

1/2

[blue_darkslayer]

There were no signs of recognition that had registered with Vergil after his black blade pierced ribbon; his eyes disregarded even the mere shedding of blood. All that mattered to him at that moment was that his assault had been halted before it could reach its mark. After the heavy impact of colliding with the Kishin, he strained to force the sword in closer to pierce the more inviting flesh, righting himself by slamming both legs down to the unstable ground beneath the two of them. With regained traction, he exerted his strength in an attempt to overpower the other. He struggled, teeth gritting under the effort.

They then curved into an indulgent grin. His senses were awoken to the tendril that had ensnared his sword and begun constricting his hand, slowly crushing it under its surprising strength. The pain lanced through him in profane ecstasy as it cut into the flesh, etching long, crimson lacerations. Pain. It was a catalyst for Vergil, not a hindrance. After years of fighting, it had become a whispered promise. He gasped sharply in twisted gratitude as blackness obliged him and continued to drive into his body, viciously puncturing his shoulder and side. He shifted slightly to evade an attack that speared for his neck. No, not enough, yet.

His hand lashed out and caught the tendril as it was about to retreat backward, digging his fingers into it like a claw. He attempted to force that, too, towards the other Kishin. A logical person may have attempted to use it as a weapon, but he merely grappled for the mere thrill of the struggle against a power that could stand up against his. The limb writhed into his palm and began shredding it, digging deeper and deeper into his skin, until blood was trickling from both hands. His body was weeping with joy. At the same time, though, he was growing aware that Cambion was becoming more firmly lodged into the tattered ribbon, even as the tendrils lodged into his own body were becoming stuck.

2/2

[blue_darkslayer]

That was the joy of Kishin fighting Kishin; their injuries were already hardening. They could both withstand punishment well beyond that of a fragile human, reveling in the chaos of violence. He needed more. He released the flailing tendril, receiving a parting caress as it departed. His pupils dilated and he demanded, voice rasping and deep, "Come on! Maim me! Hurt me!" His words came out distorted, unholy; it was a side-effect that had manifested after he had devoured a great number of human souls. Under the sway of Soul Adrenaline, whenever he spoke it was multi-tonal, as if more than a dozen people were speaking the same words simultaneously; a host of departed souls moaning an echo. He sounded as if he were possessed.

With the demand issued, power pulsed within Vergil's left hand, whisking up motes of hardened blood, before he brought a clenched fist crashing down on the uneven, shifting rock at his and the Kishin's feet. It exploded in a cloud of dust and accompanying roar, causing the cliff they stood on to collapse and hurtle the both of them from their perch. Flashes of crimson cascaded through the air between the Kishin. Katana left ribbon and tendrils left flesh as Vergil kicked out at his opponent to free himself. He was not patient. A blue glow surrounded him and, in a blur, his form became translucent and shot away to a nearby falling chunk of rock, which he then used to propel himself forward again for another attack.

1/2

[soulparadox]

His gaze slipped away from the other Kishin's face to the hand, watching the ribbon crush the bone. Feeling it first before actually seeing it happen. The snapping feeling as he wanted to see the white protrude from the skin before it were covered in red. Morbid thoughts and wishes that he would not normally have, but they came to him far more often now than naught. Did that mean that they were now the norm? He did not want the other one to be able to use that hand anymore, since it was the one that brought him initial pain. Not logical. Not reasonable. Simply just wanting it gone. The tendril began to constrict and try to twist the hand off, but too must blood was being lost. Too much energy to keep it within its weaponized form that all it continue to do was keep trying to hold the hand and sword in place so it could not be used.

Does not matter. Does not matter. He gave a slight shake of his head as the shadow spikes tore into the Kishin. All the while, he began to laugh - or had he ever stopped? The sound was almost comforting to the fear that he felt. (Even as it allowed - forced - him to taste the other's and his blood. Even if it just made him hungrier in the process for the other's soul, making his already erratic fighting that much more.) It was the laugh that had been given to him by Prussia. Another violent shake of his head as the fear took hold of him. Enemy. He is my-! It was more difficult to pull them out once they had penetrated - caught, trapped. The red not quite staining the black of the shadows' form.

Nataku tore his attention away from the hand as he felt one of his tendrils be caught. Strange to be able to feel them all separately and know which one "needed" his attention. He glared now at the other Kishin's face - silently asking for him to let it go as it continued to try to pull away on its own. Digging into the palm to try to tear through if it would not be released on its own, but to no avail. Still, if both hands were injured then the sword would be useless. Except. Except that their wounds were already healing. Deathscythe. I wanted to…! More irrational thoughts and he disliked them. Hated them. They were interrupting what it was that he should be doing presently.

His chin ducked down into his chest upon hearing the other's voice. The rage and hunger that were in his eyes flashed to a fearful look. He did not like this one's voice. This one's power. But the terror disappeared easily into a sea of unreasonable fury. Kill it. Get it away. Get it away. Nataku would not talk to the other, because he had also become frightened of his own words. They made just as little sense as his thoughts did, but at least he would not have to deal with both. The only time that they had calmed to make sense was when he was within the Calming Wave Community. Lost. Lost. Lost that fight. Still too weak. Too vulnerable. One-hundred more souls.

It was then that the cliff side began to break and fall. The shadow tendrils within the mountain as makeshift holdfasts were trapped beneath the landslide that was caused, dragging Nataku down to seemingly be crushed by the stones as well. It took almost too long for him to be able to do anything to save himself - wind knocked out of him when the other Kishin had used his body to escape the falling rock. It felt like more was broken in that strike. Blood already being tasted in his mouth. But was that the one he was fighting? Was that his own from previous injuries? Or was it some internal damage? Difficult to tell. Difficult to discern one from the other. Does not matter.

[soulparadox]

One of the stones caught him in the shoulder before the shadow tendrils wrapped around his body forming a temporary cocoon. Showing almost logic, but it was purely defensive response in being unable to escape the rock slide. Those that were not able to escape the rock were torn off, leaving stains of red down the cliff side. Curled in on himself, he remained as he was until buried in rubble at the bottom of the mountain. Tearing through the rock, the shadow and ribbons removed him from his almost death. The ribbon that had been holding onto the katana reverted back to his human arm, unable to stay in its weaponized state any longer - too injured even with the blood makeshift healing it.

Once more, he was too dazed from surviving that brush with death to avoid the attack from the other Kishin.

1/2

[blue_darkslayer]

Time itself seemed to slow to a crawl for Vergil; having propelled himself forward, he was aware of himself and the enemy Kishin momentarily suspended in mid-air whilst surrounded by the deadly rain of shards and small boulders of rock. He was unconcerned by the dangerous storm that surrounded them, it could batter and maim him later. At that very moment he wanted to cut and stab and revel in the carnage. Too slow, too slow! The other was still beyond his reach and every wasted millisecond was torture. It was simply falling, completely unmoving except by gravity's invitation. It was so inviting, as if it were merely waiting for him. You made a promise. Pain.

Vergil closed his eyes, absorbing the sensation of the air whipping about his body. It would be so easy, to fall. To smash and be dashed upon the mountains, to drink in their bottomless offering of bliss and torment, but he had already begun communion with another. That was when he heard the subtle thud of stone colliding with the body of his partner. How dare he. He felt betrayed. This was between them, and the other had no right to be so selfish. To his eyes, as the iris of shadow surrounded the other Kishin protectively and stole him away, he was being abandoned. No. Pain of a different kind tore through him. Then, the unbridled fury of a lover scorned.

"Do not deny me!" he roared in anguish, his words being stolen by the rushing wind. Cambion scythed out in a dark blur, attempting to tear into the sphere before it in a desperate attempt to extract the one who had fled its sight. Blackness met blackness, and slightly more of the former came away from the latter, but the attack was ineffective except in liberating those few tattered shreds of ghostly matter. Vergil snarled. More blood, then she will come back to me. Not the Kishin but Pain, his true mistress. The sword whipped back and forth, shedding more layers from the cocoon, but the effort proved futile until they both finally struck the ground with a resounding crash.

2/2

[blue_darkslayer]

The mass of black absorbed the impact and Vergil sank into it slightly, jarred but otherwise largely unaffected. The barrier was beginning to gradually unfurl, and he meant to administer his loving affection to its occupant. "Falco Falcon Falconnen..." A miniature vortex began to spin itself into a frenzy, his left fist serving as the eye of the storm. His aura of dark ki flickered slightly; it was borderline impossible to perfectly maintain the balance of all the different facets of his power, but at this moment he didn't particularly care. Let it serve as an invitation. If it would invite love in kind, all the better.

That is when the remainder of the rock that had shadowed his descent began to rain down upon him. A large chunk struck him in the center of his back, another grazing his cheek with a caress of entreaty as he turned his head to regard that which bothered him with contempt. He had to deny it. Do not tempt me, I am with another. He could see a much larger boulder descending upon him relentlessly, full of promise, so he rewarded it in kind. Vergil swung the fist that had been meant for the Kishin at the oncoming debris, the roar of effort released masking anything that might have resembled spoken word. A wave of force twisted in a complex spiral in the wake of his attack, propelling it forward with greater strength.

His fist collided with stone, the impact of which sent a sound akin to a gun-shot snapping through the surrounding mountainside with pursuing echoes. The boulder shattered in a burst of lesser shards and a cloud of dust, spraying shrapnel in all directions, some of which ripped shallow rents across his front. The exquisite feeling of a dozen stinging wounds were a parting gift. "Go." Obediently, Vergil turned and looked down at his opponent, who was laying back against the bed of debris with eyes partly-lidded, almost like the Kishin were a nubile maiden newly wed, on the night of promise. It brought a smile to Vergil's lips.

One leg swung upwards in preparation for a devastating axe-kick, before plummeting downwards to crush into his lover's torso.

1/2

[soulparadox]

Noisy. So scared. So hungry. Difficult to say, even for the clone, if he were talking about the sound of the rock crashing down around him or the other Kishin's voice. It was frightening to feel the rock pile down upon him, around him. To be uncertain if what had been striking his makeshift cocoon were rock or sword. It was not perfect protection, which was why he was dazed in the end. Saving from too much injury, but still feeling each jolting slam into the ground and stone until it finally stopped. Could he still bruise? Could he still feel such strain? If he were saner, if he were darker in thought and not just mostly randomized words, these would be the sort of questions that he would ask.

Dazed and simply wishing to escape from the blackness, he had started to throw off stone and tendril from his body. Not caring if it hurt the other Kishin as he was just frightened of being in his own coffin now. Coffin. Coffin. Put the other in its own. Eat the soul. There would be no coffin for those that lived in Death City. Within this world. Their bodies faded to nothing and their souls would be feasted upon by something, sometime. Everything would continue to live on in something else that carried that soul. Never-ending chain. Their souls. Just as he was able to see the sky once more, it could almost be called bittersweet.

Kishin. The word slipped out first through his mind before his thoughts could catch up to what it was that was happening. A familiar and unfamiliar pressure upon his chest. If he were not what he was, he was certain that the bones would have collapsed inwardly - torn through viscera to his heart. Heart? Uncertain if it existed still. A moment of sanity in his insane thoughts, but it was really idle thinking before the pain burst forth. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Nataku still did not respond to pain properly. It was not that he couldn't feel it, couldn't register it, but he did not know how he was supposed to react to it. Not even having the sense to scream out, if need be. And, the need was present as he was knocked further into the ground. Digging stone and rubble across his back and sides of his body; tearing his clothes even more than they already were, as the shards of broken rock tore itself in. Impaling themselves in various angles and manner.

More blood filled his mouth, filling it completely that even through his constant and uncontrollable laughter it slipped through his teeth, before the injuries began to heal themselves. Mine. It is mine. His gaze slipped upward toward the other Kishin, before his eyes darted to the side just as he was going to reach the other's face. So scared. One of the tendrils of his shadow struck out toward the leg that struck him down, to launch itself through the back of the knee until it was out of the flesh to wrap around the appendage. His stare off became more of a glare once he felt the attack hit its mark.

2/2

[soulparadox]

Whipping backward with the leg still caught with the shadow tendril, he dragged the other Kishin away from him as the other shadow ribbons helping to push him up. Like a puppet who was trying to be his own puppet-master. His breathing was much more labored, pained; even if he couldn't understand that was what it was. Finally swallowing the blood that had pooled in his mouth. Reaching down, he grabbed onto the tendril that held his enemy to help the shadow to swing the body into the mountain. Break. Break. Break. The words in his head accented each time he swung back with the tendril to make another swing. Turn red. Turn red. He didn't know if he was hoping the rock would shatter under the force of the Kishin's body crashing against its stone-face or the body itself. Does not matter. Simply break. Break.

It was not working. His eyes widened slightly before he finally released the Kishin, jerking the tendril out of the leg roughly. Looking about the terrain, his thoughts had hit the point of irrationality that he could not simply understand that it was impossible for either of them to win this particular fight. No, no, no, no. One hundred souls. Falling down on his knees, he brushed his hands across until he picked up one of the broken rocks. Break. Holding it carefully, he started walking back over to where the other Kishin was. His eyes darted about the area like he thought more and more enemies would appear before him - sneak up behind, tear the souls outside of him. He returned his thoughts to his current enemy, holding the rock with the crazed plans to break the other's skull open with it.

[blue_darkslayer]

Having swung down with the kick to impact upon the Kishin's ribcage, Vergil began to slowly but forcefully crush it beneath his heel, his eyes soft as he ground it into the jagged rocks. The gesture was neither rushed nor desperate; it was a gradual but persistent sentiment of encouragement. Why don't you love me? He couldn't understand why his partner withheld, savouring bliss all for himself. Perhaps he needed further urging? The tip of Cambion's blade swayed forward until it rested an inch away from between the Kishin's eyes. Perhaps it was like all the others who had been weak, giving him false hope and empty promises? He-

-Ah, it took you long enough, my love. Pain blossomed from his right knee and he smiled tenderly. He made no effort to resist as the tendril lovingly entwined with his leg and, after the Kishin rose before him as if answering his call, whisked him off his feet and smashed him violently against the mountain wall. Vergil released a shuddering gasp as his back collided with stone, causing his body to spasm with gratifying pleasure. He had not been disappointed, after all. No, no partner of his had ever injured him so, nor stayed the unswerving touch of his blade. It had yet to touch true flesh, and it was growing ever more unlikely to, now. Could he gift me with the final pain? The notion intrigued him.

He looked on, rapt, as he was swung again and again relentlessly into the mountain's embrace, each departure leaving him more and more mangled in body. His limbs limp like a ragdoll, Cambion slipped from his hand and dropped to the ground beneath it as his fist smacked against the hard surface. On the final swing he heard more acutely than he felt the crack of the back of his head, before he was finally dropped unceremoniously. His head swam in a dull haze and his mind again slowed to a crawl, though in a phenomenon rather the opposite to the experience he had been granted prior. His vision blurred and the dark, churning aura of his Soul Adrenaline flickered out like an extinguished flame. He made no effort to move; he wasn't entirely sure that he could. The pain that he had so yearned was falling away from his body in a wave of numbness, abandoning him.

All that he was aware of, then, was the blurred shape of a humanoid figure moving steadily towards him. At first he merely watched, his breathing husky and ragged. Both the choice and inclination of whether or not to die was beyond him, as he was, as his mind was too far gone between insanity and possibly head trauma. He reacted merely from instinct and mental function of a far more primal nature. The sword had always been a natural part of him for as long as he could remember, and he was not even conscious of his hand gripping the black katana and raising it before his body, projecting an imaginary straight line towards the nape of the other Kishin's neck longingly. Nor did he feel the half-smirk that drew across the right half of his countenance.

Vergil was slumped bonelessly between the rocky ground and mountain wall, bloodied and horribly beaten, and in a state that to an onlooker likely appeared helpless. Still, Cambion was held before him unswervingly and invitingly. Already he was regaining his focus, and even if his body protested from ill-treatment strength was trickling back into his arms and legs. He blinked. He couldn't remember the last time he had been in such a state, if ever he had been. Ah. Only one person had brought him so close to physical ruination: Mifune. Straightening slightly, his chin rose as he regarded the other Kishin as if seeing him for the first time. He blinked, again.

"You should join with me," Vergil said evenly, his voice clear in a manner that sharply contrasted against the savaged body that it originated from. The words had simply escaped him, as naturally as exhaling after inhaling, and he seemed to hear the words as he spoke them like he were somebody else. He couldn't recall framing the thought.

[soulparadox]

His steps stopped as soon as he heard those words. The rock held in his bloody hands - still red, still dripping down the stone yet to heal over - above his head to drive it down, but it was lowered carefully to be tossed slightly to the side. Nataku felt the head tilt slightly in the old manner that conveyed the confusion that temporarily overpowered the fear and hunger. Join? Eat? The initial crazed thoughts that slipped about was that the other Kishin was asking if he would be willing to let his soul be devoured. He flickered his gaze over toward the sword, but he was not attacking him. Surrender? So hungry. No, not surrender.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. To ask meant that he would have to hear his own voice, again. It had been awhile since he had heard it outside of his own head. Though, his inner thoughts were distorted with raw emotion; so, it was difficult to say that it was how his real voice sounded like anymore. The twitching of before returned - his good arm switching between being its weapon and passive form rapidly.

Raising his hand, he wiped at his mouth to clean it of the blood and saliva. Uncertain if the motion was just betraying more of his uncertainty and confusion, because he was unsure what else that he should be doing at this moment. Either way, the cleaning went poorly. Only dirtying it more with grit and blood from his hand, as he felt his mouth move against the inside of his palm from his continued laughter.

Scared, scared, scared. His hand finally lowered away from his mouth. The other Kishin was not much of a threat now. Another brief logical observation even as his eyes continued to scan the terrain like he believed there were more enemies about in waiting. Not too far from the truth. Returning to wiping at his mouth, he could feel his throat moving to try to actually say something. His eyes widened with his eyebrows knitting in vague sense of concentration. Pressing his hands against his neck, lightly strangling, he did not want to hear his own words anymore. No, no, no.

His head shook so violently that he had to take a seat on the ground. Still just a bit dazed from before, he just ended up making himself more lightheaded. Nataku lifted his head up to glare at the other Kishin, blaming him for the trouble that was happening to him. Dropping his good arm away from his neck, he shifted it back to the weapon form to launch out to wrap around the other's neck. But it halted before it touched - tore - through to the stone behind. Hovering in the air, he finally let it curl back to where he sat and lowered his hand from his throat. Reddened skin exposed from how much he was smothering his words, or shared red from the blood on the inside of palm. The words were still coming whether he wanted them or not, if the other Kishin were not around-

"Join? Approve? Kesesesese." Nataku could not get himself to stop laughing, much like the first time that he was assaulted with the Madness Wave, and did not try to curve his words around the laughter. No, his words did not make sense to him, but he tried all the same. Not that even his thoughts made much sense. Easier to focus just on getting rid of the fear and hunger. Now to get rid of the confusion. His fault. His. "You?"

[blue_darkslayer]

Vergil did not so much as flinch as the tendril lashed out at him, threatening to decapitate him. Considering the state that he was in, there was little to no chance he would've been able to stop any attack launched at him, regardless of the fact that Cambion was positioned conveniently for defense. More importantly, though, he was surprised to find that he did not wish to fight. That in itself was a first for the bloodied Kishin that had only moments before been enthralled in the entropy that was his ritual worship of pain and destruction. That sensation of desire and ecstasy had vanished utterly.

All that he was left with was an unpleasant, dull ache that blanketed his body, but was most centered at his temples. The fog that had seeped into his head after the collision with rock had lifted, only slightly, such that he was growing more conscious of a number of things. The first was that his powers had become unstable and Soul Adrenaline had dissipated, but the second, of much more importance, was that his mind was less distorted by the insanity that he experienced when utilizing it. The madness had been only a gradually more noticeable problem until rather recently, but he did know that it normally took time for it to fade away. For it to disappear so suddenly was strange.

He could only assume it had something to do with the head injury. It suggested a means to restrain the fluctuation in his state of mind, but... a concussion did not strike him as an appealing 'cure', especially given the likelihood of causing more permanent damage over the long term. The alternative option was not much better, however, and the fight just now had made it all the more apparent that he couldn't continue to avoid it. Doctor Crane had been repeatedly attempting to compel him into service with the allure of drugs to control the insanity for quite some time, and Vergil had stalwartly refused to become dependent to the madman each time. He would consider his situation later, but for now...

"Yes..." he said, slowly. He didn't elaborate at first, as the possibilities were only now quite belatedly occurring to him. There would be certain advantages to having another Kishin around. More importantly, for the time being it would mean not dying, which now under more rational logic seemed quite preferable to having his head pulled off. He was rather fond of it. If this creature could be controlled or restrained to some extent, though, it would mean having somebody watching his back that shared the same motives. Among the Witches and their slaves he was set apart by his nature as a Kishin, and he had no doubt that they would dispose of him once his purpose had been served.

"You and I," he continued, "Become stronger together, and find even more souls." He was careful to keep his speech even and easy to understand. "Allies. Friends." God, it was perfect. The pair of them could do so much more than either one of them could achieve singularly. Traveling alone meant an inherent risk of accidentally encountering Shibusen's dogs, and he had to grudgingly admit that a competent Meister and Weapon partnership were his equal in combat. Having even a single ally with him tipped the scales drastically. The logistics and tactics behind such an arrangement...

"We could even take Meister souls, Weapon souls..." He'd consider the details later. The temptation Vergil provided was genuine, though, and appealed to him as much as he intended for it do so for the other, even as he spoke it aloud. The souls of Technicians were known as something akin to a delicacy to Kishin Eggs and their more advanced kin, to say nothing of the fact that they contained much more power from the collective number of other Kishin Egg souls they themselves had acquired. Even if two Kishin were forced to share their spoils, the sheer amount of power gained more than compensated for the division.

[soulparadox]

"Souls. Kesesesese." Of course, his mouth only started to water at the thought of consuming the promised meal, followed always by the laugh. It was then that the other Kishin has his undivided attention. No longer scanning the area so that he could search for other enemies whilst his once enemy was talking. Kneeling down, he tucked his knees underneath his chin as he listened adamantly. His head gave a slight tilt as he thought that this seemed reminiscent to the pose which he would take as he would hear Watson tell tales of all the adventures that Holmes and he went on. Another brief moment of sanity and recognition before it faded completely away to devote completely to his hunger and fear.

"Friends?" Nataku repeated every other word to show that he was listening and paying attention. Friends? The word repeated with the same incredulous manner as he said before; though twisted and warped with his fear of the word. Alone. All alone. No, no, no. Tassadar. Watson. He rocked a bit on the worn heels of his shoes. The time that he spent out of the care of anyone, he did not enjoy it. Trapped in his own maddened thoughts and constant starving state, he believed that he understood what suffering was (when he actually could step back to see himself). Still, most of the time, he was only vaguely aware of his tortured state. More concerned about consumption of souls and ridding himself of fear to be too introspective of his mental and physical state.

"Meisters. Weapons." His arms came over his head as he thought of the Calming Wave Community. He made a few pathetic whimpering at how he had almost died, how he had lost. Lost, lost, lost. Even though, he was granted a brief moment of sanity and able to actually think out how he could attack; he still was unable to win. Nataku rubbed his face against his knees, pressing his forehead into the ruined material. The fear overtaking him before he was able to take in what it was that the Kishin was offering. His head gave a slight tilt as he finally understood what it was that was being said. "Their souls? Possible?"

Possible. More souls. So hungry. He returned to looking around in mixture of confusion and elation at the idea. Nataku raised his hand to once more wipe absentmindedly at his mouth. He gave a violent shake of his head once his thoughts stopped rolling about, though. "Allies, no. Friends, no." Cannot trust, cannot trust. Kill me. They will. The shadow returned with the tendrils swinging about in the air, slamming down on either side to claw at the ground in further frustration. Slowly, he returned his gaze to the Kishin as his head tilted almost completely on its side to observe the other. Kamui. Altair. His eyes widened slightly as something flickered through the insanity and hunger and fright.

It was careful crawling over as he reached out toward the wounded Kishin. "Big brother." He called out helplessly to him before leaning forward so that he could wrap his arms around the other's shoulders to hug him. "Scared, scared." Nataku did not have any tear ducts - yet another genetic mutation in his creation - so it was impossible for him to cry. Still, that did not stop him from trying to cling onto his brother and made sobbing sounds through his hissing laughter. "Stay." Uncertain if he was saying that he would stay with or asking if the other Kishin would stay with him, but regardless, he nodded at the word.