[ finished ] need help getting out of the cursed land of frickin' trees. stfu.

[bulletsforbadou]

Who: Badou Nails [bulletsforbadou] and Yuu Kanda [sacredsyllable].
What: In which Badou arrives in the Spiral, keeps going in circles (the tragic pun!) and he seriously needs someone to show him the way to civilisation. Because Haine is an unsympathetic asshole and he should just DIE. And stumbles upon Kanda, of all people.
Where: Somewhere with a disturbing amount of trees. A

Comments

[bulletsforbadou]

He was seeing stars.

Or maybe Death itself, but really, Badou was beyond caring.

Because his brain needed oxygen to function and at that particular time, oxygen was among the many things that were being blocked from entering the mush of grey cells inside his cranium. One second he had solid earth underneath him and the next his jaw had clenched hard in surprise, feet dangling uselessly, kicking at thin air. Dark shadows were already creeping at the edge of his consciousness, familiar like old friends, repulsive like nightmares.

Badou grimaced as fingernails dug into the tender skin of his neck.

His chewed cigarette fell onto the ground.

His last cigarette.

Shadows were instantly replaced by blinding red, demanding and metallic over the disappearing fog of nicotine. Very much like blood. Too much like blood.

Badou's hands lashed out, locking the limb that was holding him up in a death grip. His grin was sharp, no longer lazy. No longer controlled.

Blood pounded inside his head.

"Put me the fuck down." He added more pressure to the offending hand. "Now."

[sacredsyllable]

A mild shock tremored through Kanda's already aching muscles as his quarry ceased struggling and suddenly became a tense, ticking timebomb in his grasp. The Japanese man only paused to flicker a decisive look at where Badou currently had a death grip of his own on his arm. Had Kanda actually felt like smearing Badou's entrails along the forest floor he would have done it already, and sure as hell not by hand, but this was unexpected. Kanda could feel the bloodlust oozing off of the other man in thick, toxic waves. It was almost impressive; even Rabi at his worst was no where this bad, and this redhead hadn't really even lifted a finger against him. Yet. Too bad he lacked the ability to look as such, and settled on a humorless snort.

The swordsman unceremoniously dropped Badou to the ground, unbothered by whether he landed on his feet or his ass. All he knew was that he might've just cracked open the universal Pandora's box, and his left hand was already curled around Mugen's scabbard, ready to draw. Kanda's eyes locked onto Badou as soon as he was free, any of his previous feelings bleached from his face; watching, like a falcon waiting to dive. He was pretty sure Badou wasn't an akuma, but Kanda had long since decided.

He was not going to die here.

[bulletsforbadou]

Badou landed in a crouch, lean muscles coiled in a tight bundle of anger and adrenaline, ready to spring. His fingers itched for his twin Mac 10, itched for the comfort of cool steel and flying bullets and smoke everywhere. Because there was killkillkill trickling like fine poison into his veins and he couldn't stop it and he's slipping and falling falling falling into endless infinite red.

Someone shrieked at the back of his mind, laughter exploded like fireworks, a neverending staircase curling into nowhere and there was paintoomuchpain and he'd almost bitten his tongue off to stop the mounting scream.

Shit.

His eye flickered to the hand on the sword, poised and elegant in its certainty. The vigilant, refined stance. The anticipatory gleam in dark, dark eyes. An impressive Hunter. But just that. Just a Hunter. He'd faced worse, much much worse. Badou straightened slowly, red hair cascading over his shoulder and spilling around dirt-stained jacket. The grin was still etched onto his face, lips parting to reveal bone white teeth and sharp canines.

"Manners, manners, manners." Badou chided and took half a step forward, knowing without looking that he was just outside the danger zone. That an inch would be the distance between his gut and the sweeping arc that blade was capable of. He tilted his head to a side. "And here I thought I've met the girl of my dreams."

Red swirled inside his eye, his mind. Everywhere.

[sacredsyllable]

To the naked eye, Kanda would have remained anchored to the ground, still as ever. Somehow, though, there was no doubt in his mind that Badou would have noticed the millimeter slip of his boot's heel into the dirt; his entire body was in a state of recoil, rigid and electric. Kanda grit his teeth, half in muted anger, half because he knew it was inevitable.

It was a fool's nightmare to do this again, so soon. Images of his lotus waxed and waned in rippling waves across his vision, two petals already floating innocently at the bottom of the hourglass, cold and bright and unforgiving.

"I don't need you to tell me about manners," Kanda scoffed absent-mindedly despite the horrible and vivid image clouding through his mind. A wayward breeze dusted black, disheveled bangs around his forehead. It was a brave move to shut his eyes, lashes dark crescents against almost white skin. This was a deadlock of power play. Whoever gave in first would be the one to die, and as the thick, destructive thirst for blood mingled with the already unstable aura of the tall redhead, Kanda knew he was left with little choice. Despite himself, he smirked humorlessly.

"More than I hate idiots like you, I hate bastards who think I'm a girl."

Kanda shrugged away the remains of his exorcist coat as he spoke, the pink edges of scars still etched ugly marks into the slender muscles of his torso, and over his heart, the jet black brushstrokes of his Hindu Om tattoo scrawled unkindly towards his shoulder and ribs. Unwavering, his eyes flickered open, devoid of pain, devoid of light, devoid of fear. At his side, Mugen pulsed with silver light from within its sheath.

[bulletsforbadou]

Badou's mind was a blank slate as his eye widened at the sight, at the piece of ripped black-something fluttering like a lifeless oversized butterfly onto the ground, at curious inking a stark contrast against bare pale skin. At completely (and disappointingly) flat chest and pseudo-macho war scars.

Kanda was... was...

The haze of consuming red disappeared in a rush of panic and shock and nausea and OHGODHELLNO, the thirst for vengeance and blood and gore worming itself back into the secluded cavern at the edge of Badou's self-control almost on its own. That left the redhead staring, dumbfounded, at the half-naked chick-who-was-not-really-a-chick-but-was-actually-a-DUDE Kanda.

Badou raised his hand, pointed an accusing index finger and bellowed, heart straining from threats of a cardiac arrest, "YOU CROSS-DRESSING FREAK!"

[sacredsyllable]

Had Kanda the ability to look completely, utterly, and awesomely dumbfounded, now would have been the prime moment. Instead, a skeptical brow rose, along with the swordsman's mounting frustration with this retarded mess of a human being. All the rage, bloodlust, and rush of a killing aura setting all his synapses on edge ... just gone.

Kanda's arm relaxed against the blade, form assuming a languid slouch. The silver of his Innocence melted away just as quietly, and Kanda shoved a hand on his hip in a less-than-impressed fashion. Clearly, his already miniscule patience was wearing thin, and this was taking more of his energy than he was willing to devote to a complete stranger that he wasn't going to kill.

"WHAT ABOUT THIS IS CROSSDRESSING, JACKASS?!" he abruptly roared back. He didn't know what planet Badou was from to think pants, boots, and a jacket was crossdressing. Part of him was sure he didn't even want to go there. Kanda spat a barely concealed 'tch' at some invisible point to his side and bent to retrieve his jacket, slipping the tattered material over his shoulders and consciously across the ink of his tattoo. Shit. If he could help it, he would have rather just decapitated anyone who saw it. Questions were ... bothersome. Hoping his true gender would be enough to detour Badou from annoying the everliving shit out of him, Kanda huffed and made to stalk past him again.

[bulletsforbadou]

Badou was taken aback when Kanda suddenly yelled back at him - voice loud and frustrated and pissed off and surprisingly (clearly) manly - despite the swordsman's earlier apparent abhorrence toward uttering more than three words per sentence and expressing any form of emotion. He had begun to think that Kanda was actually emotionally-retarded (like Haine, somewhat), but the long-haired drag queen proved him to be wrong.

He had thought this place was weird. Hell. The people around here were light years weirder.

Surreptitiously wiping spit from his face, Badou set out to follow Kanda, easily finding the grumpy swordsman through the obvious trail of eco-terrorism laid out before him. The redhead surveyed crushed undergrowth lining the man-made trail and whistled low. Someone obviously missed his anger management's sessions. Badou kept his jog light and easy, as he caught sight of worn coat and black as midnight hair. Even amidst the perpetual darkness that covered the area, Kanda was easy to spot.

There was an apologetic grin on his face when Badou slowed his jog to match Kanda's brisk footsteps. "It's an honest mistake," he murmured slowly, keeping his eyes forward. "Was confused by your grim prettiness, I suppose. Have you even heard of testosterone pills?"

Badou shoved a handful of leaves from his path and stole a glance at Kanda. "So... truce?"

[sacredsyllable]

"No," Kanda responsed in a quick-fire reaction that suggested he didn't even have to think the question over before providing an answer. Usually, Kanda was well-minded enough to slip through the thick of a forest without so much as a disturbance to the leaf litter, but he was on a mini-tirade of his own, helpless foliage being mowed down with all the violence and general piss-off he'd (almost regrettably) not taken out on Badou. Mostly, he didn't need the sprout bitching in his ear like an old maid about killing people off, especially if he was going to use Timcanpy. Kanda was pretty sure Komui wouldn't take too well to him skewering Allen.

And fuck it all, here it was still following him. He'd left Finders, who were at least somewhat useful for the first five minutes, for dead far quicker. An annoyed tick was mounting in his apparently pretty face as the yammering continued, steel-toed boots falling heavier and more agitated with every step.

Kanda was about ready to swivel and punch the living daylights out of Badou before ... a clearing? His pace trickled to a halt at the thinning amounts of forest, and just beyond the tops of the trees he could see the faint outline of what appeared to be a pagoda, the majestic shape just a twinge darker than the surrounding curtain of night. Kanda took a quick, surveying glance around, unfortunately noticing the blue-grey misting of fog rolling in not too far off in the distance.

Which also meant--

Squint ...

--Oh, for fuck's sake.

Kanda caught the outline of cracked and deteriorating gravestones in the haze, and realized that he'd just gone around in one big goddamn circle. He was better off staying in the cemetary taking his chances with the wolves in the first place!

A sour look twisted on Kanda's features. Though, wasn't that building new? The lazily twisting fog meandered around a decently sized structure, and as Kanda approached it with some apprehension, he noticed some very familiar architecture--a veranda and walkway, sliding doors with torn rice-paper windows. It was run-down, but ...

"A dojo?"

[bulletsforbadou]

"Oi, oi~ You're hurtin' my feelin' here~"

Badou feigned a hurt look, pressing his palm to his chest, above where he assumed his heart should be. Yeah. Well. Biology wasn't really his strong point after all. He pursed his lips in a mock pout, stuffing his hands inside the pockets of his jeans as he trudged behind Kanda. It was pretty amusing to watch the iceman's rigid back tensing and clenching underneath that heavy material of a coat as he continued mutilating innocent plants. Badou didn't even want to know what happened to Kanda for his coat to be so... well, shabby. And those scars...

He noticed that the trees had thinned somewhat as they walked (well, he walked; Kanda stomped) towards nowhere. Badou felt his sneakers rub against gravels and stones, instead of the standard leaves and dirt he had gotten used to. He increased his pace, eager to finally arrive at someplace else. At least Kanda had proven to be useful, pushing aside the swordsman's temper and issues. Badou craned his neck over Kanda's rigid shoulder as he surveyed the newfound area.

Dark solid objects sticking out from the ground greeted him, as well as obscuring mist and potentially dangerous growls of unseeing creatures from the creeping shadows. He took a step towards the nearest block on the ground and dropped on a knee to examine it further, sweeping off silvery threads of spider webs and dried leaves. Upon coming face to face with a disturbingly familiar slab of grey concrete and the ominous 'R.I.P' carving above a overturned cross, Badou stumbled back and scrambled on his feet in record time.

... The Hell?

"Are we in a... graveyard?" Badou turned to Kanda, who had looked increasingly murderous (for fuck-knows-what-reason) since they had first escaped the clutch of the trees. He realised that the swordsman was ignoring him, which was becoming quite a routine, and was staring at something inside the fog. "Yo, Weird Place to Drag Queen? Do you copy?"

[sacredsyllable]

"What else would it be?" Kanda replied dully, watching Badou scrabble around in front of the grave. Oddly enough, the swordsman looked about as perturbed by their surroundings as he would have been if they were on some temperate island getaway. Maybe the fact that Kanda seemed like he wasn't even the type to sleep unless it was absolutely necessary had something to do with that. Unfortunately, that biological necessity was quickly catching up with him; exhaustion lurked in his muscles and tugged at the burning insides of his eyelids. Even the raw edge of his anger seemed to be dulling out the longer he stood.

Luckily, he was just awake enough for retaliation. Scowling, Kanda nonchalantly turned, slamming the sheathed Mugen into the back of Badou's knees without even removing it from his belt.

"Don't call me a drag queen," he countered coldly, giving Badou a weary look.

Keeping up the pretense that he was just turning to walk towards his current point of interest, Kanda strode a bit less moodily than before, watching the old wooden form of the dojo emerge from the spectral cover of fog. It looked almost ancient, imbued with the faint scent of rain-wet earth, rotting wood, and stale incense. The steps up to the deck groaned in protest as Kanda ascended them, hand steady on the guard rail. He ghosted a sigh; the entire place looked just about ready to fall apart.

[bulletsforbadou]

Badou quickly limped away from any future violence, grimacing as he rubbed his abused leg. He almost tripped over another gravestone in his haste, saved only by his quick reflex and strategically placed concrete spikes. There were suspicious dark stains on the spikes, ones that looked like dried blood the longer Badou stared at it. The thought of what might had happened in regards of the spikes and unsuspecting innocent lost soul (like him) was disturbing at best.

He settled on leaning against a crumbling statue of an angel, chips and cracks lining its upturned face, clasped hands and half-shattered wings. It was a sorry sight, a pathetic replica of a creature that was supposed to be the embodiment of light. With powers to banish evil and darkness.

Shadows caressed the cracked statue with a lover's touch, making it look sinister instead of reassuring, malevolent instead of benevolent. Badou flicked off chips of plaster from his jacket, the irony lodged deep inside his mind.

It didn't matter to him though. If angels existed, Nill would have been in Heaven instead. Not in some church, with some weird depraved Bishop.

If Heaven was not one of the lies too...

Forget that. Those no longer matter. No longer relevant.

He was there. At least he knew Hell wasn't a lie.

The redhead gave his leg a relieved pat after he'd make sure that there would be no permanent damage to the limb. Badou glared at the back of Kanda's head, curses tingling at the tip of his tongue as he eyed the swordsman's almost sluggish journey towards something that resembled a rundown small hut. Badou hesitated for a split second, before he stood up and followed the long-haired swordsman. He refused to set foot onto the dilapidated structure. He'd rather not die by means of collapsed buildings, thankyouverymuch.

"Hey, Kanda." He watched warily as the other man continued moving forward. "Maybe we should leave this place alone. Doesn't look safe, ya know?" Badou took in the grey-white fog curling protectively around the hut and shivered. "Maybe it's... haunted. or something. Maybe there'll be zombies."

[sacredsyllable]

Casting a sidelong glance down the decking, Kanda gingerly stepped up onto the planks of wood; they must've been pretty and polished at one point, he thought soberly. It seemed like he was at least being granted with some sort of quiet, momentary reprieve from the redhead in light of his sneak attack. About damn time.

Slender, dirtied fingertips took hold of what looked like the main doorway, the painted paper windows yellowed and damp with age. Kanda slid it open a bit with some effort, peering inside. His eyes took a few tense moments to adjust to the darkness--he could make out smallish living quarters, and another wooden-framed door he could only assume lead to the actual dojo part of the building. At least it was roomier inside than it looked, since Kanda had the sinking gut feeling he wouldn't be alone. At least he could hope differently.

He pulled back, wrenching the door open a little further on its worn track. What tiny pinpoints of light there were revealed drier, tatami mat floors, and an inside structure that looked a small ways more structurally sound than the outside. The wide doors that connected living room to dojo were painted in an elaborate marsh scene, full of elegant cranes and whimsical dragonflies. It would have been pretty, if Kanda had any sense of romance. He vaguely heard Badou's question fade out behind him, and the Japanese man snorted dismissively at the idea of hauntings and zombies. This guy really was an idiot ...

"If you're scared, go someplace else," Kanda said simply over his shoulder, entering the doorway.

Well. The dead didn't scare Kanda. It was what the living made of the dead that Badou should have been worried about; but without another soul in sight, the exorcist had little to be concerned over. Plus, from the looks of it, they were on the very outskirts of the cemetary anyway. Anything that came after them wouldn't have time to blink before Kanda disposed of it. Just like always.

[bulletsforbadou]

"I'm NOT scared!" Badou exclaimed indignantly, insulted at how Kanda seemed to think of him as a mere nuisance. Okay, maybe he was a bit. But he totally didn't deserve such degrading treatment!

This must be his karma at work. It sucked. Like seriously.

Badou took a step towards the wobbly looking wooden deck, scrutinising the woodwork with more than a little distrust. It looked quite rotten, most probably doubled as the local diner for termites and who-knew-what-else. But Kanda had walked on it, and the swordsman didn't have broken planks shoved up his ass. Badou paused. Well. Technically, Kanda must have had a stick (or sticks; plurality was always good) lodged up the better part of his anatomy. Explained those moods anyway.

The redhead was chuckling at his own awesome mental assessment when a long howl - angry and feral and sounded very very hungry - echoed from somewhere over the other side of the cemetery, from beyond the rolling fog and grim gravestones and unrelenting shadows. Badou stood stock still, one visible eye moving alternately from the graveyard's inviting darkness to the hut (or whatever it was called). It was the ultimate showdown; stay outside and face mysterious, most-probably man-eating vicious monsters, or go inside and endure mysterious pretty boy with long pointy blade and mood swings reminiscent to Kiri on PMS.

Badou scowled.

The first option was looking much safer than the second one...

Another howl, this come closer, helped Badou in making up his mind. He jumped onto the wooden deck in one swift movement and wedged his way after Kanda, pausing to glance over his shoulder. There were eyes peering back at him from a distance, big and red and definitely not cuddly hamsters. Badou swallowed and closed the paper door behind him with a snap.

"Kanda, dude, wait up!"

[sacredsyllable]

Kanda rolled his eyes in distaste as Badou scuttled his way into the room behind him; he figured as much.

"Hn. Stay out of my way then," the dark-haired teen muttered, granted with nothing but darkness as Badou clicked the door shut.

Kanda padded thickly across the tatami matting, seemingly unbothered by the pitch black of the room. There was momentary, efficient rummaging around before a dim orange light flickered on above them. Well, at least the place still had some form of electricity. Not that Kanda has much hope for the little light bulb to last throughout the night. Night was relative anyway, Kanda had been in this godforsaken place for days without so much as a glimpse of the benevolent rays of the sun. Even what light that cast a pallid glow across the room seemed to fight for life against the oppressive cover of darkness. Not that Kanda was a big happy ray of sunshine in the first place, but it still left him slightly uneasy.

There was no helping that now, though. Kanda, satisfied with what he was granted by way of light, left Badou to his own devices and set about investigating what little room there was. A small closet with some futon mats and towels, adjacent to a bathroom with a meager wash basin. Kanda turned the faucet and water of questionable color and probably questionable quality as well tricked out. It'd have to do. He'd been like this for far too long, and a blurry smog was starting to creep into the edges of his vision. Shit.

Kanda gently slid bands of silver from about his slender wrists--obvious remains of his jacket--and dropped them somewhere off to his side. He slipped his hands under the cold water, letting it ease the burn of dirt and grime and caked blood from the peeling skin of scorched fingers. He cursed roughly under his breath. He was healing, but that Noah had really done a number on him. Cleanup like this was always a messy, annoying business. The price for a narrow victory.

[bulletsforbadou]

There was nothing fascinating inside the confine of the hut, aside from the pretty drawing on the door separating one side of the place from another. Badou had managed to take a glimpse of the piece, at thin-limbed long-necked birds and plants of some sort, before he closed the door and darkness reigned over them once more. Just like before. He groped his way around, long limbs knocking against wall and closet and everything else. There was a moment of disorientation when a light bulb flickered to life, illuminating the small space with a sickly-orange glow that reminded him of underground brothels and children prostitutes.

The redhead sighed and plopped onto the floor, regretting the action when his butt made a rather painful acquaintance with the creaky floor. Kanda had wondered off through a door at one corner of the room, presumably led to the bathroom as the sound of running water saturated through the silence enveloping them. Badou shrugged off his jacket, scrunched it into a ball of worn leather and used it to pillow his head as he leaned down on the uncompromising floor. There were scuttles of tiny feet - the click click click of sharp insects' (he thought) legs - from somewhere underneath him. It was a sucky substitute for his comfortable apartment, but it beat sleeping on cold ground.

At least Kanda seemed to have calmed down a little.

Mumbled curses resonated from the bathroom and Badou grinned.

... Emphasis on the 'little' part.

"Oi, Kanda!" He shifted to his side, winced a bit as wood splinters dug into what strips of skin left exposed by his shirt. "You have a game plan, man?"

[sacredsyllable]

The bathroom emitted some shuffling, a ripple of cloth, and something akin to tearing fabric before Kanda (quite purposefully) let out an audible sigh.

"Don't you have someone else you can bother?" he mumbled from the other side of the wall through the steady rip-rip-rip of thin cloth. It was a question, but the statement behind it was clear: 'I have a gameplan, but you're on your own.' All at once the silvery sound of water died out and Kanda emerged from the bathroom toweling his hands off. The white of the towel was stained and smudged in the rusty red of dried blood and black dirt, and his torso was bound tightly in makeshift bandages, artfully arranged over the brushstrokes etched into his skin. He'd been quick and efficient, of course; he was used to this tired old routine by now.

Kanda maneuvered around the lanky form of the man currently sprawled on the floor, resisting the urge to kick his limbs out of the way. His foul temper, for all intents and purposes, had been dulled down to nothing more than tired apathy. Kanda removed his katana from his belt with seasoned ease, slumping against the wall and crumpling into an elegant seat. He leaned Mugen up against his shoulder and spoke, despite himself.

"There's a city around here somewhere. It's most likely situated around that staircase," he mused lowly, as if he were concerned that the ghosts in the cemetary were listening in on what he had to say.

[[ooc: ... I fell asleep with the computer in my lap this morning.]]