Log; Complete
When; Feb. 24 (morning)
Rating; PG13
Characters; Boy Blue playstheblues, the Corinthian bitingnightmare
Summary; Cursed out of his mind, but Blue's not one to stand around and take it.
Log;
Could Blue sleep in a room that was only half painted? The walls had sky running down only halfway from the ceiling, an in progress project. By now the mattress had been replaced with a real one, filled with cotton and springs instead of hay. They did have a pull out couch as a sleeping option as well.
Whichever the case, the Corinthian had awoken before Blue for once, stirred unknowingly. He just felt like it. The nightmare's shadow hovered over the blond. Thoughtful, considering, waiting.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue slept.
Normally, in the event of something dangerous, he would wake up, but he trusted Cori. However, at that moment, it was like his mother was there, urging him to wake up but not be obvious about it, to recede away from sleep and to call aid to him. He stirred, quietly, his eyes sliding open.
The nightmare was there. He could see Cori's pale silouhette; maybe he was just being paranoid. He reached out a hand to land on the other man's hip, to reassure himself, and closed his eyes again.
~~~~~~~~~
His fingers flashed out to grasp Blue by the wrist. He clutched tightly, enough to hurt, enough to affirm his 'control' or a semblance of it.
"Good morning," the Corinthian said coolly. He could see Blue, his Blue, how he wanted to kiss the younger man sweetly, then spoon his eyes out with his tongue.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue winced. Danger. His eyes flew open and he looked up. "Stop," he said clearly, but he knew when he looked at the nightmare that the other man wouldn't. Whoever this was, it wasn't his Corinthian.
Blue was reminded of Baba Yaga - not that this was her, but the situation, so similar, the betrayal making his stomach twist. He was awake in that second, his hand going to the Corinthian's at his wrist. "Let go. Now." Any semblance of sleepy naivety, of innocence was gone. It was the soldier that remained.
~~~~~~~~~~
"No."
He said simply, as if Boy Blue was just that, a boy to be claimed. The Corinthian acknowledged the soldier in him as fight; he liked that. His other hand whipped out to snatch Blue's second, immediately bending his fingers to cause more pain. Something felt significant about his hands, something significantly savory about breaking them.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue snapped his fingers back, slipping them out of the Corinthian's grip with a cry. He remembered, remembered Baba Yaga and his fingers. He drove his knee up in a kick and wound away. "Who are you?"
~~~~~~~~~~
"Who do you think, boy," he hissed, forced to release his grip on the blond. The Corinthian darted back, narrowly missing a knee to the groin. "It's everyone's favorite nightmare," his mouths sneered sharply, "give us a kiss."
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue didn't hesitate; instead, he rolled off the bed. "No."
He rolled back, looking for something, anything; he didn't want to actually hurt him, if Cori was in there, if it was a curse. He just wanted to stop him, to make him remember. He reached back, but all that came to hand was his horn - not a weapon he could use. "You're not. Not the Cori that's now. You don't belong here." He jumped back another few steps.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Don't play hard to get."
The Corinthian reached for the tip of brushed metal peeking out from his pocket. He'd been prepared for this moment, dressed and ready. The balisong flipped, extending its sharp blade with grace and ease. He wanted to hurt Blue because he liked Blue. The nightmare moved to block the doorway.
"I go where I want," he wet his lips.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue curled tightly against the door, seeing the balisong flipping; the metal shining. "Let me go," he snarled, for the first time the soldier appearing, even more than when the Stewards came. He reached under the bed; his hand, wounded, wrapped around the hilt of a sword; not the Vorpal Blade, but a sword nevertheless.
He held it out in front of him and took a serious stance. "Let. Me. Go."
~~~~~~~~~~
A sword under the bed? He should have figured as much. The Corinthian flipped the blade in his hand, handle to tip, handle to tip, considering what part of Blue's body he wanted to strike first. He seemed unfazed by the sword. He was cocky.
"Or what, you'll kill me?"
~~~~~~~~~~
It was a good point. What would he do? What could he do, risking Cori? Not much. He could disarm him, but he didn't think that whoever stood in front of him would react to pain. "There's no ultimatum," Blue said, his sword's tip wavering with Cori's movements.
He watched the man, and offered a mild thrust, to gauge. "Let me go," he repeated, without a hint of desperation in his voice.
~~~~~~~~~~
Without hesitation he parried the quick thrust with a hard swing of his knife, a distraction just sudden enough for his other elbow to arc across Blue's face.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue swung to the side, seeing the movement and moving with it, spinning with his sword, bringing it up to slap Cori's back with the flat of the blade. He hoped if he shocked him enough, he could run.
~~~~~~~~~~
The impact against his back caused the Corinthian to roll forward, but he was quick to recover on his feet and swing his leg out in an attempted floor sweep. Wasn't he a lucky son of a bitch that the jungle boy wasn't here to help him out. Immediately he slashed upward with the balisong, paying no mind to how close he could carve Blue's skin. This wasn't a spar anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue didn't see the movement as quickly as he should have, and tumbled to the floor in a heap. He pulled the sword quickly in an attempt to roll back to his feet without hurting himself. However, without his boots, and naked, the sensation wasn't comfortable as he moved over the rug, the traction prickling hot against his back. He needed to get out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~
"I see. You like it rough."
He wouldn't waste a second. As soon as Blue fell to the ground the Corinthian was on him, attempting to pin him to the floor, regardless of the sword between them. He wanted to straddle the naked soldier and reassert his control, he wanted to show Boy Blue what he really was, to leave his impression on his eyes before carving them from his face. No, maybe he'd force himself inside the blond first.
He dragged the knife towards the fable's throat, for a stalemate if anything.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue felt the knife and stilled, recognizing that if he moved, he'd get a knife to the throat. He stared up at the other man, recognizing his features but not his face.
He looked away slightly, and didn't speak at first, his sword hilt pressing into his palm from the force of his hand, before he closed his eyes. "Let me go," he asked again, less forcefully. "Please," he added.
He didn't know why he added the please. Maybe because he thought the words would mean something. Maybe because he wanted the man who was on top of him to be his boyfriend, not a stranger.
~~~~~~~~~
He looked down at the blond, pleased to hear the submission in his voice (whether it was genuine or not). The Corinthian didn't respond to his request with words. He rest his weight on Blue then dragged the tip of his balisong up along his cheek, to brush against the eyelashes lining his lower lid.
"No... Hrrsch," his eyeteeth hissed, moving closer to those bright blue eyes. "Do you know how long I've been waiting?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue realized that it wasn't going to happen.
That was it. There wasn't Cori there; it wasn't his Cori, and that was all he needed to know. Not that he ever suspected Cori of taking it that far without reason, but he needed to make sure; he needed to know.
"Big Walter Horton."
The Witching Cloak materialized around him in a sweep of blue fabric and he turned his head quickly, then disappeared, reappearing behind the nightmare. "You're an idiot," he snarled, and then the Vorpal blade was in his hand.
~~~~~~~~~~
The Corinthian narrowed his teeth eyes just short of having his tongues slither out to lick Blue's scleras. What? Then the figure beneath him disappeared.
His teeth rasped, even the first incarnation had little interest in magic users; most of them were all smoke and mirrors. He quickly rolled back to his heels and jumped up, knife slicing through the air in a circular motion to keep the blond at bay. It wouldn't be much of a match for the Vorpal sword.
"Call me Cori," he snarled, in mockery.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue twisted; this was his element, now. The sword went up and the balisong shattered.
"Sorry," he said, "That name's for someone I respect, and you're just last year's trash." He slid the sword upwards to dimple under Cori's chin.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Shit." He growled, arm out to shield his face from the shrapnel, just enough to block his vision of the sword's tip meeting his chin. The Corinthian hissed at Blue, through all his mouths. "What will you do, boy. Do you want to see me dead?"
He put pressure on the Vorpal blade, enough to draw his own blood.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue was quick; he knew that he couldn't leave the Corinthian there, to run and let him attack someone else. Instead he pulled down, flipped the sword over, and brought the heavy hilt against the side of the nightmare's neck.
"No," he said, smug. "But this should do you."
~~~~~~~~~~
The nightmare didn't want to give Boy Blue that satisfaction. He would have fought hard, he would have roped the younger man tight enough to burn his skin then cut his eyes out for the prize. But Blue was no boy, and the Corinthian had weaned himself on the experiences of soldiers. They were the first to show him violence when he escaped the Dreaming.
He raised his hands in defense, still eager to pursue, but the hilt had hit his nerve and his corporeal form was still human. The nightmare's teetheyes half lidded before he collapsed on the ground.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue watched him and checked quickly to make sure he was breathing - a reflex, left over from his days in war - then nodded grimly to himself and pulled out a measure of rope and quickly bound his hands and feet before checking him over for weapons. Once me knew that the Corinthian was unarmed, he picked up the nightmare's body - like a bag of sand! - and dragged it to the closet, setting it in before he closed the door.
Once he was sure that the nightmare wasn't going to suffocate, he barricaded it before getting dressed quickly and leaving the apartment. He couldn't stay there to babysit. Not now. Not today.
~~~~~~~~~~
He didn't protest when the blond roped his hands and feet, unconscious for the most part, which offered zero resistance as Blue imprisoned the Corinthian in a closet (of all places). His only weapons now were his teeth, relaxed as they were as Blue sealed him in darkness.
The only question left was if a nightmare was more dangerous awake, or asleep.
Rating; PG13
Characters; Boy Blue playstheblues, the Corinthian bitingnightmare
Summary; Cursed out of his mind, but Blue's not one to stand around and take it.
Log;
Could Blue sleep in a room that was only half painted? The walls had sky running down only halfway from the ceiling, an in progress project. By now the mattress had been replaced with a real one, filled with cotton and springs instead of hay. They did have a pull out couch as a sleeping option as well.
Whichever the case, the Corinthian had awoken before Blue for once, stirred unknowingly. He just felt like it. The nightmare's shadow hovered over the blond. Thoughtful, considering, waiting.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue slept.
Normally, in the event of something dangerous, he would wake up, but he trusted Cori. However, at that moment, it was like his mother was there, urging him to wake up but not be obvious about it, to recede away from sleep and to call aid to him. He stirred, quietly, his eyes sliding open.
The nightmare was there. He could see Cori's pale silouhette; maybe he was just being paranoid. He reached out a hand to land on the other man's hip, to reassure himself, and closed his eyes again.
~~~~~~~~~
His fingers flashed out to grasp Blue by the wrist. He clutched tightly, enough to hurt, enough to affirm his 'control' or a semblance of it.
"Good morning," the Corinthian said coolly. He could see Blue, his Blue, how he wanted to kiss the younger man sweetly, then spoon his eyes out with his tongue.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue winced. Danger. His eyes flew open and he looked up. "Stop," he said clearly, but he knew when he looked at the nightmare that the other man wouldn't. Whoever this was, it wasn't his Corinthian.
Blue was reminded of Baba Yaga - not that this was her, but the situation, so similar, the betrayal making his stomach twist. He was awake in that second, his hand going to the Corinthian's at his wrist. "Let go. Now." Any semblance of sleepy naivety, of innocence was gone. It was the soldier that remained.
~~~~~~~~~~
"No."
He said simply, as if Boy Blue was just that, a boy to be claimed. The Corinthian acknowledged the soldier in him as fight; he liked that. His other hand whipped out to snatch Blue's second, immediately bending his fingers to cause more pain. Something felt significant about his hands, something significantly savory about breaking them.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue snapped his fingers back, slipping them out of the Corinthian's grip with a cry. He remembered, remembered Baba Yaga and his fingers. He drove his knee up in a kick and wound away. "Who are you?"
~~~~~~~~~~
"Who do you think, boy," he hissed, forced to release his grip on the blond. The Corinthian darted back, narrowly missing a knee to the groin. "It's everyone's favorite nightmare," his mouths sneered sharply, "give us a kiss."
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue didn't hesitate; instead, he rolled off the bed. "No."
He rolled back, looking for something, anything; he didn't want to actually hurt him, if Cori was in there, if it was a curse. He just wanted to stop him, to make him remember. He reached back, but all that came to hand was his horn - not a weapon he could use. "You're not. Not the Cori that's now. You don't belong here." He jumped back another few steps.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Don't play hard to get."
The Corinthian reached for the tip of brushed metal peeking out from his pocket. He'd been prepared for this moment, dressed and ready. The balisong flipped, extending its sharp blade with grace and ease. He wanted to hurt Blue because he liked Blue. The nightmare moved to block the doorway.
"I go where I want," he wet his lips.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue curled tightly against the door, seeing the balisong flipping; the metal shining. "Let me go," he snarled, for the first time the soldier appearing, even more than when the Stewards came. He reached under the bed; his hand, wounded, wrapped around the hilt of a sword; not the Vorpal Blade, but a sword nevertheless.
He held it out in front of him and took a serious stance. "Let. Me. Go."
~~~~~~~~~~
A sword under the bed? He should have figured as much. The Corinthian flipped the blade in his hand, handle to tip, handle to tip, considering what part of Blue's body he wanted to strike first. He seemed unfazed by the sword. He was cocky.
"Or what, you'll kill me?"
~~~~~~~~~~
It was a good point. What would he do? What could he do, risking Cori? Not much. He could disarm him, but he didn't think that whoever stood in front of him would react to pain. "There's no ultimatum," Blue said, his sword's tip wavering with Cori's movements.
He watched the man, and offered a mild thrust, to gauge. "Let me go," he repeated, without a hint of desperation in his voice.
~~~~~~~~~~
Without hesitation he parried the quick thrust with a hard swing of his knife, a distraction just sudden enough for his other elbow to arc across Blue's face.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue swung to the side, seeing the movement and moving with it, spinning with his sword, bringing it up to slap Cori's back with the flat of the blade. He hoped if he shocked him enough, he could run.
~~~~~~~~~~
The impact against his back caused the Corinthian to roll forward, but he was quick to recover on his feet and swing his leg out in an attempted floor sweep. Wasn't he a lucky son of a bitch that the jungle boy wasn't here to help him out. Immediately he slashed upward with the balisong, paying no mind to how close he could carve Blue's skin. This wasn't a spar anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue didn't see the movement as quickly as he should have, and tumbled to the floor in a heap. He pulled the sword quickly in an attempt to roll back to his feet without hurting himself. However, without his boots, and naked, the sensation wasn't comfortable as he moved over the rug, the traction prickling hot against his back. He needed to get out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~
"I see. You like it rough."
He wouldn't waste a second. As soon as Blue fell to the ground the Corinthian was on him, attempting to pin him to the floor, regardless of the sword between them. He wanted to straddle the naked soldier and reassert his control, he wanted to show Boy Blue what he really was, to leave his impression on his eyes before carving them from his face. No, maybe he'd force himself inside the blond first.
He dragged the knife towards the fable's throat, for a stalemate if anything.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue felt the knife and stilled, recognizing that if he moved, he'd get a knife to the throat. He stared up at the other man, recognizing his features but not his face.
He looked away slightly, and didn't speak at first, his sword hilt pressing into his palm from the force of his hand, before he closed his eyes. "Let me go," he asked again, less forcefully. "Please," he added.
He didn't know why he added the please. Maybe because he thought the words would mean something. Maybe because he wanted the man who was on top of him to be his boyfriend, not a stranger.
~~~~~~~~~
He looked down at the blond, pleased to hear the submission in his voice (whether it was genuine or not). The Corinthian didn't respond to his request with words. He rest his weight on Blue then dragged the tip of his balisong up along his cheek, to brush against the eyelashes lining his lower lid.
"No... Hrrsch," his eyeteeth hissed, moving closer to those bright blue eyes. "Do you know how long I've been waiting?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue realized that it wasn't going to happen.
That was it. There wasn't Cori there; it wasn't his Cori, and that was all he needed to know. Not that he ever suspected Cori of taking it that far without reason, but he needed to make sure; he needed to know.
"Big Walter Horton."
The Witching Cloak materialized around him in a sweep of blue fabric and he turned his head quickly, then disappeared, reappearing behind the nightmare. "You're an idiot," he snarled, and then the Vorpal blade was in his hand.
~~~~~~~~~~
The Corinthian narrowed his teeth eyes just short of having his tongues slither out to lick Blue's scleras. What? Then the figure beneath him disappeared.
His teeth rasped, even the first incarnation had little interest in magic users; most of them were all smoke and mirrors. He quickly rolled back to his heels and jumped up, knife slicing through the air in a circular motion to keep the blond at bay. It wouldn't be much of a match for the Vorpal sword.
"Call me Cori," he snarled, in mockery.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue twisted; this was his element, now. The sword went up and the balisong shattered.
"Sorry," he said, "That name's for someone I respect, and you're just last year's trash." He slid the sword upwards to dimple under Cori's chin.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Shit." He growled, arm out to shield his face from the shrapnel, just enough to block his vision of the sword's tip meeting his chin. The Corinthian hissed at Blue, through all his mouths. "What will you do, boy. Do you want to see me dead?"
He put pressure on the Vorpal blade, enough to draw his own blood.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue was quick; he knew that he couldn't leave the Corinthian there, to run and let him attack someone else. Instead he pulled down, flipped the sword over, and brought the heavy hilt against the side of the nightmare's neck.
"No," he said, smug. "But this should do you."
~~~~~~~~~~
The nightmare didn't want to give Boy Blue that satisfaction. He would have fought hard, he would have roped the younger man tight enough to burn his skin then cut his eyes out for the prize. But Blue was no boy, and the Corinthian had weaned himself on the experiences of soldiers. They were the first to show him violence when he escaped the Dreaming.
He raised his hands in defense, still eager to pursue, but the hilt had hit his nerve and his corporeal form was still human. The nightmare's teetheyes half lidded before he collapsed on the ground.
~~~~~~~~~~
Blue watched him and checked quickly to make sure he was breathing - a reflex, left over from his days in war - then nodded grimly to himself and pulled out a measure of rope and quickly bound his hands and feet before checking him over for weapons. Once me knew that the Corinthian was unarmed, he picked up the nightmare's body - like a bag of sand! - and dragged it to the closet, setting it in before he closed the door.
Once he was sure that the nightmare wasn't going to suffocate, he barricaded it before getting dressed quickly and leaving the apartment. He couldn't stay there to babysit. Not now. Not today.
~~~~~~~~~~
He didn't protest when the blond roped his hands and feet, unconscious for the most part, which offered zero resistance as Blue imprisoned the Corinthian in a closet (of all places). His only weapons now were his teeth, relaxed as they were as Blue sealed him in darkness.
The only question left was if a nightmare was more dangerous awake, or asleep.