Arrival [Active/Open]

[fanged_wings]

Who: Agito/Akito and you~
Where: Entry hall
When: Day 001
What: Arrival! Agito's not impressed.
Warnings: Agito swears like a sailor. Potential mentions of sibling abuse.

Comments

[subjuwhat]

Eight has scurried out from his new fortress in the closet to see if he can scavenge some weapons. Sticking to the periphery, he skirts along the wall and hides under the table.

There's a person in the room, a large person, the sort of which he hasn't seen since the war (which is further back than he can count). From his limited vantage point, Eight can see that the person is injured, which could either mean he's less of a threat and helpless, or desperate and dangerous. Eight doesn't know what to make of this, so he stays under the table.

...Up until the person suddenly leans against the table, startling Eight and making him utter a surprised huff. Eight scurries to the back of under the table, making a soft pitter-patter as he goes. Unfortunately, if the person comes looking for him, there is nothing to hide against, so Eight presses up against the wall and hunches his shoulders up like the big, intimidating sockdoll he is.

[fanged_wings]

The sound catches his attention, making the dark blink in surprise. That was...from under the table? Hearing a caution to be careful from his other, Agito shifts and peers under said table. The dust doesn't help much for seeing, but...what is that thing?

"The hell...?" He turns and crouches a little, to stop hurting his back. He might only be short, but looking under a table still required bending over, which his body did not approve of right now. "And what the fuck are you supposed to be?"

'It's kind of cute, whatever it is...like a sock puppet or something.'

Agito rolled his eye and ignored his other half. Trust Akito to focus on the wrong thing in this situation.

[subjuwhat]

It's talking to him. The large thing is talking to him. He's not sure how to respond. Is it a threat? Should he run away? Should he try to talk back? It seems to be asking what he is, and well, Eight isn't a hundred percent sure on what he is. It seemed a pretty inconsequential question when he was busy protecting One and now, trying to figure out what to do now that he's on this strange terrain.

After staying still for several moments, he gestures to the number on his arm. "I guard," he says simply. What, exactly, he's supposed to guard, when he doesn't know where One or his comrades are, isn't something he knows.

He points a little metal finger back at Agito/Akito, as if asking right back. What is this person supposed to be, anyway? A foe? A friend?

He can see that person is injured enough that it causes them pain to bend over, but the person doesn't seem to be dying. If he dies, maybe Eight can scavenge pieces of metal from his clothes to make a weapon of.

[fanged_wings]

Guard? Guard what?

'Agito, maybe he...it...got pulled here too?'

Agito thinks on that, noticing that he's being pointed at. Whatever it is, it doesn't seem to be terribly bright. "Could say I guard something too," he comments idly, thinking this through. If it's not from this place either, then it wouldn't be of much help... "You from this fucking place, or did you appear here too?"

He kind of wants to let Akito out, because the light deals with this sort of thing so much better. But the body is hurting too much, and Agito refuses to let the light feel the pain. Once it's not hurting as badly, he'll let Akito out.

[guardiangunman]

In case the sudden change of scenery hadn't been distressing enough, now a series of gunshots rang out from the parlour. The recoil made him drop the rifle so he picked it up, spent a minute fumbling with it one-armed until it was properly aimed, then fired and dropped it again. Three shots out of five had hit the doorknob. Horrible accuracy, but it was the best he could manage shooting left-handed with his arm resting on the piano bench for stability. He went to shake the doorknob; it still wouldn't budge. The glass doors refused to shatter either, even after he'd wasted two additional bullets on them. This house was impossible.

Ah. And there were footsteps behind him. He turned and sure enough, there was a figure slouching against a table in the entryway. Again. Really, they should post an explanatory letter on the front doors and be done with it. He watched the boy, trying to decide whether or not it was worth his time to see who he was.

[fanged_wings]

Gunshots put him instantly on alert. Agito hated guns, they reminded him of Kaito and Wind, and his hatred of both of them. He was careful as the man didn't seem to be firing at anyone, rather just at the door in the next room. The dark approached cautiously, just in case the man was a threat. He was in no condition to fight, but he would fucking try if it meant keeping Akito safe.

Seeing the bullets scattered around and the door very stubbornly not opening, he raised an eyebrow. "Either you're using a really shitty gun, or those doors aren't made of normal stuff," he commented. If the doors wouldn't open...fuck. How the hell were they supposed to get out then?

[guardiangunman]

Between Ricardo's unusual sense of humour and his pride as a soldier, this was probably the wrong thing to say. Ricardo picked up the rifle and pointed it at the brat with a smirk.

"We could find out which it is."

But he lowered it again, lest the brat actually consider him a threat. Neither of them were in any condition to fight right now.

"They seem to be plain wood and glass, but they don't break. I've never seen anything like it." He paused, sizing the boy up. It was a little impressive that he was still standing; he looked like hell. Most brats his age would be crying for their mothers about now. "That happened before you arrived?"

[fanged_wings]

Having the gun pointed at him didn't even phase Agito. He'd had worse done to him. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been shot before.

"Well shit. There goes one plan." The dark's tone was idle. He didn't really expect it to be easy (he would've been disappointed if it had been), but still. Bulletproof glass maybe? Wood should splinter at least though...if he'd been feeling better he would've fanged it to test it out.

He glanced back at the man as he spoke again. "You could fucking say that, yeah." It probably didn't help that he looked a whole lot younger than he was too. People didn't tend to pick you for being fourteen when you were only 4'3" or so.