| closed / incomplete |

[eatasam]

CHARACTERS: Famine (eatasam) & Kokabiel (kochab)
DATE/TIME: Sometime in the afternoon
LOCATION: Coney Island
RATING: R
WARNINGS: Potential violence and swearing. And evil.
SUMMARY: Famine catches a fly in his web.

Comments

[kochab]

It had taken some time to sink in that this wasn’t the Apocalypse. As an angel, as someone who had served under God for ages, Kokabiel knew perfectly well it would come someday. And he knew exactly what would happen to him once it came up. It was ingrained in his memories, as certain as every sunrise he had ever seen in his many lives. It was okay - not fine, he enjoyed living and not being in an eternal pit of darkness and burning, thank you ever so much - but it was okay. This wasn’t the Apocalypse so his calm was back in place.

The big sword in his hand also helped. It was actually heavy, pure steel and not even close to flawless. Considering it had been from an antique shop - sorry, dudes, he’d pay when there was actually someone to pay to - it was likely it seen action some time in the past. It fit in his hand much better than any pistol, any gun would. Little flame would be nice but hey, he wouldn’t look a gifted horse in the mouth. Hence why a heavy pistol had been stuck to his belt, ready for enemies slightly harder to cut

[eatasam]

Hunger miraculously had yet to plague Famine, as he and War had covered a fair amount of ground and made sure not to starve in the process of incinerating everything in sight, tearing apart what monsters they could. People seemed to be avoiding public places now that the fires raged, and this both pleased and upset him. He wanted blood. He wanted someone to pay for fucking with them

[kochab]

In comparison, Kokabiel would eloquently say the other looked like shit. Warmed over. Twice. Then smashed a little around. The angel was conscious he didn’t exactly look his pretty and fixed up self but the Horseman made him look like a beauty pageant competitor. Plus the whole ‘every horseman bar Death had already told him he was in some list to be offed’ thing. And did he really have to bring that bat around? It was just not welcoming.

“Ceiling. Stars. Dad. What a lousy joke.” He popped another chip in his mouth, leaning ever so slightly, unconsciously ready to move if needed. Kokabiel had been a soldier once, one lifetime ago, one angelic existence. There were things death didn’t change. “I’d ask if you were served but hey, lots to choose from.” Right hand waved around, left hand - his sword hand - didn’t bother.

“And I’d say welcome but you guys don’t seem to like me much at the moment,” the angel added, turning his head to the side. Gross understatement of the century.

[eatasam]

The expression on Famine's face didn't give away much. He wasn't extremely expressive to begin with, but now his face read very little. If he was angry, if he was tired. Looking like he wanted to give up with the incinerating. But the way he gripped the bat like it was an extra extension on his body said so much more than the vacant look in his eyes.

A couple of slow steps forward were taken. Like a wild cat on the prowl -- a jaguar with a bloody, dented bat. "I wasn't aware we liked you before," he pointed out, appearing not quite readying for an attack. If he seemed like anything, it was relaxed, as though the control was in his damaged hands.

[kochab]

“Tolerance, at least.” Nah, the kid might be dangerous - not might, was - but Kokabiel was reserving himself to two beings. His dutiful brothers, if only because they came from higher orders, and God himself. No kneeling over and dying any time soon. And this kind of wait. He didn’t do waiting. He jumped head-first into things. That was how life was fun. The angel placed the half-eaten bag by his side, sighing as he slid down from the counter. Head to one side, head to the other, the smallest crick to release the tension. The gun was left on his belt. “Okay, so

[eatasam]

Famine gave no physical indication that he was either impressed or concerned about the bright sword. He didn't even give it a second glance. "Try?" Further advancement, more bat dragging. A little light show wasn't about to deter him from his mission.

"This may not be the Apocalypse, but yes." Now the slim horseman was only a couple of feet away, within stabbing distance. "I'm going to try and kill you off." With remarkable speed, considering the battered state of his body, he brought his weapon up and swung it in the direction of Kokabiel's head, as if it was an incoming baseball on the field.

No matter the injury, Famine wasn't going to stop. His veins hummed with determination to slaughter anything within sight now that he knew they were being teased. Temptation had been dangled over their heads, and they'd snatched it, prematurely excited that whatever this was, they could use it to their advantage.

And he and War were going to keep going until they could reunite with their fellow horsemen and show them all why they had the

[kochab]

“Yup, very much try.” Hell if he was going to sit still. Kokabiel was tired, of course, like many filling up the city. But he had laid low, low enough to conserve energy, to sleep in small periods of time. And he was an unconventional fighter from birth. Had to be. Born in a weird neighborhood, orphan, two brats to look after, he was no innocent boy. And he just hated to do things the hard way. As soon as he saw the bat coming towards him, he was already moving to the side, sidestepping neatly from something his head wouldn’t appreciate

[eatasam]

A quick step to the side followed to avoid the ball, exhaustion betraying Famine as his body showed signs of exhaustion before his face did. In the way his knees appeared to almost buckle with the swift movement. How how he gripped the handle of his weapon like it was about to slip from his hand. Tired or not, though, he wasn't about to set the bat down and join the good doctor for a bag of chips, a drink of water.

The hood over the horseman's head fell lower over his eyes as he spared a glance at the sword. Not exactly bright, shiny and new. An antique. Kokabiel might have had a special little power, but he was far from worried. It was the sword that could do more damage. Would the bat stand up to an antique blade or vice versa?

Only one way to find out.

"We're not going to kill everyone," he just as calmly informed the fallen, raising the bloody bat again to swing.

[kochab]

“I’m just special.” Only one of the horsemen hadn’t kindly warned him he was about to die. And that was Death who always told him she was going to get him eventually anyway. Maybe it was some sort of thing against God’s kids, even if he was more of God’s adopted second cousin twice removed now. Kokabiel gripped the wayward thought and went right back into surviving this crap. Killing wasn’t part of the plan but he wouldn’t play around and get fucked.

He had promised too many people to come out of this alive. The angel couldn’t wait to tell them he had run right into one of the two people he really didn’t want to see.

Instead of waiting for the other to move, he took the initiative. A quick jump forward and he crouched, a nice little attempt to kick the guy’s legs from underneath him.

[eatasam]

Famine was by no means an experienced fighter. True that he'd been in more physical fights than most boys his size, mostly thanks to War, but he didn't know the right sort of moves in a duel. In his defense, it was less like flailing around and more like moving instinctively, as if he knew exactly where to swing, though the fact of the matter was that he was tired, and therefore vulnerable.

After all, human body. Those needed to take a break sometimes, or they'd overload like a computer with too much information.

He dropped like a fly, spine slamming into the floor with a sickening crack as the metal bat clattered rather loudly while still in hand, but it didn't mean he was about to give up. One long leg kicked out, aimed toward Kokabiel's throat in some attempt to knock him back.