[closed] for self-aggrandization

[silvereyedlion]

Who: silvereyedlion, yetsleeping, and swordofthenorth
When: HELLA BACKDATED because LJ sucks. but during the event.
Where: the ruins. forever the ruins.
Format: action.
What: two formerly former claymores and Priscilla cross paths while hunting. NOW WHAT?
Warnings: Isley and Rigaldo's egos. possibly fighting or something i do not know.

Comments

[yetsleeping]

[When the world goes strange and the mist comes in, Priscilla's life becomes more difficult. This is pretty much a universal rule: sometimes she's affected,and sometimes she isn't, but either way things become more complicated instead of less so.]

[In this case, the cause is obvious enough. With so many members of the patrol reduced to childsize, the workload for those who remain has been increased by a factor of... who even knows, really? And that, of course, is how she comes to be in the ruins, tracking down something... large.]

[She isn't quite sure what it is, actually. But she knows mauled human corpses and blood trails when she sees them.]

[--it occurs to her, a few steps away from the clearing (she knows that clearing, like she knows all the ruins, by now), that she hasn't been paying as much attention to the energy in the area as she ought to have. In fairness, the mist often plays with her senses... but even so, she should have recognized him. And him. Well... them

[swordofthenorth]

[The creature that lies slain at Isley’s feet is no longer recognizable-to him it never was, but that didn’t make killing it any less titillating. Even if it hadn’t put up a worthy fight the rush of the hunt was almost satisfying enough.]

[Of course, it is made all the more gratifying when Rigaldo enters the clearing followed by Priscilla. The pair are just a little too late to have been able to share in the extermination of the mindless beast. This fact serves to make Isley’s smile grow wider and somehow more immodest than ever before. He takes no shame in the blatant display of his conquest much less his own self-satisfaction.]

Rigaldo, you’re late. That’s too bad, but not unexpected. [Half a heartbeat passes and Isley’s silver eyes flicker toward the other Warrior in the clearing-] Priscilla. I suppose I’m not surprised you’re late either.

[Planting one foot on the dead carcass, Isley wrenches his blade free of its decimated body. A simple shake rids the weapon of the blood it has collected; a red spray paints the

[silvereyedlion]

[For those first few moments, Rigaldo is too irritated to even acknowledge that girl's presence. She didn't have any business being here. Isley had no business being here either, but when had that ever stopped him before?]

[He knows that smile well enough. It's so carefree, so smug, and Rigaldo's muscles tighten like tensed springs with the desire to carve it straight off his face. But when he releases the sword in his hand, it's only to drive it tip-first into the cracked stone under his feet as easily as if it was soft earth, and he makes a disgusted noise. Just in case his displeasure wasn't clear enough.]

That one was mine. Take your hunt somewhere else.

[He doesn't even bother looking at the corpse itself.]

[...but he does remember after a moment that they have company, and when he looks at Priscilla his glare practically accuses her of conspiring with Isley.]

What are you doing here?

[yetsleeping]

[Priscilla glances from Isley to Rigaldo and back again. Any attempt at keeping the mix of amusement and fascination inside her from spilling onto her face is nominal at best, and unsuccessful regardless. Still, at Rigaldo's glare, she wrinkles her nose, and almost chuckles. Almost, but not quite.]

[Instead, it comes out as a bit of a scoff.]

Well! I guess I'm doing what I normally do. Hunting dangerous beasts.

...a bit late, this time.

[She glances at Isley, and down at the swirling mist, already claiming the dead flesh and blood at his feet. Such a strange sight - familiar and unfamiliar all at once - the way he says her name, the way he moves. Even now she isn't sure what to make of him, or how to deal with whatever it is she made of him.]

But in any case, we're no longer home. This city has no territories. The thing is dead - that's all that matters.

At least to me.