tampered | (no subject)

Current Mood: amused

(no subject)

When; Afternoon-ish, Early evening.
Rating; PG-13 [most likely]
Characters; Youko Kurama [

banditfox] and Agatsuma Soubi [

lying_obedience]
Summary; Takes place after a rather long conversation about nothing. Two "people" just trying to prove themselves. Ahem. Or something.
Status; On-going.
Log;

Wood. Rock.

Earth…

His senses seemed to attune themselves, burning like fire the moment he stepped outside.

Soubi, of course, didn’t pay any particular attention to it, having decided the balance was thrown off with his second recent arrival into the City. Finding Seimei in place of Ritsuka, others gone. Those he could have missed if given the chance… Heh. How ironic that nostalgia seemed to bite him when he’d long since cured himself of the matter. Sliding his hands into his pocket, an extracted cigarette made it to his mouth, lit and inhaled before he closed in on the forest’s edge with little else in mind.

The stories he’d heard didn’t insight fear. A Fighter like he had not the time to experience such an emotion: protect the Sacrifice at all costs, even with his life. Drilled repeatedly, sometimes with hands bound and on his knees.

But now wasn’t the time for that either.

Tossing the half-finished smoke rather nonchalantly at his feet, he crushed it as he moved on, blue eyes hungrily searching for the next player in his game. It was almost cliché how the blond found him standing, beneath a tree and the sun streaking patches across his skin. Soubi also smelled rain in the air too, the wind whipping at his clothes and the length of his hair. It would have been such a pleasant masterpiece, constructed by the hands he very well knew could create nothing as beautiful.

To be free…

He frowned, closing the distance with quick strides as he examined the other a little closely. Young, perhaps. But then again, he certainly had nothing against that.

“You’re here.” And gently, he smiled.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"As agreed," Kurama concurred. He was leaning against the tree where the other had found him, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. He was dressed as was his custom for conflicts, in simple white silk shirt and pants, with a plain but colorful tunic and sash over top. Nothing distinguished him as particularly dangerous, but he could hear the forest around him, and had several seeds tucked away where they could be easily reached. The mention of a spell had him on his guard.

The one who had issued a challenge was interesting in his own right--tall, attractive, seemingly older than Kurama, and something else that the youko couldn't quite place. Bandages covered his neck, but no sign of blood accompanied them. The acrid odor of cigarette smoke clung to him, but there was little else Kurama could discern of the strange.

For a moment, he’d almost forgotten why he’d come.

Tilting his head, Soubi watched the other through the fall of his hair, trying to construct a thorough perception of this person loafing before him. Pretty, yes. A danger, perhaps. The blond was having a difficult time judging the manner in which he could battle him, Soubi knowing physical defense as well as the manipulation of the spoken word. How his sensei had prided himself on the fact, grinding lesson after lesson upon him. And his body…

Like ice, hot but chilling to the touch.

“Do you accept?”

Soubi knew he shouldn’t have been so willing to throw the challenge at a stranger, his battle system archaic in its own beauty. But even then, staring at the other boy with little than that clouding his thoughts, he felt the void of it. That dead, empty vacuum capable of eating souls and burning what sanity remained to ash. Recollecting how his voice had echoed murmuring off the spells sent a chill down his spine. How Seimei’s had sounded giving order.

Perfect.

But his power would be halved, then halved again. Without his connection to a Sacrifice and not one present… He’d simply open wounds and bleed freely.

“Well?” Soubi glared then, the anticipation to begin and end more than fleeting.

Kurama smiled, just a small curve of his lips. "You suggested a demonstration to prove that you are worth my time." They did not even know each other's names or abilities. The youko had no intention of entering a contest with the stranger completely blind if he could help it. "At the very least, you could introduce yourself before we begin."

Neverthless, he was curious as to the other's intent. Why did he seek a conflict? Was it simply for satisfaction? Or did he another, more complex purpose? Kurama could understand fighting for the sake of fighting. All youkai could. His life with Shiori had not erased that impulse, only dampened it.

Ah, so that was it.

Soubi found himself laughing particularly hard at the words, his concept of introduction always rather brief and empty. He had too many names to give at once – those that were a degree normal than the one branded into his skin, the others merely a label and thus superficial. And in his world, it hardly remained crucial to offer a greeting before showing what was meant to be proved.

Power. The better of two.

His feet moved without conscious thought to the action as he gathered himself, settling closer to Kurama in a casual lean. Soubi’s height didn’t seem to be acknowledged as he ducked his head, mouth against the other’s ear in a dry whisper. For reasons unknown, he liked the color of his hair.

“Soubi.” From there, the boy’s scent begged intrigue. “And you are?”

Personal space was a valuable commodity in Makai, because you never knew when the youkai two feet away intended to bury a knife in your gut and leave you to die, just for the fun of it. Kurama's refusal to react when Soubi intruded on his own space spoke of great deal of self-assurance. Instead, he turned his head just enough to meet the other's eyes, and his smile broadened as he answered, "Kurama." He too had a number of names that he could have given, but had not bothered to maintain the charade of being only Minamino Shuuichi since shortly after his arrival in the City.

"You still haven't convinced me that I should indulge you in whatever it is you want."

…Convincing?

Too many dangers were spoken at that moment, the way Soubi’s fingers clenched as he stared into eyes as equally reflecting bothersome. Kurama had mentioned things better left unsaid where the Fighter was concerned, his indulgences capable of the worst trouble imaginable; oo fun, if given the chance. This boy didn’t appear the type to coddle those fronting as prospective enemies, however, but there was something there, something so familiar he wanted to take it. Keep it.

So fragile.

“Perhaps another tactic then.” And quickly, Soubi turned his head ever so slightly, just enough to catch the taste of Kurama’s breath on his lips, touch the outline of the other’s mouth with his tongue and leer, unreassuring. Somehow, the scars beneath the bandages burned, and if he’d still possessed his ears, Soubi thought they might have twitched.

[ooc: And I fail at lifes 'cause my internet hates me. ♥]

That was going too far. Kurama, though more than willing to lend an injured teammate his shoulder or give a grieving friend comfort, was not inclined towards such casual intimacy with a stranger. He shoved Soubi away.

Not since Karasu had he allowed an opponent to unnerve him with physical advances, and he had no intention of allowing it to happen now. "That was foolish," he informed the other in low, deadly tones, "or do you prefer an opponent who has no regard for mercy?"

[OOC: Stab it with a spoon! I should be around for another 30 minutes to an hour, depending on how exhausted I'm willing to be at work tomorrow. :-)]

Mercy had no room for him.

It was a precarious thought as Kurama’s hands pushed at him, separating their bodies with distance. Soubi didn’t stumble, too graceful to fall to his knees in a pose mimicking shame. And memories. The defeat he already felt but didn’t acknowledge whatsoever. What would he say? What would he…do? But instead of dwelling so meticulously on it, not ingrained into him as far more deadly things were, Soubi shook his head.

And brushed his hair over a shoulder, running a finger along the bandages at his throat.

“Perhaps I know them already.” He smiled.

Kurama kept his hands at his sides. There would be time enough to summon a plant to his defense if it was required without giving Soubi forewarning. The youko wanted to know what was going through the man's head. His behavior was erratic, almost careless. Annoyed though he was by Soubi's unwelcome advance, Kurama was curious.

"What are you?" he asked, not expecting a straight answer. Soubi was a puzzle, and one that the youko found himself increasingly inclined to piece together. He had not yet earned Kurama's respect, but he had earned his attention.

He could not stop himself from grinning even wider.

Strange questions almost always offered the strangest of answers, more often than not. And Kurama’s words somehow struck him as…indifferent. At least, to be and act indifferently in regards to whatever came from his mouth. But Soubi’s actions mimicked those already, a tangled butterfly caught in a web, fluttering helplessly between so many possibilities of escape. If only…

Ritsuka.

“…” He paused, not particularly certain as to what name he should give this time. Soubi would always be Beloved, yes, but there was some part of him that yearned to be Loveless also. “Sentouki.”

And quietly, he murmured, “To protect the Sacrifice. That’s my existence.”

[ooc: Sentouki is ‘Fighter’ in Japanese, in case you didn’t know. :D]

Sentouki. That was something Kurama could work with. He allowed his interest to show in the slight arching of his eyebrows. "Is that how you came by those bandages?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only