Log: Complete

[bitingnightmare.livejournal.com]

When; Jul. 18 (night)
Rating; PG-13 (language, violence)
Characters; Elle Driver venomouselle, John Constantine silkcutremix, the Corinthian bitingnightmare
Summary; A Saga continues.
Log;

Considering his silence for the past minute one can only guess what the Corinthian had been up to, making sure to stay on Elle's blind side.

The second she drew blood for the second time, he was ready. The nightmare pulled his sidearm, the balisong's handles flipping outward to reveal its blade. However, rather than lock the latch, he lunged forward and expertly whipped one handle to clamp over the Hanzo, his fist squeezing it tight to keep her blade in place. His other fist came sailing around, knuckles poised to crack against her cheek. It didn't matter to the nightmare that she was a woman, it probably mattered little to Elle as well.

Comments

[venomouselle.livejournal.com]

Elle growled back as an auto response. "Glad to hear it." That was what all of this shit was about. Or maybe John forgot. How long would it be before the reminders of that one mistake stopped coming?

She glanced to Cori who thus far had successfully been mimicking a statue.

[silkcutremix.livejournal.com]

Cori can mimic a statue. Constantine wanted to clean his face and deal with her later; Elle was stubborn and the magus was going to have to think of something else to keep her from making any more visits to the flat.

Pity her doing away with him would have been ineffective, curse or none.

He rubbed his temples. "Another time, sweetheart." He disappeared, shutting the door with the click of a lock. Not really effective against the likes of her, but what else could he do?

[bitingnightmare.livejournal.com]

Teetheyes narrowed again at the magician who had disappeared into the bathroom before his gaze shifted back to the California Mountain Snake. Getting nowhere for no good reason other than pride, two of the same kind of charge repelling each other. It tried the Corinthian's patience.

Previously statuesque and still just as unnoticeable, his pale hand swiftly grabbed the katana by its intricate hilt. He walked briskly towards their window, up on the third floor, it was open to allow fresh air into the apartment. He didn't glance over his shoulder to see if John and Elle were still trading words, kisses, or blows, as he let go of the sword. It was a Hanzo, built to perfection by a legend. A simple three story drop shouldn't even be enough of a test for such a sword. A test of Elle's attachment to it on the other hand...

[venomouselle.livejournal.com]

Elle turned away from the closed bathroom door to the couch. "Cori, gimme--" He was standing close to the window. The gleam of the long, ritualistically shined blade dazzled her vision briefly. There wasn't even time for her register what was going on until it dropped from sight. Her heart fell into her shoes as a scream came rolling from her lips.

That sword in near perfect condition had been sitting in a drunk's trailer waiting for her. That sword was the best of Budd. That sword was going to kill Beatrix Kiddo. That sword fell three stories to the City street. That sword may be in some chump's hands.

[bitingnightmare.livejournal.com]

"You really shouldn't have come over like that," said the Corinthian. It was all he said.

[venomouselle.livejournal.com]

The sound of his voice touched her ears only slightly above the roar from the rush of blood. The assassin was out of their apartment, running to fetch the sword. The Corinthian and John Constantine could and would leave, she had no power over their fate, the katana on the other hand was within her care. Elle wasn't on ground level searching for long. The two were reunited.

[bitingnightmare.livejournal.com]

He shut the window and locked it. He shut the door and locked that too, both latch, dead bolt, and chain. The Corinthian wasn't going to risk letting her come back into the apartment, though she could just as easily use her sword on the door. Such a scenario meant she would have to face the nightmare one on one, he didn't want that. He didn't want that more than he didn't want to have to send her on a chase for her own sword, more than he didn't want John locked up in the bathroom. It should have been a night for thought, not conflict.

As a precaution, he pulled over one of those kitchen chairs closer to the front door, removed his knife and cigarettes, then sat. Ever the first line of defense. Cori lit a much needed cigarette, finally one for himself, and it was well earned.