tampered | Log; Complete

Log; Complete

When; Monday, January 21st-22nd
Rating; PG-13 (Violence)
Characters; Thomas Raith (

henkonasuisho)[Unknown site tag]
Summary; Thomas is being stubborn, and Zaheela will have none of his bull****.
Log;

For once, the apartment was quiet. He knew Zaheela would be there to change that soon enough, but couldn't bring himself to prepare for it any more than he had already. His shoulder hurt. His body hurt. There was something inside of him, worming its way down and in and through his veins like quicksilver, apprehensive and predatory at the same time. Something was wrong. He was in pain. This shouldn't have been happening.

Thomas sat on the couch facing the doorway leading into the apartment, his saber in hand and his eyes locked on the doorknob. Zaheela was coming. He was hurting.

Tonight would surely be interesting.

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Interesting? Maybe. But regardless of outcome of that night, Zaheela knew what she set out to do. When dealing with stubborn men, it payed to be stubborn yourself when it came to their better being, afterall. She didn't know his actual address, but she knew how to piece together clues, not to mention perhaps a tad bit of hacking of certain records. If this was her own homeworld, she would of used magic, but in a world were all magic, even benign, was halved, it would of been a waste of her time. That left old fashioned spying and intelligent deduction. Coming to the next door on her list, she stared at the number and sighed.

Lifting her hand, she did as her upbringing asked her to.

She knocked.

Loudly.

Thomas rolled his eyes with a small sigh, and wondered if Zaheela was merely stupid -- which was doubtful --, exceedingly new at this whole "breaking an entering thing" -- which was even more doubtful --, or just messing with him in an effort to catch him off-guard.

Hm.

He had half-expected the Cat-woman to come through the window or phase down through the roof in an effort to, at the very least, try and be original, and, instead, he was being presented with the most ludicrous thing he could think of.

She was knocking at his door. Where was the mystique in that?

"It's open."

Exhaling in relief, she opened the door and murmured a customary "Pardon me for intruding." before entering as if she had no qualms with actually picking the lock. The voice was close to the door, which meant she would see him when she entered. Ears flicked and eyes narrowed as sensitive eyes refocused to the light. Closing the door behind her, she stood there for a moment before walking in.

"Cold sweat, a sign of pain. Yet you refuse to look for help." She stated clearly, eyes taking in his state. From the look of discomfort, he was in a considerate amount. Her arms across her chest.
"Will you let me help you, now that i've tracked you, or will I have to make due with my threat, Thomas?" Her eyes focused on his, trying to make him back down. Which would of made it easier for BOTH of them, but then again, this was a male she was dealing with. But it couldn't hurt to try.

He crossed one long, runner's leg over the other and leaned back against the couch, his saber still laying flat across his now-reclining waist. They both knew that if she really wanted it to, this could have gotten violent and bloody in less than the blink of an eye.

"You have an awfully interesting way of showing someone you want to help them, Zal," he stated rather flatly, his tone dripping with boredom and condescension as he rolled his eyes yet again. "I mean, threatening to pin me against a wall just to look at my shoulder? Isn't that sort of backwards?"

"Because you're stubborn for one," Her tone was clipped and cold as she reached the couch and merely went around it, "Most men won't listen without some sort of forced submission when they don't want to admit they're in need of help. Doubly so for those used to giving commands or having their words heeded." Moving behind the couch, she leaned against it, eyes half lidded and tail swaying to an unheard tick of a clock.

"Secondly, I get the feeling you'd rather rough it out...no?" Was her next question, hand moving to brush against the shoulder he was unconsciously favoring every so often. Trained or not, the wounded all reacted the same way in the beginning. "I'd rather not be forced to make you submit, but I will if I must. Your answer?"

He looked down at his saber as it sat there, so easily in reach, so sharp and light and bloodstained in a way most people couldn't then, and then he looked up at her face and the concern that her mixture of human and feline features were so obviously showing.

"Would telling you that you can get bent and get out of my house even though this whole...domineering thing is pretty exciting be asking for too much?"

Her tail stopped and her eyes narrowed at the reply.
"Perhaps it's a side of you that you have yet to bother with, but there's no need to be rude. I'll leave once I've at least the peace of mind you suffer nothing that can cause long term damage." Her tone was colder then before, softer too, as her fingers danced upon the pommel of one of the two blades, misbalancing it slightly so that the other end swung inwards.
"Shall I use force then? I'll go easy on you."

Oh, that was rather entertaining.

"Have you ever fought a vampire before, Zah?" Thomas questioned, leaning his head all the way back so that he could simultaneously try to catch a peak up or down Zaheel's shirt, keep an eye on her hands, and bare his neck in a dare.
"We have a tendency of being rather fast, you know?"

Was this man a pervert or a sex fiend too? Why did she always seem to attract those types of men, she, who had no interest in physical relations (by Altana, she actively prefered an appearance of a boyish female, bound chest and all.) She sighed, rolling her eyes and began her usual dictionary definition.

"Vampire, A form or Type of undead being, considered by many to be unholy; demonic. Fast, powerful, awe-inspiring, dependant on the existence of other beings, and a plethora of other things. Best compared to a parasitic race." Much like an arrancar, she mused though most likely not as fast. She ignored the bared neck, not being one to fall for bait, and shifted slightly. "What of it?" She questioned, hand moving to fully grasp her blade, even though if she pulled it out, it would end up in a rather clumsy attempt on her part.

He laughed, power gently lacing the noise as it took flight from his lips and echoed around them, the noise as feather-soft and kind as a caress from a lover in the dark.

"I'm hardly awe-inspiring."

A hand settled on the tip of the blade of his saber, though Thomas naturally hid it by uncrossing his legs in a rather eye-catching fashion. "Dangerous? maybe. Fast? definitely. The awe-inspiring, I leave to Harry."

Her free hand came up to massage her temple, tail fluffed slightly from the tone of his response. It unnerved her, honestly, and she exhaled after a moment of what appeared to be the wishing away of a spontaneous headache.
"Prove it." Was her only response, as she moved her hand away from her temple to flick away the one long strand of hair, feeling the barrier spell settle against her skin invisibly. If he was acting like this, one of them would need to make the move soon before she lost interest. And when that happened... well. Things happened.

The...subtle shift of the air around him told Thomas rather plainly that something had changed. Whether it was a spell, the mood, or...whatever Zaheela could do when she was angry, he didn't know, and didn't care. She wanted him to prove how fast he was? Ha. As if he'd fall for something so...base.

"Take a swing at me."

Walking slowly, she eyed him, walking around the end of the couch, an amused smile on her face.
"I normally don't like these types of things..." She pointed her index finger upward into the air, tilting her head.
"But can do some flashy tricks instead?" A somewhat lazy, circular flash of light appearing out of nowhere in front of him, heading straight for his face.

A jolt of power, surging up through him like a lightning bolt, saved his face from whatever she had aimed at him. He dropped into roll that brought him to her feet in a low-crouch, his saber pointed directly at her midsection.

"Substance, dear."

She looked down at the sword, bored, as if she didn't care about her own body.

"You're half a second slower then an arrancar in terms of reflexes, but that is still decently fast. But then again... Do you happen to know the state of my own world?" She asked again with a smile, though her eyes were sad. Jerking her wrist backwards, one of the abnormally fragile clasps holding one sword to her belt snapped suddenly, propelling it forward that the scabbard would impact the chest with great force, or the very least the edge of his chin if he reacted like she expected before the second clasp snapping. She used the opening to catch the hilt, letting the continuing momentum draw the blade half way. Right hand grasped the scabbard of the half dawn blade, NOT the second sword. Following through, like a dancer, she finished the arc, scabbard in one hand held in front of her, her Colichemarde held slightly behind her.
"Do you have any idea?" Her voice was strong, but her eyes were soft.

Edited 2008-01-23 04:20 (UTC)

Parry the first blow, follow-through, follow-through, follow-through before she can react, and he breaks, hard, before, before his arms automatically reacts and goes for her knees.

"Don't know, don't care."

Zaheela moved like a dancer, it was true, but his entire family was made up of beings who could do the same, so Thomas expected that she had the fatal flaw most other graceful fighters had -- they didn't expect things like a full-frontal tackle, which was what he coiled up and surged forward to do.

Like... was the key word. In truth, she her style was meant to do one thing. Subdue. Kill. Protect. Moving into the attack, she thrust the scabbard forward, aiming to pierce. She had grace when she needed, but she did not dodge like a dancer would. The Colichemarde remained on guard, as the thick, metal lined wooden scabbard let his saber bite deep into it's side.

More blows were traded, finely honed skill and steel singing in a language only they could. "You should." Was her only words as she moved to counter attack by moving in as the scabbard and saber clashed, grip loosening as she let go of the scabbard, flipping over his head. Holding out the fencing sword, she began to mutter, light flickering into existence and then died out as it touched the blade. Eyes snapped to the blade, wide, as if it shouldn't of happened quite like that. Standing still for a moment in shock, blade held in a sloppy ready position, she left herself open.

He saw a feint when it was coming, but, damn she was fast. An improper swipe from his saber cost him a few pieces of skin and what sounded like a knuckle as her scabbard slammed right onto his fingers, jarring his hand for a moment.

"I don't think you've got the guts, personally."

He watched her light-show as he did his best to finish dodging the blows she rained down on him, his body moving in an oddly graceful combination of side-steps and half-feints which left him, momentarily, flat-footed as she landed closer than he had guessed. On pure reflex alone, he snapped out his arm and aimed a half-hearted chop towards her thigh.

The slice was shallow, dragged at an angle down her left thigh, but to move would constantly open the wound. Glancing down at it as if it was a stain on a clean white shirt, she quickly ignored it as if it was nothing. Purposely putting strain on it, she surged forward, blade seeking flesh and vital organs.
"hmm." Was the only response she really had to that as she began to start a counter attack which seems far to aggressive and passionate for someone whose personality was collected and cold. Never did her hand go for her second blade, as if she felt she didn't need it.

See?" he called out, backpedaling as his turned and whipped his awkward slice into a fully circular counter-parry aimed at knocking Zaheela's obviously lethal-intended stab to the side and away from him. "You're thinking too much."

Stepping lightly once he regained his footing, Thomas pushed forward with his back-most foot and began to bring his blade down at Zaheela's shoulder once it reached the apex of his counter, turning it into a vertical slice meant to, at the most, break something.

The next move simply furthered the fact that as human as she looked, that tail had more uses then appearance. Pitching her body forward while turning, a move which would of normally been awkward for a normal human, she dodged, tail acting like a rutter for a ship. Her shoulder slammed into his stomach, her throwing her light frame into the blow, hoping to slam him back into the wall. If he did, her sword would follow.

Alright. He should have expected something like that. His power rippled beneath his skin, hungry and wanting to do...something; anything at the feel of her lithe body crashing into him, but Thomas focused on the pain and let her bring him to the ground, instead, which might have been even more awkward, in retrospect.

A small part of her felt satifaction that he had fallen, but she didn't let herself linger on such emotions. She let herself dart downwards, Sword held downwards to impale the shoulder that he had injured upon it.

His saber had fallen out of his hand somewhere between his ass and the ground getting to know each other more intimately, so the most her could do to avoid impalement was to twist his hips -- which, no doubt, would do interesting things to the both of them given how close they were -- and hope for the best.

She felt him twist, and she briefly snarled, uncomfortable with the idea. Instinctively leaping to the side, to grab the saber that had fallen from his hand. Though the blade wasn't the heaviest of blades, it was not one she had to bother with in years. It felt unwieldy, misbalanced; obviously catered to his own grip and balance, but she needed it out of the way. Moving slowly and on guard, she adjusted her grip several times, mind whirling of ways to effectively disable it's use without damaging the furniture.

Even though she had threatened not to pay for any damages, she wasn't quite that mean..

She had his blade.

Correction, she had his blade, and her blade, and was no advancing towards him with murder in her eyes.

Great.

Thomas sprung back to his feet, and quickly tried to assess the situation. If he went to his room, the window leading out onto the street would--But, no. She'd reach him before he had the chance. Leaving the actual living room for anywhere else was also out of the question, given how Harry or the Sultana would maim him for acting the way he was.

Decisions, decisions.

Thomas charged, the Hunger surging through him making him look like nothing more than a blur of white and silver.

Her eyes lost him for a moment as he charged before he slammed into the protect spell she had done before. It strained to repel whatever tried to reach it's caster, stalling him for a moment of two. Which was all she needed.

"FLASH!" The room illuminated with harmless light, a wild, pointless burst, but bright enough to blind before she used his own sword to trip him and pin pants leg to the floor and her own sword struck again for his shoulder.

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