Vicious (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goodolfashionedvillain) wrote2030-02-01 04:42 pm
goodolfashionedvillain) wrote2030-02-01 04:42 pm
† RYSLIG- IC INBOX †
INBOX
text | audio | action & overflow
code by transilience
transilienceYou eat 'em. You're the one who likes them so much.
[Spike takes his grouchy saunter to the couch, where he flops down in a fit of botherment.]
We need to get more drugs.
[And before Vicious can say anything—]
I need to get more drugs.
[Spike takes his grouchy saunter to the couch, where he flops down in a fit of botherment.]
We need to get more drugs.
[And before Vicious can say anything—]
I need to get more drugs.
[Wrapped in a light green cloth, the present contains an obnoxiously bright blue and yellow floral-patterned Hawaiian shirt, to match the one he gave to Spike.
There's also a smaller box, and it contains a reasonably nice metal pocket watch, probably bought from the Night Market. Good for telling time when you're intangible and don't have wrists, though Hinata didn't really account for the potential lack of pockets.]
There's also a smaller box, and it contains a reasonably nice metal pocket watch, probably bought from the Night Market. Good for telling time when you're intangible and don't have wrists, though Hinata didn't really account for the potential lack of pockets.]
[THE START OF THE LOOP; LOOP ONE]
[This was a stupid idea.
If there is only one thing Spike is certain of in this moment, it's that he is a fucking idiot. Perhaps the biggest fucking idiot there is.
Most people would have taken a lot more time to practice with their strange new powers before going into attempting something like this. They would have done more than just gently encouraged things that were already growing, would have put some attempts into trying to understand what they're doing— perhaps even would have asked other nymphs for help.
But Spike is not most people, and right now, he is regretting being a person at all.
As with most of the problems he deals with alone, Spike is completely silent about this particular fuckup.
He is seated on the couch now, watching the golden sunset drift in through the open window— no, not open. It's not open on purpose, anyway. A shard of broken glass falls to the floor, jiggled free from the mostly-bare windowframe by the movement of a flowering branch in the breeze.
A whole ass tree of a bush has grown, its roots a tangled mess on the apartment floor, out the window, in pursuit of the sun. Its pale branches peek into the evening air, fluttering with thick green leaves and beautiful blossoms in a white-fuschia ombre.
Lovely as they are, they are not what was intended, nor are they growing as intended, nor are they growing where intended.
Spike's own ass is planted (ha) dead center in the middle of the couch. An herbal cigarette burns off in his hand, which is too preoccupied with rubbing his temples to bring the cigarette to his mouth.
He lets out a heavy sigh. He is going to have to figure out how to fix this.
But Vicious hasn't returned home yet, and maybe won't at all. Maybe instead of dealing with this, Spike can just... rot on the couch.
And that's what he chooses to do, finally drawing a drag from that cigarette.
This can be a fuckup to deal with in the morning.]
[This was a stupid idea.
If there is only one thing Spike is certain of in this moment, it's that he is a fucking idiot. Perhaps the biggest fucking idiot there is.
Most people would have taken a lot more time to practice with their strange new powers before going into attempting something like this. They would have done more than just gently encouraged things that were already growing, would have put some attempts into trying to understand what they're doing— perhaps even would have asked other nymphs for help.
But Spike is not most people, and right now, he is regretting being a person at all.
As with most of the problems he deals with alone, Spike is completely silent about this particular fuckup.
He is seated on the couch now, watching the golden sunset drift in through the open window— no, not open. It's not open on purpose, anyway. A shard of broken glass falls to the floor, jiggled free from the mostly-bare windowframe by the movement of a flowering branch in the breeze.
A whole ass tree of a bush has grown, its roots a tangled mess on the apartment floor, out the window, in pursuit of the sun. Its pale branches peek into the evening air, fluttering with thick green leaves and beautiful blossoms in a white-fuschia ombre.
Lovely as they are, they are not what was intended, nor are they growing as intended, nor are they growing where intended.
Spike's own ass is planted (ha) dead center in the middle of the couch. An herbal cigarette burns off in his hand, which is too preoccupied with rubbing his temples to bring the cigarette to his mouth.
He lets out a heavy sigh. He is going to have to figure out how to fix this.
But Vicious hasn't returned home yet, and maybe won't at all. Maybe instead of dealing with this, Spike can just... rot on the couch.
And that's what he chooses to do, finally drawing a drag from that cigarette.
This can be a fuckup to deal with in the morning.]
Event - Action - February Time Loop- cw: gore, burning, claustrophobia, eventual groundhog murder
dermondversteckt
2023-02-22 08:46 am (UTC)(link)
[Whatever dream Vicious had been having, wrapped around the smaller body of the wicked little Goblin he had spent the night with, it is suddenly...interrupted.
Fire roars through the trees, melting reddened snow from gore-spattered earth. Wine grapes hang nonsensically from burning trellises. They bleed. It smells of apricots. Your stomach churns.
There is a burning in the skin of your chest. You want to rip the flesh out. You can't. Your hands are too caked with flesh and blood to find purchase. Your mouth feels unlike your own. You choke and spit out a tooth. Another has grown in, long and wicked. Your neck throbs. You can taste dozens of people on your tongue.
A building stands before you. It's half burned away. You don't know what it is, a shack, crooked and wooden and old. You can't get near it. It burns too brightly.
A young man stands in the doorway, silhouetted by the flames. He wears robes, and the ends of his long dark hair are burning. You can't make out his face, but it is full of sadness.
He points at you.
"Suntem amândoi naibii.
We are both damned."
You know the voice, but you don't. It rings painfully in your ears, like the feedback on a speaker. The sun starts to rise, and you want desperately to see it. You can hear a child screaming.
The earth reaches up and swallows you whole before you glimpse the light, enclosing you, crushing you before you can even cry out.
When Vicious wakes, he will find...he is still in bed with Kronid. He is curled up tightly against him, still naked, small body and wings trembling. His hands are crossed over his chest, over his scar, claws digging in.
He...chokes out a single, barely-stifled sob.]
Fire roars through the trees, melting reddened snow from gore-spattered earth. Wine grapes hang nonsensically from burning trellises. They bleed. It smells of apricots. Your stomach churns.
There is a burning in the skin of your chest. You want to rip the flesh out. You can't. Your hands are too caked with flesh and blood to find purchase. Your mouth feels unlike your own. You choke and spit out a tooth. Another has grown in, long and wicked. Your neck throbs. You can taste dozens of people on your tongue.
A building stands before you. It's half burned away. You don't know what it is, a shack, crooked and wooden and old. You can't get near it. It burns too brightly.
A young man stands in the doorway, silhouetted by the flames. He wears robes, and the ends of his long dark hair are burning. You can't make out his face, but it is full of sadness.
He points at you.
"Suntem amândoi naibii.
We are both damned."
You know the voice, but you don't. It rings painfully in your ears, like the feedback on a speaker. The sun starts to rise, and you want desperately to see it. You can hear a child screaming.
The earth reaches up and swallows you whole before you glimpse the light, enclosing you, crushing you before you can even cry out.
When Vicious wakes, he will find...he is still in bed with Kronid. He is curled up tightly against him, still naked, small body and wings trembling. His hands are crossed over his chest, over his scar, claws digging in.
He...chokes out a single, barely-stifled sob.]
Edited (What is time what are dates keeping it vague to avoid thinking too hard lmao) 2023-02-22 08:53 (UTC)
[Nothing is ever that easy is it, Spike?
Vicious slips through the front door, quiet as the ghost he is. Once on the other side, he's solid again, actually walking rather than floating towards the bedroom until he's greeted by the mass of roots and flowers sprawling across his previously cleaned living room floor. At first, he's unaware of Spike's presence in the apartment-- it has been a minute since they've been home at the same time, after all.]
What the hell--
[He stops abruptly, wide white eyes blinking rapidly in confusion. He remembers what happened last year and what a nightmare that was, the way the flowers overtook everyone's bodies... is it happening again?! Spiraling, he sorts begins to sort through the possibilities and what he can do about them-- that is until he sees Spike on the couch. He jumps once he realizes he's not alone, placing a hand on his chest.]
Good lord. [Wheeze.] Hi. Christ, Fearless, you need a bell or something!
Vicious slips through the front door, quiet as the ghost he is. Once on the other side, he's solid again, actually walking rather than floating towards the bedroom until he's greeted by the mass of roots and flowers sprawling across his previously cleaned living room floor. At first, he's unaware of Spike's presence in the apartment-- it has been a minute since they've been home at the same time, after all.]
What the hell--
[He stops abruptly, wide white eyes blinking rapidly in confusion. He remembers what happened last year and what a nightmare that was, the way the flowers overtook everyone's bodies... is it happening again?! Spiraling, he sorts begins to sort through the possibilities and what he can do about them-- that is until he sees Spike on the couch. He jumps once he realizes he's not alone, placing a hand on his chest.]
Good lord. [Wheeze.] Hi. Christ, Fearless, you need a bell or something!
[In the moments between Vicious entering and then actually noticing Spike, the nymph gets to his feet, looks between the mess he's made and Vicious, and draws in another drag of that smoke.
His eyes may be wide, but he forces a casual sense of body language, stuffing his hands in his pocket and looking Vicious's way with the herbal cigarette still in his mouth.
Lips pressed to one side to hold it there, Spike retorts;]
You don't even open the door and I'm the one who needs a bell?
I coulda been naked.
His eyes may be wide, but he forces a casual sense of body language, stuffing his hands in his pocket and looking Vicious's way with the herbal cigarette still in his mouth.
Lips pressed to one side to hold it there, Spike retorts;]
You don't even open the door and I'm the one who needs a bell?
I coulda been naked.
Please, you say that like you aren't naked most of the time.
[He places his hands on his hips, frowning for a moment. He wants to pretend that he's more frustrated than he is, annoyed that he was spooked so easily, but... it really is kind of nice to see him.
Something strange tugs in his chest, but he shrugs it off.]
...So, what's going on? When did you get home?
[He places his hands on his hips, frowning for a moment. He wants to pretend that he's more frustrated than he is, annoyed that he was spooked so easily, but... it really is kind of nice to see him.
Something strange tugs in his chest, but he shrugs it off.]
...So, what's going on? When did you get home?
[Spike looks back to the tree, pulling the cigarette from his mouth which then hangs ajar, then looks back to Vicious. Looks back to the tree, shrugs his shoulders.]
Ahhh, you know.
Just now. Found it like this.
[The lie comes easy, without him really even thinking about it. But still, he looks away when he says it, almost immediately looking toward the floor and pulling on that cigarette again.]
Fucked up, right?
Ahhh, you know.
Just now. Found it like this.
[The lie comes easy, without him really even thinking about it. But still, he looks away when he says it, almost immediately looking toward the floor and pulling on that cigarette again.]
Fucked up, right?
Edited 2023-02-22 09:44 (UTC)
[His eyes snap open, staring straight ahead into the near-pitch darkness of the room. There's no fire, no screaming, no horror here, just the gentle light of late afternoon seeping through the curtain's slits and the soft, trembling breath of the man next to him.
What an odd dream, Vicious thinks, reaching up to wipe the sleep from his eyes. He's surprised to find that his cheeks are... wet? He blinks, wiping a little more aggressively. Was he... crying? In his sleep? Had the dream really scared him that badly? He doesn't want to focus too hard on it, though. The pitiful sound his companion makes is enough to have him redirecting his attention and concern to the other man curled up next to him.
Vicious rolls onto his side to face him more fully, reaching up to place a hand on the goblin's shoulder, stroking down along his arm and back in an attempt at waking him gently. He notes Kronid's hand digging nails into his chest and frowns, putting two and two together. In the dream Vicious had, his own chest was burning-- is it possible they had the same dream?
Anything is possible in this place, he reminds himself. ]
Kronid. [His voice is gruff, being the first sound he's made in hours, but still soft as he calls to him. He pulls his hand away from Kronid's shoulder, slipping it between the scar and the goblin's hand, lacing their fingers together. At least like this, he can't hurt himself anymore.]
Wake up, dearest. It's just a dream...
[He squeezes the smaller man's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.]
What an odd dream, Vicious thinks, reaching up to wipe the sleep from his eyes. He's surprised to find that his cheeks are... wet? He blinks, wiping a little more aggressively. Was he... crying? In his sleep? Had the dream really scared him that badly? He doesn't want to focus too hard on it, though. The pitiful sound his companion makes is enough to have him redirecting his attention and concern to the other man curled up next to him.
Vicious rolls onto his side to face him more fully, reaching up to place a hand on the goblin's shoulder, stroking down along his arm and back in an attempt at waking him gently. He notes Kronid's hand digging nails into his chest and frowns, putting two and two together. In the dream Vicious had, his own chest was burning-- is it possible they had the same dream?
Anything is possible in this place, he reminds himself. ]
Kronid. [His voice is gruff, being the first sound he's made in hours, but still soft as he calls to him. He pulls his hand away from Kronid's shoulder, slipping it between the scar and the goblin's hand, lacing their fingers together. At least like this, he can't hurt himself anymore.]
Wake up, dearest. It's just a dream...
[He squeezes the smaller man's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.]
[Stares.]
...You just got here, and it was just like this.
[He's almost apt to believe him, but that shifty look of his is already giving him away.]
Did you... happen to come by after I left for work last night? Was it here, then?
...You just got here, and it was just like this.
[He's almost apt to believe him, but that shifty look of his is already giving him away.]
Did you... happen to come by after I left for work last night? Was it here, then?
[And yet, Spike turns to Vicious with arms open in a what? You don't believe me? I'm just a little guy! pose.]
I said 'just now', didn't I?
I said 'just now', didn't I?
[Raising his brows. No, of course he doesn't believe him.]
I just wanted to make sure, because I was home for a bit last night and... that wasn't here. I'm just saying it's a little large for it to be something that just appeared in the last, oh... twelve hours.
I just wanted to make sure, because I was home for a bit last night and... that wasn't here. I'm just saying it's a little large for it to be something that just appeared in the last, oh... twelve hours.
Mm. I know. Like I said.
Fucked up.
[He knows. He knows Vicious knows him too well for this to work.
He also knows Vicious knows that he won't go down without a fight.
Granted, there are also little buds trailing up his arms, just one or two on each. Very much related to this tree.]
Fucked up.
[He knows. He knows Vicious knows him too well for this to work.
He also knows Vicious knows that he won't go down without a fight.
Granted, there are also little buds trailing up his arms, just one or two on each. Very much related to this tree.]
Edited 2023-02-22 10:12 (UTC)
[Crossing his arms under his chest now. Leaning against the bar that separates the kitchen and the living room.
He sees the blooms on Spike's arms match the ones on the tree, and he's eying them pretty hard-- though that might be hard to tell since he doesn't actually have irises anymore.]
Right. Well, I wonder where it could have come from.
[Lifting a hand to tap at his chin.]
Maybe it's Kräkaskron 2.
He sees the blooms on Spike's arms match the ones on the tree, and he's eying them pretty hard-- though that might be hard to tell since he doesn't actually have irises anymore.]
Right. Well, I wonder where it could have come from.
[Lifting a hand to tap at his chin.]
Maybe it's Kräkaskron 2.
[Vicious is beautiful. It's infuriating, actually. There he is, practically a shadow, but the silhouette of his form looks damn good.
Always. Unfair.
That said, Kräkaskron isn't a name Spike committed to memory. Mostly because it sounds like a bad sneeze.
He blinks, brows furrowed, obviously thrown off his game, and asks;]
Gesundheit?
Always. Unfair.
That said, Kräkaskron isn't a name Spike committed to memory. Mostly because it sounds like a bad sneeze.
He blinks, brows furrowed, obviously thrown off his game, and asks;]
Gesundheit?
[If he gets close enough, he might find this shadow is more solid than usual. But he does look good, even if his outfit is a little out of sorts; tie undone, vest opened, shirt mis-buttoned. Whatever he was busy with before he got home was clearly eventful.
Covering his mouth with his hand, he stares long and hard. Is he serious? He doesn't remember?
Taking a deep breath, that hand moves to pinch the bridge of his nose.]
Krākaskron. What happened just a few weeks after we got here? When those awful flowers started popping out of our skin?
...I mean, before that became your whole deal. Remember?
Covering his mouth with his hand, he stares long and hard. Is he serious? He doesn't remember?
Taking a deep breath, that hand moves to pinch the bridge of his nose.]
Krākaskron. What happened just a few weeks after we got here? When those awful flowers started popping out of our skin?
...I mean, before that became your whole deal. Remember?
God. What kind of word is that?
[Annoyed, Spike heaves a sigh and blows out smoke through his nose. He notices; the little details, how much of a form Vicious seems to have.
The way the corner of his collar flips up in a way Vicious wouldn't usually let it.
Annoying.
Spike turns to shuffle away back toward the couch.]
Yeah, I remember.
Probably not that.
[Annoyed, Spike heaves a sigh and blows out smoke through his nose. He notices; the little details, how much of a form Vicious seems to have.
The way the corner of his collar flips up in a way Vicious wouldn't usually let it.
Annoying.
Spike turns to shuffle away back toward the couch.]
Yeah, I remember.
Probably not that.
I think it's... Swedish? Maybe? Something Scandinavian.
[He knows that was rhetorical but he couldn't stop himself from answering.]
...so, why don't you ask it where it came from? Can't you talk to plants or something, now?
[He needs a drink. This might take a minute.
He turns to head into the kitchen, rummaging around for two beers in the fridge before taking one to Spike and plopping down next to him on the couch.
Wow, there's even weight to him now. How weird, right?]
[He knows that was rhetorical but he couldn't stop himself from answering.]
...so, why don't you ask it where it came from? Can't you talk to plants or something, now?
[He needs a drink. This might take a minute.
He turns to head into the kitchen, rummaging around for two beers in the fridge before taking one to Spike and plopping down next to him on the couch.
Wow, there's even weight to him now. How weird, right?]
[The weight is answered with a bounce of Spike's brows. He looks over at Vicious, looks him up and down, and takes the beer.]
Yeah... Maybe I'll ask them when you opted back in to your subscription to gravity.
Yeah... Maybe I'll ask them when you opted back in to your subscription to gravity.
[When the Goblin wakes, it's with a start - eyes glowing softly as the magic some part of him was using recedes. This isn't the first time he's had this dream, all fire and blood and damnation....
But it is the first time he hasn't woken up alone.
'Dearest.'
The softly spoken word lands on him hard, echoing back from years ago, from another pair of strong arms that never got to hold him this way -
He looks at Vicious, wide-eyed, looking for a moment less like an ancient predator and more like a scared young man. (Something about that look is - how could it be familiar?)
And then...shuddering, he reaches out to wrap his arms around the Shade, burying his face against soft white hair. He has no idea what Vicious had seen. He can still hear his son screaming for him.]
My Knight.
I-
I'm-
[A knot in his throat chokes him, and he sobs again. His voice is so different when he murmurs again, so quiet.]
...You stayed.
But it is the first time he hasn't woken up alone.
'Dearest.'
The softly spoken word lands on him hard, echoing back from years ago, from another pair of strong arms that never got to hold him this way -
He looks at Vicious, wide-eyed, looking for a moment less like an ancient predator and more like a scared young man. (Something about that look is - how could it be familiar?)
And then...shuddering, he reaches out to wrap his arms around the Shade, burying his face against soft white hair. He has no idea what Vicious had seen. He can still hear his son screaming for him.]
My Knight.
I-
I'm-
[A knot in his throat chokes him, and he sobs again. His voice is so different when he murmurs again, so quiet.]
...You stayed.
[Blinks.]
What...? Why would they know?
What...? Why would they know?
[He stares at Vicious for a moment, and then sighs. Shakes his head.]
Guess they wouldn't. Maybe you should answer for them.
Guess they wouldn't. Maybe you should answer for them.
[Still blinking. He's... Confused.]
How... is that relevant to this conversation, exactly?
How... is that relevant to this conversation, exactly?
What conversation? You were just accusing me of putting a tree in the living room.
Not nearly as interesting as—
[He knocks on Vicious's shoulder like it's wood.]
Not nearly as interesting as—
[He knocks on Vicious's shoulder like it's wood.]
[He tenses for just a moment as the other embraces him, surprised by-- well, this entire display. He's spent a good bit of time with this man and had yet to really see him this... vulnerable. The gravity of even being asked to spend the night had not escaped him, either. It takes a considerable amount of trust to let someone who knows any of your weaknesses sleep next to you, and Vicious knows that firsthand. This was no small ask.
He grew up in a world where men were not supposed to cry, not to show anything other than pride and strength and willpower, but he knew long ago that he didn't fit in, there. His father made sure he knew that he would never make it in that world. The boy was too emotional, felt things too strongly, was too weak to ever truly stand up for himself or anyone else. But that was why he became Vicious, to force himself to embody the complete opposite of everything he truly was.
Which is why everything he offers the other man in this moment is the complete opposite of his namesake. There is no viciousness here, no cold, uncaring cruelty in the face of someone's anguish and distress. He gathers the smaller, shivering man against his body and breathes a gentle, shuddering sigh into that crown of deep brown curls as he begins to stroke small circles beneath his wings. ]
Of course. [He hums, pressing a kiss to his temple.]
You're alright, don't worry.
You're not alone.
He grew up in a world where men were not supposed to cry, not to show anything other than pride and strength and willpower, but he knew long ago that he didn't fit in, there. His father made sure he knew that he would never make it in that world. The boy was too emotional, felt things too strongly, was too weak to ever truly stand up for himself or anyone else. But that was why he became Vicious, to force himself to embody the complete opposite of everything he truly was.
Which is why everything he offers the other man in this moment is the complete opposite of his namesake. There is no viciousness here, no cold, uncaring cruelty in the face of someone's anguish and distress. He gathers the smaller, shivering man against his body and breathes a gentle, shuddering sigh into that crown of deep brown curls as he begins to stroke small circles beneath his wings. ]
Of course. [He hums, pressing a kiss to his temple.]
You're alright, don't worry.
You're not alone.
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