blankpieces | ic contact (ryslig)

[He'd lived long enough without fighting before. The fact that he's a monster now shouldn't change that. If he's really as smart as he's supposed to be he'll find a way to get by without having to resort to punching someone in the face.]

Maybe. [He remains on the ground, curled up tight with the spoon held in clenched fingers.] But it is now.

[He raises his head up enough to peer at Mello through his bangs.] I found you. [After all, isn't the blond coming out of hiding the same as him giving up? That either makes Near the victor or neither of them the victor, and as far as he's concerned he's completed his part of the deal.

When the blond reaches his hand close, though, the scent causes something in Near to snap and the black of his eyes spreads to cover them to the edges. He snaps at the limb, meaning to sink sharp teeth into flesh - living or not.]

You didn't find shit - ah!

[And the subsequent string of insults is on the tip of his tongue when the unexpected move takes Mello by complete surprise. He'd expected something of a struggle, but he didn't foresee N trying to take a chunk out of him, and so his reaction is considerably slower than it would be otherwise — Near's teeth are like a thousand, prickling needles that manage to create pain where Mello would have sworn his nerves were dying.]

[It's without thought that he shoves the arrowed cloth between his teeth, digs his newly-freed hand into that pale mess of hair, fingers clenching and yanking with the force of someone trying to remove a sword from stone and if N doesn't fucking let go — ]

Drop it and let go. [Controlled, muttered. Both: his hand and the object; Mello knows that yanking his arm away is a recipe for losing more than he'd been prepared for, and pain isn't new to him. Not after explosions and heart attacks and wings emerging from his back with a force that knocked the breath out of him with its suddenness.]

[Twists harder, and if N doesn't comply, he's taking a knee to the face. Mello will only hold back so much. Teeth clenched tight against the pressure and sting, he won't give this little shit the satisfaction.]

[Near is still weaker than Mello, especially given how tired he is, and he's easily pulled free. He makes a faint whining sound and licks at his lips and teeth, desperate to taste any bodily fluids he might have been able to get in that brief instance of contact. It's not the flesh he'd been after, but anything that flowed under it - a need not restricted to blood. Later he might remark that it's for the best he was pulled away, as his rival wouldn't look at all good with a desiccated arm. Right now it's a struggle to form coherent thoughts.

And he hates that, which adds a layer of unfocused anger on top of the ravenous hunger. He keeps a tight grip on the spoon for no reason at all, slowly backing up away from the others.

Behind him, from the shore, two long tendrils of water form and lash out at the blond and the hooded form accompanying him.]

[The surprise of it actually hurting is absent in the light of seeing someone so smug succumb to something beyond his control; it would be satisfying if Mello didn't know from personal experience that intelligence and strength don't mean shit in the face of true hunger.]

[There might be a little concern, but it's quickly decimated when Mello's oversensitive hearing picks up the first separation of water; he can hear droplets breaking through air, the mist gently creating a disturbance around the stream that sounds like piles of rocks smashing against the coast's surface.]

[Near's not getting back into that water. If he does, he's lost to Mello. In a heartbeat, and there won't be shit he can do about it. He'll have to chase N down for that object and by then — ]

[He really doesn't enjoy making people wait for things that will ultimately benefit him.]

[So he launches himself at the smaller figure — water be damned — and instead of reaching out to grab the object in his rush, which is what he should do, Mello instead snatches at the only thing he's sure won't slip through his fingers if and when the streams hit: goes back for the hair because if he can keep a grip, it doesn't matter where N thinks he's going. Mello will be attached to him, sick to his stomach or no.]

[Near had meant for the water as an attack only, as a means to slap the others away from him. When Mello grabs him, however, those plans instantly change. He can't twist far enough to snap properly at the man with the way his hair is being grabbed, but he can use the water to pull both of them into the ocean. There he'll have the upper hand.

There's enough of him left through the hunger to realize that he won't be able to drown a vampire and get his energy that way. Mello won't have any need to breathe. But a mer is stronger on water than on land, and it will take less of his own energy to shift the water as he wants.

The water surrounds them and then retreats, dragging both of them along the shore toward its depths, Near struggling the whole way. He wants to get back at the wound he'd created, to draw nourishment from it. It's so close. The ocean churns in anticipation while Near's breath harshens from the effort, darkness at the edge of his vision.

This needs to be accomplished quickly.]

[Fucking hell.]

Stop, [with a particularly harsh yank to the other's head, Mello's tone is that of an impatient parent snatching up a child. The sand is scraping against his exposed skin like a thousand grains embedding themselves into flesh — god, oh, god what he would do to be as numb as L claimed he'd been — and heels digging into ground that shifts with their weight are worthless.]

[Words don't mean a thing when the hunger kicks in. M knows. Near knows too, he thinks, but this has shifted from winning to damage control; the end result is irrelevant: Mello will stake the object once he knocks the rest of it out of the way.]

[N might notice his grip loosen every so slightly when the water rushes around him; there's a distinct assault of nausea that rushes up the back of his neck before he has to swallow sharp to keep himself from retching, and if this little shit doesn't give in soon, Mello might just have to tear his head off and deal with the repercussions later.]

[Arrow still clenched between his teeth, Mello yanks an arm away to aim the heel of his palm in the direction of the underside of N's chin; doesn't matter that he's actively bleeding from the bite.]

[They said he'd die when Mello realized what this change was shaping up to be. Well, that hasn't happened yet. Not completely. Near's sharp teeth are making him wish he had, though. Less pain, more room to fight.]

[As they get past the shore, The water around them shapes into a giant maw, teeth and all. It means to snap around them and pull them further into the depths where Near might finally be able to get at his prey and press his lips back up against that bleeding wound.

He ignores the pain in his head from where Mello grips his hair, struggling to get at the man's arm to no avail. It's hard to breathe now, even through his gills, and what energy he has left is quickly depleting from the water control he's using. If he was in his right mind he'd know to be more careful with its use, especially when he's already exhausted, but such concerns don't even cross his mind now.

So when Mello's palm meets his chin he manages only a pained growl before his eyes roll back and he slumps into the water. Around them, the ocean calms and the waves return to their usual size.

Near has officially stopped.]

[There's no time between conception and action; on the verge of vomiting or no, Mello clenches his teeth tight against the constricting ball in his throat, uses the opportunity to wrench the object from Near's unconscious figure. It's difficult: his breath is still necessary on the most basic level, it comes in harsh bouts with the occasional sputter in-between. N could have ended him had he kept it up just a little longer.]

[Drowning's supposed to be the worst way to go, right? Worse than your heart stopping in your chest. It's slow, taunting, lets you struggle until it doesn't and right now, Near looks like he won't do too well if left the way he is. Yeah, he might be fine, and yeah, there's a bleeding wound on Mello's arm telling him to leave him there, let him have his first death and cough it up to overconfidence.]

[One hand maintaining the loosest of holds on pale hair, he inspects the object with the other; eyes narrow, his lips press together in something that's just below a frown. He's supposed to stake it; how the fuck is he supposed to stake a spoon?]

[He'll ignore the engraving for now because, well. He's got a city to raise, so he slips the cloth attached to the arrow from between his teeth, ties one end tightly around the spoon's handle, nearest the neck.]

Hey.

[Wake up; Mello has things to do. A finger prods the smaller's cheek, and the water lapping gently around his legs makes Mello feel like the sand will be pulled from under him with each rise and fall of the tide. He's a half-second from dragging N all the way into the water and letting him figure it out when he wakes; something like him can't really drown anyway.]

[At least Mello doesn't think so.]

Edited 2017-07-09 05:33 (UTC)

[Having blacked out from exhaustion, Near isn't exactly going to be springing back into action any time soon. The poke receives no response at first, the smaller man limp in Mello's grip.

They hadn't been deep enough into the water for the mer's legs to shift into fins, and his legs are sprawled awkwardly in the sand. The fins on his neck open a couple times as his disoriented body attempts to breathe, then they shut tight.

Finally he coughs, spitting out water, but he doesn't open his eyes or move aside from that.]

[The movement is more annoying than it is a relief; death isn't permanent and Mello should fucking let him dry up for trying to take a chunk out of him that way. Because there was no initial hunger involved. It was a spiteful, childish attack that sparked a bigger problem.]

[But enemies are in no short order, and having N as a rival is one thing — does that title even apply anymore? — but to make an enemy of someone who is capable of predicting his moves, knows him better than anyone in this place would be an idiot's game. Mello's got shit to do, and if N decides he wants to make his life difficult, games will take precedence over business.]

[Unacceptable.]

[When he slips behind the other figure, shoves his arms beneath Near's, Mello is conveniently ignoring the way the water feels like it wants to pull him into its depths with each rise and fall of the waves, focuses instead on being sure N's all marked up from the fine sand when he comes out of it. He drags hard and jerky deeper into the water until he's about waist-deep, beyond where waves break.]

[And he wants out. Now. But N's gotta wake up first, because games aren't worth a thing if you opponent is out of commission. So he keeps the mer's back held securely against him, steels himself against the discomfort and hopes the water does something good. Quickly.]

[It takes deeper water for Near to shift forms, but the movement does elicit more of a response. Fortunately for him, his seal skin and fur keep the sand from rubbing him too raw as Mello drags him, though it's more unpleasant with legs than otherwise.

He coughs again, and as consciousness returns to him he jerks in the blond's grasp. Instinct has him wanting to escape, but something has a tight grip on him. His thoughts are still muddled by hunger and weariness and it takes him a moment to realize who and what it is.

Near grabs for Mello's arm, teeth clenched so that his words are strained. His eyes are still completely black.]

Mello... I don't want to eat you.

[Technically he does, in the most immediate sense, but only because his body has a desperate, primal need.]

So don't.

[Stupid.]

[If N can't control his hunger, he's going to have a bigger problem than Mello coming back with a vengeance. Even within the cities, there are sects of monsters who keep an eye on body counts — something he's learned the hard way — and a mindless killing spree is something generally frowned upon. The humans have risen up before, after all.]

[If Near were more experienced, stronger, Mello would use this as an opportunity to test his resolve. Keep his arm where it is, avoid fighting him off in fear of his rival making good on his non-threat. Yeah, he's stronger, but he's also in the water, and he's learned since his initial overconfidence that preset rules by the Gods don't mean a fucking thing. He can go down with his first death and wake up with no identity; he's sure of it.]

[Can't afford that right now.]

Besides — [Near's eyes are...disturbing, to say the least.] it won't fill you up for long. [Like that's an effective deterrent. Near can threaten and practically drool all he wants, but Mello's going to pull him deeper into the water if it's the last thing he does.]

You're smarter than what the Gods are making you into. [Even so, he keeps his grip tight, ready to shove the other down and hold him underfoot until he can figure out how to exit the water without being dragged under.] Close your fucking eyes and ignore it; let me drag you out.

[And then Near can go eat other things. Things that are not Mello.]

You were just trying to... wake me up.

[There's little point in arguing semantics, but it's something to say. Talking takes his focus away from the hunger by a very small amount. If Mello wants him to close his eyes again then he will. He has no idea how the hunger makes them look, after all.

Of course he's smarter. He's far smarter than this and that's what makes it all so infuriating, but as hard as he tries he can't completely fight this. He could say he should have even sooner, and he really should have, but at the same time it was all the energy he'd spent today that had caused his breaking point to come sooner. Of course his plans would fall to Mello's unpredictability.

As the water gets deeper he feels some of his meager strength return. It's not much, but it might be enough to get him going. He'll need to submerge to change. He relaxes in his rival's grip, which will hopefully make it easier for Mello to drag him. That's what he wants.]

[There's a line between enjoying victory over Near and watching him fall victim to something beyond any of their control. It's something Mello is slowly accepting; you can play to your liking within their parameters but in the end, the Gods have a final say in how fucked any of them are.]

Yeah.

[Dragging him out farther puts Mello at a severe disadvantage, one that might very well result in him waking up one step closer to losing a memory or two if he goes down again. Can't afford that; he's got too much work to do and besides, after Greed's seething denial at the idea of Mello sacrificing himself for something bigger, he doesn't entirely believe N wouldn't require protection if he's successful in getting the meal he wants.]

[Details.]

[Swallows hard as they approach the place where Mello fully intends on dropping Near and streaking towards shore as quickly as possible. In the end, all he wanted was a little stimulation. But this? Not his idea of a good time.]

You eat me, you're fucking with an entire organization. [As much as Mello scoffs at the possessive nature of his unproclaimed 'boss'] You don't have resources. [And to hammer in the point.] You would be hunted.

[Just a little deeper, now.]

And I'll let them.

I'm glad... that you have friends.

[Webbed feet begin to work themselves more easily underwater, and Near kicks weakly against the sand and rocks beneath his toes. Mello doesn't need to risk himself by dragging them both out too far. He needs to take over while he can still keep his thoughts clear enough to do so.

He only hopes that he can remember all that he's been told here. Some of it is important.

Near jerks away from the blond's grasp so he can fall sideways into the water. Once he's free, he can swim frog-style out into the waves where he can transform fully. If Mello is going to run back to shore, this would be the time to do it.]

[Condescending little shit.]

You wouldn't know anything about that.

[Just a jab, because the moment he can feel N becoming more self-assured in the water, Mello's already planning to push away quick and hard, fight through the way the water feels like it wants to turn him inside out long enough to streak to shore without losing half of a leg in the process.]

[Would it grow back? He never did delve into the details of full limb regeneration in vampires, and with the way his scars have failed to disappear, the the possibility doesn't seem to be in his favor. When Near jerks, Mello releases him as though there's a bomb inside ready to go off — maybe there is — and if N cared enough to chase him, the chances of Mello getting away unscathed are slim to none. He knows it.]

[Knows it, but refuses to acknowledge the very vivid image of those sharp teeth catching an ankle as he uses whatever speed this water allows to make it safety.]

[Yeah, he running. Time and a place. Mello never did enjoy being at a disadvantage, but he got what he needed. He won't question why Near carried this particular thing. Not now, anyway.]

ic contact (ryslig)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

I'M SORRY FOR THE DELAY I LEFT TEJAS

I DON'T BLAME YOU, TBH, IT'S HOT AS BALLS HERE

no subject