Casually takes way too long

-*- whisperingNightterror Oh, how easily explosive was avoided; the terror had pushed themselves down through the imaginary floor to avoid such a reaction. They were rising back to the hall though, catching each terrified apology that tumbled from Vergil's lips.
-*- whisperingNightterror They thought nothing of it, really. Not until they were adressed, and their attention focused on the half demon. They were being offered a deal.
-*- whisperingNightterror Dear Elders did they love deals.
-*- whisperingNightterror Tendrils slunk out of the shadows as they rose to their (still invisible) height. the limbs coiled gently, lazily, yet with the chance of constricting so quickly, around the two. They could easily be pulled away from one another, the way the tendris wound around them.
-*- whisperingNightterror "Whaaat do you have to offer?" They questioned, curious as to how far the soul would go. How far they could push him. How much of him they could take. It would be so easy to claim him for all their own.
-*- whisperingNightterror Except that made them no better then the demon lurking about in their home. No, there was no sense in controlling someone who wouldn't smash a spider unless it tried to bite his companions. Which would make him all the more fun to bend to their will.
-*- whisperingNightterror Now was a good time to regret trying to /change/. Like desert for one on a diet.
-*- Jaspersprite  3:<
-*- whisperingNightterror old habits die hard, Jaspers u_u
-*- Jaspersprite  38<
-*- whisperingNightterror omo
-*- Jaspersprite  3'8<
-*- whisperingNightterror I haven't done more bad things yet okaY
-*- Jaspersprite  3[tears]8<
-*- whisperingNightterror I'm' sorry Jasp
-*- whisperingNightterror will mice make things better?
-*- Jaspersprite Not being up to no good would make things better! 8<
-*- whisperingNightterror I'm not going to do anything bad jaspers I'm just
-*- whisperingNightterror teasing them
-*- Jaspersprite You better not! Or--
-*- Jaspersprite Or i will cough up a hairball /right/ in your face when you are sleeping!
-*- Jaspersprite ... If you sleep!
-*- whisperingNightterror I might sleep

-*- cunningConnery HRK--
-*- cunningConnery And there it went. All over the carpet, the floor, the nicely stained hardwood panels--
-*- cunningConnery Funny, can't remember eating anything like that, said the remaining part of his mind not consumed by total and complete terror. The part that had all but shut down rational thinking in its vain efforts to create some kind of sanctuary from his impending doom. Somewhere beyond the constant tremors, the shadows, and that hideous fucking tongue.
-*- cunningConnery (He could still feel it now, the soft but unnervingly slick velvet running across his cheek the way a panther would toy with its prey.)
-*- cunningConnery (The tongue the hands the tendrils it had been close too close too fucking close--)
-*- cunningConnery URK--
-*- cunningConnery He caught it this time, swiftly slapping a hand over his mouth and praying it'd some kind of good, any kind of good.
-*- cunningConnery But it had been too close, too close...
-*- chthonianGunslinger But then there were words and touching and he couldn't make out what was being said but GOD NO NOT AGAIN--
-*- chthonianGunslinger N-no no no, it-- it wasn't the thing. Wasn't slimy like the thing. Wasn't-- ergh-- velveteen like the thing. So it had to be-- had to be--
-*- chthonianGunslinger That was when the world suddenly snapped back to a harsh and jarring focus, reminding him that it was probably Vergil holding him right now, no doubt trying to drag his worthless carcass away from the shadowy montrosity with the too many teeth and eyes and--
-*- chthonianGunslinger Hrk--
-*- chthonianGunslinger --Appendages that he'd bet every button on his overcoat was still lingering somewhere nearby. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
-*- chthonianGunslinger The fuck was he doing here then, trembling and simpering about like a newborn baby? They were practically half past dead now, festering right in the jaws of the beast, and what was he doing?
-*- chthonianGunslinger (What he always did, that's what.)
-*- chthonianGunslinger (Worthless cunt.)
-*- chthonianGunslinger (Did he say that one out loud? Or in his head?)
-*- chthonianGunslinger (...Agh,  fuck if he cared anymore. He was about to die anyway.)
-*- chthonianGunslinger But the tremors were starting to slow, however little and however futilely, and he felt like he could breath more than just a few strangled gasps without completely losing his lunch-- however little was left-- and collapsing as a pathetic heap all over again.
-*- chthonianGunslinger It wasn't much and, God, he just wanted to crawl into a hole and die-- couldn't stand to see its awful face-- but--
-*- chthonianGunslinger But something had to be done-- couldn't just stand there idly-- pick yourself off the floor already you fucking pussy Jesus--
-*- chthonianGunslinger Somewhere within all that mddness, pushing and shoving and cursing himself to get back up on his knees, his still too jumbled mind had untangled itself enough to hear what vaguely sounded like his friend making a plea bargain.
-*- chthonianGunslinger A deal.
-*- chthonianGunslinger A deal with the devil, at that.
-*- chthonianGunslinger (Squid.)
-*- chthonianGunslinger (Devilsquid.)
-*- chthonianGunslinger Even as frazzled and confused and beaten down as he was right now, he knew exactly what that mean and where it could only lead. Everyone thought they could outsmart the devil.
-*- chthonianGunslinger They usually came out of it minus a soul and a life worth living.
-*- chthonianGunslinger Fuckin' idiot is gonna get himself thrown on the chocking block--
-*- chthonianGunslinger (But surely, Vergil was rational and intelligent enough to know what he was getting in. Surely he knew this was suicide.)
-*- chthonianGunslinger (But then, why...)
-*- chthonianGunslinger ...Oh, you fucking shithead.
-*- cunningConnery And just like that, the spark was back.
-*- cunningConnery This. This he could handle. It was the only thing he knew how to handle, and a damn worthless one at that, but... at least it had a purpose for once.
-*- cunningConnery The terror had come back from the shadows, apparently enticed by the deal-- no surprises there-- and already smacking his lips in gleeful anticipation, and then came the tentacles-- hr--
-*- cunningConnery Fffffuck--
-*- cunningConnery ...N-no no no, he can handle this. The gears were already spinningly wildly in his head, tossing idea after idea at him like a barrage of never ending flash floods. He'd have to be quick, he'd have to be convincing, he couldn't afford to fuck up even once--
-*- cunningConnery Convincing would be easy. These idiots got off on groveling power play games, made them vulnearable while they whet their appetite on whatever sick power fantasy was in his head, and, well...
-*- cunningConnery ...It didn't get more terrified than this.
-*- cunningConnery Ha. Hahahaha. Ha.
-*- cunningConnery (Good. Now he just had to nervously laugh out loud and not inside his padded cell of a mind and he was already one third of the way there.)
-*- cunningConnery Quick and perfect, though, he wasn't too sure.
-*- cunningConnery Oh, no, he was sure alright.
-*- cunningConnery Sure that there were a million ways to get them killed here, and he was precariously hovering over each and every one.
-*- cunningConnery But.
-*- cunningConnery But this was his element. It might have been swarming with sharks, but it was still his.
-*- cunningConnery Act now, think later-- no-- think while acting and don't lose focus for not even a second. Don't let it show-- don't let it show-- GO ALREADY--
-*- cunningConnery SHOVE--
-*- cunningConnery (He'd thank Cael later.)
-*- cunningConnery (Hopefully.)
-*- cunningConnery (Now milk that desperation cow.)
<-- cunningConnery (~Rory@cpe-74-79-162-167.twcny.res.rr.com) has quit (Ping timeout: 202 seconds)
-*- cunningConnery "Don' listen t'em," he wheezed, dragging himself on the beast's tendrils-- keep it together keep it together keep it together channel that fear into something that's not completely fucktarded-- and letting every inch of his terror and desperation ooze out. "He ain't goht nothin' t'offer."
-*- cunningConnery Would it look like matyrdom at its very worst? Absolutely.
-*- cunningConnery That's exactly what he wanted.
-*- cunningConnery "But Oi..."
-*- cunningConnery Wheeze.
-*- cunningConnery Don't choke on the tentacles don't look too deeply into its eyes don't don't don't--
-*- cunningConnery "...Oi th-thaink Oi've goht j-jus' what y'need."
-*- cunningConnery Hahahaha. Ha. Hhhhhhah.
-*- cunningConnery He couldn't have made that laugh more nervous or nerve-racking if he tried.
-*- cunningConnery Probably because there was nothing faked about it.
-*- cunningConnery (Now.)
-*- cunningConnery (C'mon what was it that they needed-- something tempting-- no-- something that wouldn't put them in the line of fire-- something... something where he knew he had the upper hand-- he needed a card a good card something the terror didn't know--)
-*- cunningConnery (...Ah--)
-*- cunningConnery "Oi hear y'goht s-somethin' o'a demon p-prhoblem, do ye?"
-*- cunningConnery Perfect.
-*- cunningConnery Perfect enough to make that crooked, twitchy little smile on his face start to feel almost a little genuine, even.
-*- abstersiveTournure WHO ARE YOU CALLING. A *PROBLEM*.
-*- gentlemanScientist *You*
-*- cunningConnery You're no problem.
-*- abstersiveTournure BESIDES. YOU *LIKE* DEMONS. YOU *DISGUSTING* *FILTH*.
-*- cunningConnery You're his ace in the hole.
-*- cunningConnery "Oi thaink we cahn help eachotha ouht, then..."
-*- cunningConnery "F'a phrice."
-*- abstersiveTournure WHY WOULDN'T HE JUST FUCKING ENSLAVE YOU. AND FORCE YOU TO DO WHATEVER YOU'RE OFFERING. YOU FUCKING *SHITBRAIN*.
-*- abstersiveTournure ER. HE. *IT*. FUCKING WHATEVER.
-*- cunningConnery Because he's no good to them as a mindless lust slave.
-*- cunningConnery And if he's no good, then his offer's no good.
-*- cunningConnery And his offer's no good, well...
-*- cunningConnery ...He has a feeling they probably won't enjoy your little spa trip back home.
-*- abstersiveTournure WHAT. WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT LU-- *UGH*. YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF TRASH SHIT. AND YOUR FUCKING DEBAUCHERY.
-*- cunningConnery Still, it was a fucking long shot at best and a kamikaze dive at worst.
-*- cunningConnery But.
-*- cunningConnery It was an angle he could work with.
-*- cunningConnery More importantly, it was a deck he could keep close to his chest all the way to his deathbed if he so chose.
-*- cunningConnery Even then, they'd have a hell of a time prying his cold and maggoty fingers off of it.
-*- cunningConnery It.
-*- cunningConnery It was a start.
-*- cunningConnery It was a start and it would buy them time and-- and maybe even keep them alive.
-*- cunningConnery God, how he hoped it would keep them alive.

-*- abstersiveTournure /Good/. It was taking the bait, voice all slithers and soothing and wrong wrong wrong wrong. He tightened his grip around the unsteady (still shivering, weak as any newborn and hunching too much over his vomit) human, the tendrils hovering threatening, poised to tear them apart. But its attention was caught. It was a start.
-*- abstersiveTournure And now he had merely to keep his cool: to isolate his emotions and hold his straight face, as ever. Much of his life (existence?) up to this moment had been good practice, he supposed. (Grueling practice, learning to seal up the cracks soundly, smoothly, never lie too much but never show one's hand, and /never/ let it hurt -- hurt and fear and desperation would be his downfall. Hold the face and it'll be fine.)
-*- abstersiveTournure Don't lie; it would know -- don't, don't try it. Don't risk it. He didn't have anything valuable, nothing but a sword (an all too ordinary sword, nevermind what it once may have been -- if it was special, it was nothing in his hands, and nothing to a creature that could just as easily tear the space in between them as it could rip them apart).
-*- abstersiveTournure Don't let it -- don't let /it/ control the situation -- he had to keep a handle on it, /had/ to. It -- it couldn't take what he didn't offer or it wasn't a deal. Deals made life interesting. They forced it to give a little, to test its wit -- to see what any given brittle-minded little mortal might try to offer, in their desperation, their panic, their fear.
-*- abstersiveTournure It was looking to be entertained. And /that/ -- that he could offer, far more than any feeble little human. One that was only good for one meal, no less. (One long, drawn out, /painful/ meal --)
-*- abstersiveTournure Now all he had to do was present that. Make it convincing. Make himself look interesting, keep its attention. Cael was a little rat, an amusement so easily lost when the life slipped away; but him? He was a predator. He fought back, left a mark, and when he finally had too many wounds to struggle, he made a nice throw rug.
-*- abstersiveTournure (He didn't want to be a throw rug -- he didn't want to -- he wanted to /kill/ it, to rip it open and scorch it alive until its very essence succumbed to the heat. To feel the life in the palm of his hand -- real life, little different from that of the Irishman beside him, but stronger, darker, something new and unfamiliar and /dangerous/ -- and when he had no more interest to /crush/ it.)
-*- abstersiveTournure (That was what it would do to them, after all.)
-*- abstersiveTournure ...?
-*- abstersiveTournure ...Was he okay? Vergil gave the lurking tendrils another nervous (wary, warning) glare, flicked his eyes to the struggling magician, and wondered what in the Reproduction Sunday he was trying to do, breathing too hard and still so unsteady and with the slithering, black-seething /thing/ still hovering so alarmingly close --
-*- abstersiveTournure (Don't try it -- /don't/ try it, it's stronger, you're too /weak/, you worthless, /helpless/ scum. Despicable little /coward/ --)
-*- abstersiveTournure He couldn't think to breathe, let alone to keep his grip -- the living body wrenched and shoved away from him, rough and adamant and /rejecting/. (Of /course/ he --)
-*- abstersiveTournure It took an instant too long for his thoughts to snap back to reality, to remember the shadows, the /wall/ of seeping void and tendrils reaching and constricting and wedging between, and the imminent potential of /death/. He wanted to lash out and latch onto the sleeve, shoulder, that /stupid/ scarf -- anything not to get pushed further apart (that was what it wanted, it /wanted/ them nervous, scared, utterly without control) --
-*- abstersiveTournure (that was what it wanted, it /wanted/ them nervous, scared, utterly without control) --
-*- abstersiveTournure No, no, /no/ -- don't lose your cool. That was most important thing -- stay in control, hold on, /wait/. He stifled the snarl lodged viciously in his throat and dropped his hands (limp and contemptible) to his sides, face all stone and ice. Not to hide his nerves, his fear -- but to play its game. Challenge it. Give it something to pick at and chip at and /crack/. But --
-*- abstersiveTournure He eyed Cael, briefly, nervously, hyperaware of the shadows -- he couldn't just stand by. He /couldn't/, because this /fool/ didn't think -- it could all the more easily draw them apart, play its games.
-*- abstersiveTournure Okay. Okay. Take a breath -- and then just -- /edge/ back toward him, press against the unnatural vaporous (but all too solid, all to /real/) tentacles slipping unthreateningly and maliciously into the gap. Don't break down -- /do/ /not/ /bREAK/ /DOWN/ --
-*- abstersiveTournure ...Oh, no. No, no no /no/, you blithering, asinine /dolt/.
-*- abstersiveTournure Vergil could do little more than watch his /imbecilic/ friend stutter and shiver and /cower/ his way into a bargain he wouldn't come out of unscathed. Even if he /did/, that was all the more cause for it to seek him out and make sure he regretted it. Its own /twisted/ form of justice -- amusement and revenge thinly veiled by equity. Lex talionis and a show.
-*- abstersiveTournure He hoped, spitefully, that Cael could feel his glare.
-*- abstersiveTournure .../Ugh/. No, he couldn't do that. Couldn't emphasize the /rift/ between them right now -- it would notice, doubtless, and drive that wedge all the deeper. He couldn't -- he --
-*- abstersiveTournure (Why not? Why /not/ leave the snivelling coward? Worthless fragile little human /prey/, throwing itself at the enemy's feet like a sacrifice throwing its still-beating heart on the altar. /Submissive/. He meant nothing of consequence, and if he chose to throw himself into his fate, he /earned/ --)
-*- abstersiveTournure God, no, stop it -- /stop/. He was -- he was only /human/. (Only vile and brittleminded --)
-*- abstersiveTournure The smell of /terror/ exuded thickly through the air, only reinforcing the urge to twist his lips spitefully, even as frantic little twitching erupted in his hands. He couldn't lash out, couldn't /fight/ it -- and he certainly couldn't run, /abandon/ Cael like that (/why/?). But doing nothing was like /inviting/ the fool to throw himself in the creature's sights, and maybe it wouldn't happen today or tomorrow, but --
-*- abstersiveTournure It was little different from a demon. It had all the time in the universe and far too little to entertain it. It /would/ hunt him down, patiently, slowly, and when it did --
-*- abstersiveTournure Its options were limitless.
-*- abstersiveTournure ...Demon problem? What was he planning? To offer a /solution/? Unlikely. The /magic/ exuding from the Irishman's very core /being/ was undeniable, but weak and unrefined in the face of anything that could inconvenience something like the creature they were currently facing.
-*- abstersiveTournure To claim /he/ could resolve it was preposterous at best. So was he planning on --
-*- abstersiveTournure On /tricking/ /it/?
-*- abstersiveTournure Vergil kept a schooled face, kept his eyes trained on the shadows instead of giving Cael the ridiculing look he wanted to. He beat down the familiar desire to reach out and forcibly shake some sense into him. Why were there so many reckless /halfwits/ who so fatuously believed their silver tongues were sharp enough to get away unscathed?
-*- abstersiveTournure /Really/?
-*- abstersiveTournure /Idiots/.
-*- abstersiveTournure He -- /God/, he couldn't --
-*- abstersiveTournure It was his only option, anyway. The familiar, cool, smooth black scabbard materialized in an instant at his side, though he did not so much as twitch to indicate a change. Just /having/ the sword at hand was comforting -- nothing gaudy or flashy or eyecatching, but a ready defense tucked at his side. The savage, defensive desire to fight was (inexplicably) soothed, and the aching anger burning at the adamantly and exceedingly reckless /moron/ was, for the moment, stifled. It was something to focus on, an assurance.
-*- abstersiveTournure If this deal /did/ go wrong, and if Vergil couldn't step in with his own offer...they wouldn't go down without a fight. And that was (bitterly, morbidly) satisfactory, for now.
-*- abstersiveTournure (/God/ he hoped they made it out of here with one beating heart between the two of them --)
-*- abstersiveTournure (If only so he could tell his friend /exactly/ what he thought of this plan.)
-*- abstersiveTournure (...He /really/ wanted to hug his brother.)