snakecharmed | teleios | i will remember you event

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teleios | i will remember you event

For the better part of the morning, I'seth had been trying to fight the feeling like there was something wrong somewhere, that something was coming, some great disaster, and that she needed to get to higher ground before it hit. It was probably nothing -- just because she looked the part didn't mean she possessed any animal instinct to avoid and run from natural disaster -- but the last time she'd felt like this had been on the eve of war, back home, and she wasn't ready to write the feeling off entirely, just yet. Maybe given time, she'd let it go, but not now. She was too restless for that.

That in mind, dressed in full armor rather than the more casual clothes she'd fallen into the habit of wearing lately (possibly at Clem's insistence, possibly not), she left her home, more command tent than actual building, and took a lap around the city. When she finished, still feeling uneasy, she went in search of familiar faces, half looking to check up on them, half hoping for a distraction. If only Paz was still here; a fight would be the perfect thing for her, right now. Oh, well. She'd take what she could get.

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She glanced down at the tea, dubiously -- mockingly or earnestly, it was hard to tell -- and then, in an act of defiance in either case, and perhaps a show of her own madness, she raised the cup to her lips and took a sip. When she felt no different, she set it down again, fingers curling around it so she could drum her claws against the china delicately.

"I don't know." If someone was following her, though, they'd reveal themselves soon enough, whether they meant to or not, and would be in for a nasty surprise. She didn't particularly like being tailed and she imagined, just from his asking, Dash wouldn't be all that thrilled with the idea, either, regardless of whether whoever it was fell out of the woodworks here or elsewhere. And even if she didn't particularly need his protection or his help, if honestly threatened, she appreciated it nonetheless and it showed on her face in the form of a brief, grateful smile.

One that blossomed into a smirk as he continued. "Do you really think you could handle me, in either case?"

Despite his poor sense of humor, Daschell wasn't one to use tea as a poison, though he realized that if he ever had the desire, he would likely do it just like this, staring the person in the eyes. All for the amusement of it all. Poisoning another shouldn't be entertaining but it was.

When she set the cup down, he snapped his fingers. "Damn. Must have been the other brew."

"Oh, a slight to my manhood. I would be offended if I didn't know better." He knew his capabilities. Yet he suspected hers as well, especially the tail that he did often wonder was purely for balance or combative. He definitely had to wonder about that. "I think whichever it might be, I'm a worthy enough man to try."

"Your mistake."

A moment of silence followed, the smirk fading into something thoughtful and, perhaps oddly seeing as how she didn't normally do hesitation, tentative. When it passed, when she schooled her features back into casual neutrality, she let out a breath and shrugged. "Whatever you think you're prepared for, then."

If he wanted to fight, she'd fight. If he wanted something more, wanted to remove his hat as he had put it, then maybe she could do that, too. She certainly wasn't adverse to the idea, even if it left her feeling a little unsure of herself, if only because it was largely foreign territory.

"You know how it is when I'm distracted by your beauty," he said, taking another sip. There were so much truth in his playful words, even if his teasing was about poisoning her. There was never a time when he was likely to give a straight answer, not even with her. He just wasn't likely to poison her. If nothing else it was cheating, and he had no desire for that.

He took a breath, looking her over. He could certainly speak his desires, ones that had grown getting to know her for her mind, her bearing and intelligence rather than merely her unique beauty.

Leaning forward, he set his cup down. "If you knock it from my head, perhaps we'll see where things go from there. Out back then? There's some space, but not too much." She was worried for the world, of possibly being followed. One option was a distraction. The other might actually help take the edge off.

Deciding she could work with that, I'seth took another sip of her tea, nodded and then set the cup down. "Out back," she agreed, as she got to her feet. "How do you want to do this?"

Weapons or no? Nothing below the belt? Was her armor allowed? Were they going to first blood or until she did or didn't knock his hat from his head? And so on and so forth. She'd leave the terms of engagement to him, since he was willing to indulge her in the first place.

When she rose, Dash mirrored her motions, always the gentleman. At least on the surface. For her it might even run deeper. He considered that, even as he gestured for her to proceed him through the back of the shop.

"Let's say, until first blood or I beg you for mercy," he said, and with that he swept the hat from his head, setting it on the counter. It was a sign of respect for her, since the brim was metal lined and razor sharp and was an unfair advantage in a fair fight. "Hand to hand or small weapons?"

"You'll be waiting awhile on that second one," I'seth shot back, already working to divest herself of her sword. She set it down on the table, slowly, thoughtfully, as she considered the question.

When she seemed to reach some sort of decision, she let the sword stay where it was and looked down at her claws, mock-idly, as if she were pondering how she felt about an imagined manicure. "I have these," she answered, letting her hand fall back to her side. "So, let's go with small weapons, just so you're not at a disadvantage."

She'd fight bare-handed, but he could hold on to something to match her claws.

"What? Don't want to hear me begging?" He stared at her, looking stunned. "Good then. I'll remember never to do it." Not that he was familiar with it beyond those begging him for their lives. He'd never shown any mercy either.

"I feel like you might actually care if I died today," he noted, smiling impishly in a crooked sort of way. He considered that though, moving to open a small panel flush to the cabinet like a false front. Except it wasn't a front. A small shallow compartment hid the collection of knives he'd put together over the years. Picking up two, he considered her and then nodded, stepping back and closing the cabinet.

"I'll go first," he said. Nothing about being ungentlemanly but putting his back to her in a show of faith and trust.

"It's not you," she answered.

With a shrug, she reached up to undo the clasps on the front of her breastplate, working it off as she watched him go for his knives. Armor didn't feel fair, in this instance, either, and she really didn't want to see it ruined as part of a game, so stripping down to the shirt she'd put on under leather and scale seemed the only logical option. Setting it down on top of her sword, she moved to join him, straightening slowly, stretching idly, before relaxing. A gesture towards the door followed. "After you, then."

That did make him smile. She knew the truth of it, the way he was as a man. It was more than impressive, something he hadn't ever thought he might share with another since Alice.

He twirled one of the knives against his palm, adjusting to the weight of it. He hadn't used them often in this place, and in that moment he realized how much he missed of it as well. He perhaps needed this as much as she did.

Winking at her, he headed through the back store room and out into the small courtyard where he grew many of the herbs and flowers for the tea. The center was clear though, with several small paths radiating outward from there. "Come then, my dear."

If she were capable of blushing at the wink, she might have, maybe. As it was, she just lowered her eyes briefly, a dim smile on her lips, and followed him out into the courtyard.

When the stopped, she took a moment more to ready herself, stretching and uncoiling her tail from its usual positioned curled around her leg, and then took up a fighting stance, not entirely far removed from one belonging to one of Earth's martial arts. It wasn't exactly the same, of course, but clearly martial training translated more or less the same way across realities. Not that she gave him much time to consider that, instead circling him briefly before darting in for an open-handed strike, more testing his reflexes and how adept he was with that knife than to actually hit him.

Most of Daschell's training was in assassination. That would mean sneaking in, slitting a throat or putting a knife into one's lungs and killing them before they could take a breath to scream. He knew well that in this moment, going up against l'seth, he was going to lose. He wasn't made for this, and he didn't expect to win. He did though expect to give her a bit of a fight. Just to help her with the whatever tension it was bothering her.

He was quick though, steady on his feet and rarely rattled by anything. His hand came up, snapping his arm up to deflect the blow, making a feint in with the second knife. Not even trying to strike, but to give him the look of being skilled in combat. He wasn't entirely blind to it, after all, just not the warrior she was.

She took a step back as he came at her with the second knife, out of his range and hands still up, and made a small, pleased noise. Maybe he wasn't a fighter, not like her, but if he kept up like that, win or lose, this would at least be worth it.

"Good," she commented, as if the sound and the look on her face wasn't enough.

The compliment made him pause, chin lifting and offering l'seth something few saw. A genuinely pleased smile from the man. Impish, dangerous and mocking tended to describe his smiles but that single word from her delighted him and it showed.

"That is my goal," he said, knowing that she would in the end best him but he would not make a fool of himself before her either. That he wouldn't be able to stomach.

"Come now. That couldn't be all you wanted."

She smiled, too, amused and fond both, and then shook her head. "Not exactly."

That said, she moved all at once, coming at him in what appeared to be another openhanded strike and one aimed for his face, only to drop at the last second, hopefully under the swipe of his knives, to rake her other hand across his midsection or try to. Whether or not the hit connected, however, it was a somewhat pulled punch, albeit still a flawless one, form-wise. She wanted to make him bleed, maybe, since they were going to first blood, but she didn't want to disembowel him in the process.

It was a show of faith that he was even playing this game with her, knowing she could kill him if she wholly and truly wanted to. He knew that and yet he had offered her this, trusting in her as much as he held faith in himself that he might make this good for her. He couldn't help but want to impress l'seth, to prove that while he was a different sort of warrior than she was, he could hold his own.

Or try to. It was tough though, jumping back, ducking down and almost flinching into her torso blow. The sound he made may have been a yelp but he'd never admit it, ducking in and trying to slide the blade into her thigh, a quick death blow he'd used numerous times but never in actual combat. His job was much easier because his targets rarely knew he was coming.

She slid away from the knife as it came down, rocking back so that it found empty air above her knee rather than her thigh, as intended. A careful sweep of her leg followed, to put it out of range entirely before he got the bright idea to keep going, to try and plant the thing in her calf, and then she rocked forward, half-turning, her tail lashing out.

If she was lucky, she'd manage to loop the thing around his ankle and pull his feet out from under him; if not, no great loss. Either way, however, the move probably made it glaringly obvious that the tail was for more than just balance.

While he was actually acquainted with a gentleman with a tail from his own world, Daschell's experience with them was not with a skilled user. Bill was, to be kind, dense, and he most certainly was not the warrior that l'seth was. So it was, in lunging for that killer shot that he had never expected to connect, he suddenly found himself on his back, staring up at the brilliance of the sky and the wind knocked out of him.

"Flirt," he managed to croak out, even while rolling to one side, trying to gain his feet before he felt the quick bite of claws. Not that he was certain he might make it but he wouldn't go down in this fight without trying.

"You were the one that mentioned knocking your hat off," she shot back, albeit a touch hesitantly and if only because flirting in earnest was still unknown territory. "I just figured this was the next logical step."

She moved all at once, trying to pounce on him before he managed to find his footing. Whether or not she managed, she continued with, "Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong about that."

He gasped, hand going to his head even as he tried to gasp a full breath, dizzy and finding bracing his foot difficult. Nothing.

His gaze dropped to the ground, only for a second to see that battered hat on its side. He was stunned. "Why you naughty little minx," he growled, eyes bright and excited. He wasn't upset, not in the least, but he was spurred to further his cause. Maybe, just maybe he had realized this was his moment to show her he could hold his own, flirting in ways that had nothing to do with teasing words.

Whatever stability he had hoped to gain was gone, falling back with a thump. Even as he found his gaze a bit hazy, he tried to bring up one of the blades, not even with expertise, but trying for a blow nonetheless.

Without comment, she made a grab for his wrist. If she managed, she'd dig her claws in a little -- not enough to cut him, to end this, but hopefully enough to make him drop the knife. She said he could use weapons, yes. She never said she wouldn't try taking them away from him.

He fought to keep his hand gripped around the handle. For Hatter this was as close as anyone had ever gotten to taking them from him, and he knew that despite it being practice, it was not play. Not for him, and not for l'seth.

Shifting, trying to brace his feet flat to the ground even as he bucked, heaving his entire body to try and throw her. She had the leverage, as well as those long legs and the advantage of the tail but he was trying it anyway, even with the way his fingers began to go numb around the handle.

I'seth had been expecting a great many things from Daschell, in an effort to get out from under her or to get control of the knife back; the bucking, however, was not one of those things. That in mind and caught off guard, the throw worked to a certain degree, forcing her into a hard sit at his feet.

Rather than sit there and look surprised, despite the fact that she was, however, she crabwalked a feet backwards, out of the range of any kick he might try leveling at her. The distance between them to her satisfaction, she moved to get to her feet, tail swaying like a cat's a play, a smile on her lips.

He hadn't expected it to work, already trying to think of a second way to keep his knife. A second laying there, breathing, trying to catch his breath as he realized he had clearance. Rolling, hopping to his feet as he flexed his finger around the handle, working to get a better grip on it.

His gaze raked over her, smiling as he bounced on the balls of his feet. "You look much too pleased with yourself," he teased, winking at her. "But I still have a knife and I'm not bleeding," he teased. "Coming?" He asked, gesturing for her to make another play.

"Half the fun is the dialogue," she told him, the smile growing just a bit. After a moment of regard, however, it disappeared and, as asked, she came at him again, aiming a kick at his knife-hand, this time, rather than a punch.

teleios | i will remember you event

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