fascinating rhythms [open]

[rudelanguage]

WHO: Knife (as Antigone and Pending), ota
WHEN: August/September, post-mission 10
WHERE: assorted areas (marked in prompts)
WHAT: quite a number of efforts to stave off misery and madness
NOTES\WARNINGS: mentions of blood/violence, some suicidal ideation


as pending:

o1. pantomime thread [location: leafless valley, richland]
[cords have been strung between a few pairs of tree trunks within this verdant area of Etraya, and hung upon them are assorted lengths of fabrics and clothing in various states of repair (or disrepair).

if this sight is not piquing curiosity enough already, perhaps then noticing the grungy half-orc moving amid them, picking at this or that, making alterations, mending, merging, manipulating...fashion is happening here.]



o2. the hurt dumpster [location: near ebbets field, dewpoint]
[THOKK.

TNNK.

impact sounds on metal ring out off-rhythm somewhere in the night. following the bouncing noise leads toward a trio of misplaced dumpsters lined up and painted with colored markings of varying sizes and patterns. the bodies of these receptacles have been dented and skewered - some implements still sticking within the body - and the perpetrator is some yards away, flipping a bread knife in his hand.

he catches it by the handle after a flip and turns his attention to whomever is encroaching, eyes glinting in the dark like some nocturnal animal's. they...seem chill, but inwardly Knife is screeching like an angry nocturnal animal.

Can I fucking catch a goddamn break here WHAT DO YOU WANT?!?

Pending is gracefully holding that thought to see what's up with this interloper.]

---

as antigone:

o1. binge after reading[location: kwik trip, nova city]

Scuze.

[peculiar scraping that had begun an aisle over has approached this one, and now a basket dragged across the linoleum is stopped near one's feet. it was hauled by the little gal, stuffed to spilling over, but she's still going. she'll get another fucking basket, watch her!

but first. YOU, tall one.

she points up.] Gimme some of that stuff up there. I can't reach.



o2. antigone of a fall [location: the library, alexandria; cw: suicidal ideation]
[she's already scaled this thing twice before and found the rooftop areas suitable for some magical mapping, so this is...sort of old hat. but while repetition is good for memory, it's also bad for the mood. this shit is just...killing time. killing Knife.

This doesn't fucking matter.

but she's doing it anyway.

except one missed handhold leads to a slip, a skid, and then the little kitsune is dropping from the side of the fourth story.

one of two things can happen. either:

-Antigone just lets it happen, and someone with the reflexes and capability sees and subsequently does a cool rescue (damsel strat)

or

-Antigone snaps the fuck out of it, twists herself and casts a Misty Step...directly onto someone to cushion her fall (this is advanced crash-into-hello tech)

player's choice!]

Comments

[brat]

( given the amount of distance they're at, robin can see it hit the target, but couldn't place dead center from a look. however, it's plenty close enough for what he'd been asking for, so after squinting off toward the target for a moment and verifying it, he lifts his shoulders in a shrug and gestures off towards the two that are embedded in the dumpsters. )

All yours.

[rudelanguage]

Generous. [the deadpan is devoid of cynicism. Pending skulks over to the dumpsters to retrieve those two knives of Robin's, holding the handle of one out to the kid to take. he only said one, Knife remembers.

while doing so:] You're...the bird-kid. [he forgets which bird, particularly, but aside from "that kid who was screaming at vehicles," Pending can recognize his less fucked-up voice from camp.] Which one again?

[brat]

( considering the cost of the steel alloy used to make the knives - one is being plenty generous. damian could ask for more from aurora, but he doesn't trust that anything he gets from her would truly be what he's after. he'll have to test that, later. for now? losing a couple blades isn't going to hinder him much.

but pending returns the second, which gives robin pause just long enough for the hesitation to be obvious - then takes the second back and places it back into it's compartment on his belt. )

It's Robin.

[rudelanguage]

[that prompts a head-bob of recognition.] Robin-bird, not robbin' steal. I remember.

[Is he smaller, or is that just me? Knife wonders idly. camp was more memorable for being chased by freaky lightning guys or being dropped from hundreds of yards up, so the bird-kid had stiff competition for cemented memories there. and that first impression was loads gentler than the car-smash-party on Earth-2.

Ah, well. Pending pats around himself before locating and fishing around an inner pocket, a couple wound-up scarves spilling out like a bad magician's act; the rest can stay on the ground for the time it takes him to tear and wind up a length of it tightly around the handle of the new knife.

the ability to accessorize is what separates us from the animals, you know.

while doing so:] Throw if you want. I don't care. [there's assorted targets aplenty.]

[brat]

I didn't come here for target practice.

( nor did he come to share though, so. granted, robin didn't really have a specific reason behind his visit; he'd been wandering, as one does. seeing an overly large person playing with serrated blades was enough reason to warrant stopping, and seeing how well his aim is - well. he was curious. )

The fabric is going to throw off the weight.

[rudelanguage]

[Pending cuts excess off with a scalpel before looking down at Robin with an impassive expression. it's easier to set this face to flint than a muzzle shape - less risk of twitchy lips for sharp teeth, and the tusks aren't too offensive as to be overtly threatening beyond being generally different. humans often don't like different enough to give space, Knife figures.

so much for that here!! at least he's not getting kicked in the goddamn hip this time.]

It'll be okay. I got tricks. Don't you got tricks?

[brat]

Tricks?

( it's an unfamiliar way of using the phrase thus the ask for clarification, but he's fully invested now. yes, robin knows many things that would be considered tricks, but he's also got the mind of someone who loves to tinker when he's given the tools to do so, so dissecting what this person is referring to, who is so clearly different from anything damian has experience with, is.

well.

it's fun. )

[rudelanguage]

Tricks. [like that clears it up. better to just show than tell.

after a few test-tosses end-over-end, Pending alters his grip and flicks the knife back toward the sticker (21 (14+7)).

a beat.]

Or just lucky. [he shrugs, lifting the scalpel he palmed in his other hand.] Was gonna tap it if I needed to.

[brat]

You realize how little sense you make, don't you?

( tricks. no, the ability to hit a target despite throwing off the weight of one's own knife lies in talent, not luck or 'tricks'. )

[rudelanguage]

Maybe 'cause you're so much smarter. [he fiddles with the scalpel while moseying over to go fetch his knife.

on the way back:] Hard to get what us lessers are thinkin', I guess.

[brat]

( he is much smarter, thank you for noticing. even if damian is well-aware that this guy is being snarky with him. )

Or perhaps it's intentional. Your stupidity.

[rudelanguage]

Maybe. [he lingers at the dumpster, turning and facing the kid. he taps at the sticker, sidling his side close to it.]

Aim any good?

[brat]

Would I have as many blades as I do if it wasn't?

( he asks, but he's also grabbing onto yet another blade from his utility belt, raising it to flick it toward the sticker pending tapped at. )

[rudelanguage]

[he tilts his head slightly.] Big collection don't mean big skill.

[though he trusts enough to have his body close enough to the strike zone, clearly.

(also he can just fucking Uncanny Dodge if it looks dicey).

he nods, ready to see what the shrimp's got.]

[brat]

( robin gives an irritated huff, but the invitation is there, and despite the challenge to his skill (or maybe because of it) he's raising up yet another throwing knife and tossing it straight for the target.

it's not quite dead-center, not from the distance he's at, but it's close enough that if he had been aiming for someone rather than a small target, it would have hit close enough to damage exactly what he'd been aiming for. )

[rudelanguage]

[halfing's got an arm. not that Knife was ever in the business of fucking around with hobbits, but it's noted not to do so here.

Pending pulls the knife out, nods, then chucks it back, aiming near the bag of junk he left over where Robin's standing.]

You want a moving mark? [...

TO CLARIFY:] Not me. [he jerks his thumb at the dumpster.] There's junk in here to throw.

[brat]

Throw it.

( or he could throw a knife straight at pending, it's not as if he needs to harm someone to use them as target practice - well. a bruise or two is fine, isn't it? but if they're going to play games with sharp objects, damian may as well show off. )

[rudelanguage]

[Pending grunts and then reaches in, digging out a discarded food container, testing its weight.]

...Rmh. [he shoves some crap in there to weight it, closes it up, and then chucks it up into the air.

this is actually charity - giving the bots shit to clean up. garbage piñata.]

[brat]

( may as well take advantage of the offered target practice while it's there, right? pending throws the container, and instead of one of his generic throwing knives, robin is throwing a batarang straight towards the center of the container. it digs through, bladed ends sticking out both sides as the thing falls to the ground. )

Is this what you do in your spare time?

[rudelanguage]

[he shields his face from any garbage splatter as the mess is hit dead-on, leaning back and blindly feeling around for other things.

before lobbing an old light bulb (why are there old light bulbs in a trash bin in Etraya. isn't everything efficient here. shut up):] Not really. Can't do it by myself this way.

[yeet.]

[brat]

Do you want to switch?

( given damian is hardly ever on his own these days - and even if he was, moving target practice doesn't require an extra set of hands if you have the knowledge of how to build targets. )

[rudelanguage]

Eh. Sure. [Pending sweeps some trash aside by the toe of his boot before setting on the batarang and sliding it toward himself. Oh yeah. Left one of these at the tents...

after crouching to pick it up, he'll amble over in Damian's direction, letting the projectile set on his flat palm for the taking were it wished as they change spaces.]

There's probably fancier places for this here. Since...there's all kinds of fancy crap just...sitting in this place. Yeah? [but trash just hits different. it's realer - it's been used and discarded! these empty buildings...were they ever used? are they discarded? are the involuntary inhabitants discarded, too?]

[brat]

I know where there's better equipment for target practice.

( he offers, but doesn't offer to take pending there. instead, robin's making his way over to the trash pile and - grabbing onto something that doesn't look absolutely disgusting, testing it's weight in his hand before he's tossing it up into the air. then offers a - )

If you're free later. I have someone else I am training as well.

[rudelanguage]

[Pending twiddles a scalpel between his fingers before flicking at the chucked junk along with a second one - pew, pew - then fixes a raised-eyebrow look at the kid.]

You signin' me up for somethin' here?

[brat]

Offering you better tools than what you are currently utilizing.

( so, no, not exactly.

but he does toss up another piece of garbage for pending, throwing this one substantially higher than the last. )