Tasha Walker
Minor
She's got legs, she knows how to use them. She never begs, she knows how to choose them.
Posts: 430
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Post by Tasha Walker on Jan 30, 2011 21:54:59 GMT -5
There's no fear, no flinch in her eyes as she stares up at Scourge looming over her. She's broken, her body shuddering in pain, but she still has a sword in one hand and a gun in the other. If he attacks, she will fight to the last.
But he does not attack, and some of the tension drains from her body as he turns away. She watches him warily. There is something so... young about his display of temper and refusal to admit the fault. Young- and familiar.
Using her sword as a crutch, Blackarachnia pulls herself up to her feet and hobbles over to Scourge. If allowed, she will lean her head- her helmet, unaffected by the mutation- against the back of his shoulder.
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Post by Sable Conolly on Jan 30, 2011 22:44:23 GMT -5
Scourge, if he wasn't fuming and sulking, would draw some black appreciation out of the fact that Blackarachnia would fight to the last. He lets her hobble over and lean against him, despite the prickle of the drain. He turns his head and gives her a defiant, 'What,' look. Scourge won't be making any apologies. He's hazardous to one's health. That's just how he is.
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Tasha Walker
Minor
She's got legs, she knows how to use them. She never begs, she knows how to choose them.
Posts: 430
|
Post by Tasha Walker on Jan 31, 2011 22:37:37 GMT -5
Shifting so that none of her actual "skin" touches Scourge- just the front edge of her helm- Blackarachnia simply leans there a few moments. After a bit, she lets the gun fade away and brings that now-empty hand up to try and just skim over Scourge's arm, close enough for him to feel the movement without her actually touching him.
"You stopped," she murmurs, tone both pained and pleased, "You're more than your anger, Scourge, but it's the anger and danger you represent that makes you so compelling. You were created to be a commander, Scourge."
"If I'm going to use this new... advantage, I need to know how long it takes for a knock out," she says in that same soft tone.
She tries to lace her fingers with his. The drain starts immediately if he allows it, but she doesn't let go. She wants to see if he'll trust her enough yet to allow himself to lose.
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Post by Sable Conolly on Jan 31, 2011 23:13:29 GMT -5
If she'd tried to just shoot him in the back, Scourge would have dropped a house on her, and he knows it. Why is it that when she asks to do the same thing, to knock him out, it is now a matter of a pride, that it would be a show of shameful weakness and fear to refuse her?
Scourge doesn't have enough clarity to puzzle out the why-fores of his actions. He's a seething mass of hatred and anger right now.
It's just a simulation room. Scourge allows her hand on his. He'll just wake up in reality, sometime after the stars explode behind his optics.
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