ext_260385 (
ora-serrata.livejournal.com) wrote in
paixaorpg2006-06-22 12:35 pm
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Entry tags:
OM NOM NOM NOM POPE!BALLS [complete]
Character(s): Sima Yi and Corinthian.
Content: In which Sima Yi wants a job. In which the Corinthian wants to eat Sima Yi's eyes. In which someone does not get what they way DDD:.
Setting: Morem o Lisboa
Time: Wednesday Night
Warnings: ... none... yet, but if you look at the subject line, we may have to add some later DDDDD:
The most disconcerting thing about this Paixao was slow transporation. The Corinthian found himself walking for quite a long time in the Waking world. He had originally meant to simply walk into the Dreaming and back out at the appropriate place. However, that had not worked, so he had walked. Which wasn't to say it was a bad thing, the Corinthian did enjoy the Waking world far more than the Dreaming. Everything was more.
What is it that he had overheard at the Wake? That talking to Dreamers was like talking to zombies. Something like that. The Dreaming was always muted, and as monochromatic as this Paixao was, it at least - was awake.
Everyone looked the same, and he felt his interest in blue eyes and blonde hair waver. It was as if they were all the same flavor of gumball, very unappealing. He didn't hunger like mortal men, which was lucky, or he would be starving by now. Instead it was just a brief gnawing of hunger on the inside of his skull, a want more than a need.
Morem o Lisboa, room 211, the 'Sima Yi' had said. He'd come to his destination, then, as the sign read 'Morem o Lisboa' a hotel of sorts. Interesting indeed.
Ignoring the other patrons and the staff he simply walked in and found the stairs. Two would probably be on the second floor, if this was anything like the hotels he had visited. Or the hotel he had rented out, that one time... well, he hadn't. These memories were quite confusing when they were and weren't his.
211.
"...Is anyone about?" He called out, rapping on the wood with his knuckles.
Content: In which Sima Yi wants a job. In which the Corinthian wants to eat Sima Yi's eyes. In which someone does not get what they way DDD:.
Setting: Morem o Lisboa
Time: Wednesday Night
Warnings: ... none... yet, but if you look at the subject line, we may have to add some later DDDDD:
The most disconcerting thing about this Paixao was slow transporation. The Corinthian found himself walking for quite a long time in the Waking world. He had originally meant to simply walk into the Dreaming and back out at the appropriate place. However, that had not worked, so he had walked. Which wasn't to say it was a bad thing, the Corinthian did enjoy the Waking world far more than the Dreaming. Everything was more.
What is it that he had overheard at the Wake? That talking to Dreamers was like talking to zombies. Something like that. The Dreaming was always muted, and as monochromatic as this Paixao was, it at least - was awake.
Everyone looked the same, and he felt his interest in blue eyes and blonde hair waver. It was as if they were all the same flavor of gumball, very unappealing. He didn't hunger like mortal men, which was lucky, or he would be starving by now. Instead it was just a brief gnawing of hunger on the inside of his skull, a want more than a need.
Morem o Lisboa, room 211, the 'Sima Yi' had said. He'd come to his destination, then, as the sign read 'Morem o Lisboa' a hotel of sorts. Interesting indeed.
Ignoring the other patrons and the staff he simply walked in and found the stairs. Two would probably be on the second floor, if this was anything like the hotels he had visited. Or the hotel he had rented out, that one time... well, he hadn't. These memories were quite confusing when they were and weren't his.
211.
"...Is anyone about?" He called out, rapping on the wood with his knuckles.
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The voice was almost vibrant to his ears, eyes snapping away from the journal he had been studying for quite some time now. His knowledge of such doubled ever since he last used it, maybe even tripled. Why, his ability to learn things vastly than a regular human being is also useful when one was dragged into a completely different dimension. The former strategist was extremely lucky that God had given him such wisdom.
Sima Yi pushed himself from the soft cushions of the bed, grabbing his feathered fan on the night stand on the right of the bed out of habit. It was the same back in China... except, the fan would be found on top of him in the morning. He would work so hard that when he came back to his quarters, he'd go straight to sleep. The only thing he'd remember was to take off his metal helmet (which he doesn't have anymore, by the way.)
Straightening his purple robes, he stepped towards the door, where a visitor seem to be standing outside. Yi placed his free hand on the knob and twisted it (which he learned from earlier. They didn't have door knobs back in the day) and pulled it towards him. The door opened and he came face to face with Corinthian. With slight confusion, he positioned his fan so that it was covering an amused smirk upon his lips; his eyes closed as he bowed down the top part of his body in respect. "Good evening, mister...?"
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"...Mr... Sima Yi?" He inquired, as carefully as he would upon meeting a Lord or Lady. He was amused by the fan, however, but chose not to comment upon its appearance.
"We... ah, 'spoke' over these journals? I'm Jack," The Corinthian waved the electronic journal idly. He wasn're sure as to the best way of carrying the blasted thing yet. It was just too big to fit in his pocket.
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Slightly his right eye twitched: a bad omen. As his expression, for a split second, turned into a frown and back to a calm, content one, he brought the fan against lips, covering his smirk. "I did not expect you to come this late at night, Mr. Jack," he said honestly. Things like this would've been easily predicted if he could read the stars... which does not exist here.
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And he smiled, pleasently. He could play nice if he was asked to, or if he had to. The Corinthian made sure that his expression was non-threatening, it was a practiced motion.
"Why shut ourselves away indoors?"
Besides, outdoors people would mind less if there was... commotion. Though, judging from Sima Yi's appearance and (a fan? What?) it would be too much of a problem.
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When he felt that he finally had control over his smirk, he removed the fan away from his mouth and to his chest, vaguely fanning himself. "Though it is rather ironic to discuss private matters in the public, Mr. Jack. Almost suspicious, I would say."
Well, that didn't take too long before he brought the fan back above his mouth, snickering this time.
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"...perhaps. Call it a whim, would you?"
It didn't matter, indoors or out. Out was just so much nicer. He'd gotten away from killing people in bathtubs, there just wasn't enough room to really stretch out and enjoy.
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"Shall we leave? The sooner we get this over with, the better."
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"...do you find the weather too hot, Mr. Yi?"
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"...What?" Yi found himself saying as he was not ready for the question. Well, that was a bit too sudden. He landed his gaze upon his fan and smiled. "It is just a fan, Mr. Jack."
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"Right, it's a very nice fan." Was his reply, hands sliding into his pockets. Because people carried fans like that with them places. Of course, not many people were named Sima Yi and looked like that either. He headed down the stairs of the hotel jauntily, resisting the urge to whistle.
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Of course people like him 'just carries a fan'! Most strategist known to ancient China tends to have a fan, although the special powers within them vary from people to people. His just happens to be dark magic arts. And his rival, Zhuge Liang? He was almost his polor opposite. Instead the fan being black, it was white, and he performed white magic.
Figures that someone from ancient China wouldn't blend in too easily; he made that mistake.
"I thank you," he smiled again, but continued walking, without turning his head back once. "Though, it would not be just 'nice' when needed to be."
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"...nice night out, isn't it?"
He tried to keep conversation light and relaxed.
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He stepped out the door and tilted his head up to the sky, frowning at the artificial stars. "Indeed it is, however," Yi paused to look at 'Jack'. "It would be nicer if everything was natural."
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"...If you think so. Natural is a point of view." He said jovially, "You probably don't accept dollars as payment, do you?"
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He turned his body around so that his entire being was facing the other. "What jobs do you have to offer again?"
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"I'm a collector of sorts, you see. I was hoping you could help me with my collection."
Smile.
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"Collection? Collection of what, if I may inquire?"
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"...an unusual on that is always needing tending."
Vague enough.
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He agreed, and cracked his neck to the side, shifting away from Sima Yi a bit. "I collect eyes, Mr. Yi." The statement also brought about movement, letting his left hand arc towards the other man's face. The knife was in his right, and he delayed for a second before swinging that hand in the other direction, towards Sima Yi's left eye. Downward angled, so he could slide the blade closer to the cheekbone and away from the actual orb itself. Wouldn't want to puncture the eye, just... loosen it up.
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You'd expect a man like him to cower away, but he didn't. Instead, the strategist began to chuckle, taking a step back away from the steel despite the risk of doing so. "Why, I could not possibly be more surprise, Mr. Jack. How would you go about getting mine?" A taunt.
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"Usually I just take 'em. Unless you'd rather be so kind as to just give them to me?" He withdrew, a little, about a pace back but still close enough to strike if he wished to. There weren't any signs of Sima Yi being a demon or fae.. interesting. Ah well, that just added spice to life.
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Ah, yes. Xiahou Dun. The mighty cousin of his former lord, Cao Cao. He was shot in the eye with an arrow by an enemy general, and pulled out the arrow along with his eye. Dun said, 'Essense of my father, blood of my mother, I cannot throw this away!' and ate it.
Of course, Sima Yi was disgusted by the fact that he ate it, but it was noble of the man, so he choose to ignore it. This seems to be a man who lives on eating eyes. Yes, disgusting indeed. But he need not show any fear. "I am afraid I cannot do that, Mr. Jack. My eyes are precious to me, as it is for anyone else. I suggest you to hire another... victim, if I could say."
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"I can't imagine why you need your eyes. Do you need both of them?" It was more like easy banter than actual bargaining. The Corinthian was looking for another opportunity to strike. He could sacrifice one eye, he supposed if it would let him get both. Next time he was going to go straight through the right eye and into Sima Yi's skull.
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The Corinthian would have lifted his glasses to examine the color had he not thought it would destroy his 'cover'. Instead he raised an eyebrow at the purple, glowing fan. That was highly unusual.
"...You know, many people get through life with one eye... or two. In fact, some are born without them. You kow what they say about oracles and their eyes, afterall. The Gods speak clearer and let them see more."
He laughed then.
"But they're entirely wrong."
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Anyway, at least the other man still have some reason in him. He gave a frustrated sigh before replying: "You may be correct, however, a strategist such as myself would need my eyes, as some underdogs may not," he spat, the glow fading to nothingness on his fan. When it seemed to be back to normal, he fanned himself slowly with it. "Now if you may excuse me, Mr. Jack, I have more important matters to attend to."
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"...fair you well, Mr. Yi."