paixaorpg | Something Wicked [Active, Open]

Entry tags:

Something Wicked [Active, Open]

Character(s): Vanitas and anyone who meets up with him.
Content: Vanitas enters Paixao. This can't be good.
Setting: Vanaheim gate
Time: Week 26, Mid-day.
Warnings: It's Vanitas.

Vanitas could see the light even through his eyelids. The pain had ebbed, and he felt as strong as ever. He opened his eyes, seeing neither all-encompassing light nor the darkness of Ven’s heart.

With a kick back, Vanitas got to his hands and dramatically swung around to his feet. The glass of his helm slowly restored itself as he looked around. Ghostly white grass waved in the distance on one side while a giant complex loomed in another. That direction, however, sported a line of people waiting to get in. Thinking little about it, he sauntered his way over to the front of the line.

“Sorry, you have to wait your t--”

“I’m making it my turn.” Vanitas swiped the electronic journal from the guard’s hand and turned to go in.

The guard, however, had other ideas, and stepped in front of the masked boy. He didn’t need to say a word, since the ones in line spoke for him.

“Hey, whadya think yer doin’?”

“Return to your position in line!”

“I wan’ mah turn! Mama’s gotta be in dere!”

As the people in line began to protest, Vanitas summoned his Keyblade, leapt back, and shot black lightning from his Keyblade towards the line. Some dodged, others outright fled, and many screamed.

“Like I care.” Vanitas continued on inside like he hadn’t been stopped at all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Darkness. Thick, cloying darkness. It wasn't something Zexion often smelled arriving in the city, and he would have had to have been all but unable to smell in order to miss it. Whoever this new arrival was, he might well prove to be an interesting. Certainly interesting enough to make a trip to the gates worth his while.

He was, of course, careful to set his portal so that it came out in a side alley instead of the street itself. There was no need to worry the people any further than they already were. Besides, even if he wasn't bothering with his usual disguise this time, such an inexpertly applied use of fear and terror wasn't his style. Yes, they were useful, but they were better wielded with nigh surgical precision and not the broad, sweeping strokes that this visitor was using.

Fortunately enough, the hood of cloak hid his face as he stepped out into the street proper, letting the portal slide shut behind him. Not surprisingly, what little crowd there was left parted willing for him - everyone know what that dark cloak meant, even if the man himself was thus far an unknown.

"You should care, perhaps."

It had been rather quiet as of late, much to the Gambler's dismay. The actions of their tenants had gotten stale. Rather, nothing of interest had developed. Everyone was too busy mingling among one another, attempting to rebuild from what fragments of their past lives remained before they were introduced to the playing field. For this reason, the tenth member had ventured out, on the prowl for rumors, gossip, anything that may prove a promising lead. Vanaheim, the shady slums that welcomed their esteemed guests more readily, was the best place to start.

Dressed in a black turtle-neck with corduroy pants and polished shoes, he moves casually through the area. And he just so happened to pass by the gates as a surge in darkness caught his attention. "Oh? Now what have we here..?" He cocked a brow and moved in to investigate.

Lo and behold, the most preposterously dressed fool had forced his way through the gate with the use of magic. A corner of his lips briefly pulled back in slight disgust concerning the gaudy suit--showing his own vanity--but as it were, he spotted one of his own. Recognizing the voice and stature of the cloaked one, he approached The Fool and The Magician.

"Now, now, don't be so hasty. You've already condemned us to this crowded prison, you would deign strip us of our amusement, as well?" He rolled a wrist in an almost dismissive manner before letting both arms fold loosely across his chest, Luxord's voice as accusing as it was demanding. The act of the pot calling the kettle black never seemed to grow old for him.

Edited 2010-11-06 03:53 (UTC)

Two people had suddenly stepped in front of Vanitas. Had one been dressed any differently, he would have simply shoved them both aside. His head turned to the cloaked individual. "Those are some familiar threads." He looked him up and down, flat out ignoring the other man. "What do you want?"

Zexion couldn't help but smile to himself under the safety as Luxord weighed in on the situation. It was rare indeed that he had a proper devil's advocate to work against, and he fully intended to make the most of it. But first, the comment about his clothes.

"I could say much the same about yours." As he recalled, Vexen's replica had been wearing it in that memory he preferred not to dwell on, although the shock of its initial viewing had long since worn off. One of the more fortunate side effects of his current state, he assumed. One couldn't be truly bothered without a heart, even with something as mentally distressing as he'd seen. But that was the past(future). This was hardly the time to be wool-gathering.

"Are you not already finding what lies beyond this gilded cage?" Zexion asked, keeping his voice comparatively neutral for the time being. "Or have I heard wrong about the expeditions to the places beyond these domes?"

Ignored or not, the development was most intriguing. So, this newcomer, gaudily dressed as he was, was familiar with their tell-tale cloaks. He was attentive and keen to remember the details of body language and vocal inflections throughout. His own posture--arms across his chest loosely, weight supported on one leg with the other propped for balance's sake and his head calmly tilted with one arched brow cocked--seemed a bit lackluster and irked. Rest assured though, the Gambler could care less whether he was acknowledged by this newcomer or not. Either way, he would glean the valuable information and assess the position of this piece on the board.

He couldn't help but wonder just where Zexion had seen such an outfit before, but that detail was filed away to be addressed later. For now, his focus seemed to meander to the sixth member, a huff of a cynical laugh rumbling from his broad chest.

"Informed as ever." A corner of his lips quirked up in a smirk as he challenged the other's placid tone with his quips. "Regardless, it's bad manners to taunt your guests, especially those just being dealt in. I will, however, award points for the ability to compliment such a hideous attire."

"Really. So there's a pathetic wannabe out there." There was barely a beat as he got down to business. "Guessing you know the Master." If this guy did, it'd be fun to see how things turned out. If the Master were here, it meant possibly that he'd be sporting a whole new look. It also meant if he was around, there'd be something to do.

If there was one thing this guy shared with his Master, it was the ability to take simple statements and make them tedious and boring. "That's news," he commented, regardless that he wasn't being spoken to. So what if this place was a prison. He never found himself in any situation he couldn't force his way out of.

They could insult him all they wanted. Vanitas didn't care. If they kept it up, there was no point in keeping them around. The Master never would have to know what happened to this flunky and his friend.

Zexion rather doubted that Vexen's replica had been based off of the person who stood before them right now, but that didn't precisely make his comment any less true. Replicas were, by their very natures, 'wannabes' of the original being. Even if they managed to go beyond the original there was still the fact that they would need to live in the shadow of the original - they would always bear the face of one who they were not.

"I'm not unfamiliar with him." Or to be more precise, he knew a man who preferred to style himself 'The Master', but if he was from any sort of world where their cloaks were known he'd eat his Lexicon. But it would serve quite well for misdirection.

"I find it's always better to be polite," he commented to Luxord, drawing his posture up into one of mild indignation. "As a matter of fact I would have expected a man of your stature to understand such a triviality. It would hardly do to offend our latest guest."

Edited 2010-11-07 02:19 (UTC)

Lapis lazuli eyes flickered between his cloaked comrade and this odd newcomer. A Master, eh? He can't say he'd heard of any such thing, then again, he was a neophyte, one that was rather low on the cooperate ladder, at that. Luxord wouldn't be surprised if there were a great deal of things he hadn't heard of, though Zexion seemed a bit informed on the matter. Well..that was questionable, given Zexion's nature as a manipulator of words.

"But of course." Another low chuckle came from him as the Schemer patronized him, taking the comments in stride. "Now, now. Surely, one so perceptive as yourself should be as aware as I that your new patron isn't in the least phased by such frivolous jests. But if you insist..

"Welcome, esteemed guest, to the specious grandiose of Paixao." His arm unhinged from his chest, sweeping towards this ramshackle portion of the city in a dramatic manner as he graciously bowed at the waist. Likewise, his voice took on an almost mocking tone of grandeur while properly welcoming the oddball.

"Then what're you to him?" Vanitas asked the cloaked man flatly. He was so underwhelmed with the two, but one of them had to be of some use to his Master. The question really was, however, why? And how it applied to him.

The boy in the mask sounded about as excited over the welcome as a 7-year-old in math class. It also seemed about as "Yeah. Who are you." His head turned to face the other as well. "Both of you." His tone was as much a command as anything else. If these idiots were serving his Master like Braig, a lightbulb held more power over him than they did.

To 'him'. Presumably to his master, if what he'd said thus far was any sort of indication. One sole note, that was all he seemed to have to play and to be quite honest, Zexion found it almost distasteful. He had power, clearly, but to waste it on mere threats, and idle, uninteresting chatter? Useless. Nothing more than a waste of his time.

But he was hardly going to let a simple distaste for the situation keep him from seeing it through. It would have been a cowards way out, and so he kept his voice neutral as he answered, with a slight shrug.

"We could be no one of importance. Or we could be the most important people you'll meet during your stay here in this city of winding ways. I'm afraid you'll need to discover the proper answer for yourself."

Assuming he even could.

Oh, how he watched this development, absorbing the precious little information he had seen. Unfortunately for him, he wouldn't be surprised if this would be the first and last time he'd ever hear of such interesting developments first hand, as low on the corporate ladder as the intuitive Gambler was. Granted, this being could, potentially, be from any world, in which this poorly dressed specimen was a servant of some sort. Given the concentration of darkness in this one though, that was highly doubtful.

He was curious. What hand had the fates dealt him now? Luxord pondered briefly, re-arranging the cards in his hand to see what could be played to his advantage, and what must be cast out. Even this early in the game, the stakes were already much higher than one very well might care to admit.

"See where a spot of chivalry gets you, these days? A lot of demands." His head tipped a bit, one hand coming up to rub at his chin with an amused expression. "Always the enigma though, I see.." It didn't take him long to ponder his next move. This character seemed too impatient to bother with any word games for long. It was his turn, now, and the banter between them wasn't quite enough to keep him interested enough to deal with their word games.

"Though, more than the mere names of the humble patrons of Paixao rely on which conclusions you come to. Your decisions, or perhaps even your own identity may very well open new doors--perhaps even to your freedom, as they do say this entire island is but a room in a castle." Luxord felt it was high time to up the ante, as close to the reveal as it was coming.

Vanitas slowly seemed to stand a little straighter. Though his stature was far from intimidating, it was clear he meant business. His tone was amazingly even. "You know, I really don't feel like playing games right now. Unless I make the rules. Give me the answer. Straight."

Luxord's words rose a few questions in Vanitas's mind, but he wasn't curious enough to ask them. At least, not yet. For all he knew or cared, they were just trying to speak in riddles. "'Who are you,' isn't always just a name, idiot. ...And if that was some kind of way to ask who I am, you're doing a pretty pathetic job of opening me up."

'The answer'. As if there was something so simple about this place that a single question; a single answer could encapsulate everything that the place was. A fool's question, or the question of someone who couldn't see the truth of things for they were. In short, not the question of someone who would deserve the proper and Zexion drew himself up to his full (if not particularly impressive) height in response.

"I see no reason I need to give that to you," he answered, voice thick with condescension.

If valid proof of his worthiness were offered, Zexion would be willing to consider it, but not before then.

"Seems no one has time for a bit of entertainment these days. Unfortunately, we don't make the rules here, thus your demands are futile." He rolled a wrist idly, countenance a bit placid and aloof with what could be interpreted as frustration, an expression fabricated for the sake of the conversation.

"Rest assured, mate. If I wanted your name, I'd get it. These walls have ears. But, I'll be so kind as to cut out the middle man for you this time, and inform you that my name is Emlen." For once, Luxord gave his opponent clues as to precisely what his cryptic statement mean, though it'd take the use of process of elimination.

He chuckled at Zexion's haughtiness. Perhaps their new guest had pushed a bit too hard with the Schemer--to ever get even a half answer from him, one had to take the most tedious and indirect route. "Come now, surely, our masked marauder could make quite a bit of use of any information either of us could contribute. Of course, that would require you be a bit direct for once." Why yes, Luxord did just insult Vanitas, but could anyone prove it? No.~

Edited 2010-11-11 02:08 (UTC)

No reason? No one could see the wicked smile that twisted his mouth. That was a challenge if he ever heard one. He stretched the fingers of his left hand, shifting that shoulder forward ever so slightly before the less enigmatically-dressed man replied. He stopped and turned to face him, noting the name. And that if the "walls had ears," he was either quite the rumor monger or someone in charge. That much was straightforward.

That didn't mean he had any more respect for him. He wasn't answering many questions either.

So he stood there as casually as ever. He in fact took up a contrapposto stance as if to balance the weight of the Keyblade he summoned in a flash of cold-looking flames.

Zexion hadn't meant it as one, but if their masked visitor wished to take it as one, he was hardly going to complain. It was another nail in the coffin of Zexion's already firmly established impression of him and it would take far more than a Keyblade to shake it. He had little enough to fear from that blade - he had no heart to lock away, although it was interesting to see a wielder so steeply soaked in the darkness.

Would that make the Keyblade correspondingly aligned with the darkness, he wondered. Or would it act as a true Keyblade would?

It was a question that would have to wait until later. For the time being he simply stood, the perfect picture of a thoroughly unimpressed man. He didn't even bother summoning up his own weapon. He had no need to yet, and to do so would be to shatter the image he was cultivating - that of someone who had no fear of Vanitas and saw no reason to fear him.

Whether or not this little boy wanted to assume he had any sort of power was his own decision, Luxord never said as such, but he didn't plan on confirming or denying any sort of suspicions he might form.

But ah, now when he summoned that keyblade, that was certainly an interesting development. It would seem, though, that these blades were a dime-a-dozen these days. He pondered what would happen if he mentioned that to this newcomer..No. Not yet. A sporting event.~

He watched the two with such interest, he just had to wonder, just what would come to pass? Would Zexion call this boy's bluff, or would he really come at the Schemer? He always did love a good moment's suspense, adrenaline running high as everyone waited to see what the next moment would bring. He dare not run his mouth and ruin such a riveting moment.~

"Riveting" was the word farthest from Vanitas's mind, however. With nothing to say to them and obviously no longer bantering with each other, the youth had no interest. The most interesting thing was, in fact, the lack of response to his summoning a weapon. At least it showed these two weren't completely pathetic.

But if the Master wanted him to do something, he would know it was better to be direct with Vanitas. In fact, they hadn't given him any reason to do anything at all, so if Master wanted something, he'd have to try again.

And suddenly, a Dark Corridor appeared in front of them. Not even caring enough to say a word, he simply walked into the portal of darkness. He left it open. If the had any compulsion to follow him like little lost puppies, they could. If not, at least he could find something more interesting.

But what met his eyes inside wasn't quite what he expected. The area seemed to stretch forever, vanishing from darkness into absolute black. He shrugged, beginning to walk the path. But even as the opening behind him began to shrink, there was no exit he could see.

Several minutes later, the masked boy re-emerged from the portal, facing the cloaked one.

"Nice little trick." There was an air of amusement. "So if Master's willing to send people to play games with me, what's he want?"

Zexion had no inclination in the least to follow him into the darkness. He'd seen what was within the corridors himself; there was no need to bother with chasing after a new arrival. If he managed to find a way out (unlikely), it was no skin of his nose.

Of course, neither was he surprised to find him returning shortly after he'd left. Why would they have made a city that was so simple to get out of? It would only lead to a slow trickle of people leaving by way of the corridors, and the worlds beyond this one could hardly hold more immigrants. The corridors wouldn't be enough to return people to their proper homes.

"We're hardly the ones to accuse of playing games."

Well, well, well. So. Not only could this boy summon a keyblade, but he could also open a corridor of darkness. That was an interesting occurrence in and of itself, but like Zexion, he had no inclination to follow a dead-end pathway.

He merely chuckled lowly as the youth returned and had a nice little quip to greet them with. "I have to say the same thing about yourself, boy." He waved a hand idly towards Zexion. "Now, now, you can speak for yourself. I rather enjoy a good game." Oh, that subtle sickly-sweet tone of voice mingled with the present confident charisma. "And so it would seem, our enigmatic hosts rather enjoy stringing their tenants along in elaborate schemes. You may have more luck upon re-wording your questions."

...He wouldn't. But their new visitor didn't know that, now, did he? It would be quite interesting to see what direction the conversation would take after he directly contradicted Zexion's claims.

There was the the slightest tilt to the masked boy's head and slouch of his shoulders as he received the reply. Ven was more useful than these two. The fact that even the coated one wasn't answering his questions directly was proof enough that he was being toyed with. Re-wording questions. Vanitas spoke plainer English than these two did, and he never did reword to clarify.

And actions always did speak deafeningly louder than words.

"You like games, Emlen?" He looked to the cloaked man about half a second before his free hand shot towards his throat. He was too short to actually lift him more than an inch or two off the ground, but lift him he did. Vanitas looked back to the one whose face he could see."How 'bout we raise the stakes. What comes first? Straight answers or this idiot's death. 'Cause he ain't gonna last too long, I bet."

Even with it being no more than an inch or two, as soon as his feet leave the ground, Zexion panics. It might be more mental than any true emotion but the simple fact of the matter is that this is far too similar to a situation he never wanted to happen to him. Vanitas or Riku's Replica, it doesn't matter. He cannot and will not allow himself to die.

Nor does he think for a change. His thoughts are frantically running around his mind and so he does the next best thing. He reacts; he still has his strength.

The attack isn't physical. He has no weapons that are physically capable of crossing the distance and he can't think straight enough to both summon his Lexicon and change its form anyway. Instead, he opts for something quick and dirty and reflexive. A blast of illusionary pain, every bit as real as Vanita's mind makes it - and he's quite sure he would have no reason not to as invisible claws stab into his chest; his heart. The last bastion of any thinking being's self no matter what it was.

Edited 2010-11-18 05:57 (UTC)

His head cocked, brows raising momentarily as Vanitas threatened his cloaked companion. After that initial reaction of surprise, he stood there, one arm folded across his chest with an elbow in that hand, his free hand scratching thoughtfully at his beard. He knew just how futile it was to go for Zexion--even Luxord dare not provoke Zexion into any such confrontations.

"A challenge, is it? Then I accept. If you manage to keep a hold on this gentleman, then I'll answer any question you present me with." Lapis lazuli eyes flickered to Zexion with a placid, but keenly aware expression upon his face. Of course, Luxord would act if need be, but he was very well aware that Zexion was more than capable of defending himself in such situations.

"Though, since you're new to the table, I'll take it upon myself to inform you that the key to success lies not always in chance, but it relies on how you play the cards you've been dealt." Just in case, though, should things get out of hand, Luxord would be quick to respond and defend his comrade.

To Vanitas, that glimpse of a mouth wasting effort in taking a breath was wonderful. There was something empowering in those futile gasps and rasps. It made his heart swell with--

PAIN.

PAIN PIERCING THE CHEST. HOW. IT HAS TO BE HIM. OR EITHER ONE. DOESN'T MATTER. HE'S WORTHLESS ANYWAY. Vanitas's shoulders literally shook with pain, but his pride remained as steadfast as ever. His grip changed, however. It grew tighter to show his resolve, not caring if any damage should come to that man's throat. Vanitas still held his Keyblade, ready for whatever tricks were thrown at him.

"Idiot," he commented to Emlen with heavy breaths, not averting his gaze from the hooded man. There was almost a laugh in his pained tone. "You forget there are actual players to contend with." He tried to hold Zexion even higher, but that lasted about a second. His chest was spasming from the pain.

In a sense, it was an effort he didn't need to make. He could survive for a time with little to no air - certainly longer then most people could. But even then, the habits of a lifetime were hard to break. He would struggle for breath in Vanitas' tightened grasp because it was what his body knew and he hadn't yet had the time to pull together the presence of mind to master it.

But he'd noticed the way his shoulders shook with pain; the way his chest heaved. He'd scored a hit, with his last blow. A very palpable hit, and that alone meant he had a chance - he would have smiled with the thought, had it not been for the demands of his body that it give it the air it couldn't get.

But he'd never needed air to fight. He had his mind, and he had his powers and that was all he needed, as he viciously jammed another blast of pain into Vanita's mind. Claws come again clenching at his heart, ripping and tearing at that most vital of organs. Let him survive that pain twice over, if he could.

Well, as it were, all good things must come to an end. The charade was fun while it lasted, but though he saw Vanitas falter and struggle, he still held fast to Zexion's throat. Oh, he knew very well that the slate-haired Schemer was utilizing his element of illusion to torture the keyblade wielder, and that another round was sure to be coming quickly.

Luxord weighed his options. What was more important in the long-run, keeping his own identity as a nobody secret, or guaranteeing the safety of a comrade?

Suppose he called the lad's bluff and merely watched, waiting for Zexion to free himself. Though both nobodies present knew Zexion was more than capable of taking care of himself, he noted the frantic way with which the Schemer struggled. Such shows of whispers of emotions long gone were unusual. Now, weighing that in on his options, he considered doing nothing. Zexion would free himself, most likely, and knowing that Luxord's jugement was typically sound and made after careful deliberation. Chances weigh in favor of Zexion paying no mind to the matter and addressing it in an adult matter, understanding that having members capable of moving freely through the city and communicating with various guests was important, and that the Gambler would have gone to the defense if his skills of probability lead him to believe Zexion was in any sort of real danger. The chances that Zexion would harbor any resentment for seeing the Schemer in a more..frantic and uncontrolled state were low given Zexion was the most devout in their beliefs of lacking emotion, but still very real. He couldn't make those kinds of enemies, nor would he suffer charges of insubordination or possible treason by letting an elder possibly fade.

On the other hand, suppose he did go on the defensive, and utilized his cards, using blunt-force trauma to a vital point, or even the tendons in his wrist, to force him to let go. This brat was smart, and would realize that there were dark forces at work. He'd be called out. And surely, this kid would know that he was purposely trying to conceal his identity for a reason, thus attempt to hold it over his head or even spread the news without realizing(or perhaps even fully understanding) just what it was he was doing. But there were always ways around such things.

He huffed out an amused grunt as the boy forced himself to continue, fighting through the pain. Pain he couldn't begin to fathom. He rather enjoyed watching Zexion consume his opponent's minds, as well, wondering to himself how long it would take before he succumbed. "I could say the exact same thing to you. There's a reason I pick and choose with whom I play my games, and from the looks of it mate, I'd say you understand perfectly well why I don't press my luck too far with this lot."

He'd wait for a few more moments, to see if Zexion could take him out this time. After all, they were called Organization XIII, not Nursery School XIII. Each of the nobodies were forces to be reckoned with in their own rights--he was sure the elder would be able to handle himself. He need not babysit him, and jumping in oh so soon might even be considered an insult to Six's skills. On the off chance that he wasn't, then he would step in and put an end to the physical confrontation.

Edited 2010-11-19 08:15 (UTC)

Vanitas's will refused to give into such a pointless thing as pain. His body, however, was something else, as the overloaded nerves began to refuse to tell his muscles what his brain was telling him. It wasn't the first time his body failed him, and there was always another route.

"Sounds- Like you're- Missing out. Here, lemme- Deal you a card." And with as much strength as he could muster -- still nothing to scoff at -- Vanitas threw the cloaked man at Emlen. Given the proximity, Vanitas was sure that would make contact.

And as his legs began to falter, he promptly vanished.

[OOC: This isn't over yet!]

Well, the intention might have been for Zexion to go careening into Luxord. It might even have worked, had it not been for the fact of Zexion's tendency to think on step ahead. As soon as it had appeared that his attempts had been working, he had been ready to open a portal. He'd hardly been expecting the speed, but that could be dealt with.

Even so, it was a near thing. Quick, brutal, and dirty, but it was a portal, for all that it was inches in front of Luxord's face, darkness swallowing him up and then vanishing.

Several moments later, a similar portal opened up near Luxord and Zexion stepping. Breathing hard, yes, and more than likely bruised, but on his feet once again. This time, he wouldn't let himself be caught off guard, and to that end he was already mentally readying a few (highly important) spells.

A corner of his lips drew back into a brief sneer as the Schemer was thrown at him. In all honestly, the Gambler was waiting for this cocky keyblade wielder to crumple like a sheet of tin foil under whatever horrendous torture that he was no doubt being submitted to. Either that, or at least for the slate-haired manipulator to be tossed to the ground. None the less, Luxord was quick to react. He'd slid a foot back and was quite ready to catch the smaller man until, lo and behold, a crude portal shot up mere inches from his face and the young keyblade wielder disappeared. He went on the defense--he had to, though it would've been easier to make a hasty retreat and not give yet more hints as to what team he played for. But, he did enjoy a good fight. It was, after all, one of the riskiest gambles a man could take.

He resumed his position, glancing down to the youngest of the founding members after he reappeared, defensive at first, not sure who would come out, though he figured only his comrade dare come so close. This boy was cocky..more than a Gambler's intuition told him that boy would be back to strike again and get revenge for being fended off.

"He'll either come in close or go for a ranged attack." His shoulders shifted and his head tipped, loosening the muscles there as he spoke quickly and lowly to the recovering elder; he didn't know how much time he had to relay his strategies. No matter the situation though, that agitated sneer went to quite the exuberant grin. "Either way, stay beside me until I counter, at least. From there, of course, it'll be simple to read and play off of one another."

The second he felt another flux in darkness, Luxord would react. If that flux was close, he'd summon cards from the ground, angling them outwards at an appropriate angle. They'd emerge from the ground in an alarming speed, the angle sharpening to make every attempt to throw the the boy in the air, or at least disarm him. If the flux was too far for a star-burst of cards to reach, then he'd raise a high wall of cards for a brief moment. Those would raise at the same speed as the starburst as well if the boy was stupid enough to charge from any distance. If he came in with more magic, he'd have to alter his strategy, summoning a ribbon of cards, a half-story tall at an appropriate angle.

Oh yes, Luxord's forte was defense, but even his clever defenses weren't impervious. That wasn't to say, though, that Luxord couldn't go with the flow of the cards. He'd make due with any hand dealt to him and his partner.

Considering the pain didn't last, there was clearly no lasting damage. This was something VERY good to know. It meant he could choose to withstand it as long as his body could with little consequence

Come in close Vanitas certainly did decide to, but he made little attempt to hide he was coming. His dark form leapt from where he'd vanished to: the balcony of a tall building. He didn't land on his feet, but rather, sank into the ground, indicated only by an electric cloud of red and black energy. The creeping storm suddenly rushed towards the seemingly unarmed Luxord.

The electric dark fog simply slides under any defense Luxord puts up. As it slides under him, a wide column of fire wrapped in darkness shoots from the ground. So does the broad spinning sweep of his Keyblade as he launches himself into the air. Even in the unlikely event it didn't connect, he opts out of a second strike and launches at least a half dozen orb-like fireballs to rain down onto the ground.

"I don't care about your rules."

Of course there was no lasting damage. What he'd done had be simple work. Meant to force a point and nothing more. Thus it would, in fact, fade. If he'd wanted to make a lasting impression he would have had to have spent more time, more effort on the illusion. It was usually worth the effort, but not something that was great in combat.

"So I've noticed," he commented, his tone one of disinterest.

But he'd stay true to Luxord's words. He would wait to see what the reaction would be. To jump straight into defending Luxord would suggest that he cared about Luxord's well-being. That it would hurt him to see him attacked and that was the farthest from the truth. And besides, it might give him another moment to see what Vanitas' attack style was.

Luxord stood in place with a proper posture. His back was straight, his shoulders were back, his chin was high and his legs straight. Despite that proper posture and somewhat curious expression, he looked rather relaxed given how limber he was; not a tense muscle on his body. That isn't to say he wasn't keenly aware of his surroundings still, waiting for the smallest signal that his opponent was returning to come in for the attack.

He watched the youth run at him, and he held off on raising a wall of cards to hinder the youth's attack. And it was a good thing that he did, for that little black cloud slid under the circular wall of cards he summoned. His lips briefly peeled back into a sneer, but it was quickly replaced with something highly amused. "Clever little chap, aren't you?" His reaction to the first sight of that black cloud was quick. He did, after all, rely on evasion and defense.

And the card directly in front of him spun. The ornate back of the card faced inside of the protective circle for a brief moment, and Luxord disappeared. When again the face turned towards the inner confines, he was within the face, entirely unharmed. His head tossed to the side when his eyes locked with Zexion--unlike other captives, Luxord had the luxury of mobility within the cards--signaling that the Schemer need leave as there was nothing he could do without sacrificing the ability to deny any connections with six. The wall then quickly broke into two sections and extended into two, parallel walls facing one another before they rapidly filed away. Each portion of the wall made a wide semi-circle around the pillar of fire, about six yards, before coming together in a compact circle to safely deposit the Gambler a ways away from the eye of the storm.

Noting points of light in his peripheral vision, he glanced up and noticed there were fireballs. Fireballs raining down. He'd managed to avoid the initial attack, and it wouldn't be hard to avoid the raining balls of fire as long as he wasn't forced into one of the summoned meteorites of fire's range of destruction.

Things were getting interesting--despite the situation, the Gambler would always find amusement. A fight, a test of will, of wit, of strength and cunning against a formidable adversary was the best game of all. Nothing trumped that thrill.

Given that he'd spent much of his early life silently observing people, it was a simple matter for Zexion to catch even such a slight gesture as Luxord's nod. He did not, however return the nod. To have done so would have been to have suggest the two of them were somehow in communication, and while that wouldn't have been entirely out of the ordinary it was still a risk that Zexion wasn't interested in taking. He'd let Luxord bear the brunt of the attack for the time being. If he proved unable to take it, then perhaps Zexion would step in.

For the meantime however, he let the darkness swallow him up once again and deposit him well outside what looked like the effective range of anything Vanitas might have had in mind. He might not have been needed in the fight, but he'd be damned if he was going to let any opportunity to learn more slip out of his grasp.

A flash as quick as the turning of a page. Vanitas glimpsed Luxord as the cards slipped away and gained distance, avoiding his attack. Not bad. So this really is a game to him. This game truly would be interesting with two people playing by their own rules. So he’d managed to avoid all that. Maybe Emlen wasn’t a total waste of flesh after all.

Still, that strange agony was definitely very different than these card tricks. The likelihood that these were the fortes of two separate people was likely.

And that Pain vanished in a cloud of darkness. So he did know that trick. Then where did he go?

It wasn’t hard to find him a distance away. Darkness attracts darkness. The portal released the cloaked man, and Vanitas noted his location. There was no way he’d let himself be ambushed.

Maybe if he didn’t want to play, Vanitas would insist he did.

With that distance, Vanitas decided to launch a barrage of cold blue darts at Luxord. Where they struck ice crystals formed.

Good, so Zexion was safely away. Though, it wasn't so much that he cared about the elder, no. In actuality, the whole bit was entirely selfish. They would occasionally enjoy a challenging bout of games, but whether he lived or died wouldn't--couldn't--matter to him. What did matter, though was that instinct of self-preservation. Luxord was well aware of the punishment he would receive from either the Superior or Saix for using an esteemed elder as a diversion, a living shield, or both. The Superior was..difficult to predict at times, and he didn't particularly care to take a chance on those odds.

He payed a moment's attention to the Schemer after the cards parted to line up side-by-side behind him, but as soon as he caught sight of where he was, his focus was back on the boy who had charged at him. Lapis lazuli eyes narrowed in consideration, contemplating the move he should soon make. Dodging the barrage would be simple for him, of course, but Luxord liked a challenge. It would be too easy to hide in his cards and counter whenever he should happen to wander too close, or sneak in a surprise attack until he wore the boy out or he grew frustrated and grew reckless, but he wondered whether or not he should reveal that attacking a blank face would destroy the card.

Luxord did, after all, learn that he could duck underground and attack in a number of ways--Lexaeus could take notes. Well. So be it. He'd give the boy this advantage. He'd reveal one of the cards in his hands by means of dismissing it to the discard pile. He'd soon find out if this boy knew how to count cards.~

The wall of cards behind him parted, splitting into two rows of five. As Luxord stood entirely still, one arm braced across his waist casually, the palm holding the adjacent elbow so that his free hand could rest thoughtfully upon his chin, the isles of cards parted after they streamed in front of him, the two lines overlapping in the middle, one line behind the other with two odd cards sticking out on either end to extend his barricade. The front row was smashed with whatever icicles hit those, the afflicted cards simply vanishing after impact. What icicles were still coming for him after the first line of defense was broken were stopped by the second row--in all, two cards were left out of ten after the attack, and the patches of ground where said destroyed cards were had frozen over.

Those remaining cards vanished without reason, they weren't hit by anything. Instead, Luxord raised the hand from his chin to give it a flick, a hand of five, regulation-sized cards appearing in his hand. Of course, as he did this, he was ever attentive that said wall did leave him temporarily blind. He'd have to quickly spot the kid and ready his defense. He had no doubt in the youth's speed..he'd have little time to react appropriately, and might just make a mistake.

Luxord called the child's bluff this time, ~~stopping him cold~~ and his hand came out victorious. His chips were up even if only slightly, but a new hand was being dealt, and the players were familiarizing their selves with the other's poker faces, still. Right now, it was all up to the chance of the draw and how quickly they could learn to manipulate one another into certain reactions.

So the kid didn't want to play. Too bad, guess we'll have to show him how much fun this is. The black smoke of darkness wafted from him and into the ground. Had it been any more intense, Emlen might have felt the loathing coming from Vanitas. (Maybe even heart or not.)

Even as Vanitas moved, it was easy to see the product of his assault. Cards had met their doom as they were used to protect Emlen. They were mere shields. Pawns. Take them all out and he'd briefly be unprotected. But for how long? Who knew? But it would be fun to find out.

Vanitas braced himself and launched a single huge fiery orb that began to home in on Emlen. If any block were made, it would split into the smaller orbs like before, yet continue to seek out their target. Just after he charged forward, remaining just behind the fireball.

In this aggressive way the masked boy waited. If another wall came up, he could easily sink into the ground and duck under it just as fast as he could run. And then Emlen would be vulnerable. Vanitas smirked.

Not far away, a Buckle Bruiser appeared behind the cloaked man. In a flash it grabbed for him!

So, he chose to stick with the ranged attack for now. Good, that meant Luxord had a moment to refresh his memory on the surroundings and current events therein. He saw the black smoke, as well as the people giving the pair of sparring gentleman a wide girth, if not outright fleeing the scene to render it near-empty. For good reason, too. This fighter was letting off wisps of pure darkness, a detail that Luxord filed away for later use.

In the mean time, though, he had to focus on but the magical attack and the boy's whereabouts. To dispatch the fireball, he'd summon a regulation sized card and, with a sweep of his wrist, send it flying for the fireball. Upon impact, rather than the card disappearing, however, it split into a trio of annoyances. Oh and look, coming in just behind the fireball was the angry hornet, himself.

Luxord moved backwards, only a step or two, though. As he did this, large cards rose right in front of the three smaller fireballs just long enough after the split to be able to separate the cards. He couldn't have the shields blocking his view in a time like this. In fact, he was prepared for a counter-strike, even, that hand of five cards arching in the air, jumping over to his left palm. There was a smirk on his face as the cards arched in mid-air for his right hand once more, save this time, they floated just above the palm, a facade, a farce, a challenge to the helmeted lad.

He looked ready as the boy drew closer, closer, mere feet away. But anyone who knew the Gambler well enough would know he rarely opted for outright, obvious, and predictable counter-strikes. This boy was terribly fast though, and he wasn't able to summon his cards quick enough to disappear into their confines, thus he was left open to take a blow from the keyblade. Luxord nearly lost his balance entirely, and was almost thrown to the ground--if he'd been of a smaller stature or hadn't seemingly braced himself for something, he would be on the ground right now. With the wind in his lungs escaping with a harsh grunt, he caught his weight on one bent leg, neglecting to give into the automatic want to cradle the wound.

Instead, he'd summon a card and use said bent leg to move for the spinning card, disappearing into the face. It would multiply, creating three copies of itself with the backs all facing the helmeted boy. The cards would file quickly around behind the lad and turn so all the faces were towards him now. From one of the cards, Luxord would reach out, a ribbon of five, razor-edged cards with the consistency of steel arching from his down-turned palms to make every attempt to slice through both the armor and flesh of his back--or..whatever was currently facing him when he darted out.

Perhaps unfortunately for Vanitas, the sudden arrival of a patch of darkness was all the warning Zexion needed. He hadn't the time to probably check and categorize much beyond that it was very nearly the same sort of darkness as what wafted off of their foe, but no matter. As soon as the darkness arrived, he reacted, calling up on of the spells he'd ready earlier - a simple shield, which flashed into existence just in time form the Buckle Bruiser's attempt to grab him to prove ineffectual.

From there, it was a simple matter to use the brief time allotted in that moment of hesitation to slip harmlessly out of the thing's reach, turning as he did so as to get a proper look at it, taking into account both the form (slow, no doubt easy to evade) as well as the colorations. A creature of the dark, if none that he recognized. But dark would bow to greater darkness. It was, of course, a risk, to try this on an unknown creature, but no matter. If it proved disobedient, it would die.

And should it yield to his will, it would be all the more sweet for it. To see their foe attacked by the very being he had summoned? Oh yes, that would be a prize beyond anything else to come of this fight thus far. So instead of calling up another spell to throw at the creature, he drew himself up to his full (if not impressive) height, drew his darkness to himself, and let a simple command run down that same darkness to 'speak' to his would be attacker. Obey. A simple word, but laced with undertones that to do otherwise would prove most uncomfortable.

The tightness of muscles. The weight of the Keyblade in his hand. The satisfying feeling of a weapon crashing against an opponent. Behind his mask Vanitas’s mouth curved into a grin as wicked as a scythe. There was a thrill to the sensation of an impact through a weapon and up his own arms into his shoulders. Emlen’s own voice betrayed his pain, all the more encouraging for Vanitas.

But his feeble target then simply vanished behind one of the cards. Nice little trick. More cards appeared, and the fight became a pathetic little cup game. ...One of the easiest ways to tell which cup held the prize was to see which cup was the hardest to crush. And so Vanitas commenced ravaging the cards with a flurry of slashes.

But not even this technique was fast enough for the sheer number of cards. He grunted in pain as something began slicing through his side. Out of sheer instinct he lashed out in the direction of his assailant before simply vanishing.

A keen eye would find him about thirty feet away at the top of some stairs leading to a building. His Keyblade was lowered as he looked down upon the area.

Had Vanitas known what the cloaked man tried to do to the lone Unversed he’d sent, he’d have cackled. The Buckle Bruiser, just like any Unversed, was a fledgling emotion, fresh and impulsive, and also locked into that single feeling. Sheer rancor was not one to shrink or bend to fear. In fact, the Unversed couldn’t even comprehend another emotion. It was a simple word that was spoken to the creature. But the threat behind the undertones did nothing more than make it loathe its opponent even more. Though not the fastest of Unversed, that didn’t mean some attacks couldn’t come swiftly. With its thick arms it flung a buckler from its fist towards the cloaked man.

Don't get too cocky. Oh, that blow was far from a walk in the park. The impact site stung like a nest of angry hornets, and there was no doubt his flesh was already bruising, but Luxord was built to take a beating and wait his opponent out. His performance was still top of the line.

And the proof was in the cards. His counterstrike was successful, but lo! This lad came at him with another attack just as he was going to add insult to injury. Another ribbon of cards collided with the keyblade, sparks flying from the impact and grind of metal to metal. He was going to summon a second string of cards with his other hand, but after the collision, the boy vanished into thin air. As it was nothing he wasn't used to, and he didn't see the boy anywhere close-by, the cards he hid in dropped to the ground.

He'd spot the boy after a few moments and stare back at him, dismissing his hands of cards with a casual whirl of his wrist. Oh, now, was he folding so soon? He rather liked the challenge, too..

How unfortunate. Interesting, yes, but unfortunate all the same. Zexion would have rather liked the change to properly study the Unversed, but he wasn't about to try and corral the creature in the middle of the fight. He'd content himself with learning what he could about the creature and how it fought.

Still, he hadn't quite been expecting the thing to throw it's shield, and it was only his quick reflexes that let him dodge out of the way in time, as the shield went sailing past his ear. Any nearer and he'd have been left with more than just a clipped ear, and that alone told him that for all that it was a 'lesser' strain it wouldn't do to underestimate this foe. A brief moment of consideration and to a step and then a glide to the left. He wasn't sure if the shield would return to the creature, but either way he had no further intention of staying there.

It was only once he was out of what he deemed the strike range of the returning shield that he summoned up a weapon of his own. It wasn't his Lexicon though - not for this. Instead, he took a hint from both what he was fighting and the fourth of their Organization and called up a shield of his own, tall and blue and thorny and nothing at all like Vexen's primary shield. Close enough, perhaps, for Luxord to recognize what it could have been, but beyond that? It was nothing more than a shield, as Zexion gestured, and called up a spire of ice beneath the Unversed.

Vanitas stood there casually as if he hadn't been so much as bumped. Even so, something dark dripped from his side. Whether it was blood or sheer darkness, it was hard to tell. One would never guess he was hurt based on his mannerisms. His shoulders were back and his head high as he looked down upon the man.

"Not bad. So you actually can do something other than dress fancy. Now that I know you're not a total waste, I'll save you for later. Hard to tell if this city'll be interesting. If not... At least I've got some new toys." However, he didn't vanish. Not yet at least. Instead he waited a moment, seeing what Emlen might do.

Meanwhile, the shield did indeed return like a boomerang to the Unversed. Its massive body had tensed up, ready to attack, when a spire of ice sent it flying, despite its size. However, that did nothing for it's hatred of it's opponent, and it lunged with astonishing speed. Hundreds of pounds of dark energy were being flung at the smaller-statured man.

Luxord's arms folded loosely across his chest, an idle gesture as they watched one another. He expected blood, but from the distance, he couldn't make out the small enough detail of dripping blood, nor would it be as important as the emanating darkness that could easily catch his attention.

He huffed with a rumble of an amused laugh. "I'll look forwards to our next rendezvous provided that's more than a mere bluff, lad."

The alternate point of darkness caught his attention now that this armored attacker wasn't coming at him. He looked over to the source, the ledge Zexion was on, facing his opponent. Knowing the Schemer would be able to handle it, it was a brief moment before he looked back towards the boy.

'New toys'. How very droll. Neither he nor Luxord would suffer that designation gladly, and it certainly didn't escape his notice that he used very nearly the words that Larxene might have.

But neither did he turn from the creature in front of him. The darkness told him where the masked boy was well enough, and it wasn't like he was actively serving as threat right now. Luxord had him well in hand, and that left him quite free to deal with the creature's (ridiculously obvious) attack. True, it did have some speed to it, but that didn't matter.

Once again, he sidestepped the attack, laying behind a thin slick of ice as he did so. Something moving at that sort of speed was unlikely to be able to keep its footing somewhere where the traction had been removed, and regardless of whether or not it skidded out of control over the ice path it would only find itself running head-first into another barrage of ice spires.

"Hmph. Bluff?" Vanitas tilted his chin back a moment. "I'm not the one who plays card games." The cruel smile could be heard in his voice, however, and a shoulder rose slightly in a half-hearted gesture. "Better work on that poker face, or next time I'll help you wipe the smile off of it." He shrugged. "Or wipe the floor with it, your choice."

And with that, Vanitas suddenly stood very still before simply vanishing. No corridor of darkness had appeared. No portal had been around. Though certainly darkness was used, he was simply gone, having teleported away.

And had it not been for the "friend" he brought, the area would have fallen silent.

The creature indeed skidded, but this time it could see what was coming at it with its red, oddly-shaped eyes. On impulse it raised its shields and huddled as best as it could. Much like a large body it absorbed a chunk of the damage in its stomach. The shields shattered many of the spires, but it didn't go unscathed. Scrambling, it got to its feet and threw its massive body at the cloaked man.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Something Wicked [Active, Open]

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Sorry... Man, he just won't DO anything more!

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*Checked with Erika*

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O: Oh snap.

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Oh man, it's gettin real, y'all. O:

Ah, but what is reality when Zexion is around?

Whatever he wants it to be really

>: Oh, your way or the highway, huh Zex? I see how it is.

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As always, whether anything is successful is up to you guys

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/fail

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Checked with Erika