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 Snekman II: The snekaning

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Mirja Eeola
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Subject Post 11PostSubject: Re: Snekman II: The snekaning   Sun Nov 27, 2016 6:32 pm


Mirja, The Mad Wolf





Mirja watched as The Troll screwed over every plan Yaksha tried. Which is exactly what she expected. What she didn't expect, was Yaksha's mouthing off to Mirja. She had the ears to pick him up from all the way up on her perch, but didn't feel like shouting, so didn't give him a response. Eventually, however, he yielded. Giving up to Mirja who was clearly the vastly superior girl in this fight. A smile broke out on the Wolf's face as he gave himself into her care. She'd explain how that was not a terrible thing in a moment, but for now, she Flash Stepped down to the ground.

The Troll would stand to try and kill Yaksha, but then it saw Mirja. primitive synapses fired and hardwired neurons linked Mirja with priority target. They were stupid, they would charge through a river of lava to get to Mirja, and probably survive as well, hardy bastards. Still, she shot Yaksha a wink before the Troll started charging, bringing up her shining white-gold gauntlets.
"This next part is adults only kiddo" she teased, before the area surrounding Mirja began to darken, until it was totally pitch black, not even night-vision would have worked inside it. It was an erriely well sculptured dome of darkness, and The Troll charged right into it, seemingly uncaring about the state of it's own body before being lost to the world.

Sounds of glorified combat erupted from the dome of Darkness, before a thick shaft of light blossomed from it, shooting across the landscape until it was out of sight. The dome of darkness faded after the use of that skill, and The Troll was stood, dead on it's feet since the light had no kinetic impact, with a hole in it's chest. The acrid stench of burned flesh and melted steel was evident in the air, before smiling to Yaksha.
"Your way of doing things does work. But what happens when you come up against something that is better than your way of doing things? You going to risk getting captured every time you fight one just to be stubborn? Or are you going to learn how to fight from someone who knows what they are doing?" Mirja asked, Beowulf being sealed and replaced in her sheath, before staring intently at Yaksha.

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Subject Post 12PostSubject: Re: Snekman II: The snekaning   Mon Nov 28, 2016 11:58 am


Yaksha, The Anthropophagus





Yaksha continued to look up at the sky, hands folded over his chest. He looked lost in the clouds, simply staring off into the distance as he heard Mirja speak. Of course she would slaughter the Troll in a flashy, convoluted method. He had no doubt from the beginning she could've twisted its head off, but there was no fun to be had in such a thing. Yaksha just stared and waited, until finally her shadow extended over him. His gaze flickered up, and there was no humor there. No happiness.

"And then what, Mirja? Happily ever after? We both go our separate ways, both of our lives enriched by the other, both of us having become better people for the meeting? Don't treat me like some starry-eyed fool. I know that the very moment I'm not useful, you'll ram 10 inches of steel right through my eye socket and out my skull. Because the only kindness a hollow deserves is a very sharp blade."

He rose slowly, without any aid from his hands; he simply started to push off the ground, seemingly without changing his center of gravity whatsoever. It wasn't until he was fully standing that one could see his tail, ever so gently and ever so carefully pushing him back to a standing position. He turned back towards Mirja, his eyes wrinkled at the side with unfathomable, unutterable age and fatigue. At this point, he wasn't speaking so much as whispering.

"You don't understand, Mirja. I don't fault you for it, but I don't know if you ever will. I doubt I could ever find a way to actually get through to you. So our relationship remains just business, for the forseeable future. Believe me when I say I'm already working on plans to improve myself. Dragging you into that wouldn't do any good for either of us."


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Subject Post 13PostSubject: Re: Snekman II: The snekaning   Mon Nov 28, 2016 12:28 pm


Mirja, The Mad Wolf





Mirja stood, a smile on her face, even if Yaksha seemed grumpy with the way he got smashed about by the dam Troll. Stubborn snarly males and their pride, she'd never understand it. But, she did understand him when he seemed to be totally callous about their relationship. She knew that as a Hollow, he wouldn't get a good reception most places, but she wanted to give him a good reception here. He didn't seem to get that though. Just believed she would use him and then kill him when he was done. Not one to stand there and be abused like that, her smile turned cold.

"There would be no blade in your eyes socket. You forget, Yaksha. I neither use nor require any manner of blade or weaponry outside my own two fists. If you really believe that we are destined for an ultimate confrontation, I best take you out now, before you improve your strength further than it already is. I have no qualms eliminating you, it is not like I need your help, at all. You were an interesting aberration that I wanted to get to know but if you are going to go down this road, I should just end it right now" she said, her voice cold as the tundra and sharp as a blade.

"Our relationship has never been anything other than business. I don't hate you because you are a hollow, I hate you because I hate everything in this world, with few exceptions" She drew her zanpaktou softly, and cocked her head off to one side, her tail swishing like a metronome. There was a softly heard bell tolling as Mirja's presence grew to fill the sky, as though she were many times taller than the Troll.
"So make your move, make your stand, make the win" She told him, before smirking. "Heh. Like you can"

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Subject Post 14PostSubject: Re: Snekman II: The snekaning   Mon Nov 28, 2016 2:13 pm


Yaksha, The Anthropophagus





"Of course you hate everything, Mirja."

Yaksha stared up at Mirja, at her enormous, incredibly swelling form. As always he didn't seem to flinch away or worry; his eyes locked onto hers, his fingers gently drumming against his hip. He didn't speak for a few long moments, just...let out a soft, lazy sigh of disappointment. What had he expected, honestly? Had he really thought Mirja would actually spend time asking questions? Had he really believed for a moment that he could get through to her? He spread his hands wide, shrugging ever so slightly, his eyes bored, put-upon.

"What do you expect from me here, Mirja? Our last meeting ended with you insisting you needed nothing out of me, and treating me as if the only purpose I had was entertainment. You say you want to get to know me, so...here's your chance. I'm not keeping any secrets, I'm not trying to pretend I'm anything but what I am. If you want to understand, stop it with the ridiculous threats. Talk to me, Mirja."

Once more, he rested his head against his cheek, staring at the shinigami in front of him. There was no concern there, no fear, only...a deep, pervasive sense of longing and concern.


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Subject Post 15PostSubject: Re: Snekman II: The snekaning   Mon Nov 28, 2016 3:19 pm


Mirja, The Mad Wolf





"Its the logical conclusion of the experienced. Either you are hopelessly optimistic and ignore the world, or you grow a deep, unvaried hatred for everything that occupies it" Her tone was one that didn't really have much in the way of caring about who she was talking to or who she might offend. Not anymore. She just shook her head as Yaksha made no reaction. He was clearly the sort of person to stupid to known when to be afraid.
"I expected nothing from you, Yaksha. I came here because I thought you might appreciate knowing where the loony toon that is stalking you makes his base"

She shook her head softly, and gave a soft sigh.
"Apparently not, however. The Troll was an accident. A curiosity. I wanted to see how you would deal with something like that, and it seems you messed around, played with it like you do with everything else, and nearly died as a result. I question how you managed to survive so long, but you probably did what you always do. Hid, groveled, cowered. Be too much of a nuisance to track down and get rid of. Like the rat in the walls. Here and now you show me what you really are. So now I will say my curiosity is sated and we shall probably never meet again. Be careful Yaksha. The World is changing, it is no longer the place you think it is. It is no longer the place were cheap tricks can save you, nor is it a place were being a minor irritant will prevent your obliteration" she warned, sheathing Beowulf and turning from him.

"You strike me as a person to far caught up in his own act to realize that there is nobody in the theater anymore. And yet you keep dancing, almost in hopes of drawing the crowd back to you. But you will starve on stage" She muttered, her voice not sharp, or cold, but more dead and despondent. And then, like a breeze in Summer, she was gone.

[Exit thread]

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Subject Post 16PostSubject: Re: Snekman II: The snekaning   Tue Nov 29, 2016 11:56 am


Yaksha, The Anthropophagus





Oh, how he wanted to gnash his teeth and strike this foolish woman down. How he wanted to reach out and just start yanking and not even stop until he drew blood, until he felt that satisfying spurt of arterial gore under his claws, until her face twisted up into something more pleasant to behold. How badly he wanted to force the confrontation, here and now. He didn't even care if he'd die; Yaksha was confident enough he could at least get -one- good blow in, and that was enough for his pride.

Yaksha even shifted for a few moments, his center of gravity shifting, his eyes narrowing...before he stopped entirely. He wasn't sure what had made him stop at first, but he felt it, somewhere deep down inside of him. It was one of those things he could've never put into words, but at this moment he knew that...beyond the consequences of losing the fight, causing it in the first place would irreparably mar who he was. Yaksha was a proud man, this was true. But this did not define him; Yaksha could not be defined by any single word. He was not pride.

He inhaled slowly, and when he spoke it was without any trace of emotion, at first. He sounded...distant, distracted, almost like he was trying to carry his message from a long way, and was doing his very best to make sure it came out as intended.

"Experience. Experience is the key, Mirja. I've outlived you, and many others. I have lived enough lifetimes to see civilizations rise and fall. But it was all...intellectual. Detached. I haven't been a part of this world for thousands of years now. I can answer very nearly any question you have niggling in the back of your mind. But it means nothing to me; it's little more than the turning of a page."

"I was a...big fish in a little pond for the first half of my life as a hollow, Mirja. I survived by shrinking my world down to the number of caves and hovels I could reach in under a day's trek. There were no trains, then. No cars. No television. I moved faster than the speed of information, which I know suspect might actually move faster than light in the right circumstances. And yes, I was...a sniveling, gutless coward. I would disappear like a gust of wind the moment I met resistance."

He took a few steps forward, his entire body seeming to hunch forward. It wasn't that Yaksha was smaller, it was that he was...less. He seemed to be trying very hard to shrink down his impact on the world, to compress his presence into a smaller frame. His words were more subdued, his movements slower. There was none of that languid, predatory joy. There was something...else there, now.

"I don't know how to say this, Mirja. I don't know if I could ever do the words justice, once they leave my head. For all my years, I am still young. I have seen much, and yet all of it trickles down through my mind, filtered through hundreds of thousands of alternative opinions. I have no room to be...subjective in my opinions. My memories are purified in a process much akin to alcohol; all I get is the distilled essence of information, what few nuggets of gold I can pan free from a hundred thousand eyewitness accounts. It means that which I know, I know beyond question. And that which slips through the cracks...I fear may forever elude me."

"I taught myself to read, you know. When I was a human. I had no mentor. No teacher. No one to show me how to make sense of these gibberish symbols. But I ached to know, Mirja. It tore me apart at the seams, realizing how hideously empty my mind was. How...narrow my viewpoint upon the world. I've always feared...misinformation. Rumor and typecasting strike me to the quick more thoroughly than any blade I've ever met. I was always and only ever the subject of talk. Dirty, vicious, biting little comments and interrogatives. Even now, I can't stop myself, from...wondering. Just what it is people say of me, when I'm not there."

Yaksha spread his hands wide, staring at Mirja. There wasn't a shred of pride or humor or ferocity there now. He simply looked vulnerable and old, twisted and warped into knots by passage of time. He brought to mind an old oak tree, incredible in its height and girth...but twisted and gnarled beyond the point anyone could call majestic, or beautiful. Something that may once have been handsome, and now was a pale parody of the same.

"I taught myself how to speak, too. In any of a thousand dead tongues. After I became a hollow. I've taught myself to subsistence feed. It's really not that hard, you know; dealing with the hunger pangs. Compartmentalizing. All it takes is a lot of patience. I've been around for so long, Mirja...and it took me two thousand years to remind myself of things as simple as...discipline. And temperance. And patience. And each and every time I lift these claws in anger towards another, I feel my control tested to its very limit. I feel my hunger swelling to expand, threatening to disrupt a balance I fought for thousands of years to obtain."

"I walk on a tightrope made of spider's silk every day, Mirja. And a single misstep, a single wrong move, will leave me plummeting...into a pit of hungry ghosts. This balancing act takes all that I am Mirja. When I was young...when the world was young. There were so few hollows. There was such competition, and the feeding grounds so...lean. Each and every hollow was regal. They prowled their territory like the king of the jungle, and they held their heads high, and they understood words like respect and reciprocation. A few of them were like unto gods, to us mere mortals. To this day, shrines stand to some of the oldest and most incredible hollows ever to have existed."

Yaksha looked down at his own hands, folded over his chest. He looked up at Mirja, lips opening, and...hanging there for a few moments. There was absolutely nothing this time. There were a million more things he could've said, a million more ideas he could've thrown at her. And it all would've been a distraction from the truth of the matter. It would've just been a way to deflect from this hideous, gnawing sensation at the pit of his stomach. Yaksha Dokuja had worked hard to get the grace and civility to speak things like this, and now he was being put to the test.

"Please, Mirja. Don't make me fight. I'm not sure I could stay Yaksha if I had to stand in the open and cross blades as you do. I'd lose...some part of myself in the skirmish. And I'd never know it was gone. And then I could never be...me. Ever again."



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