come_sailaway | monday's child is fair of face (2/2)

CW: death, probably gore, possibly more TBA

[and that’s what you missed on glee.

and so, there “Friday” is, standing on the roof of the bar. the attention of the party has surely turned to her by this point, but she doesn’t care about that. she just needs one person to still be a little too distracted to stop what was coming next.

Monday snaps her fingers, and Jenny disappears from wherever she was standing before, reappearing directly in front of Monday, who embraces her from behind, an arm wrapped firmly around her middle. those with enhanced senses might catch what she whispers, seconds before she snaps Jenny’s neck so hard it hangs at a 90 degree angle as Monday kicks her, her corpse toppling forward onto the deck below.]

Surprise, bitch.

[well, there. unfinished business settled. onto more pertinent matters.]

Let’s get a little more comfortable first, hm? Can’t waste too much of her magic, but audiences love a quick change.

[she snaps her fingers, and Monday finds herself in an outfit that is far more to her taste. now. time for her grand performance.]

Greetings, foolish mortals! You may or may not have noticed that things have been a little bit different this month. While the Captain is off having a good old bitch cry about whatever it is he’s so upset about, poor little Friday was running herself ragged keeping this shitheap floating! She was so distracted, in fact, that she happened to have a little accident, while fixing something in the elevator shaft! [a laugh] I guess even clay bitches can break their necks! And there I was, sitting in Fucking Nowhere, doing Fucking Nothing, feeling Fucking. Nothing! And I saw her empty shell. And I was, like, hey, free real estate!

Whatever tear in the veil that your whiny little Captain just didn’t feel like fixing? I ripped that fucker right open. And you’ve all met a few of the sorry little fuckers that fell out already, hm? [another snap] Not all of them, but, hey, that’s what now is for, right? Because, see, we all kinda got together a little bit, and we were like… You know, just borrowing some shitty bodies to have some fun for a few weeks? What a waste! And we still have a lot of bitches we need to spring from jail!

And that! Is where you assholes come in! And, trust me, you are all assholes. Have you even seen some of the psychotic shit you people have said and done to us? Like, yeah, Mary is legitimately insane, but she’s still a kid! Even I’m not gonna call a fucking nine year old a bitch!

You can try to run, but I fucking hate running in heels, so I made that a little bit… difficult. So. Why don’t you nice people just lay down and let us kill you. I’ll be gentle. Promise.

[perhaps people have tried to flee already. they likely have. and they’ve found that the entire party area has been blocked off by the same sort of barrier that surrounds the realm, an invisible orb holding them captive.]

Now. Let’s get the actual party started!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"What you look like is another matter entirely, sir." Still cold, and now contemptuous, as she brings her rapier and her feet into first position with the grace of long habit. "I'm not interested in conversing with a man wearing a borrowed skin."

"Who said anything about conversing?" He's advancing slowly but somewhat to the side, opposite of the rapier. "There's a friend I haven't seen in a long time. I think you might be able to help me out with that."

He's good at fighting with his fists. Weapons, not so much, though it boils down to lack of experience more than anything. He's not stupid enough to think his little knife is any match against her rapier and dagger but he figures he can take her by surprise, if nothing else. She'll be expecting an attack but that doesn't mean he has to move predictably.

He'd surprised Smith back when he'd been willing to let his arm break in exchange for an escape. He can apply the same rules here.

"I've no interest in helping you either."

A quick, flickering pass of the rapier -- not really trying to hit him, more testing his responses -- and she's back to holding, waiting for him. Darting glances past him and to either side, in case this is meant as a distraction.

Billy flinches as the rapier moves, jerking back to avoid the hit — but she was just testing him it, it seems. His grin grows wider at that, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth, and he chuckles. "See, I don't think you understand," he says. "I'm not giving you a choice."

The dagger worries him more than the rapier. It'll be harder to avoid at close range, but he's been calm up until now, and perhaps a sudden movement will catch her off guard.

With that in mind, he barrels forward all at once, aiming to grab the wrist of her hand holding the dagger.

She's more than half expecting the lunge, and instead of sidestepping it, she lunges in turn to meet it: arm at full extension, back leg straight, front leg bent and braced, the rapier's point aimed for his heart. The force of his charge adds to the strength of her own arm, running him onto the blade like meat on a skewer.

The puffy orange vest he's wearing isn't tough enough or bulky enough to provide any armoring ... but it does have just enough mass to spoil her aim, meaning that the blade goes through the hollow of his shoulder instead of between his ribs.

Not quite, she thinks coldly, and starts to pull back --

He's got so much adrenaline coursing through him that the blade in his shoulder is more of an annoyance than anything. It hurts, yeah, but he barely registers the pain.

And that's when he sees his opportunity.

He pulls a move that's professionally known as that weird fuckin thing that one uruk-hai does and jerks his body forward on the blade, using his grip on her wrist as leverage. Then, in one swift movement, he raises his other hand and slashes his knife across her throat.

Oh, she thinks, quite calmly, as his hand closes on her wrist and the knife comes up. That's not --

The dagger slides out of her other hand, and seems to take long minutes to spin lazily down to the ground, like a leaf or a feather.

(It was an act, the last time this happened: Professor Anders passing the dagger swiftly across her throat and casting the illusion at the same time, the seeming of blood pouring harmlessly through her fingers as she --)

Blood pours through her fingers as she reaches up to try to hold it in. There's something she's supposed to say here, she thinks, something --

Her lips form the word run as she sags to her knees, as the dropped dagger clatters to the floor. As her vision goes dim, and then dark.

And she inhales, eyes flying wide as she straightens up.

"Billy," she says -- and isn't it a strange thing, how her accent hasn't shifted even slightly? "Thank you. Is Vorpatril up yet, do you know ...?"

And her words trail off, as her eyes go, somehow, wider.

His face remains passive despite the flicker of disappointment. It's never who he's hoping for. It's fine, though. By the end of the night they'll all be here again.

"I don't know," he says, wincing as he drags the rapier from his shoulder. He doesn't bother wiping his blood from it before he holds it out to her. "It's been chaos. Catra's here. I think I saw Yakko."

Of course that little shit would get here before anyone else, but at least he's been doing work by the looks of it.

She stares at him, making no move at first to take the rapier back.

"Did you know?" Her voice is low and shaky, and then abruptly thick with rage. "Hargrove, tell me you didn't know who this is, and you had better make me believe it."

"Of course I didn't," Billy says, bristling a bit at the accusation. It's true, he did know this woman's name — she and Harrington had spoken before. But how was he to know the significance? He didn't make the connection, not in all this chaos.

He gestures for her to take the rapier. "We don't have time for this."

Her jaw clenches, and she takes the rapier -- the gesture just a touch too vehement for blade safety. It's not going to cut Billy's hand, but it may be a near thing.

But he's right; they don't have time for this.

"Agreed. If you see Vorpatril or Xanatos, tell them to find me. We'll talk when this is over."

It's not quite stay out of my sight, but ... the implication may be there.

monday's child is fair of face (2/2)

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