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Post by Kari Muffin on Nov 3, 2009 1:48:29 GMT -5
Rosewood pour himself a glass of coffee, listening to Pale with his continuous placid expression. At least the man was able to judge if someone was gay or straight. That was fairly useful he supposed.
Wordlessly he poured a glass of water for the man. He walked across the room, a thoughtful expression painted on his face as he handed the glass off. "You misunderstand, Mr. Apocalypse. I only came up in conversation because you felt like being a smart ass. I am actually fairly well adjusted to my problems. If I hadn't gotten over my problems you can bet your pretty little head that there would have been a massacre to end all massacres in Esterberry."
He took his seat again, a smile twitching on to his beak. "Anyway, what about your first kill? Am I going to hear anything about it? Or should I change the subject again?"
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Post by carcinoGeneticist on Nov 3, 2009 2:04:52 GMT -5
Apocalypse accepted the glass with a small nod, raising it to his lips and taking a slow sip. City water. It would be crossing a line to spit it out, so he didn't, but he did grimace. After all, he'd been drinking Highland Spring water for years now! In comparison... Well, it was water, and in truth, the man didn't give two shits. He set it down on the secretary's desk as soon as he'd finished.
"You'd be doing the world a favor," he answered without missing a beat, and then tossed his head, letting his hair float for a moment around his face before slipping back into place. Then he grinned. "My pretty little head hopes you're not coming onto me, Rosie. I have an allergy."
They were going to avoid the subject of Rosewood's past again, were they? That was fine, Apocalypse could be damn relentless when there was a button he wanted to push. The man wanted to hear about his first kill? Fine. He could tell him about it. "There's no room for a useless person in the Bog." He began, his eyes taking on the familiar haze of embellished memory. "There's also no sense in wasting time. As soon as I reached sexual maturity - which is to say as soon as I could maintain an erection and had my own patch of pubes - I was sent to the home of a woman who was to train me for my task in life. Albinos are highly prized in the Bog, so I was to be sent to the Queens as a sort of... Gift. I was... about 11 when I lost my virginity. She was 20 at least."
He paused, glancing at the Tulgey to try and gauge the man's reaction. "Sex wasn't the only thing they intended to teach me, though. Pleasing the Queens was only part of my job, but there's no point in having a pretty toy that's only good for one thing. I needed to know how to fight, as well. As a Heart and natural-born human, using weapons came easy to me. I was 13 the first time I was sent on a mission by my master to take down a Raider that had been spied too close to town." The natural state of the Bog came easily to him. Rhiannon had been interested in her homeland, and much of that interest had passed to Apocalypse. He'd been there several times, at her side.
Being used was something even more familiar.
"I knew what my job was. There was a fight. I only had a small dagger and my teeth, but it was all I'd needed. My master was pleased by my... enthusiasm. I learned that my whole body could be used as an extremely effective weapon, especially when well-commanded." A strange light went into his eye's and he smiled slowly. He could still remember how it had felt - especially now that he had his claws. Separating flesh from bone, cleaving through meat and tissue like so much butter. He shivered. "It felt like I was fighting forever, plunging deeper and deeper, but it couldn't have been long."
He went quiet, rolling the actual memory in his mind. A traitor, with Xiven's head as their goal. Rhiannon had set out, Weapon in hand, to end him. It was the first time Apocalypse had felt so alive, even if he'd still been a dream and cold steel. "Why did you get so bloody angry when I mentioned your own issues? It's the only emotion I've seen from you."
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Post by Kari Muffin on Nov 3, 2009 2:22:37 GMT -5
"Don't flatter yourself," Rosewood said as he took a sip of his coffee. The swan was more than happy with is wonderful canine companion. Why would he even bother to flirt with a man like this? His beak would have wrinkled in protest at the very thought. It would have been like sleeping with one of those disgusting Esterberry patrons.
It was too fantastic to be true. Or it seemed that he embellished things. And some things were missing. This wasn't the right story, not in the slightest. At least the man was being honest about how he enjoyed killing. "You're wearing a rather interesting mask, Mr. Apocalypse."
He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair as the man continued his attempt of pushing buttons. It was just getting annoying now. Like a child pestering a mother for a toy. "Because of a woman by the name of Rosalie. Now, remember what I asked earlier about the writing? What do you think about keeping a journal of your past?"
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Post by carcinoGeneticist on Nov 3, 2009 2:48:18 GMT -5
At that, the man had to chuckle amusedly. He'd heard reaction like that from women. Generally a few minutes before they shoved their hands into his pants and begged to be fucked. Not that he wanted that from the swan - not in the slightest, but he had a reasonable idea of what was going through the other man's head, and his grinning continued right along.
"Aww, what's wrong? My life story not suitably fucked up for your own sick desires? Gonna have issues wanking to this one later?" He jutted his lower lip out, then laughed again. "Kidding about that one, but seriously? You're fucking miserable at what you do, you know. Judge everyone a liar and you'll get a few right - but you'll also alienate the few who genuinely need your help. Xiven sure seemed to think I did, and I can't help but feel like you don't want to deal with me even when I do open up... That stings, you know." He traced his fingers over his bare chest, above his marking and his heart.
The next comment was weird, and Apocalypse tetched at it. A journal? "What's the point of that? I don't want anyone to read it, so why would I put the time into writing it when I have so much more important matters at hand? I am the King of Hearts, Rosie. I do have better things to do than dwell on the past. It's done. That's why they call it that."
Apocalypse was getting twitchy. He was bored and angry and wanted to bust some faces. That would be a good way to work out this frustration. Maybe he'd bust Rosewood's face. The look that went across the man's face suggested quite clearly what he was considering.
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Post by Kari Muffin on Nov 3, 2009 10:49:35 GMT -5
Rosewood paid no mind to the man's taunts. He was far too annoyed at this point to really care what the man thought of him. The swan knew that he was lying and that there were scatter bits of truth in between, but he wasn't about to say that.
"The point is to have some place to keep things straight," The swan said with a smile. "The woman named Rosalie had a journal where she kept her past or lies and truth written down. When everything was written down she didn't have to bother herself with her tragic and complicated past. I'm sure you'd feel a bit better about.... say the childhood prostitution if you wrote it down."
He took a long sip of his coffee. "Her Majesty does believe I can help you, but I can only help you if you're willing to help yourself. I don't need to know the truth, Mr. Apocalypse. It would just make things easier. However, since you're as stubborn as a mule, we'll have to do everything the hard way."
He placed his chin on the palm of his hand. It looked rather awkward with the long neck of his curving back, but he didn't seem to look uncomfortable. "So why do you serve the Queen of Hearts?"
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Post by carcinoGeneticist on Nov 4, 2009 0:26:21 GMT -5
The longer this whole damn process went on, the more Apocalypse was done with it. He wasn't going to get anything from therapy he didn't want to attend, and he'd be embarassed to go back to Xiven after she'd gone through the trouble of setting it up for him - but he'd go back all the same, and tell her that he'd find a different way of dealing with the situation that was his mental health. He was fine. What made him not fine was the feeling that everyone around him was somehow judging him, waiting for him to slip up and make a mistake.
Like the swan. A flicker of something went through the King's eyes and he turned away again, making a soft and frustrated noise in the back of his throat.
"Fuck off. You say it'll help me deal with my tragic and complicated past, which would be great." A long pause, during which time the man took a long sip of his water, doing his best to keep his anger in-check for the time being. It wasn't going to do him any good at all, at least not now. Not here. "But then, in the same breath, you tell me it'll help me keep it straight."
Rather abruptly, Apocalypse rose and closed the distance between them, staring the swan in the eye. He trusted the man. Maybe that was what made him do this - he wasn't sure.
He slammed his hands down onto the arm-rests of Rosewood's chair. "I'll tell you about my Queen in a minute." He said in a voice thick with warning, lips pulling back from his bright and pointed teeth. "But first - I need to know. Do you believe me or not? What's the fucking point of talking to you - telling you shit about myself that I want to stay private - if all you're going to do is give me that smug-ass face? I don't want to be here. I don't want to talk to you. But the only reason I haven't strangled you with my own hands and left is that woman and my love for her. Do you understand me?"
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Post by Kari Muffin on Nov 4, 2009 0:48:41 GMT -5
The swan remained motionless as he watched the man. The corners of his beak twitched into a brief smile while he was drinking the water. Upset. That was certainly better than being a cocky bastard.
Rosewood didn't even bat an eyelash when the man slammed his hands down on the arm rest. He watched, one eyebrow quirking upwards as he listened to the man's anger. Fair enough. The swan shifted slightly, keeping his eyes locked on the man's as he spoke.
"I believe that you do, indeed, have a tragic past. I believe that you've killed many people. And I believe you're telling me only half truths." He sighed. "Even the truth can become fuzzy if you don't write it down. Many people can have the same experience, but over time they add and subtract details to alter their own memory. They might be ashamed, they might be afraid, either way the truth becomes distorted. That is what I meant by keeping things straight."
He shrugged. "I understand you perfectly, Your Highness. And I hope you understand that the only reason I have this job is to help people, not hurt them. I'm just sitting here with this smug expression on my face to get you to act less like a stubborn child. I think it worked rather well since you just told me a whole truth."
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Post by carcinoGeneticist on Nov 4, 2009 1:11:25 GMT -5
There was too much rage for Apocalypse to continue to deal with in a constructive manner. It had worked for almost the entirety of the rest of the meeting, channeling the rage into witty quips and cunning remarks. Now the swan was staring back, unflinching, as he stared him down. No matter what the King said or even did, nothing could match the power of the hatred in his eyes. A fine tremor went through his body as the smug fuck continued to speak, lecturing him on memory.
Apocalypse had all the memories he needed to last anyone else a lifetime. He remembered joy - the purest joy - that he felt whenever Rhiannon ran her hands across his shaft, whenever his blade was painted with blood. He'd felt that joy when Xiven had told him she was pregnant, too.
That dream had crumbled and seemingly vanished along with the bloodstains on her bedsheets.
A strangled cry escaped Apocalypse and he arched his back rather severely, teeth gritted. All that rage - it had to go somewhere. He could feel burning in his spine - hot points of white-hot sensation, just under his skin, and a moment later seven razor-sharp spines burst forth, blood running down his back. When he raised his eyes back to the swan, he was panting slightly. "I could kill you," he whispered hoarsely, reaching out to run a finger lightly across the man's lower beak, the touch almost affectionate. "I could kill you simply for not respecting me. I've worked hard to get where I am, and I didn't ever dream that all that work would simply land me in the office of some prick who thinks that a piece of paper equates to real power. I'm Xiven's King because I wanted to be. When I want to do something, nothing - no one - will get in my way."
Spine Ability
Once a week, he is now able to cause 7 razor sharp spikes to erupt along his spine. Each spike stands about five inches long, is very thick, and appears to be made of bone.
The process of growing them out takes about ten seconds, and it is rather painful to do, once they are grown, however, they remain for a full hour and will re-sheath themselves painlessly.
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Post by Kari Muffin on Nov 4, 2009 1:33:55 GMT -5
It was impossible not to be terrified of the man in front of him. The swan swallowed hard as he attempted to edge away. Why hadn't the Queen of Hearts bothered to warn him about his temper? How could something like this have slipped her mind?
The touch sent a shiver down the swan's spine.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
The King of Hearts could easily kill him. There was no doubt about that. But there was a reason why the woman had sent him her, and Rosewood couldn't forget that. After a few shaky breaths he opened his eyes again. He was clearly shaken, as his feathers were slightly ruffled in anxiety, his voice though was fairly steady.
"You could easily kill me, Your Highness. I am not magically inclined, or powerful in any way and I am at a clear disadvantage." Rosewood looked at him in the eyes. "But there is something I need to tell you before you make any decisions. The reason Her Majesty sent you here was because she believed you've forgotten the weight of a human life, and she's absolutely terrified that she's going to lose you because she couldn't have your children."
The woman had told him if worse came to worse tell the man the whole truth and nothing but. This seemed like the worse situation possible.
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Post by carcinoGeneticist on Nov 4, 2009 1:56:10 GMT -5
Everything was slowly slipping into place as kills usually did. He could smell the swan's fear, thick and heady and intoxicating. He liked to intimidate a person before he did anything else, simply because it made the rest of the proceedings so much more interesting. Apocalypse liked interesting. What he didn't like - what made his blood boil - was boring. Worse than boring was a person who could sit as stupidly as a brick wall and scold him - though without any emotion.
The swan could feel. Which was a shame, because he wasn't going to be feeling a hell of a lot of anything soon. He was done with this game. Rhiannon tensed in the back of his mind, a whispered presence that seemed to warn the man to get a fucking grip before he did something he was really going to regret. Apocalypse knew he shouldn't do this.
But he wanted to.
The second the Tulgey's pink eyes opened again, Apocalypse stared into them, pausing. There was a statement of fact, an honorific. There was a plead in there, small and simple, the purest sort. He didn't blink when the man spoke of Xiven, of the weight of human life, of... children. The man's pupils narrowed to pinpricks, and rather abruptly, he found that his legs just weren't strong enough to hold him like that. Apocalypse slowly sank to the floor in front of the man, still gripping the armrests of the chair but with his eyes locked firmly on the floor. He started to shake.
Children. His children. The ones he'd waited so long to have.
Was it selfish? Yes, undoubtedly. He'd had children to care for, and he didn't particularly like any of them, so that wasn't his reason for pressuring his Queen so hard. He'd wanted something that was a part of both of them, a physical representation of something he'd so often feared was fleeting. He'd wanted that reminder that she did love him, that she'd loved him more than he'd ever thought possible, loved him enough to endure the pains of pregnancy to give him what he wanted.
"I wanted them more than anything," the man whispered in a hoarse voice, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. Don't cry. Don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tfuckingcry.
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