sigrdrifumal-blog

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[she pauses for a long moment, and her gaze is chilly before it fades into her smile] I thought you all had some specialty? 

Oh?

[Radueriel feels anger bubble, but he forces it down. This was still his game. Play her, Rad. You’ve got this.]

I can be whatever you need me to be. [He smirks again.] I’m flexible like that, if you know what I mean.

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Much. What's your type, then, brash-men? 

Big, burly men? I'm sure I could help find you a fierce fuck.

I don’t believe I have stuttered.

If it is euphemisms you want gone, then so be it, I’m not afraid to be brash. God, it has been forever since I’ve had a good fuck and it is boring me to not have someone to sleep with. Better?

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Oh yeah? 

Is it riddles that aren't boring, then? Or have I missed your meaning? I'd dare you to lose your euphemisms. 

Wait, did you just say… boring?

I’m sure you are smart enough to figure that one out.

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War, violence, monsters, angels, and demons?

What sort of entertainment are you looking for?

Well then, you’ve guessed wrong.

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[Sidrifa pats his shoulder, her rage fading only to the backs of her eyes. Her grin is laughing daggers.] 

Good puppy. What are you even, angel? What worth would you have to me? 

[Slowly, Rad straightens his body up to its full lanky height. His lips pull into a small smirk of a smile, and he sticks his hands casually into the back pockets of his jeans. He ignores the throbbing in his knee artfully.]

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She heard the crack in the little demon's voice, and she saw it reflected in the shaken wetness of his eyes. She laughed in automatic response, throwing her arms out to pull him close to her, rubbing his back in small circles. Her actions were assuming, but he was her little thing, now, and he did not have the strength to stop her if he wanted to. "Don't be so sad, little thing. I've got you now." 

"Oh, whatever you'd like, Dabaoth. I've so many. Brynhildr. Hilda, Sigdrífa, Victory," she said into their embrace, voice soft. Her laughter was like bells echoing in the metal chamber of the sub, or like the hollow clanking of bones in the mountain wind. "My lovers call me conqueror." 

Her hand pet the soft down on the little doe's hair, and she repeated herself quietly, though her phrasing changed. "We've got you, now. You're not alone."

Checkmate [Ialdabaoth & Brynhldr]

There was something that was at once comforting and off-putting about this woman. He felt this… this indescribable, unknowable kinship with her, and he’d never felt that with anyone before. They had always been—different, with their souls and their happiness and their judgment. But this woman, she was like him, somehow. The thought was almost overwhelming.

"No, it’s not," he muttered, his voice cracking in the middle of his sentence. God fucking dammit, he needed to compose himself. This was embarrassing.

He studied her for a moment before replying “Ialdabaoth” as loudly as he dared, his normally cool demeanor regrettably a lost cause for the time being. “And yours?”

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Stand up, angel.

[She stands fully, and makes a point of not offering the fallen bird her hand. Her eyes are still dark and she looks at him as though she is looking through to the floor. ] Stand.

[/his curiosity morphs into something else as pain shoots up his legs, something sickly and dying, a cocoon on the precipice of bursting open: fledgling admiration. He nods at her, a short cut movement. He could afford to enter into this… relationship? with her for now. He could always call for Mike if things got too dangerous. Without sarcasm:]

Alright. And how am I to serve?

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Oh, yes?

I'd think you'd all be entertained enough, by now.

Are days usually this boring? I need some sort of… entertainment. 

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"What's your name, little thing?" She asked, drawing close to him. Cooling the air between them and smiling cautiously. She could hear her love in the back of her mind, her sisters' calling to her distantly. "How did you end up so far away from us?" 

"Lost little lamb among the soulful," she hummed quietly, and she cupped his cheek again. "That's not fair." 

She remembered her sister's children, the twins. Ripped away from them by their father's cruelty. "What's your name?" She repeated, and she held their eye contact harshly, her own eyes going dark. 

Checkmate [Ialdabaoth & Brynhldr]

He’d never met someone like this woman, and while this caused the stirrings of suspicion to arise somewhere deep down within him, it piqued his curiosity more—and he was desperate for some entertainment. Keeping himself occupied was the only way he could continue to fight off the desperate, all-consuming nothing he harbored somewhere even he knew little of, a place he might have known once but had long since forgotten.

Looking down at her hand with amusement and confusion, he decided to play along for now. The mysterious woman could touch him as she wished, if it made her happy in her investigation; he was more concerned with why she was investigating in the first place.

"So I’ve been told, metaphorically and otherwise." He paused, studying her expression. "What’s it to you?"

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What is? 

That’s peculiar.

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[her rage boils, and she kicks vindictively at his knee.] I will not accept sarcasm. You may call me... [she runs a hand violently through blond hair and growls at the wall before crouching before him again, her voice cloying] Master. Or nothing at all...  Is that clear?

[/he meets her eyes without fear, and sees in them something entirely unknown to him. The proverbial Muse, he prides himself on being a model purveyor of emotion. Yet in those two pupils he sees nothing recognizable. This woman, whoever—no, whatever���she is, is not human and not angel and not demon. Before Radueriel stands an entirely new creature. Rationally, he understands that fear should spike his chest like the paintbrush of an abstract artist. But all he feels is a growing sense of fascination, of curiosity, of burning excitement. He lowers his voice:]

Okay, force of nature. What may I call you?

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I'm so scared.

You don’t know who you’re provoking.

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And why's that? 

You better watch it, lady.

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Make me. 

I’m fairly tolerable company when I’m not angered by a twit like you.

Don’t push me.

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Awh, you're so much more boring than I'd hoped. 

'Stay away from us,' she says. how cute. 

I don’t care.

Do yourself a favor and distance yourself from us. And me.

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Different face, actually.

Has he been talking? That's a mark against him. Poor little prince.

Are you the odd woman my brother’s been talking about?

You certainly look the part for it.

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[hushed, stepping into her space] ... guess.

And who might you be to place your observations so freely towards me?