There is No Peace Here, War is Never Cheap, Dear [CLOSED]

[hearthebell]

Who: L and Niles
When: Aguril
Where: The Outpost
What: Things come to a head with L and Niles' ongoing feud with a rooftop fight.
Warnings: Blood, possible profanity, will update if needed



[Though it's been a few months since L's fingers were cut from his hands and his tongue functionally torn from his mouth, there is still a bone-deep itch that visits as regularly and fiercely as any natural drive. It wakes him at night like thirst or hunger, burns like lust, hurts like injury or illness, and the only way to drive it off is with the hit of what's built into an addiction.

Niles is alive; Niles hasn't paid for his crimes. L's taken the duty on himself, though his efforts through his scrying basin and occasionally ambushing Niles in person to steal an eyepatch are petty at best. He doesn't want to kill the chimera; doing so would amount to losing what's become a favorite toy and security blanket, but he also can't let him relax. The least he can do to repay him for all the time Niles spent stalking him is to keep him on his toes, terrify him with the occasional nightmarish illusion spell. Nothing is off the table, except, of course, for the one that Myr forbid him to use against Niles. L's kept his word on that, to his meager credit, but it's meant getting creative in other ways, cruel in better ways.

Stargazing on a rooftop in a remote and well-forested area, L's pinpointed Niles' location, and teleports silently behind him. A slender figure dressed in dark clothes, his silver fingers glint in the cold light.]

Tell me, without depth perception... is it even worth it to look at the night sky?

[Just like it's barely worth it to eat a cinnamon roll without being able to discern the butter from the spice, or to grasp at a lover's body with hands that function but don't feel. Niles has taken so much from the detective; surely, he can spare one more eyepatch to hold him over until the next time he feels the itch.]

Comments

[hearthebell]

[True to his claim, L doesn't spare an eye, keeping both on the Chimera's overwide, glib smile as he exposes his throat. It would be an easy enough magical strike, but... ah, they both know he won't. They both know that his sense of purpose extends beyond the need to simply put a hit out on Niles, at least like this.]

You don't have to fight. You could just give it up, really... the other ones would welcome another friend.

[Of course, if Niles does want to fight, that's all the better.]

At any rate, I'd appreciate knowing roughly what you intend to do... I'm trying to beat my last time, and if you just hand it over, it doesn't count.

[cyclopticsadist]

[Niles smirks and shakes his head, tail wagging in tandem with the gesture. What an obvious, glaring contradiction. Does L just not hear himself? He smoothly rises to his feet, giving an exaggerated stretch at the end of the motion.

Without saying anything he reaches up and tousles his own hair, locking eyes with L as his fingers shift to tug the knot loose. Once untied he lets it drape over his face before he adjusts his grip on the end and starts to pull it slowly from behind. The fabric slides over his skin, bottom edge inching closer and closer to the edge of the scar tissue L is now far too familiar with. His hand loops the fabric lazily around the base of one horn then, with a sudden dramatic flick he pulls it the rest of the way off.]

Like any good prize, I intend to make you work for it.

[He makes a few extra flourishes with the rag before he puts it behind his back. Leaning forward and lifting the base of his tail, he ties the towel there in a simple knot. He turns on his heel and shakes his hips, stinger tracing a grand arc through the air in L's general direction.]

Start the clock.

[hearthebell]

[To fight, or not to fight? That's the only answer L wants, and Niles is only too happy to provide it. The display isn't a particularly tasteful one, but there's no denying it's skilled, in a sordid way that he hasn't thought about explicitly outside of secret and solitary dreams.

Ghosts, after all, have ceased to be sexual beings. Niles took that from him when he sliced off fingers that knew what they were doing, sliced through a tongue that knew more and has lost deftness since it healed. He's too proud to beg or pay for someone to touch him without reciprocation, and so teasing never improves his mood.

It might give him things to dream about later, when his exhausted mind is shut down and left to wander.

There's a clink of metal on metal as his artificial thumb does, in fact, start the clock. He presses his palms together, and when he pulls them apart, there's a superheated, glowing chain between them, one he can hold and wield as a weapon. It's a match for Niles' tail, only its size and shape aren't fixed; he can command the length at will, and when it connects, the pain is substantial.]

Mine bites. Maybe you should uncover your stinger for a more even match.