Be Quick Or Be Dead [Kyros]
Dec 30, 2013 16:21:12 GMT
Post by defectiveImmediately on Dec 30, 2013 16:21:12 GMT
Playful laughter, two tones. One a deep, hoarse, gravelly chuckle, with a hint of malice as an edge to it, and the other a higher-pitched animalistic cackle, laden with sarcasm as heavily as the other's was with fury.
"Alright, alright, alright, I've got one, I've got one."
"Go for it."
The two of them, a small, grey-purple weasel Digimon with claws as dark as the sky above them, and a hulking colossus of a man towering almost seven feet ,with a lit cigarette in one hand and a bottle of beer he had somehow secured from a shady digital stand in the other, in an orange suit shirt with rolled-up sleeves, sat beneath a starlit sky in the evening looking out over the plains. They had found a small, flat ledge to pull themselves up to; a plateau of sorts made of stone he still wasn't sure was real. Felt it, though; any time he slapped, kicked, or idly fell into it, it hurt with the blunt force of real world rock all the same.
"What's got... four legs and two little arms?"
"I..." A pause for thought. "Nah, no clue."
From atop their plateau, they could see down over the plains. The night was clear; the artificial moon glistening solid and bright, and the stars pre-programmed, they supposed, to twinkle and oscillate every now and then. They were a few short jumps away from the flatlands of the plains proper, and though, with the slight and the hoarse laughter, they were not exactly "invisible" to passers-by, this little section of the plains at this time had been far from busy. They'd not seen a soul save for a wild couple of Psychemon playing a rather vicious game of tag sprint past, ignorant of their presence.
"A Dobermon in a human nursery."
Their decision was, given the events of the week so far, they still had a while yet whilst Vira and Giygas were recruiting for the remnants of this organisation. He had people to meet; a smart, stern woman his senior, he was told, and her partner. So they had taken to the plains; he'd grabbed a four-pack of this shitty tasting digital lager from some stall - without paying - and still had half of his cigarettes left. Through all the grinding in the wild they decided they had, since Giygas had decided on their necessity for the organisation's rebuild, been trying to gather experience.
"...HAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"
The day had been long and bloody. Battle after battle after battle; wild Digimon, feral, unable to spit out their own names. Gazimon had slashed through at least half a dozen alone, and Daichi had taken on one, much to his exasperated partner's chagrin. They were both bruised and exhausted; so after a return to Terminus proper, they had taken another excursion, a mile's walk past the borders to the plains, where they decided they deserved a few moments' relaxation. And so, for the past thirty minutes, they had sat; Daichi with a beer and a few cigarettes, and Barrigan just taking in the sight of a world he had once been apprehensive of that he now had no fear he would dominate, thanks to his partner's drive and indomitable will and the internal potential he knew he had.
"Y'like it?" Daichi wiped tears from his eyes as his minutes-long bout of laughter began to - slowly - subside.
"Ohhh, that was beautiful, Barrigan," He shook his head, in a dull, strangled, deeply satisfied whine. He sniffed back and took a long sigh to replenish his oxygen supplies and shook his head. "Absolutely beautiful." It was approximately then that the tamer paused, cigarette in mid-arc, making its way to his mouth, a line of fiery ash beginning to collect from the singed tip, and the lip of the beer bottle paused touching his own, and with a hostile, grey stare, he locked onto something in the distance. A small, vertical speck just on the edge of the plane of vision this grand elevated position allowed them.
"Daichi?" No answer. The Gazimon aimed his gaze down towards the figure. "What do you see, meathead?" The tamer, unusually, ignored the taunt-insult. Barely a week of partnership and he now knew better than to rise to it lest Barrigan pull the full Devidramon affair on him as he had a couple of times already.
"Someone's out there," Or something. Daichi couldn't tell if it was human or Digimon. He growled, before tapping the ash away from the smoke, taking a drag, and necking down the last of his bitter, cool lager, before haphazardly flicking the bottle behind him, settling with a soft thud in a bush, or something else he didn't give two fucks about. With that, however, he turned to Barrigan, half smiling and half snarling, tilting his head. His gluttony had been indulged and he felt well-rested. "What do you say?" Perhaps it was now time to invoke the tribute to his decadent and deadly favourite trifecta of sins; greed, for data and experience, pride, for himself and for Barrigan, and wrath: because he just wanted another fucking fight. "One last fight to finish the day on a good note?"
"Alright, alright, alright, I've got one, I've got one."
"Go for it."
The two of them, a small, grey-purple weasel Digimon with claws as dark as the sky above them, and a hulking colossus of a man towering almost seven feet ,with a lit cigarette in one hand and a bottle of beer he had somehow secured from a shady digital stand in the other, in an orange suit shirt with rolled-up sleeves, sat beneath a starlit sky in the evening looking out over the plains. They had found a small, flat ledge to pull themselves up to; a plateau of sorts made of stone he still wasn't sure was real. Felt it, though; any time he slapped, kicked, or idly fell into it, it hurt with the blunt force of real world rock all the same.
"What's got... four legs and two little arms?"
"I..." A pause for thought. "Nah, no clue."
From atop their plateau, they could see down over the plains. The night was clear; the artificial moon glistening solid and bright, and the stars pre-programmed, they supposed, to twinkle and oscillate every now and then. They were a few short jumps away from the flatlands of the plains proper, and though, with the slight and the hoarse laughter, they were not exactly "invisible" to passers-by, this little section of the plains at this time had been far from busy. They'd not seen a soul save for a wild couple of Psychemon playing a rather vicious game of tag sprint past, ignorant of their presence.
"A Dobermon in a human nursery."
Their decision was, given the events of the week so far, they still had a while yet whilst Vira and Giygas were recruiting for the remnants of this organisation. He had people to meet; a smart, stern woman his senior, he was told, and her partner. So they had taken to the plains; he'd grabbed a four-pack of this shitty tasting digital lager from some stall - without paying - and still had half of his cigarettes left. Through all the grinding in the wild they decided they had, since Giygas had decided on their necessity for the organisation's rebuild, been trying to gather experience.
"...HAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"
The day had been long and bloody. Battle after battle after battle; wild Digimon, feral, unable to spit out their own names. Gazimon had slashed through at least half a dozen alone, and Daichi had taken on one, much to his exasperated partner's chagrin. They were both bruised and exhausted; so after a return to Terminus proper, they had taken another excursion, a mile's walk past the borders to the plains, where they decided they deserved a few moments' relaxation. And so, for the past thirty minutes, they had sat; Daichi with a beer and a few cigarettes, and Barrigan just taking in the sight of a world he had once been apprehensive of that he now had no fear he would dominate, thanks to his partner's drive and indomitable will and the internal potential he knew he had.
"Y'like it?" Daichi wiped tears from his eyes as his minutes-long bout of laughter began to - slowly - subside.
"Ohhh, that was beautiful, Barrigan," He shook his head, in a dull, strangled, deeply satisfied whine. He sniffed back and took a long sigh to replenish his oxygen supplies and shook his head. "Absolutely beautiful." It was approximately then that the tamer paused, cigarette in mid-arc, making its way to his mouth, a line of fiery ash beginning to collect from the singed tip, and the lip of the beer bottle paused touching his own, and with a hostile, grey stare, he locked onto something in the distance. A small, vertical speck just on the edge of the plane of vision this grand elevated position allowed them.
"Daichi?" No answer. The Gazimon aimed his gaze down towards the figure. "What do you see, meathead?" The tamer, unusually, ignored the taunt-insult. Barely a week of partnership and he now knew better than to rise to it lest Barrigan pull the full Devidramon affair on him as he had a couple of times already.
"Someone's out there," Or something. Daichi couldn't tell if it was human or Digimon. He growled, before tapping the ash away from the smoke, taking a drag, and necking down the last of his bitter, cool lager, before haphazardly flicking the bottle behind him, settling with a soft thud in a bush, or something else he didn't give two fucks about. With that, however, he turned to Barrigan, half smiling and half snarling, tilting his head. His gluttony had been indulged and he felt well-rested. "What do you say?" Perhaps it was now time to invoke the tribute to his decadent and deadly favourite trifecta of sins; greed, for data and experience, pride, for himself and for Barrigan, and wrath: because he just wanted another fucking fight. "One last fight to finish the day on a good note?"
