|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Dec 2, 2012 20:16:58 GMT -8
It seemed Delilah was spending a lot of time in bars these days.
The first time it had been when she was out with her Tengu. There she had met Orion Smith who had fought alongside her and Marcus to defeat a couple of troublesome Experiments.
The second time, she was looking for the man who took Oliver (although that place was really more of a tavern).
The third time, she had been on reconnaissance, listening for the word on the street, most of which appeared to be a lot of hate for the Dragons.
Speaking of Dragons...
"Barkeep." Delilah called, tapping the rim of her third empty glass of whiskey. She wasn't even buzzed yet and the alcohol had done nothing to improve the young mechanic's demeanor.
The man looked over the sullen looking girl for a moment before pouring her a glass and slid her another glass of the ice-less amber liquid. She stopped it deftly with her hand, lifted it to her lips and took a long swig, emptying it and setting it down hard on the counter. Chuckling, he poured her another, sliding it her way before she even asked. "If you keep this up, little lady, you're gonna clean me right out!"
He was joking of course, making an attempt at conversation. But Delilah was not in a joking mood. Her sharp blue eyes flicked to him, hard and icy. "That should be the least of your concerns."
That wiped the smile from his face and shut him right up. He lifted his hands as if to say 'alright already, I'll leave you alone' and turned towards another patron.
Scowling, Delilah's eyes dropped down to her new glass of alcohol, as if trying to seek answers in the pale amber depths. Failure. Failure to keep the tentative alliance with the Dragons. Failure to her friends and her family. Failure to herself and her beliefs and everything that went along with it.
She sighed and took a measured sip of her drink, cupping it in both her hands. Normally, Delilah was much stronger than this. She was known for handling far worse set backs and coming through the drain pipe clean. But with everything that had been going on in her life, the growing distance between her and Stu, the impending threat of Barker and the increase in activity on all sides, Oliver's nightmares about being kidnapped and her own secret fears and insecurities ON TOP OF everything going on with the Dragons...she let herself lapse back into this old habit.
She rarely drank anymore. If she did at all, it was for social occasions. In high school, she had been border line alcoholic, though she would never have admitted it. Up until the last three or four months, she had been clean for years.
She knew drinking to forget was a slippery slope. She knew she probably ought not be to doing it alone, but people treated her differently in the Crows' territory because of he rank. What she wanted was to be anonymous (relatively, anyway: She had been present for two bar fights and one bar explosion, and had left the man who kidnapped Oliver half dead with a mutilated face in the room she had rented for the night under an assumed name).
The bar stool beneath her creaked as she shifted her weight, irritably running a hand through her long, black hair. She wasn't wearing her usual gear, either: Jeans, long sleeve close fitting shirt to cover her scars (though the tip of the new one running straight down her chest could be seen in the v-neck of her shirt). Her knives accompanied her as always, but only her pocket knife was visible. Her bowie knife was jammed in her boot.
Sighing again, Delilah knocked back another glass of whiskey and waved for another. Still not drunk. It was probably going to be a long night.
|
|
|
|
Post by David B. on Dec 2, 2012 20:29:02 GMT -8
He sat on the stool next to her, not bothering to ask if the seat was taken, because lets face it, he was taking it now. He gave a restrained smile to the barkeep- who poured him a small glass of whiskey on rocks. He took it in his hand and drank, tossing it back quickly before the man poured another. He always tossed the first one, as a ritual, but the others he would sip at. He wore jeans and a Tshirt as well, overshadowed by the leather jacket draped ovet his shoulders. Barely visible, sticking up over his shoulder, was his sword.
He, too, was obviously not proclaiming himself a Dragon tonight, though by the man averted eyes he knew they recognized him. Oaths of hate and loathing crossed their lips- he knew Barker made it harder on the people here because of them, but rather than back away, he stared into their eyes. What weak little creatures. They thought him scum for fighting, thus betraying their cowardice. He turned back to his glass, taking another sip.
"Is it me, then?"
The cause of her ire?
"Or maybe its you."
He looked at her, eyes piercingly calm.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Dec 3, 2012 1:51:20 GMT -8
The door opened to the bar and the room went quiet. Delilah didn't turn around to look, but her scowl deepened. If shit went down and she had to deal with it, no one would be happy.
The barstool beside her scraped as it moved across the floor. She didn't even move her eyes to look at who it was. The glimpse of him that she caught on her peripheral vision identified him instantly. His scent, his walk, even the aura he carried around him gave him away. She grimaced, eyes resolutely forward, determined not to say anything as he got his own drinks.
Behind them, she could feel the animosity building, aimed at David's back. Greaaaat. He hadn't even said two words and he was already causing trouble. A sigh pushed past her lips ans she took another draught of her glass, draining it. She waved for another.
"Is it me, then?"
Her palm dropped, catching the glass reflexively as it slid towards her. She tried to take a small sip, but she wound up knocking this one back too. The bar keep would look across at her incredulously, before sending her another. Now he really was concerned she would clean him out.
"Or maybe its you."
A sharp bark of humorless laughter escaped her and she forced herself to take a measured sip of the whiskey. "Don't flatter yourself." she said in a soft growl.
And it was true. She wasn't mad at David or the other Dragon's for their decision. She wasn't even really that mad at herself, truth be told. She did everything she could: it just wasn't enough. Delilah was just...mad. Frustrated in general with everything. Were her emotions getting the better of her? With all these failings stacking up, it really wasn't much of a surprise.
Keeping her eyes forward, the corner of her lip twisted into a smirk completely devoid of humour. "Did you come here just to rub salt in my wounds? Because Im pretty sure this 'second in command' can do that herself." Her smirk morphed into a sneer and she rolled her eyes. She finished off the last of her drink, setting it down with enough force that it cracked the glass and caused the room to go quiet a second time. It took a moment for the already dark and suspicious conversations behind them to start up again.
Not good enough. Never enough.
She let out a long breath and lifted her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb. Not even a buzz. The alcohol was doing nothing except maybe making her demeanour worse.
"Good Lord, I can't even drink right," she hissed at herself emphatically.
|
|
|
|
Post by David B. on Dec 3, 2012 14:43:00 GMT -8
Salt...?
David took another drink before turning in the stool so he was facing her.
"So, what? Because I made a decision you don't like it's suddenly a wound? Or because you feel like you let me down, the Dragons, Crows- whatever, that your either suddenly not good enough or weak because of it? "
He planted his foot on the edge of her seat and pushed, aiming to topple her over. People stood and some backed away as David came to his feet.
"The only disappointment youve given, Del, is happening right now. You wanna drink away sorrow? That's well and dandy, but if you want a real vent session, why not come at me-"
A guy came over and stood over Del, looking down at her.
"Hey pillowtits. Need some help?"
David cocked an eyebrow. Woah horsey. Shit just got real. He chuckled a moment as he was sure Delilah was computing what gall this man had to approach her like that. He grabbed his drink.
"Boy, are you EVER barking up the wrong tree right now...."
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Dec 3, 2012 15:43:49 GMT -8
"So, what? Because I made a decision you don't like it's suddenly a wound? Or because you feel like you let me down, the Dragons, Corws- whatever, that your either suddenly not good enough or weak because of it? "
She opened her mouth to argue, but her stool went out from under her in that moment and she hit the ground. She back rolled out of the fall and she came up in a crouch, glowering up at David with cold fury in her blue eyes. Her patience was absolutely non-existent today and only the fact that they were friends (although at the moment Delilah was struggling to remember 'why') kept her from lashing out at him. She was on her feet, anger flaring on her features as she started back towards him. "Where do you get off--"
"The only disappointment youve given, Del, is happening right now. You wanna drink away sorrow? That's well and dandy, but if you want a real vent session, why not come at me-"
Delilah turned her attention away from David as a shadow fell over her, looking up at a tall, heavy set man who was leering down at her.
"Hey pillowtits. Need some help?"
Delilah's eyes widened the barest of fractions, the only indication she gave that she even heard what he said. If what went on in Delilah's mind were audible, what the now deathly quiet audience may have heard the tiniest 'snap' sound as the last thread of her patience broke.
"Boy, are you EVER barking up the wrong tree right now...."
Of that, David had the right of it. Normally, she would have given the jackass one warning before kicking his ass. But today, Delilah was not in a charitable mood.
By the time the words had left David's mouth, Delilah's steel toe boot had crunched down on his foot. He bent over slightly in pain and Delilah shifted slightly to his outside, grasping the back of his head with her hand and throwing him down and forward, slamming his head into the counter with a splintering crack. Before his head even had a chance to ricochet up from the blow, Delilah twisted her hips, launching a kick into his midsection that sent him flying back the way he came and into the crowd of onlookers.
She followed in his wake immediately, walking briskly to the place where the battered man hung suspended between two tables, bar patrons scattering out of the way as the livid woman stormed past them. Dazed, he groaned as he tried to find his footing. Unfortunately, Delilah got to him first.
Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she yanked him towards her as he cried out in pain, her fingernails digging into his scalp. She held his face up so that it was level with hers as he hung limply in her grip. Dimly, through the haze of red that clouded his vision, he thought the furious expression in front of him was that of Death sent to drag him to hell for his sins.
-CRACK-
The back of her hand collided smartly with the side of his face just as she let go of his hair, an action reminiscent of someone swatting a fly or a pimp disciplining his 'ho. Just as his body started to move away from her, Delilah, twisted as the hand that had just been in his hair came up, ready to strike. She rammed her fist into his face and he flew several feet before hitting the bar floor like a stone. He lay prone on the ground, unconscious, missing several teeth and with a severe concussion, but not dead. A fact of which he would be very painfully aware when he woke up.
|
|
|
|
Post by David B. on Dec 3, 2012 18:27:58 GMT -8
David watched her, taking a drink after she finished.
"Well done. You destroyed some drunk pussy. Don't push yourself, Delilah. You might pull a muscle."
What the...heck was wrong with him? He set down his glass, gaze unblinking.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Dec 3, 2012 18:48:25 GMT -8
The second the words started leaving David's mouth, Delilah spun around, her arm whipping out to the side as something sailed from her hand. A split second later, David would hear a high pitched whistle as something shot past his right ear, maybe feel a little blood drawn from a new cut on his cheek (if he didn't move out of the way in time) as a heavy 'thok' sounded from the wall behind him.
Sticking out of the wall of the bar was Delilah's bowie knife, the top two inches buried in the wood. Aimed to miss. On purpose. A warning. She wasn't outright trying to kill anyone. AND killing one of the Dragon Elders (not that she could) was probably not the greatest idea.
"And I suppose YOU, the STORM DRAGON, would provide a real challenge?!" she spat. Her Qi engaged of it's own accord, shifting around her body like dust in the wind, poking little holes in her clothing as it writhed across her skin. "Go back to your den before you get hurt."
Before I hurt YOU.
Which was the last thing she wanted. But Delilah had an odd way of going about things when she was in this sort of state. And as much as she didn't want to fight David, for personal, philosophical, political and practical reasons...she actually kind of did.
|
|
|
|
Post by David B. on Dec 3, 2012 19:01:03 GMT -8
David didnt pause in his speech as she threw the knife. He was not afraid of death. His fear of such a thing had faded from memory. The cut singed along his cheek, a small droplet of blood running down his cheek like a tear. His took another drink as she spoke, removing his jacket and tossing it off to the side after setting the glass back on the stool.
"Ooooooh....im so scared. Please, don't try and hurt widdle old-"
He sighed.
"Actually, please. Try."
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Dec 3, 2012 19:20:33 GMT -8
He didn't need to say it twice.
There was a flurry of movement as she launched herself at him at break-neck speed. The others in the bar wouldn't be able to track her movements. David, on the other hand, was another story. She knew he was faster than she was, tougher, and much much stronger. As such, she was more than aware that this was probably an unwinnable fight.
She didn't care.
The sheer disrespect of it all! It made her blood boil. Belittling her like that as if he knew what was really going through her mind, insulting her, making her feel insignificant, unimportant, PATHETIC. And after she had gone out of her way to show him every courtesy and kindness?
It didn't matter to her right now if she wound up hurt or hospitalized. She just wanted a crack at the man who laughed at her honour.
The second she was on him, Delilah would aim a flurry of elbows, knees, fists and feet at him, following him if he dodged, trying to work her way up to getting a hand around his throat the moment the opening presented itself, if it did at all.
If she managed to grab hold of him, she would squeeze painfully on his lymphnodes for a moment as she turned, attempting to hurl him like a javelin through the shop window and into the street. She would follow immediately after if this was successful, baring her teeth as a feral growl moved past her lips.
"GET UP."
If not successful, Delilah's actions would solely rely on what David did to prevent being throttled.
|
|
|
|
Post by David B. on Dec 3, 2012 19:30:18 GMT -8
David lazily brought up a left arm, blocking a punch. Then a palm to block a low punch. Then an uppercut hit home. Then a knee. And an elbow. And a shattering sound. He flew across the ground, a bruise forming on his cheek the size of a quarter. A cackling sound came from his form.
He was laughing. Loudly.
"Come ON! I thought you were going to HURT me!"
Yeah, he didnt know when to shut up.
He gestured from the ground.
"How did you EVER become first crow?"
He wanted her to hurt him...
'Just....take it out on me, Del.'
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Dec 3, 2012 19:57:46 GMT -8
He laughed as he lay on the ground, not even bothering to get up. She grit her teeth at the sound, stalking closer.
"Come ON! I thought you were going to HURT me! How did you EVER become first crow?"
Her eyes snapped wide and then narrowed to slits, her body trembling as adrenalin shot into her system. He...he insulted her rank? Her integrity? Her hard work? THE OATH CUT INTO HER LEFT HAND?!
That...was low. The only way he could go any lower than that was for him to make fun of her skills as a parent or Oliver himself, but she couldn't see him saying that. Hell, she couldn't even think at the moment: The red-hot feeling inside her had risen past the boiling point. This was beyond mere anger, beyond rage, waaay past fury.
This was wrath.
"Shut UP!!!"
Her Qi formed silver over her fists as she launched a soccer-style kick for the side of his head with her steel-toe boot. Whether or not this was effective, her very next attack would be to drop down with all her body weight concentrated on her knee on his head, cracking the ground with force if she missed, denting it if she didn't.
If he dodged or rolled out of the way, she would follow him with single minded determination, trying to grab a hold of him and hit him in any and all vulnerable soft spots she could get at with fists that collided with the force and density of carbon steel.
If he didn't...then the idea was just to hit him in the face with those impossibly hard hands, tearing, clawing, punching until she tired. Any semblance of technique was completely gone out the window with this level of rage. But it was still there, ready to use if she required it.
|
|
|
|
Post by David B. on Dec 3, 2012 20:09:49 GMT -8
He rolled out of the way of her knee, but as she grabbed hold of his shirt, he just smiled
"Go ahead then-" a punch landed, drawing more blood from his cheek. "I can take it." Another punch, a cut opening on his lip. As she tried to punch him again, he caught her fist, and would throw his head forward, aiming to headbutt her. He wouldnt use his Qi, just a good old fashioned brawl. The people in the windows and in the streets stared at them, watching the fight with interest.
"You want someone to blame for all this-" he would take her hit, whatever it was, causing him to stumble back a step or two. "Blame Barker. Turning inward is just...stupid."
Yeah, kuz he was one to talk.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Dec 3, 2012 22:34:59 GMT -8
"Go ahead then-"
-CLANG-
"I can take it."
-CLANG-
She growled, a rising sound that turned into a roar of frustration when he grabbed her fist. Her Qi immediately shifted from her hands to protect her face as he slammed his forehead into the bridge of her nose. She was protected from a break or any serious bleeding, and the metal probably rang David's bell a little bit, too. But Delilah nevertheless found herself stumbling as she reeled backwards, completely over-powered by the force of the hit.
NEVER GOOD ENOUGH
"You want someone to blame for all this-"
"SHUT UP!" she screamed at him. Her foot would slam into his chest as she shove-kicked him, knocking him back a couple of paces, hoping it would wind him. It didn't.
"Blame Barker. Turning inward is just...stupid."
"I don't WANT to blame ANYONE![/B]"[/color] she snarled, stepping towards him and seizing him by his shirt, yanking him close. Slowly, her mind was returning to her. Delilah's anger was far from spent, but her Qi had been active long enough for it to start fatiguing her. "BARKER IS NOT AT FAULT FOR MY MISTAKES! I AM RESPONSIBLE FOR MY OWN FAULTS AND FLAWS, NO ONE ELSE!"
Barker was to blame for many things in Delilah's life. But not that. Not this.
"NO ONE IS TO BLAME, DAVID," she pushed herself away from him, forcing herself to take a few steps back. "NOT YOU OR ME OR THE DRAGONS OR THE CROWS. NOT EVEN BARKER.
"But I...I failed." She brought her hands to her chest as she indicated herself, her voice growing softer but no less vehement. "In SO MANY THINGS, I can't even begin to explain them." She glanced around herself briefly, a snarl curling her lips as she looked at the crowd. Certainly not here at any rate.
Delilah glanced down at her hands for a moment, at David's blood gleaming on her silver knuckles. She turned her hands over, looking at the twin scars on her palm that jutted out through the metal, one old and the other still healing. She clenched her fists tight, metal nails scraping against her palm, spitting her words like bile, grinding her teeth.
"And no matter what I do, it's never enough." Lifting her eyes, glowering at David, still feeling the anger from his words that had only worsened her emotional guilt trip.[/size]
|
|
|
|
Post by David B. on Dec 7, 2012 19:30:45 GMT -8
If she turned around, he would be right in front of her, his eyes wide with anger at her reactions. His hand would dart up to grasp her around the neck. He would speak to her in a cold whisper.
"Barker is to blame for everything."
He would lift her off her feet and shout at her as he held her in the air.
"YOU THINK I DONT WANT TO PROTECT YOU- PROTECT EVERYONE YOU AND I LOVE! HOW DARE YOU PLACE THE BURDEN OF FAILURE YOURSELF! YOU SELFISH WOMAN!"
He would ignore any punches or blows she threw, though while she was up in the air, she would only feel discomfort, but was surpisingly light, obviously held from choking by his Qi. He would bring her Back down before backhanding her, hard. He would look at her, where she would land, hands balled at his side.
"One day, Delilah, youll learn to point that gun where it belongs, instead of at yourself."
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Dec 7, 2012 20:43:33 GMT -8
Delilah turned away from him only to jolt as she saw David blocked her path. Before she could react, his hand was clutching her throat, looking into her eyes with flinty anger.
"Barker is to blame for everything."
"Gaaackkklll"[/i]
He lifted her off her feet an into the air and she immediately felt the light-headed onset of deja vu, back when she and Stu had reunited and fought on the beach. She struggled against his hand, clawing at him ruthlessly with her metallic talons, snarling down at him like a cage beast thrashing to free itself.[/size]
"YOU THINK I DONT WANT TO PROTECT YOU- PROTECT EVERYONE YOU AND I LOVE! HOW DARE YOU PLACE THE BURDEN OF FAILURE YOURSELF! YOU SELFISH WOMAN!"
There was a sudden drop and he backhanded her across the face, sending her flying to the side. Normally, she would have rolled out of it as soon as she hit the ground; but her muscles were so tired, drained of energy from having to support her Qi. She bounced and skidded along the asphalt, her exposed skin tearing against the pavement along her sides. Shaking away the cloudy feeling in her head, she looked up at David as he stared back down at her, radiating anger.
"One day, Delilah, youll learn to point that gun where it belongs, instead of at yourself."
She let out a shuddering bark that might almost have passed for an ironic, humourless laugh. "Hypocrite!" Delilah tried to get to her feet. Her right leg gave out on her midway and she dropped to a knee. Her second try put her on two stable feet. She brought a hand to her cheek, a smear of blood coming away from the welt he had left there and staining her silver palm. She put her hand down, turning her attention back to him. "That's rich, coming from you. You who came all the way out here to find me? Why? Just so you could berate me and then give me your little SERMON?"
Delilah took a couple shaky steps forward before her body realigned itself and she was once again steady as a rock. She bared her teeth at him, her voice a low, deadly whisper. "You seem to be incapable of understanding, so I'll let you in on a little secret; I'm not afraid of dying, of sacrificing myself so others that may or may not deserve it can have a better life. That's the path I chose. I'm fairly certain that's where you stand, too.
"Barker and his actions might have thrust that upon me, those people and their lives...But they are MY responsibility. And any failure on my part is a failure to them. No matter who is to blame, that changes nothing. If that's selfishness, then that's fine.
"For once, I think I've earned the right to be selfish."
She launched a liquid fast, open palm slap to the side of his face, the feirce anger bubbling up to the surface.
"AND HOW DARE[/B] YOU TELL ME OTHERWISE."[/COLOR]
How could he, when there was so much at risk?[/size]
|
|
