sirenspull_logs | when I was a child running in the night

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when I was a child running in the night

Who: Warsman (

mouthbreathing) and YOU
When: At night from the 27th to the 30th
Where: Out and around the city
Summary: Warsman is out on one of his nightly patrols. Things happen.
Warnings: Violence.

[It’s turning into a regular routine now: during the day he works and trains in whatever free time he has, and come the evening, if he’s not scheduled for an appearance at the Knot-A Fight Club, Warsman readies his bear claws to head out under cloudy night skies. There may not be much he can do on a larger scale- the Darkness is a hydra of danger, and for every monster he slays it feels as though three more spring up the very next night- but every person he catches just in time makes it worth it. And who else is going to help them in this part of the city- the homeless, the poor, the people with no other choice? He’s gotten so used to the white noise of indifference around here that the rare wail of a police siren or ambulance comes as a decided shock.

It’s the little things, though. He’s doing what he can, even casting his net a little wider some nights and getting to know the rest of the city around him. It's not so quiet beyond his usual sectors and there are usually more people around, but it still pays off on occasion if he catches a straggler or two abandoned to the elements.

Leftover rain spots his poncho from higher ledges as he scales an apartment block, bracing his feet on broken guttering and greasy window catches. Higher ground may make him more obvious, and it may be so dark that he won’t be able to see further than a block or so, but any precaution is a precaution worth taking out here. Warsman heaves himself up onto the rooftop and surveys the area with dimly glowing eyes.]

[ooc: I'm up for just about any scenario! Rescuing someone, being rescued, working together, getting into a fight, etc... just start a scene or drop a suggestion and I'm good. I also don't mind starting things off!]

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Warsman could, he realised, afford to watch. He'd taken out two relatively quickly, yes, but only in counter attack. The man he'd thought of himself as defending, though- he'd spent that short while accumulating a small, dark pile of matted fur and bloody paws without so much as breaking a sweat.

One left now. Tearing his attention away from the other side of the street he turned towards the final hound and, as it leapt for him, rammed his claws through its skull. It gave a hideous, twisted snarl- and went limp, sliding off of his claws and hitting the sidewalk with a dull thump.

For a moment Warsman stood still, catching his breath. Then he glanced back at the man. "Are you-"

Frau snapped his head toward Warsman, a slightly irritated look on his face. Thankfully it wasn't the dark warning look that he had quite a talent at giving.

"What the hell?! Do I look like some guy who needs rescuing?"

Sure, Frau was a bishop and wore his rosary plainly around his neck. He didn't carry any obvious weapons either, but he hadn't been wearing his bishop's robes so it shouldn't have been that obvious. Not that being a bishop meant he couldn't handle fighting, though he'd learned early on here that people assumed bishops were peaceful and not capable of physically defending themselves.

Oh.

Warsman winced. There was a first time for everything, and now he could add 'being shouted at for trying to rescue someone'. He'd had a sneaking suspicion that something like this was coming from the moment he'd realised that the man could more than handle himself without the need of a second, but he'd been sort of hoping to avoid the whole ugly scene if he could.

Even so, with the way he'd worded it Warsman couldn't quite stop himself from answering back. "Well... yes." And it was true: he didn't have the build of a fighter, or the equipment, or- at least at a glance- the awareness. While he might have sounded more wounded than anything, hurt for his pride, he could at least stand by that point. "You didn't even seem to notice them gaining on you. What was I supposed to do? Walk away?"

"You need to get better at what you're doing apparently. A good fighter can be really subtle about his moves. Do anything else and you'll give your plans away."

Frau was really close to both grinding his teeth in annoyance and just sighing. Part of the reason why ambushes worked so well is that the opponent didn't see them coming. What made them work even better is if the opponent knew it was coming, prepared for it, and ambushed the ambusher instead.

For the first time in a long while, Warsman felt himself twitch. Involuntarily, his hands curled into hard, obstinate fists, and he found himself narrowing his eyes a touch. "You don't have to talk down to me. I'm not a rookie," he answered firmly. "But while I'm out here, I don't have the luxury of looking for subtleties. It's dark and dangerous, and if I see someone walking alone with monsters behind them I'll intervene every time. I'd gladly get in someone's way a hundred times over than potentially leave someone to die."

He meant it, too. As much as he usually preferred to compromise- usually his own opinion to boot- protecting other people was one of the few things he'd refuse to back down from. If that meant wounding this man's pride in the process, so be it.

Frau's pride was far from wounded. In fact, he was actually pleased with the response. Sure, he didn't like the fact that he'd been interrupted, but he approved of doing anything it took to help someone. Frau had gotten himself into quite a few situations where he'd pissed people off to help someone else. Not that he was much for caring what people thought about him either.

A grin split his face, this time not a dangerous one, but a smile tinted with amusement.

"Good enough reason."

For the second time, Warsman found himself blindsided by the man's response. He stared back for a moment in slightly baffled silence, trying to work out if the smile was genuine or not- but he couldn't detect any sarcasm in his voice, either. Even if he had the break had lasted long enough for his anger to subside again.

He hesitated, unsure of how to respond, then tried again. "... good. Though I am sorry I threw you off." He shot the man an uncertain, almost shy look, still trying to work him out even if his tone had settled back into something friendlier. "It's Warsman, by the way. In case we run into each other again. Do you come out here every night, or...?"

"You did, though at least you could handle it well enough on your own."

Frau would have been really pissed off if Warsman had jumped in to help and then wound up in over his head. He could have handled that situation too, but it wouldn't have been as easy if he wanted to make sure they both got out unscathed. As he leaned back against the wall he kept half of his attention on their surroundings so they wouldn't get blindsided and kept the other half on Warsman.

"Frau, and yeah, I'm out here most nights unless I have to work."

Was that a compliment? Warsman was fairly sure that was a compliment. Now that he was also fairly sure that the man wasn't holding any sort of significant grudge about the whole thing he could try to take it gracefully without feeling disarmed by it.

He could afford a lightness in his tone now, a softening around the eyes, even if his senses were still pricked for any sound or movement around them. "Thank you- I do this every day, so I shouldn't be too rusty. It's nice to meet you, anyway. I don't usually patrol this part of town; maybe if I didn't, I wouldn't have..."

Warsman trailed off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. You took care of most of it by yourself." With a brief backwards glance he approached Frau whee he stood at the wall, head tilted towards the weapon by the man's side. "Where did that scythe come from?"

Frau managed to hold back a snort, just barely, with the this part of town comment. Instead he went with an amused laugh.

"I patrol whatever part I feel like it."

Which was only partially true. He patrolled whatever part seemed to hold the most darkness or was near the person he was hunting that night. If he wasn't hunting, then the statement was true.

When Warsman's eyes drifted to the scythe Frau took a firmer grip on it. So far it had been behaving and usually he wasn't bothered if it made its opinions known, but at the moment he didn't want to deal with that. He didn't really want to answer where it came from either, but there wasn't any way to avoid the question. At least not completely.

"It's always with me."

That made sense. Warsman had only just started to stray from his home sectors, resisting the sense of loyalty that had kept him there for the last few months. It was probably misplaced; every part of this city was in trouble at some time or another, even if his usual sectors seemed the more in need as a whole, regardless of the Darkness.

Before he could ask a little more though- what sort of patrols? Like the ones he ran?- Frau's reaction to the question of his scythe caught him off guard. Was it just him, or did he tense up a little? It was hard to say in the dark, and he didn't want to jump to any conclusions- but that didn't stop him from pressing the issue a little more carefully, albeit out of a more general curiosity.

"I didn't see it on you at all at first," Warsman commented, hoping that he didn't sound too prying; he didn't want to antagonise him. "Does it shrink down?"

Frau wouldn't have been much more comfortable talking about his patrols. Just like the scythe, that information would need to be strained down to just the bare minimum. Revealing the full truth would not be a good idea. The fact that he wasn't alive had become more common knowledge even though it wasn't supposed to be. The fact that his scythe was incredibly dangerous even to him was known by a few people. Frau did not want the knowledge that he went around at night consuming souls to become very well known.

"It can be any size I want it to be. I've used it as a regular sword before."

"I see..." Warsman also saw that the topic of conversation wasn't exactly winning Frau over; he didn't seem entirely comfortable discussing the matter, for whatever reason.

And that, as far as he was concerned, was his business.

He paused, raising his eyes from the scythe. "A little like magic, then?" A little self-consciously he lifted one fist, trying to take the weight off of Frau. The iron claws glinting in the dark like prison bars. "I guess I always carry mine around with me, too, but..." A soft shing and a click, and the claws disappeared back into his gauntlet. Now you see them, now you don't. "They tidy away."

Without wasting a moment Frau shoved the scythe back into his right forearm, rather glad that it didn't put up much of a fight besides a small grumble. He rested his left hand over the markings for a moment to make sure it really was behaving before relaxing completely again.

"I wouldn't say magic really, but it's not something that is seen all that often."

Where Frau's from magic doesn't exist, though he's come to learn it is similar in some ways to zaiphon. In fact, he's even started using the world to describe zaiphon at times.

Was Frau waiting for him to sheathe his claws before he put his own weapon away? Regardless, it was interesting to watch: the scythe vanished into his arm as though he'd never had it out in the first place, with only the slightest pause before turning back to their conversation.

Faintly distracted, it took Warsman a moment to answer. "... ah... I see," he answered quickly, trying to catch up to the conversation as he lifted his eyes from Frau's arm. "Well, it's not quite the strangest power I've ever seen before. I guess I don't really need to ask if you'll be alright for the rest of the night, do I?"

Frau wasn't going to be anything on that. Chances were the scythe was a lot stranger than Warsman assumed. Not many people carried weapons that destroyed them day by day. Not many carried weapons that had a will of their own either. The scythe, unfortunately, qualified for as both.

"I'll be fine. I'm out here just about every night. I can look after myself."

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when I was a child running in the night

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