madimpossibledreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2018-10-31 11:33 pm
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2018-10-31 11:33 pm
Entry tags:
Siren Negotiations
Apparently I opened this and promptly fell asleep. I missed most of Halloween because of a 6am shift. I hope everyone else had a great Halloween!
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Ace Attorney AU (Mein Prinz)
Chapter Summary: Klavier tries to negotiate with the siren.
Word Count: 733
Rating: K
Note: Apollo Justice spoilers. Probably spoilers for the rest of the series, too.
(also this might be a bit early to have one of the surprises appear, but then...once I ended up with Klavier pov in the last chapter, I figured this was switching to suspense here anyway)
Of course, it’s just a mind game on her part. She’s just messing with his head. She knows she’s dead if she does it, and she’s not suicidal.
She suggests an…alternative use for Apollo. Which would certainly hurt or even kill the Prince and is therefore unacceptable.
She taunts him with the knowledge that he can’t change to his true form, not with the collar around his neck. He might as well be a tamed cat. He fumes a little at that, but doesn’t otherwise loose his cool. It may have been a while since he’s played this game, but he has also sat in a dungeon for far too long, stewing in pointless hate and rage. There, he could not act. Here? Here he can call upon the part of his heritage he’s long suppressed.
He’s grateful he picked up a couple extra items from Skye. One he remembers with special fondness. He throws the glass orb on the ground and the glass shards fly, one cutting into his already wounded leg. He knows it’s a welcome of sorts. It’s demonic in origin, and it’s fond of him. The black shapes wind their sinuous way out of the pieces, caressing his legs with care. They’re not nearly as sweet toward the Siren, yanking her through the ground casually. She tries screaming out her rage, consequently killing all the mortals currently under her spell of sleep, but before she can do so they’ve already been pulled into the Nightmare Realm. Of course, that’s not its real name, but it’s the closest that can be rendered in the mortal tongue.
He stands at a right angle to the ground she’s on, casually holding his Song of Lightning over his back, and winces a little as the sound ruptures his eardrums. Fortunately, he doesn’t rely solely on that for his hearing, and his healing is already beginning to make short work of a little thing like that (though, honestly, without his heritage he’d have permanent hearing loss, anyway). If he wasn’t used to the phantom touches on his thighs, biceps, chest, he’d be horribly distracted, but as it is, he’s expecting it, really. “Well, now that you’re here, let’s try that conversation again, shall we? This time, try to be a little more polite.” He allows himself to grin. “After all, you’ve got an audience now, don’t you, schöne Stimme?”
The fog keeps moving, as do the shadowed paths and platforms. There’s no up or down in this place, only relative position. As far as he knows, the shadowy creatures that make their home, both in the orb (which will magically reclaim its unbroken appearance) and here (if here isn’t just inside the orb, somehow) are what makes up the paths and platforms. They like him, but then, demonic artifacts tend to do that. Others, particularly the ones he’s fighting, don’t tend to be so lucky.
She rages again, face contorting to a non-human shape, showing the devil within, red hair flowing around her like a curtain and white eyes glaring in impotent rage, and he shakes his head, tutting. “You act like spending time with you is an equal exchange, but you’re just a half-breed!” It’s really odd that she’s taking this route, knowing his power, but he feels the blood lust rising. It’s been oh-so-long since he’s gotten more than pointless gestures of rebellion, after all, and while once he’d had better control, he’d spent so long resenting Kristoph, the whole situation, fighting uselessly against a path imposed upon him. Plus, spending so long in devil form might also have had an effect, he muses.
He shrugs. “Your loss, sweetheart.”
She rises her arms and white butterflies started flying toward him—and catching on fire. It’s not the first time he’s had to fight her, but this time, he might not give her the second chance just for being interesting.
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Ace Attorney AU (Mein Prinz)
Chapter Summary: Klavier tries to negotiate with the siren.
Word Count: 733
Rating: K
Note: Apollo Justice spoilers. Probably spoilers for the rest of the series, too.
(also this might be a bit early to have one of the surprises appear, but then...once I ended up with Klavier pov in the last chapter, I figured this was switching to suspense here anyway)
Without words, they speak in pictures. Her seducing Apollo and killing him, Klavier just as powerless as Kristoph had rendered him. The fact that even if that was true, Klavier would simply gut her, and with his sword and power he could permanently kill her. And he would, because he’s had quite enough of being someone’s plaything, and he has a lot of frustration to work out. Being reminded of his powerlessness is not the way for her to survive the encounter unscathed.
Of course, it’s just a mind game on her part. She’s just messing with his head. She knows she’s dead if she does it, and she’s not suicidal.
She suggests an…alternative use for Apollo. Which would certainly hurt or even kill the Prince and is therefore unacceptable.
She taunts him with the knowledge that he can’t change to his true form, not with the collar around his neck. He might as well be a tamed cat. He fumes a little at that, but doesn’t otherwise loose his cool. It may have been a while since he’s played this game, but he has also sat in a dungeon for far too long, stewing in pointless hate and rage. There, he could not act. Here? Here he can call upon the part of his heritage he’s long suppressed.
He’s grateful he picked up a couple extra items from Skye. One he remembers with special fondness. He throws the glass orb on the ground and the glass shards fly, one cutting into his already wounded leg. He knows it’s a welcome of sorts. It’s demonic in origin, and it’s fond of him. The black shapes wind their sinuous way out of the pieces, caressing his legs with care. They’re not nearly as sweet toward the Siren, yanking her through the ground casually. She tries screaming out her rage, consequently killing all the mortals currently under her spell of sleep, but before she can do so they’ve already been pulled into the Nightmare Realm. Of course, that’s not its real name, but it’s the closest that can be rendered in the mortal tongue.
He stands at a right angle to the ground she’s on, casually holding his Song of Lightning over his back, and winces a little as the sound ruptures his eardrums. Fortunately, he doesn’t rely solely on that for his hearing, and his healing is already beginning to make short work of a little thing like that (though, honestly, without his heritage he’d have permanent hearing loss, anyway). If he wasn’t used to the phantom touches on his thighs, biceps, chest, he’d be horribly distracted, but as it is, he’s expecting it, really. “Well, now that you’re here, let’s try that conversation again, shall we? This time, try to be a little more polite.” He allows himself to grin. “After all, you’ve got an audience now, don’t you, schöne Stimme?”
The fog keeps moving, as do the shadowed paths and platforms. There’s no up or down in this place, only relative position. As far as he knows, the shadowy creatures that make their home, both in the orb (which will magically reclaim its unbroken appearance) and here (if here isn’t just inside the orb, somehow) are what makes up the paths and platforms. They like him, but then, demonic artifacts tend to do that. Others, particularly the ones he’s fighting, don’t tend to be so lucky.
She rages again, face contorting to a non-human shape, showing the devil within, red hair flowing around her like a curtain and white eyes glaring in impotent rage, and he shakes his head, tutting. “You act like spending time with you is an equal exchange, but you’re just a half-breed!” It’s really odd that she’s taking this route, knowing his power, but he feels the blood lust rising. It’s been oh-so-long since he’s gotten more than pointless gestures of rebellion, after all, and while once he’d had better control, he’d spent so long resenting Kristoph, the whole situation, fighting uselessly against a path imposed upon him. Plus, spending so long in devil form might also have had an effect, he muses.
He shrugs. “Your loss, sweetheart.”
She rises her arms and white butterflies started flying toward him—and catching on fire. It’s not the first time he’s had to fight her, but this time, he might not give her the second chance just for being interesting.