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PARKING GARAGE
ANY CAR IN A STORM
PHOENIX CASINO HALL
WELCOME TO THE NEXT 168 HOURS
Phoenix Casino is a-flutter with activity and packed to the beak with guests. As a famously ever-changing space, the staff would be remiss if they didn't deck the crown jewel of the Golden Peacock out. The casino glitters from top to bottom, shining brighter than diamonds, rubies, sapphires, opals! Party-goers are shiny and glamorous with picture perfect makeup, fluttering gowns, and sharp suits. Card tables are packed and the slot machines are a-ringing as guests play, play, play! Prizes, luxury, booze, attractive people, it's the place that everyone wants to be at.
Those people being dragged inside by some invisible force...? Silly, they were so excited to come that their bodies moved before they realized what was happening. Those are struggles of joy and definitely not the casino's infamous ghost hands dragging unwilling guests to the party at the behest of the house. Look, they're literally hurling their bodies at the card tables with unrestrained glee!
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That's always the answer around here, right? Not like there's much else to do unless you're fucking with the ghosts. Guess I do that sometimes too, but usually it's sex.
[ He reaches out again, but before he can take another card from the middle of the structure, he pauses and redirects his reach. The next card he grabs is also from the top; if that's how this guy is playing then Xue Yang can play it like this too. If the two of them quickly pick off all the stable cards from the top row, that'll force his opponent to go for riskier cards faster.
Xue Yang looks at it and his grin abruptly turns to a pouting scowl. ]
"Do you prefer hot or cold weather?"? Who the fuck would care about hearing that answer?
[ Uninteresting or not, it's the question on the card. ]
Looks to me like there's a lot to do. [he lifts a hand and contemptuously flings it back in gesture to a sprawling casino behind them, full of games, drinks, food, people, and more. And he's only been in this room. even more out the doors, they say.] Guessing people stop thinking with their brains after a while, huh.
[tone of voice dipping to something curious as much as insulting. idiots are useful. oh? he's going for the top card. seems the game's off for now in exchange for playing question answer. nice. he'd have lost his patience for keeping the house up sooner or later. brand new and all, he has nothing to lose for seeing it crumble. one by one, disassembling it.]
Ha ha ha! And I thought I kept drawing the sucky ones. [slam! he deliberately drops his arm back on the table. jostling the cards with a jump. for a few seconds, they wobble, but hold. make it more interesting. watching the man's elation turn to frustration over his query is fun. maybe he should let him go again...]
Dunno actually. All I ever experienced was dry and monotonous. By the time I left, I couldn't feel a thing. [indicating himself with a few taps to the sinew-like suit constricting every inch of his body.]
What's it like? Hot or cold. [that's the question on the card, isn't it.]
Oh, you're pretty new here, huh? [ Xue Yang shrugs and makes his own gesture. ] The ones you usually see in this room aren't... [ He trails off for a moment, searching for the right word as his grin fades a little. ] people. Sure they aren't ghosts, but they might as well be. Anyone still sane spends any busy nights fucking to try to get out of here. I'd bet all my chips that it's staying in here too long that makes you really wind up brainless just like the rest of them.
[ What "too long" is he can't say for certain, but Xue Yang has never bumped into someone in this area who could hold a conversation beyond the proclivities of the hotel, outside of the times when there's something new happening. Best he can tell, this casino is a holding area where the hotel waits for those who've degraded to reach some specific point, even maybe to outright die.
The jostling catches his eye, but when that fails to make the stack fall, he looks back to his opponent. Studies him, because he's surprised to hear that there's such a thing as a covering that removes the ability to feel hot and cold completely. That "boring" question suddenly became a lot less so. ]
Yeah? Nothing at all, huh?
Hot makes you feel like there's too much. Anything you got on? Too much clothing. You wanna take it off, then take more off even when there isn't more. Peel off your skin so you can cool down. That sorta thing. Cold's like the opposite. More and more clothes, and you want to stick more onto yourself to warm up.
Uh-huh. [sounding completely nonplussed about it.] Hm? [his tone perks into curiosity as the man across from him drops a few interesting notions. he leans away and turns his head to swallow the room, taking in all these strange sight and sounds from people who technically don't exist? all but ghosts.] How'd they die? [darkness, emptiness, neither of those exude their pungent shivers from these laughing bodies and gambling faces. they eat and drink without a care, drenched in fancy clothes and money. staying here causes their rot... he wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.] Pathetic.
[abandoning the crowds, he returns his attention to the table, finding nothing too dramatic about the news. wouldn't be the first time he's encountered a world which poisons the brain. likely these idiots aren't even aware of their own slide towards compliance and desperation. good to know at least. why are these kinds of questions not on the cards?
his opponent's(?) steel-hued eyes seem to bulge within the claustrophobic glass of his helmet, swollen masses under equally receding forehead and mouth. until he lowers or raises his head, causing his face to bulge respectively as he takes his time studying his figure. curious guy, isn't he.]
Nothing at all. [he's tone mixes resignation with satisfaction.] Sounds like weight.
[pressing down and crushing, refusing to move despite scrambling beneath to shove its suffocating pressure off. or the opposite, where everything feels like it's unraveling and a single breath's enough to break apart forever. hot and cold.]
What are you? You're not taking anything off or putting anything on.
Best I can tell they've been like this since I got here.
[ Xue Yang has nowhere in particular to focus on on that helmet, so his eyes have settled on a spot that seems about right for where eyes inside of it would be, and lock onto the reflection of one particular light fixture. When that head moves, he needs to find another one.
The top half of Xue Yang's clothes are all but hanging off of him, more because of the itchiness than any temperature issues, but he hasn't made any motion to adjust them one way or the other. His pants are reasonably in place though. ]
Temperature doesn't really bother me. I wear what's practical. [ Sometimes practical is "having the space to store what he needs" and sometimes it's "whatever other people are demanding so he can get on to more interesting things than being hassled".
He gestures to the card structure. ] You gonna grab another one or just keep trying to lose on purpose by shaking it?
[he sounds both disappointed and interested. a trapped location, drowning prey in indulgence until they know nothing more than it, with no reason given. what a messed-up place. and now it has him within its grip. there are worse places to be.]
Heh. What kind of idiot would lose on purpose? [even if this game's a stupid waste of time. another card's picked off the tower, but this time, instead of the top, he takes it from one of the lower sides, risking the structure's stability when it shivers for a moment. then holds with another card's brace.]
"What scares you the most?"
[going for the jugular apparently. he leans back in the seat, flipping the card around between his index and middle fingers in a steady flicker of white. nothing requires the other man to answer, but he's been a fair sport so far. who says they can't go a little deeper?]
[ Xue Yang stares at the card as it's turned over for several seconds before finally opening his mouth and replying, ]
Fuck if I know.
[ Complete with a shrug.
What scares him the most? More like, what scares him at all? Does he actually have anything he fears? He has things he avoids, but that's because it will be more annoying, or less interesting, or things like that, if they happen. Is that fear? He doesn't think so. Fear is the sort of thing that makes people beg and piss themselves and kowtow until their foreheads bleed. Xue Yang doesn't have anything like that. (Or not that he knows of, at least.)
He goes to grab a new card and there's no indication from his Watch that the game is over, so it seems that whatever is ruling over this game has decided he's answered honestly. The card he grabbed from the top was a boring question even if it didn't have a boring answer, so he grabs from about halfway down instead and glances at it. ]
"If you could change any one thing about your current life, what would it be?"
[flip... flip... fl- he lifts his head and faces xue yang fully, a tiny cant of something curious and perhaps predatory about his position.]
You've never felt fear?
[not the dismissive wave of someone steeped in too many for a formed decision, but rather someone who thinks he's above the notion of being scared at all. a man devoid of one very important piece of his heart. what other emotions is this bastard bereft of? or simply says he is. sitting here in his comfortable clothes and pretty face, claiming he has nothing to dread. tiny claws of intent dig along his skin beneath his suit, the faintest hints of a dark aura, akin to steam vapor or soft flame, licks up from his shoulders. no one is devoid of fear... anyone who says they are simply hasn't been scared yet.]
Everyone has something that scares them. [irritation needles his voice, as if he's mildly ticked at xue yang's flippant claim.] I wonder what yours is.
[his looks? easily enough ripped off. his lifestyle? disasters happen. an age old answer is death, but something tells him this man's tougher than a basic threat to kill him. not the kind to beg and cling for his life... idiot.]
I'd like to rip open your heart.
[his current life is sitting here relatively being nice. that could change.]
[ At that dark aura, Xue Yang's gaze shifts and goes sharp. Not a look of fear, but of interest: from different worlds the two of them may be, but powers built off the same concepts at their cores inevitably share some overlap regardless of the specifics of manifestation. Whatever that aura is is something else, but to Xue Yang it sure feels a hell of a lot like resentful energy. ]
You're dead?
[ The question slips out with no attempt to stop it, eagerness seeping into his tone. It suddenly makes the earlier question make a lot more sense: corpses are sensitive to neither heat nor chill. Is the outfit perhaps not the cause, but something done to hide his decay, or otherwise disguise his state?
The threat receives no hint of unease in reaction. Xue Yang's expression is that of someone who relishes playing with fire and has just spotted an unfamiliar flame. ]
[he isn't expecting fear. not from someone who mused so casually about not knowing it. lucky bastard. what kind of sheltered shit life has he gotten to live that he's never been scared before? behind his mask, his eyes narrow and his lips curl in malice. another one who lived in the light, heedless of the burden others suffered under. why the hell should they be let off free, enjoying existing in idyllic pleasure?]
I'm the one asking the question this time, idiot.
[before fisting the tower's center in a crushing grab, not caring for a moment he sends the cards crashing around his angry swat. he's never cared for a moment about winning or losing, only whether he was interested or not. there's no sense of fear or wariness in the man across from him, only a keening interest picking at his rising disgust. similar to that wretched old man leering at him in his own perverse curiosity. nothing more than a damn experiment.
he wants to ram his keyblade straight through this crap shot's chest.]
[ The soft chirp from Xue Yang's Watch goes ignored as he keeps his eyes on the other. His lips pull back further as his grin widens, once again baring those canines among closed teeth. ]
You know, knocking that down means you can't trust what I say anymore.
[ With the game over he doesn't even need to answer, much less tell the truth. But he's always been too curious even when he's found plenty of danger because of it, so he has no interest in walking away. He wants to know more about whatever is going on with the being in front of him, and there's things he can learn even without asking.
Xue Yang settles back a little in his seat, and at the question, gives a sharp bark of laughter. ]
Kill, obviously. Anyone who says otherwise is lying or a coward.
[ He tips his chin up a little. ]
Since you're asking questions, do you want to keep grabbing cards?
[the hell's he smiling at so much? bet his smile could be improved with his teeth smashed down his gullet. he's seen these kinds of eyes before, blazing from above in a leering expression of amusement and callous disregard. this damn bastard hardly sees him as anything more than entertainment.]
As if I trusted a word outta your mouth from the start.
[what he said, what him implied, what he voluntarily gave up. all of it threaded through with distrust and reminder nothing was worth holding onto here. annoying. pissing him off. the only things this man in front of him is. and he's sick of playing this stupid game. one hand fists the armrest as he rises from his seat amid leathery grits and creaks, looking for all intents and purposes as if he's ready to leave.]
Guess that makes you a lying coward.
[before abruptly planting his boot, table rim wedged against his thick sole's instep, and shoves the entire thing forward in a vicious surge. legs scrape across carpeted ground, cards flurry into the air, aiming it edge-first into xue yang's chest. or neck if he's lucky.]
[ Definitely new here. This place couldn't be trusted to play fair, but if it decided to follow certain rules for its "games", they would be followed. Xue Yang would love to figure out just how someone or something could do that; even gods back where he's from probably weren't so powerful that they could do things like determine lie from truth with absolute certainty. But the explanation and methods, like many other things, have remained elusive up to this point despite his attempted investigations.
And that isn't what he needs to focus on right now.
He's up in a single motion, hand lightly tapping on top of the table to launch his whole body over it, avoiding any collision as the object sails underneath him. There's no hesitation as he makes his own attack in response. The momentum might not quite make sense but he pushes himself off the table with that hand and manages to propel himself forwards rather fast with it, his own foot aiming for Vanitas's chest. ]
[it's a lot easier to determine truth from lie if you simply believe everyone's a two-faced liar in the first place. only goody-two-shoes vomit up crap they call "truth" when it's nothing more than feelings and thought they think'll make themselves feel better. surface level bullshit true only to one person. everything else is a lie waiting to happen. peace? agreement? fairness? truth? all of it corrodes into lies the moment a certain limit's reached and "self" erupts as the only star in their goddamn sky. why the hell would he believe anything someone says?
seems this bastard's got some skill. completely missing the table by vaulting clear over it. a soft grunt notes annoyance and he sweeps his hand, fingers curled around the handle o-
handle?]
Wha-?
[it's not appearing? his head jerks to his hand for a split second, stunned at something. impact right in his chest, slamming into something amazingly solid and stubborn. pain blooms across his sternum, little more than an ache, yet it's enough. wind rushes past his head before his back hits a machine behind, sending up a cacophony of lights and noise. so that happened... they really think it's over with this?
shadows pulse and leak around his body and he sinks both gloved hands straight into the slot machine. glass cracks as punches through its face, metal bending on its sides, those pretty little noises distort when he twists and pitches the entire thing overhead towards xue yang.]
[ Xue Yang doesn't know what the distraction was and doesn't care. He lands on his feet, regaining his balance with practiced ease as he watches Vanitas stumble back into the machine behind him.
When that resentful energy builds again Xue Yang knows something is coming, and honestly the makeshift projectile is impressively creative despite how straightforward it is. He himself wouldn't have the strength to pull off something like that, but given that this person seems to be augmenting himself with said resentful energy, it's not too surprising to see it.
He ducks to the side this time, but his current loose clothing isn't as cooperative as what he's used to. The flowing fabric catches on the side of the machine and gives his arm a solid jerk, twisting it back for an instant. Seams give way before muscle does and a sleeve tears free of the rest of the garment, continuing on to join the mangled metal when it lands. There's a concentration of heat in his shoulder that Xue Yang recognizes as a potential injury to be wary of, but a quick check determines his fingers and elbow can all still move, which is enough for him.
A laugh slips out as he goes for another kick, this time at his opponent's legs. He knows this guy is stronger than him, but he doesn't know their relative speeds just yet. Xue Yang is still testing the waters for now. ]
Tch! [his chest hardens in disappointment. here he was hoping this bastard would've been smeared across the pretty floor. would've taken hours to get the stains out of the carpet. instead, he's only managed to graze his arm. didn't even rip it out of socket. straightening up, he sets his spine and shoulders in a firm stance, one hand curled at his side in a fist, the other extended and pressed palm flat fingers splayed on another machine. it's no writhing tendril of keyblades, but an item is an item.
good enough to crush an annoying rat.]
Come on.
[blitzing him. a soft hum rumbles through his glass-covered tomb. faster than a normal human. low. muscles tense, cabled sinew and tendon, locking his heel to the floor and his leg pillared in a brace. one solid thud and xue yang's shin slams into his, barely earning a twitch. a tiny scuff of carpet under his boot's sole denotes the intensity of his pressure, powering his limb to take the hit rather than bother dodging.]
That's the best you've got?
[it hardly registers. metal screeches as he punches his fingers through the slot machine's side and wrenches its entirety off the floor. coins spill from its mouth like glittering vomit, lifted overhead with a faint mist of darkness swirling up his arm towards his handheld cudgel.]
[ By the time the machine is off the ground Xue Yang is already preparing to move away. It means that by the time it's coming down he's clear of it, the greatest danger the potential shrapnel that could spray his direction as he backs off. His opponent's speed is nothing impressive so far but he's well aware that this guy has only been throwing around the heaviest things in reach.
Their fight is hard to miss for anyone who isn't completely engrossed in their games. While many of the hotel guests have made the sane decision to clear out, there's more than one eyeing the piles of coins dumped across the floor as if just waiting for the opportunity to swoop in like vultures and profit from the chaos.
Not that Xue Yang is paying them any mind. If they want to die for wealth, what's it to him? He's busy with a fight. ]
Faster than that.
[ Does this guy have trouble with dodging, was he trying to use the opportunity, or was he just proving a point? It's still up in the air, and as much as Xue Yang enjoys a good grapple it seems particularly unwise to make that his next attempt in this particular fight. This guy is strong, and if Xue Yang gives him the opportunity, he'd probably happily take a limb.
Using the cover of the second destroyed machine Xue Yang vaults over it in an attempt to limit the available time to react. It puts gravity on his side but makes it harder to change course as he comes down from above, once again a kick, this time aimed at that helmet and whatever is beneath it. One hand keeps contact with the machine, enough that he can at least still redirect himself if needed even if he's not in a position where he'd be able to abort the movement entirely. ]
Huh? [he twitches his head up from his previous hunched smash, one hand still buried in metal and smoke. all it takes is a second for xue yang to appear through the fumes, vaulting over the entire mess in attack. shit. he jerks his hand backwards, shoulder tugging to wrench it free with a screech of aluminum. only a moment's too late as impact crushes atop his helmet. snaps his head down like a broken marionette, silver backing stabbing towards the ceiling as his neck bows under his suit.
it's no keyblade strike, but it prompts him to put a foot behind himself for balance. xue yang's evasive action reflects in the glass bowl as he lifts his head again, peering at the man with an almost animalistic mix of curious and annoyance.]
Hmph. Vermin. [got out of the way in time, hm? only a crash of metal, plastic, and glass. no wet squelches or slicing indicates the little bastard managed to avoid it. and had enough time to counterattack. it's hard to tell whether he sounds amused, impressed, disappointed, or irritated. ] So you've got some survival instinct.
[rising, he plants his foot against the ruined machine, then shoves it away with a harsh motion, sending the entire thing bouncing and scraping across the carpet. if he can't summon his keyblade at the moment, guess he'll have to do this the old fashioned way: with his own two hands.
his steps exude confidence and purpose, fists swinging at his side as he strides towards the other man at an easy clip. amazing symphony around them, isn't it, people screaming and crying out, running over each other in attempts to put as much distance between themselves and violence. cowards, the lot of them. no one even trying to step in and be a hero for this poor idiot on his deathbed.]
Should've listened to it earlier. You might've walked away from this alive.
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
no subject
[ Xue Yang laughs. ]
That's always the answer around here, right? Not like there's much else to do unless you're fucking with the ghosts. Guess I do that sometimes too, but usually it's sex.
[ He reaches out again, but before he can take another card from the middle of the structure, he pauses and redirects his reach. The next card he grabs is also from the top; if that's how this guy is playing then Xue Yang can play it like this too. If the two of them quickly pick off all the stable cards from the top row, that'll force his opponent to go for riskier cards faster.
Xue Yang looks at it and his grin abruptly turns to a pouting scowl. ]
"Do you prefer hot or cold weather?"? Who the fuck would care about hearing that answer?
[ Uninteresting or not, it's the question on the card. ]
no subject
[tone of voice dipping to something curious as much as insulting. idiots are useful. oh? he's going for the top card. seems the game's off for now in exchange for playing question answer. nice. he'd have lost his patience for keeping the house up sooner or later. brand new and all, he has nothing to lose for seeing it crumble. one by one, disassembling it.]
Ha ha ha! And I thought I kept drawing the sucky ones. [slam! he deliberately drops his arm back on the table. jostling the cards with a jump. for a few seconds, they wobble, but hold. make it more interesting. watching the man's elation turn to frustration over his query is fun. maybe he should let him go again...]
Dunno actually. All I ever experienced was dry and monotonous. By the time I left, I couldn't feel a thing. [indicating himself with a few taps to the sinew-like suit constricting every inch of his body.]
What's it like? Hot or cold. [that's the question on the card, isn't it.]
no subject
[ What "too long" is he can't say for certain, but Xue Yang has never bumped into someone in this area who could hold a conversation beyond the proclivities of the hotel, outside of the times when there's something new happening. Best he can tell, this casino is a holding area where the hotel waits for those who've degraded to reach some specific point, even maybe to outright die.
The jostling catches his eye, but when that fails to make the stack fall, he looks back to his opponent. Studies him, because he's surprised to hear that there's such a thing as a covering that removes the ability to feel hot and cold completely. That "boring" question suddenly became a lot less so. ]
Yeah? Nothing at all, huh?
Hot makes you feel like there's too much. Anything you got on? Too much clothing. You wanna take it off, then take more off even when there isn't more. Peel off your skin so you can cool down. That sorta thing. Cold's like the opposite. More and more clothes, and you want to stick more onto yourself to warm up.
no subject
[abandoning the crowds, he returns his attention to the table, finding nothing too dramatic about the news. wouldn't be the first time he's encountered a world which poisons the brain. likely these idiots aren't even aware of their own slide towards compliance and desperation. good to know at least. why are these kinds of questions not on the cards?
his opponent's(?) steel-hued eyes seem to bulge within the claustrophobic glass of his helmet, swollen masses under equally receding forehead and mouth. until he lowers or raises his head, causing his face to bulge respectively as he takes his time studying his figure. curious guy, isn't he.]
Nothing at all. [he's tone mixes resignation with satisfaction.] Sounds like weight.
[pressing down and crushing, refusing to move despite scrambling beneath to shove its suffocating pressure off. or the opposite, where everything feels like it's unraveling and a single breath's enough to break apart forever. hot and cold.]
What are you? You're not taking anything off or putting anything on.
no subject
[ Xue Yang has nowhere in particular to focus on on that helmet, so his eyes have settled on a spot that seems about right for where eyes inside of it would be, and lock onto the reflection of one particular light fixture. When that head moves, he needs to find another one.
The top half of Xue Yang's clothes are all but hanging off of him, more because of the itchiness than any temperature issues, but he hasn't made any motion to adjust them one way or the other. His pants are reasonably in place though. ]
Temperature doesn't really bother me. I wear what's practical. [ Sometimes practical is "having the space to store what he needs" and sometimes it's "whatever other people are demanding so he can get on to more interesting things than being hassled".
He gestures to the card structure. ] You gonna grab another one or just keep trying to lose on purpose by shaking it?
no subject
[he sounds both disappointed and interested. a trapped location, drowning prey in indulgence until they know nothing more than it, with no reason given. what a messed-up place. and now it has him within its grip. there are worse places to be.]
Heh. What kind of idiot would lose on purpose? [even if this game's a stupid waste of time. another card's picked off the tower, but this time, instead of the top, he takes it from one of the lower sides, risking the structure's stability when it shivers for a moment. then holds with another card's brace.]
"What scares you the most?"
[going for the jugular apparently. he leans back in the seat, flipping the card around between his index and middle fingers in a steady flicker of white. nothing requires the other man to answer, but he's been a fair sport so far. who says they can't go a little deeper?]
no subject
Fuck if I know.
[ Complete with a shrug.
What scares him the most? More like, what scares him at all? Does he actually have anything he fears? He has things he avoids, but that's because it will be more annoying, or less interesting, or things like that, if they happen. Is that fear? He doesn't think so. Fear is the sort of thing that makes people beg and piss themselves and kowtow until their foreheads bleed. Xue Yang doesn't have anything like that. (Or not that he knows of, at least.)
He goes to grab a new card and there's no indication from his Watch that the game is over, so it seems that whatever is ruling over this game has decided he's answered honestly. The card he grabbed from the top was a boring question even if it didn't have a boring answer, so he grabs from about halfway down instead and glances at it. ]
"If you could change any one thing about your current life, what would it be?"
no subject
You've never felt fear?
[not the dismissive wave of someone steeped in too many for a formed decision, but rather someone who thinks he's above the notion of being scared at all. a man devoid of one very important piece of his heart. what other emotions is this bastard bereft of? or simply says he is. sitting here in his comfortable clothes and pretty face, claiming he has nothing to dread. tiny claws of intent dig along his skin beneath his suit, the faintest hints of a dark aura, akin to steam vapor or soft flame, licks up from his shoulders. no one is devoid of fear... anyone who says they are simply hasn't been scared yet.]
Everyone has something that scares them. [irritation needles his voice, as if he's mildly ticked at xue yang's flippant claim.] I wonder what yours is.
[his looks? easily enough ripped off. his lifestyle? disasters happen. an age old answer is death, but something tells him this man's tougher than a basic threat to kill him. not the kind to beg and cling for his life... idiot.]
I'd like to rip open your heart.
[his current life is sitting here relatively being nice. that could change.]
no subject
You're dead?
[ The question slips out with no attempt to stop it, eagerness seeping into his tone. It suddenly makes the earlier question make a lot more sense: corpses are sensitive to neither heat nor chill. Is the outfit perhaps not the cause, but something done to hide his decay, or otherwise disguise his state?
The threat receives no hint of unease in reaction. Xue Yang's expression is that of someone who relishes playing with fire and has just spotted an unfamiliar flame. ]
no subject
I'm the one asking the question this time, idiot.
[before fisting the tower's center in a crushing grab, not caring for a moment he sends the cards crashing around his angry swat. he's never cared for a moment about winning or losing, only whether he was interested or not. there's no sense of fear or wariness in the man across from him, only a keening interest picking at his rising disgust. similar to that wretched old man leering at him in his own perverse curiosity. nothing more than a damn experiment.
he wants to ram his keyblade straight through this crap shot's chest.]
"Kill or be killed?"
no subject
You know, knocking that down means you can't trust what I say anymore.
[ With the game over he doesn't even need to answer, much less tell the truth. But he's always been too curious even when he's found plenty of danger because of it, so he has no interest in walking away. He wants to know more about whatever is going on with the being in front of him, and there's things he can learn even without asking.
Xue Yang settles back a little in his seat, and at the question, gives a sharp bark of laughter. ]
Kill, obviously. Anyone who says otherwise is lying or a coward.
[ He tips his chin up a little. ]
Since you're asking questions, do you want to keep grabbing cards?
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As if I trusted a word outta your mouth from the start.
[what he said, what him implied, what he voluntarily gave up. all of it threaded through with distrust and reminder nothing was worth holding onto here. annoying. pissing him off. the only things this man in front of him is. and he's sick of playing this stupid game. one hand fists the armrest as he rises from his seat amid leathery grits and creaks, looking for all intents and purposes as if he's ready to leave.]
Guess that makes you a lying coward.
[before abruptly planting his boot, table rim wedged against his thick sole's instep, and shoves the entire thing forward in a vicious surge. legs scrape across carpeted ground, cards flurry into the air, aiming it edge-first into xue yang's chest. or neck if he's lucky.]
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And that isn't what he needs to focus on right now.
He's up in a single motion, hand lightly tapping on top of the table to launch his whole body over it, avoiding any collision as the object sails underneath him. There's no hesitation as he makes his own attack in response. The momentum might not quite make sense but he pushes himself off the table with that hand and manages to propel himself forwards rather fast with it, his own foot aiming for Vanitas's chest. ]
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seems this bastard's got some skill. completely missing the table by vaulting clear over it. a soft grunt notes annoyance and he sweeps his hand, fingers curled around the handle o-
handle?]
Wha-?
[it's not appearing? his head jerks to his hand for a split second, stunned at something. impact right in his chest, slamming into something amazingly solid and stubborn. pain blooms across his sternum, little more than an ache, yet it's enough. wind rushes past his head before his back hits a machine behind, sending up a cacophony of lights and noise. so that happened... they really think it's over with this?
shadows pulse and leak around his body and he sinks both gloved hands straight into the slot machine. glass cracks as punches through its face, metal bending on its sides, those pretty little noises distort when he twists and pitches the entire thing overhead towards xue yang.]
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When that resentful energy builds again Xue Yang knows something is coming, and honestly the makeshift projectile is impressively creative despite how straightforward it is. He himself wouldn't have the strength to pull off something like that, but given that this person seems to be augmenting himself with said resentful energy, it's not too surprising to see it.
He ducks to the side this time, but his current loose clothing isn't as cooperative as what he's used to. The flowing fabric catches on the side of the machine and gives his arm a solid jerk, twisting it back for an instant. Seams give way before muscle does and a sleeve tears free of the rest of the garment, continuing on to join the mangled metal when it lands. There's a concentration of heat in his shoulder that Xue Yang recognizes as a potential injury to be wary of, but a quick check determines his fingers and elbow can all still move, which is enough for him.
A laugh slips out as he goes for another kick, this time at his opponent's legs. He knows this guy is stronger than him, but he doesn't know their relative speeds just yet. Xue Yang is still testing the waters for now. ]
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good enough to crush an annoying rat.]
Come on.
[blitzing him. a soft hum rumbles through his glass-covered tomb. faster than a normal human. low. muscles tense, cabled sinew and tendon, locking his heel to the floor and his leg pillared in a brace. one solid thud and xue yang's shin slams into his, barely earning a twitch. a tiny scuff of carpet under his boot's sole denotes the intensity of his pressure, powering his limb to take the hit rather than bother dodging.]
That's the best you've got?
[it hardly registers. metal screeches as he punches his fingers through the slot machine's side and wrenches its entirety off the floor. coins spill from its mouth like glittering vomit, lifted overhead with a faint mist of darkness swirling up his arm towards his handheld cudgel.]
Let's see how fast you are.
[and slams the entire thing down towards him.]
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Their fight is hard to miss for anyone who isn't completely engrossed in their games. While many of the hotel guests have made the sane decision to clear out, there's more than one eyeing the piles of coins dumped across the floor as if just waiting for the opportunity to swoop in like vultures and profit from the chaos.
Not that Xue Yang is paying them any mind. If they want to die for wealth, what's it to him? He's busy with a fight. ]
Faster than that.
[ Does this guy have trouble with dodging, was he trying to use the opportunity, or was he just proving a point? It's still up in the air, and as much as Xue Yang enjoys a good grapple it seems particularly unwise to make that his next attempt in this particular fight. This guy is strong, and if Xue Yang gives him the opportunity, he'd probably happily take a limb.
Using the cover of the second destroyed machine Xue Yang vaults over it in an attempt to limit the available time to react. It puts gravity on his side but makes it harder to change course as he comes down from above, once again a kick, this time aimed at that helmet and whatever is beneath it. One hand keeps contact with the machine, enough that he can at least still redirect himself if needed even if he's not in a position where he'd be able to abort the movement entirely. ]
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it's no keyblade strike, but it prompts him to put a foot behind himself for balance. xue yang's evasive action reflects in the glass bowl as he lifts his head again, peering at the man with an almost animalistic mix of curious and annoyance.]
Hmph. Vermin. [got out of the way in time, hm? only a crash of metal, plastic, and glass. no wet squelches or slicing indicates the little bastard managed to avoid it. and had enough time to counterattack. it's hard to tell whether he sounds amused, impressed, disappointed, or irritated. ] So you've got some survival instinct.
[rising, he plants his foot against the ruined machine, then shoves it away with a harsh motion, sending the entire thing bouncing and scraping across the carpet. if he can't summon his keyblade at the moment, guess he'll have to do this the old fashioned way: with his own two hands.
his steps exude confidence and purpose, fists swinging at his side as he strides towards the other man at an easy clip. amazing symphony around them, isn't it, people screaming and crying out, running over each other in attempts to put as much distance between themselves and violence. cowards, the lot of them. no one even trying to step in and be a hero for this poor idiot on his deathbed.]
Should've listened to it earlier. You might've walked away from this alive.