∞ [ action post ]

[fatespoken]

✏ LOGGING: This is your thread for logging, whether spontaneous or plot-related, silly or serious. His normal haunts include shifts at the Blue Light, various city bars, cafes, random encounters, etc. Prose preferred, [] are fine too.

✉ TO SET UP: Just drop me a line at aeloriax[at]gmail.com or Y!M/AIM (listed in the post below) to give me a heads-up. I'm open to anything as long as it fits ICly.

TRACKING:
March;
Peter & Amory [ Blue Light ] ✯ this is a song lyric [ in progress ]

Comments

just give fair warning any time you come around

[fatespoken]

[ The pain, fucking hell, the pain is unbearable, and White's not doing any favors with all the jostling he's been giving his body. Pulled up onto his ruined legs, punched in the face multiple times, and now, humiliation?

He's never experienced any antagonism- not physical, anyway- at his heritage. Now, it hits him like two bullets lodged into his thighs. He can't help but crack, ripping out another scream. The tooth slips out and drops onto the concrete. ]

You- [ He struggles to form the word, face contorted with pain. ] You... don't- You don't know shit.

[ Garlic and silver crosses? Really? He'd laugh if it wouldn't hurt ]

just give fair warning any time you come around

[whitetwoguns]

[The only satisfaction, Larry tells himself, is from the retaliation. It's just what he deserves. This has nothing to do with being damn proud to break a person down in a few moves. Or a blood lust.]

I'll take that as a yes.

[Without a bit of tenderness, he shoves the clove of garlic into Amory's mouth, whether or not he'll open up that's up to him. He'll keep shoving. Maybe there will be more loose teeth out of it.]

just give fair warning any time you come around

[fatespoken]

All of this, it's... it's a lie. Folklore and legends— misconceptions. I'm not-

[ His words are cut off by the garlic. Shoved deeper and deeper into his throat, it stimulates a gagging reflex. But he can't cough it back up, not when Larry keeps on shoving. So he chokes and gags, and resorts to breathing through his nose. The blood, clogged and drying in his nostrils, makes that a hard task. He pulls desperately at air, anyway, straining through the blood.

He doesn't want to die. Fuck, he doesn't want to die.

The fear burns sets a spark to every nerve, eclipsed only by the overwhelming shock of pain. ]

just give fair warning any time you come around

[whitetwoguns]

[One more good shove. There. That should shut him up. Larry stoops carefully. There's a chance Amory could be jerking his chain by playing the victim until the right moment. He's seen enough movies to believe that. The reason why he's crouching is to retrieve the tooth. He holds it up to the light between two fingers. Looks like a molar. Well. Not quite what he wanted but good enough.]

Simmer down now. It'll all be over soon.

[He reaches into the blazer trading the tooth for his Smith and Wesson's piece again. Slowly, Mr. White stands, pulling back the safety.]

Don't feel too good, huh?

just give fair warning any time you come around

[fatespoken]

[ What you're looking for isn't there, Mr. White, if elongated canines are your goal.

Embarrassment or shame doesn't even cross his mind. Those sorts of emotions become frivolous once you're lying on the concrete, bleeding to death. And Amory's far too weak to even try at his magic, with every effort akin to dragging a five-hundred pound weight. The smart thing would be to save his strength to mend his legs partially, but the prospect of even moving, no less reaching that far, seems insurmountable.

He moans throatily through the garlic, and refuses to cry.]

just give fair warning any time you come around

[whitetwoguns]

[See though, he didn't know that. That's just fine though. Looks like Amory won't be pulling any more unnecessary bullshit. Cursed or not. The barrel of his gun stays fixed at the prone man's head.]

I ought to just bust you open right here.

[One more moment, the gun fixes on him. Larry debates on firing again this time off target just so he could shit his pants. Looks like he's done enough though. Like clockwork he clicks the safety off and tucks the gun away.]

Now you listen to me, you piece of shit. I can and will come after you again if you so much as step a toe out of line. Today I'm gonna let you go. Think long and hard about what'll happen if there's a next time.

[Mr. White adjusts his coat, surveying the scene before turning away, back to the streetlight. Not a speedy get away. In case if this chumps got something to say, or some trick up his sleeve. Over his shoulder he calls out] Happy Thanksgiving, Asshole.