(He just cannot believe it. It's strange on its own to have found someone who isn't a Spider that he just feels at home with, let alone to have fucked said person... And to be here, in said person's apartment ever since, wearing his clothes and being in his company.
Fei has already woken up, got the coffee going, did a little coke line because he finds that he really likes this goddamn thing, and now he's quietly "reading" his book (or honestly looking at the pictures) when Squalo makes himself present. It's nonchalantly that Feitan removes his sword from within his umbrella, pointed directly at the man while the rest of him barely moves.)
[ Squalo was not expecting Feitan to just go and decide not to leave, but he doesn't have any complaints. He'd never been particularly good at being alone, which was maybe why he thrived so well in a tight-knit group. Everyone he got close to in Hell kept leaving him, and he'd always tell himself that next time, he will know better. He won't be invested. He won't let himself get broken. But it happens again. Part of him is already worried that it will happen now, too, as soon as he really allows himself to be happy, to enjoy the company of someone who seems to get him on so many levels. Which is quite a rare feat, even in Hell. ]
[ Normal people have morning blowjobs. These fuckers have this. ]
[ Squalo pours himself a cup of coffee, lazily drawing his own blade from its sheath, and points it back. The tips of their swords are almost touching. Who said romance is dead. ]
I thought you'd never ask. [ He smirks and takes a gulp from his mug. ] Wanna take it outside or?
[ His space is pretty big, but it's still confined by whatever castle tower it's located in. It could be challenging in its own way, he supposes, not losing one's footing over the furniture and whatever else Mammon has prepared for him. He's not concerned about damaging anything; it's not like he paid for it or has any particular attachment. ]
(Feitan too hasn't really given too much thought as to why he hasn't just gotten his shit and left yet. Probably has to do with the fact that the man feels and tastes like home, and Feitan doesn't have it in him to leave home. It's the closest thing he has to his normalcy, and he'll take it.
There's no time to even answer, because Feitan is already striking the blade with his full strength, blinking to the side and lunging. Fuck your morning coffee, Squalo.)
[ It's fucking rude to separate an italian from their coffee though. ]
[ Squalo has just enough time to grin, that unmistakeable manic look in his eye, before their swords meet. He manages to hold onto the cup for the first blow, but it's clear enough he needs to get his shit together when the smaller man near-teleports to the side. ]
[ Focus. Move. ]
[ He leaps backwards, and rather than his jugular, Feitan's strike hits a falling coffee mug. He might splash himself with it, though it's not particularly hot anymore. ]
[ Squalo's using that moment to try and dart behind the other man, too fast for normal eyes, though he's aware he's still some steps behind his opponent in speed. ]
The coffee splashing doesn't even bother Fei, there won't be a single moment spared to mourn it before he's already turning behind him. Listen, literally the entire Troupe moves like this. It's normal Nen user bullshit, even when Feitan himself excels at it particularly.
If only Squalo could see his aura, a white mist around him giving him that last boost he needed, a little nice combo with the coke and the coffee, you see? He's so goddamn wired. He won't lose time before his wrist moves the sword, attempting to disarm Squalo with a series of quickfire blows.
[ Speaking of which, Squalo is still convinced that no human should be able to move like this. Likewise, his group back home was pushing limits on what was physically possible, and this was a blow to his pride. At least, he thinks, it's a little easier to follow his movements a second time. Baby steps. ]
[ The disarming maneuver would have worked if it was literally anybody but Squalo. He's improved himself to be safe from exactly this sort of assault, however; he wields his sword in his left hand normally, and no matter how many blows it needs to hold, his grip doesn't falter because it's fucking mechanical. He doesn't risk blocking with it on purpose this time, just in case hopped-up-on-coffee-and-cocaine Feitan can hit hard enough to cut through reinforced titanium and carbon fiber, but it still makes his hold steadier than it would be otherwise as he does his damnedest to defend. ]
[ It's not enough. He needs to go on the offensive. ]
[ He leaps backwards, kicking a coffee table at Feitan in the process, trying to gain a bit more distance, and rather than take a wide swing, he tries to jab right past the other's defenses. Fast. Multiple times. It's like there's a bunch of swords chewing away at the air in front of him. ]
(STILL A YOU PROBLEM, SQUALO, LOOK AT HOW MANY FUCKS FEITAN DOESN'T GIVE.
Is it cheating if you're holding on to your sword with a prosthetic, and thus normal reflexes don't apply? Maybe. Feitan doesn't particularly mind, but it does mean that he's taking full advantage of his aura. Perhaps it can be sensed, the energy that surrounds the short man as he attacks, likewise in the sense that his blows more look like blurs as he makes each move count.
While the coffee table should normally be a deterrent, it does really nothing when Feitan is able to jump atop of the edge, propel himself to the ceiling when he's got an opening and then, use his calf to force himself down. The sword hits a leg, and the blood gushes when Feitan pulls the sword toward himself, and falls on his feet.)
[ Something's going on there. Squalo's instincts are as keen as any beast's, and while he may not be able to see the aura, he can probably sense it once he's been in its vicinity often enough. For now it's just something unclear, a weird vibe of sorts, as if something under his skin is trying to warn him. ]
[ A nice maneuver, he thinks, but not nice enough, as he raises his sword to meet the attack from above and -- the fucker manages to dodge it in midair. Kicking off the ceiling, probably, and Squalo swears as his blade only catches the edge of a (not) oversized shirt. ]
[ Then there's a sting in his thigh. ]
[ Fuck. ]
[ The blade comes out of the wound and the leg gives out, sending him down on one knee, but he's pulled through worse than this. He doesn't wait for the finishing blow; immediately he rolls backwards -- damn it, he keeps retreating, and he still got injured -- flinging a knife that he's retrieved from who knows where toward Feitan's neck, and forcing himself back to his feet. ]
[ It's over. He won't be able to move like he did before. But he does not acknowledge that, raising his sword in a defensive position again as blood streams down his leg. His grin's still on his face, too. What a lunatic. ]
(Oh, the giggle comes out. Is Squalo already used to it, or does he still find it cute? It's easy to dodge. Nen helps in the sense of making him physically stronger, more durable, and Feitan hasn't even employed any of the basics aside from Ten - the aura around him that protects from another's. It's a habit, and a good one to have when you're NORMALLY surrounded by these motherfuckers who can use Nen.
It's very easy to dodge the knife, at most it just gives a superficial cut before it sticks to the wall behind him. Fei doesn't hesitate to plant a foot against the man's chest to put him to the ground.)
[ He probably still does, and he probably will for a long time. ]
Fuck that. I have experience. What's --
[ Squalo hasn't managed to straighten up fully yet when he's being pushed back down. His balance is already shot to hell, essentially standing on one leg, so down he goes. And smirks. ]
[ And grabs Feitan's fucking ankle that's kicking him down with his free hand, trying to run him through with the sword while he thinks he's got him anchored. ]
[ You may need to hurt him a little more to stop him from fighting, babe. ]
(Not a smart thing. Grabbing him by the ankle only means that he's concentrating his aura on his foot and he steps on the wrist to pin him while there's another dodge of the sword. Sneaky motherfucker.)
What's what?
(And Feitan's own sword dances towards Squalo's neck, gently cutting the surface just to get a few drops of blood off of it.
[ Fuck. Squalo growls, turning in a last ditch attempt to free himself from being stepped on with another swing of his sword. And then he feels that familiar cool steel on his throat, and goes still. ]
[ Fuck. ]
[ He doubts Feitan believes in surrender. Squalo certainly doesn't. Then again, they've also been quite lenient on each other so far. Still, he can't make himself drop the weapon; instead he just goes sort of limp, tilting his head slightly backwards as if to get away from the blade, but he still has his teeth bared in that manic grin, and he's maintaining eye contact. ]
[ Damn, the small guy looks hot from here. The blade against his skin just makes it more so. He swallows. ]
(This is why Feitan likes Squalo. Because they're so painfully similar that they both know Feitan won't hesitate into sliding that neck, although the blade is teasing more than puncturing as if it's a symphony of violence that Feitan plays.
And without warning, Fei sinks the blade against the muscle. Squalo is gone from the time being. Not that it really matters to Fei, as he just jumps over the body and goes back to his book, sips on his coffee, like nothing big has ever happened between these walls.
When Squalo comes back, Feitan's already showered and in a sweater, eyes closed as if he was meditating. He can definitely be seen, but he's shut his aura so damn well that it feels like there's not another soul in the room. He cannot be sensed - it's called Zetsu, and he doesn't turn it off when he hears the door open.)
[ True to himself, Squalo dies with a grin, and possibly a boner, gayly defiantly staring Feitan in the face even as blood bubbles past his lips. A couple moments later, the fire goes out in his eyes, and he goes still, red pooling under him and slowly dying his spread out hair. ]
[ It's after midnight that he wakes up in his bed with a gasp. He doesn't move for a long while, the room spinning before his eyes, his whole body aching. At least he doesn't feel sick to his stomach this time, so eventually he decides to make another attempt to get that goddamn coffee. ]
[ It seems that his little friend has left, he concludes as he drags himself toward the lounge. His instincts are excellent, and he's pretty good at sensing a presence - the complete emptiness suggests he's alone. ]
[ He pushes the door open and ]
[ KASJHKJAS MOTHERFUCK HE'S STILL HERE?! ]
[ He actually flinches a little in surprise when he sees him. How. What the hell. His lips curl slightly in something between a grin and a bare of teeth. ]
I didn't technically leave.
[ Yeah, just because he's not mad enough to tell you to get out for this doesn't mean that he won't be a little bitch pain about it. He's very pointedly making his way to wherever he'd left his phone. ]
(Motherfucker is still here, for sure! Listen, Squalo asked to die. He knows better than to tell a merciless murderer to finish the job and expect him to offer a hand for him to get up again. It matters very little that Fei actually does like this particular motherfucker. He'll come back, anyway.
Gently, he continues his state of Zetsu when he stands up, and he'll even be as nice as to pour the coffee for them. Poor Squalo.)
[ Listen, he had his honor as a warrior to think of. Either he wins or he dies, anything else is unacceptable. Speaking of which, he's absolutely salty about earlier. He still takes the coffee, though. That's one fucking long way around to get some coffee, seriously. ]
[ He looks distracted, but despite the sickness he feels, he's already mentally replaying their fight, looking for things he should have done differently. ]
Ish. [ Looooong sip. Did you miss him? Oh hey, maybe he's about to say something romantic -- ] What's "nen"?
[ Haha, yeah, no. He's got one track mind and he has to get to the bottom of his defeat. ]
(Feitan allows the small of his back to touch the coffee table, both hands taking the mug before it's elevated to his lips. It's a good coffee, and he allows his eyes to close to take the taste in.
Or, well, he was enjoying it until Squalo asked something important.)
[ Oh. That sort of thing. Squalo groans a little. ]
Can't you do it in thirty words or less?
[ But fine. Fine. He needs to know. Which means he hauls ass to retrieve a notebook and pen (or, possibly, parchment and quill considering this place) from near the door, and half-heartedly throws it at Feitan. ]
[ He does a double-take when said presence is back. What is this shit. He glances at his coffee just to make sure Feitan's coke or some laundry detergent hadn't somehow make it there. ]
[ He leans forward, focused on the circle. He may not seem like much of a study, but he can be attentive when he chooses to. His eyes do dart to Feitan for a moment. ]
That's kind of random. [ Does he mean like, sunlight or ]
[ wait a minute. ]
[ He thinks he saw something like a miniatiure fucking star in the far distance during the battle. Was that by any chance -- ] I'm gonna need more details on that.
(Even Feitan is slightly taken aback by the intensity of this interest, woa, he thought it was going to just be a boring Nen 101. Alright? He shrugs his tiny shoulders.
Worth of mentioning that Squalo is probably the person who's seen Feitan's face the most. He hasn't put on his bandana in days, look at that. With a sip first, he starts to explain.)
I am transmuter. I change quality of aura to thing. I transmute quantity of pain received, into aura, into mini sun. Boom. Scorch.
[ somebody might have a burning people to death fetish. totally unrelated to his longtime crush on his boss. nothing to see here move along. ]
[ Also whoa, the privileges just don't stop coming! Sure, there's no reason to overdress at home. Squalo has probably noticed that it's unusual, though. He does so enjoy feeling special, not that he needs any particular reason to do so, but it's still extra nice when there are some. ]
[ He listens to the eloquent explanation. The ending reminds him a little of Yamamoto trying to describe his technique with sound effects and feels the tiniest pang of longing. Then he shoves it all to the side so he can focus on the now. ]
Hey, that sounds amazing. [ And he sounds genuine. There's some wonder in his eyes and all. ] Received? Does that mean you gotta take damage to do it?
Yes. Even little damage make sun. No hold back. Almost kill Spider.
(And this is why the Troupe has no idea what Rising Sun looks like. They'd expressed they've wanted to see it, but then again, it's the fucking SUN.
Not a wise thing to stay around for. Oxygen lacks, atop of the scorching heat that dissipates the skin and muscles from inside out. Almost an ode to Meteor City's desert.)
Best friend control person from phone. Nen adapts to person personality.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the apartment - mammon's land
Fei has already woken up, got the coffee going, did a little coke line because he finds that he really likes this goddamn thing, and now he's quietly "reading" his book (or honestly looking at the pictures) when Squalo makes himself present. It's nonchalantly that Feitan removes his sword from within his umbrella, pointed directly at the man while the rest of him barely moves.)
You fight me.
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[ Normal people have morning blowjobs. These fuckers have this. ]
[ Squalo pours himself a cup of coffee, lazily drawing his own blade from its sheath, and points it back. The tips of their swords are almost touching. Who said romance is dead. ]
I thought you'd never ask. [ He smirks and takes a gulp from his mug. ] Wanna take it outside or?
[ His space is pretty big, but it's still confined by whatever castle tower it's located in. It could be challenging in its own way, he supposes, not losing one's footing over the furniture and whatever else Mammon has prepared for him. He's not concerned about damaging anything; it's not like he paid for it or has any particular attachment. ]
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There's no time to even answer, because Feitan is already striking the blade with his full strength, blinking to the side and lunging. Fuck your morning coffee, Squalo.)
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[ It's fucking rude to separate an italian from their coffee though. ]
[ Squalo has just enough time to grin, that unmistakeable manic look in his eye, before their swords meet. He manages to hold onto the cup for the first blow, but it's clear enough he needs to get his shit together when the smaller man near-teleports to the side. ]
[ Focus. Move. ]
[ He leaps backwards, and rather than his jugular, Feitan's strike hits a falling coffee mug. He might splash himself with it, though it's not particularly hot anymore. ]
[ Squalo's using that moment to try and dart behind the other man, too fast for normal eyes, though he's aware he's still some steps behind his opponent in speed. ]
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The coffee splashing doesn't even bother Fei, there won't be a single moment spared to mourn it before he's already turning behind him. Listen, literally the entire Troupe moves like this. It's normal Nen user bullshit, even when Feitan himself excels at it particularly.
If only Squalo could see his aura, a white mist around him giving him that last boost he needed, a little nice combo with the coke and the coffee, you see? He's so goddamn wired. He won't lose time before his wrist moves the sword, attempting to disarm Squalo with a series of quickfire blows.
God, he's gonna bone this man.)
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[ Speaking of which, Squalo is still convinced that no human should be able to move like this. Likewise, his group back home was pushing limits on what was physically possible, and this was a blow to his pride. At least, he thinks, it's a little easier to follow his movements a second time. Baby steps. ]
[ The disarming maneuver would have worked if it was literally anybody but Squalo. He's improved himself to be safe from exactly this sort of assault, however; he wields his sword in his left hand normally, and no matter how many blows it needs to hold, his grip doesn't falter because it's fucking mechanical. He doesn't risk blocking with it on purpose this time, just in case hopped-up-on-coffee-and-cocaine Feitan can hit hard enough to cut through reinforced titanium and carbon fiber, but it still makes his hold steadier than it would be otherwise as he does his damnedest to defend. ]
[ It's not enough. He needs to go on the offensive. ]
[ He leaps backwards, kicking a coffee table at Feitan in the process, trying to gain a bit more distance, and rather than take a wide swing, he tries to jab right past the other's defenses. Fast. Multiple times. It's like there's a bunch of swords chewing away at the air in front of him. ]
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Is it cheating if you're holding on to your sword with a prosthetic, and thus normal reflexes don't apply? Maybe. Feitan doesn't particularly mind, but it does mean that he's taking full advantage of his aura. Perhaps it can be sensed, the energy that surrounds the short man as he attacks, likewise in the sense that his blows more look like blurs as he makes each move count.
While the coffee table should normally be a deterrent, it does really nothing when Feitan is able to jump atop of the edge, propel himself to the ceiling when he's got an opening and then, use his calf to force himself down. The sword hits a leg, and the blood gushes when Feitan pulls the sword toward himself, and falls on his feet.)
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[ A nice maneuver, he thinks, but not nice enough, as he raises his sword to meet the attack from above and -- the fucker manages to dodge it in midair. Kicking off the ceiling, probably, and Squalo swears as his blade only catches the edge of a (not) oversized shirt. ]
[ Then there's a sting in his thigh. ]
[ Fuck. ]
[ The blade comes out of the wound and the leg gives out, sending him down on one knee, but he's pulled through worse than this. He doesn't wait for the finishing blow; immediately he rolls backwards -- damn it, he keeps retreating, and he still got injured -- flinging a knife that he's retrieved from who knows where toward Feitan's neck, and forcing himself back to his feet. ]
[ It's over. He won't be able to move like he did before. But he does not acknowledge that, raising his sword in a defensive position again as blood streams down his leg. His grin's still on his face, too. What a lunatic. ]
How the hell did you get past me?
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It's very easy to dodge the knife, at most it just gives a superficial cut before it sticks to the wall behind him. Fei doesn't hesitate to plant a foot against the man's chest to put him to the ground.)
Experience. Nen help little, too.
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Fuck that. I have experience. What's --
[ Squalo hasn't managed to straighten up fully yet when he's being pushed back down. His balance is already shot to hell, essentially standing on one leg, so down he goes. And smirks. ]
[ And grabs Feitan's fucking ankle that's kicking him down with his free hand, trying to run him through with the sword while he thinks he's got him anchored. ]
[ You may need to hurt him a little more to stop him from fighting, babe. ]
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What's what?
(And Feitan's own sword dances towards Squalo's neck, gently cutting the surface just to get a few drops of blood off of it.
Holy shit, he's turned on. Help????)
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[ Fuck. ]
[ He doubts Feitan believes in surrender. Squalo certainly doesn't. Then again, they've also been quite lenient on each other so far. Still, he can't make himself drop the weapon; instead he just goes sort of limp, tilting his head slightly backwards as if to get away from the blade, but he still has his teeth bared in that manic grin, and he's maintaining eye contact. ]
[ Damn, the small guy looks hot from here. The blade against his skin just makes it more so. He swallows. ]
Go on. Do it.
[ Nothing like taunting to finish the job, huh? ]
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And without warning, Fei sinks the blade against the muscle. Squalo is gone from the time being. Not that it really matters to Fei, as he just jumps over the body and goes back to his book, sips on his coffee, like nothing big has ever happened between these walls.
When Squalo comes back, Feitan's already showered and in a sweater, eyes closed as if he was meditating. He can definitely be seen, but he's shut his aura so damn well that it feels like there's not another soul in the room. He cannot be sensed - it's called Zetsu, and he doesn't turn it off when he hears the door open.)
Welcome home.
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and possibly a boner, gaylydefiantly staring Feitan in the face even as blood bubbles past his lips. A couple moments later, the fire goes out in his eyes, and he goes still, red pooling under him and slowly dying his spread out hair. ][ It's after midnight that he wakes up in his bed with a gasp. He doesn't move for a long while, the room spinning before his eyes, his whole body aching. At least he doesn't feel sick to his stomach this time, so eventually he decides to make another attempt to get that goddamn coffee. ]
[ It seems that his little friend has left, he concludes as he drags himself toward the lounge. His instincts are excellent, and he's pretty good at sensing a presence - the complete emptiness suggests he's alone. ]
[ He pushes the door open and ]
[ KASJHKJAS MOTHERFUCK HE'S STILL HERE?! ]
[ He actually flinches a little in surprise when he sees him. How. What the hell. His lips curl slightly in something between a grin and a bare of teeth. ]
I didn't technically leave.
[ Yeah, just because he's not mad enough to tell you to get out for this doesn't mean that he won't be a
little bitchpain about it. He's very pointedly making his way to wherever he'd left his phone. ]no subject
(Motherfucker is still here, for sure! Listen, Squalo asked to die. He knows better than to tell a merciless murderer to finish the job and expect him to offer a hand for him to get up again. It matters very little that Fei actually does like this particular motherfucker. He'll come back, anyway.
Gently, he continues his state of Zetsu when he stands up, and he'll even be as nice as to pour the coffee for them. Poor Squalo.)
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[ He looks distracted, but despite the sickness he feels, he's already mentally replaying their fight, looking for things he should have done differently. ]
Ish. [ Looooong sip. Did you miss him? Oh hey, maybe he's about to say something romantic -- ] What's "nen"?
[ Haha, yeah, no. He's got one track mind and he has to get to the bottom of his defeat. ]
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Or, well, he was enjoying it until Squalo asked something important.)
Find pen and paper and I explain.
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Can't you do it in thirty words or less?
[ But fine. Fine. He needs to know. Which means he hauls ass to retrieve a notebook and pen (or, possibly, parchment and quill considering this place) from near the door, and half-heartedly throws it at Feitan. ]
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(And the pen and paper is going to be needed later on.)
Technique for manipulating life energy. Many different application. Make person stronger.
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[ That... sounds a lot like the Dying Will Flames, actually. Which he helpfully doesn't mention for now. ]
Give me some examples.
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(For starters. Now that he releases Zetsu into a much more natural state, it's almost like he's alive again. Tangible.)
Is principle. Nen serve for many things. Everyone use Nen differently.
(And he'll draw an hexagon, circling the first tip to the right.)
I am transmuter. I transmute aura from pain into sun.
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[ He does a double-take when said presence is back. What is this shit. He glances at his coffee just to make sure Feitan's coke or some laundry detergent hadn't somehow make it there. ]
[ He leans forward, focused on the circle. He may not seem like much of a study, but he can be attentive when he chooses to. His eyes do dart to Feitan for a moment. ]
That's kind of random. [ Does he mean like, sunlight or ]
[ wait a minute. ]
[ He thinks he saw something like a miniatiure fucking star in the far distance during the battle. Was that by any chance -- ] I'm gonna need more details on that.
[ Suddenly he looks extremely interested??? ]
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Worth of mentioning that Squalo is probably the person who's seen Feitan's face the most. He hasn't put on his bandana in days, look at that. With a sip first, he starts to explain.)
I am transmuter. I change quality of aura to thing. I transmute quantity of pain received, into aura, into mini sun. Boom. Scorch.
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[ Also whoa, the privileges just don't stop coming! Sure, there's no reason to overdress at home. Squalo has probably noticed that it's unusual, though. He does so enjoy feeling special, not that he needs any particular reason to do so, but it's still extra nice when there are some. ]
[ He listens to the eloquent explanation. The ending reminds him a little of Yamamoto trying to describe his technique with sound effects and feels the tiniest pang of longing. Then he shoves it all to the side so he can focus on the now. ]
Hey, that sounds amazing. [ And he sounds genuine. There's some wonder in his eyes and all. ] Received? Does that mean you gotta take damage to do it?
[ IF IT QUACKS LIKE AN M... ]
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(And this is why the Troupe has no idea what Rising Sun looks like. They'd expressed they've wanted to see it, but then again, it's the fucking SUN.
Not a wise thing to stay around for. Oxygen lacks, atop of the scorching heat that dissipates the skin and muscles from inside out. Almost an ode to Meteor City's desert.)
Best friend control person from phone. Nen adapts to person personality.
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cw: ???
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wrap