Re: The Spectacular Exhibition (S3G2) [Round 1: Parallels/Perpendicularities]
02-06-2011, 07:32 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by whoosh!.
Nemaeus allowed himself a smile as the rabid creature fell under his control. For a brief moment their eyes were locked, and they exhaled and inhaled in perfect unison. He began to sway, almost imperceptibly, and the spellbound aardvark slowly followed suit.
"S'alright. I'm not going to hurt you, little buddy," he whispered silkily, widening his smile into a carnivorous grin.
Suddenly, the drooping eyes of the aardvark snapped open, and its nostrils flared. And Nemaeus, instead of taking the advice of his screaming brain, froze in his kneeling position.
The first hit was little more than a ragged scratch, searing down the side of his quickly turned face. A strangled scream escaped the suited man as he blindly kicked at the huge creature and grasped for his fur cape. Blazaard in turn screeched as the leg hit its intended target.
For a few seconds there was a chaos, and above it: the soft clinking of Red, approaching. Lurking just beneath that noise was a nigh inaudible whirring: the patient growl of the unstoppable machine.
Nemaeus emerged from the confusion staggering and sporting two cuts on his face, the blood trickling down his face in tiny streams. He ran a hand over his blood and flicked it off into the disturbed snow. There the droplets splattered and steamed, a starkly inscribed message that the battle had indeed begun.
Hung over his other arm, however, was the wolf skin. Nemaeus grinned crookedly.
A few metres away Blazaard crouched, snarling.
“Must have a good fiery reason for hating me, little buddy. Normally once I get you guys that far under you’re gone for good. Point of no return, if you like.” His grin flattened into a grimace, and he squinted. “Course, it could just be that you’re smarter than I took you for-“
Nemaeus had been inching forward as he began to speak, but he quickly cut off his speech with a hiss. Blazaard was on the move, lunging into the stride of a long lope. Hardly flinching, the man also leapt forward unfurling the skin like a sail. And once again, above the faint scuffle in the snow Red’s approach was announced in those terrible clinks, uniform and unwavering. Even the screeching of a rising wind did little to carry it away from the brawlers.
Nemaeus’ mind crashed back to earth as he and the aardvark collided. A series of coughs exploded from him as the damn animal winded him, but he kept his focus and encircled the thing in his fur, holding it in the tightest grip he could muster. While the creature shrieked and flailed he valiantly pushed himself forward and rested his body weight on top of the aardvark. Exhausted, he allowed himself to briefly close his eyes and freely pant.
But then he realized that the ever-present clanking had stopped.
His eyes flicked open.
“Who,” an angry voice snapped, “are you?”
Nemaeus allowed himself a smile as the rabid creature fell under his control. For a brief moment their eyes were locked, and they exhaled and inhaled in perfect unison. He began to sway, almost imperceptibly, and the spellbound aardvark slowly followed suit.
"S'alright. I'm not going to hurt you, little buddy," he whispered silkily, widening his smile into a carnivorous grin.
Suddenly, the drooping eyes of the aardvark snapped open, and its nostrils flared. And Nemaeus, instead of taking the advice of his screaming brain, froze in his kneeling position.
The first hit was little more than a ragged scratch, searing down the side of his quickly turned face. A strangled scream escaped the suited man as he blindly kicked at the huge creature and grasped for his fur cape. Blazaard in turn screeched as the leg hit its intended target.
For a few seconds there was a chaos, and above it: the soft clinking of Red, approaching. Lurking just beneath that noise was a nigh inaudible whirring: the patient growl of the unstoppable machine.
Nemaeus emerged from the confusion staggering and sporting two cuts on his face, the blood trickling down his face in tiny streams. He ran a hand over his blood and flicked it off into the disturbed snow. There the droplets splattered and steamed, a starkly inscribed message that the battle had indeed begun.
Hung over his other arm, however, was the wolf skin. Nemaeus grinned crookedly.
A few metres away Blazaard crouched, snarling.
“Must have a good fiery reason for hating me, little buddy. Normally once I get you guys that far under you’re gone for good. Point of no return, if you like.” His grin flattened into a grimace, and he squinted. “Course, it could just be that you’re smarter than I took you for-“
Nemaeus had been inching forward as he began to speak, but he quickly cut off his speech with a hiss. Blazaard was on the move, lunging into the stride of a long lope. Hardly flinching, the man also leapt forward unfurling the skin like a sail. And once again, above the faint scuffle in the snow Red’s approach was announced in those terrible clinks, uniform and unwavering. Even the screeching of a rising wind did little to carry it away from the brawlers.
Nemaeus’ mind crashed back to earth as he and the aardvark collided. A series of coughs exploded from him as the damn animal winded him, but he kept his focus and encircled the thing in his fur, holding it in the tightest grip he could muster. While the creature shrieked and flailed he valiantly pushed himself forward and rested his body weight on top of the aardvark. Exhausted, he allowed himself to briefly close his eyes and freely pant.
But then he realized that the ever-present clanking had stopped.
His eyes flicked open.
“Who,” an angry voice snapped, “are you?”