Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 1: The Labyrinth Field!]
10-03-2009, 04:58 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.
The abruptness of Maxwell's question put Cabaret a tad off-balance, but in answer he just shrugged.
"I dunno. I haven't met many yet. The Faceless... it... erm, she... it was weird. Sent chills down my spine I'll tell you. It seemed..."
Cabaret stopped, a little lost for words. Summing up the darkness, the solemnness, the hatred within that shadowy void, the impatience it had with him, the fury conveyed in a few scars in the soil that formed words with unsettling air of mystery about them.
He gave up. Much less pain, that way. A shrug or two would suffice.
Maxwell, realising that there were deeper layers of meaning to the result, unfathomable enigmas best left untouched, just nodded.
"And that thing... The Sunset. It's watching us now. I t-"
"Pardon?"
Maxwell swung round, almost overbalancing as he immediately tried to correct his mistake, to make his actions less obvious. He didn't fall, but he didn't half look odd. The Sunset just stayed still, observing their trifling affairs from a distance. Maxwell returned the stare for a while, but was forced too soon to blink and look away.
"This... how peturbing... he..."
The infamous grin returned to the fringes of his mouth. Bending down, he motioned for Cabaret to come closer. Concerned, the magician drifted over, and a hand cupped his ear from what seemed like out of nowhere.
"Cabaret, this is important. From what the Observer said, The Sunset has no human operator. That suit of armour, though inhabited by a soul, is not home to one of the flesh. Whether or not he is robotic or not remains to be seen, but somehow, he can recognise different emotions and express them himself. I think he knows you're sc- we're scared. I think he's used to this. I think he was almost... smug... but not quite. He is a fighter, that is obvious. He's been in situations like this before. By the looks of things, he is used to much more dangerous foes than an erratic professor, a selection of boxes, a conjurer and so on.
But he's scared.
He's too stiff, even for a machine. His face... those eyes... the frequency of the smoke... what's scaring him?"
The retraction was as sudden as the arrival. Cabaret felt now a hand on his shoulder, briefly by most standards, but it lingered maybe a second or so too long. Whether it was to reassure him or to establish superiority (either way, he thought...), he had no time to find out, for now Maxwell was striding away, towards the wall where the stuffed toy met its demise. Cabaret thought of warning him, but Maxwell's monologue was starting to filter through...
The abruptness of Maxwell's question put Cabaret a tad off-balance, but in answer he just shrugged.
"I dunno. I haven't met many yet. The Faceless... it... erm, she... it was weird. Sent chills down my spine I'll tell you. It seemed..."
Cabaret stopped, a little lost for words. Summing up the darkness, the solemnness, the hatred within that shadowy void, the impatience it had with him, the fury conveyed in a few scars in the soil that formed words with unsettling air of mystery about them.
He gave up. Much less pain, that way. A shrug or two would suffice.
Maxwell, realising that there were deeper layers of meaning to the result, unfathomable enigmas best left untouched, just nodded.
"And that thing... The Sunset. It's watching us now. I t-"
"Pardon?"
Maxwell swung round, almost overbalancing as he immediately tried to correct his mistake, to make his actions less obvious. He didn't fall, but he didn't half look odd. The Sunset just stayed still, observing their trifling affairs from a distance. Maxwell returned the stare for a while, but was forced too soon to blink and look away.
"This... how peturbing... he..."
The infamous grin returned to the fringes of his mouth. Bending down, he motioned for Cabaret to come closer. Concerned, the magician drifted over, and a hand cupped his ear from what seemed like out of nowhere.
"Cabaret, this is important. From what the Observer said, The Sunset has no human operator. That suit of armour, though inhabited by a soul, is not home to one of the flesh. Whether or not he is robotic or not remains to be seen, but somehow, he can recognise different emotions and express them himself. I think he knows you're sc- we're scared. I think he's used to this. I think he was almost... smug... but not quite. He is a fighter, that is obvious. He's been in situations like this before. By the looks of things, he is used to much more dangerous foes than an erratic professor, a selection of boxes, a conjurer and so on.
But he's scared.
He's too stiff, even for a machine. His face... those eyes... the frequency of the smoke... what's scaring him?"
The retraction was as sudden as the arrival. Cabaret felt now a hand on his shoulder, briefly by most standards, but it lingered maybe a second or so too long. Whether it was to reassure him or to establish superiority (either way, he thought...), he had no time to find out, for now Maxwell was striding away, towards the wall where the stuffed toy met its demise. Cabaret thought of warning him, but Maxwell's monologue was starting to filter through...