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Post by ‹ kˆ†eworth › on Nov 7, 2010 21:10:23 GMT -8
< 145 Rhycher - to dissect us >
I didn't know scientists - …murderous scientists..? - could feel this upbeat~
That's what happens when you find out that you're going to have a kid. A second one. At least.. it's what happens when you're a murderous scientist.
Rhycher leaned forward to rest on his left knee, using his hands to dig through a pile of potentially useful-looking items. It may not be his first child, but he was determined, this time, to make the body himself. The last one they'd had to commission from 70 and.. let's just say that 70 has never been Rhycher's favorite anima. He half expected the medic to tap on their shoulders at any time to demand payment for letting them stay in his house after their own home had been infiltrated and destroyed by the BRAIN's minions.
He paused in his search for parts and looked up. The theater was in view, and all it marked in Rhycher's head was the fact that they were indebted to yet another family. No, two families. The copper-framed ragdoll grumbled to himself as he resumed his digging, wondering if he should feel bad about ranking Donnie, 371, Stronghold, and Ven even lower on his tolerance list than 70.
He didn't allow these thoughts to poison his good mood and soon he was almost humming aloud as he pulled a nice long piece of metal from the pile. It would make a good arm or leg.
The prospect of another child was exciting to Rhycher. It wasn't as if he was so used to the opposite - after all, the only soul he'd ever killed directly was Southern Cross. He wasn't.. that much of a killer. Yet the knowledge that he was helping bring another soul into the world excited him like nothing could. And with Lilith. The thought of her made his optics flicker back up to the large building not far off, and he wondered idly what she was up to. Resting? Talking with someone? But soon the twitterpated look on his face was replaced with anxiety. He'd come out here to look for parts and brainstorm names, and here he was daydreaming. What were good names for a kid..?
The dulled copper of his fingers scraped uncomfortably against a small pipe, but he ignored it. Even with so many worries, it was just too good of a day to let something small like that get on his nerves.
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Post by ♫ e s h e ♪ on Nov 8, 2010 18:35:35 GMT -8
⚇ The subtle shift of parts neglected to the elements bounced into the air, snaring the attention of a nearby burlap presence. Copper footfalls paused mid-stride, wide optics shifting sharply to the left in an attempt to solve the riddle of which direction the sound was tumbling periodically from. The ribbon-garbed doll sucked in a small breath, holding it before the sound echoed again. A machine wouldn't be so careless...
Donnie set himself on a swift pace toward the sound, the faces of possible figures shifting through his mind like shuffling cards. A bubble of excitement grew in his chest, ready to pop if it was the face of his fiancé that appeared around the next rubbish pile. There was a small possibility that it could be Mikey, which would result in another lecture to the overly-adventurous button about wandering out by himself. It wasn't until he caught sight of a certain gray-clad doll that the earth beneath his feet became cold, like a corpse's breath.
Smothering the gasp behind clamped lips, Donnie instantly ducked back behind the rubbish pile he'd stepped around, silently cursing himself for his vile luck. It wasn't until after he convinced himself that he hadn't been spotted that he became confused by his own actions. Hide? Why was he hiding from Rhycher? .... because I can't see his face without thinking of Mikey.
How true that was. Copper fingers rested against a bar which stuck sideways from the pile that currently concealed him as he tried to force the image of Mikey's horrified expression (when the button had shown up at 49's home with his newly-sewn arm, sobbing hysterically) from his memories. He hesitated before peeking back around the side of the pile, watching Rhycher's gaze trail off with his own thoughts. Peace of mind... something Donnie wished he had.
Donnie froze as the bar he had been leaning against dipped under his weight momentarily, dislodging a can from the rubbish pile higher up. This resulted in a clearly audible, crashing and rather rude announcement of Donnie's presence to his old foe. "Spark!"
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Post by ‹ kˆ†eworth › on Nov 8, 2010 22:22:07 GMT -8
< 145 Rhycher - to dissect us >
"Spark!"
That exclamation - and the clambering, crashing can, of course - was enough to elicit Rhycher's default defense. He dropped the small pipe immediately and snaked his hand around behind him, the handle of his scalpel meeting his fingers where it stuck out from the black belt of fabric he wore - but he didn't pull the weapon out. Not yet. At least that was a step in the less paranoid, less violent direction.
Wasn't it?
"Who's there?"
It would be misleading to say that there wasn't even the tiniest flutter of fear in the gray ragdoll's… stomach. It was definitely there. It may have been shrunk a bit, but ever since he first looked down at his hands to find them glowing green, transparent, like something that shouldn't exist.. well, anyone would feel fear after that. Not to mention the chance that it could be another of the BRAIN's minions, sent after his family - or the other families, in fact. A brief panic swept through Rhycher's mind at the notion that their new hiding place had been discovered, and that they were foolish to lump two ex-traitor families in the exact same place. It was enough to make Rhycher want to turn away immediately to find Lilith and Eden before they were attacked again.
But old habits die hard, and along with the layer of fear and panic came one of exhilaration. An old excitement he used to feel in multiplications every time it was his turn to be the hunter. It had used human speech, and that meant it wasn't just some old brainless machine. It could be fought. It could probably be killed. It was this that drove him to his feet, taking a bold step towards the pile of junk the can had been dislodged from.
"This is the wrong person to be messing with today.--"
He didn't move fast, but not slow, either. Controlled steps. And he didn't stop until a face came into view. The orange-and-gray ragdoll came to a slow stop at Donnie's appearance, the last sentence trailing off awkwardly at recognition and, though he hid it, one of the most uncomfortable flares of fear he'd ever felt. Was it.. guilt? Or just because this was the individual that had killed him? His mouth fell open again, part wary, part anxiety, but all that came out was-
"……oh."
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Post by ♫ e s h e ♪ on Nov 9, 2010 17:54:51 GMT -8
⚇ "Who's there?"
What an obtrusively awkward predicament. A wave of irrepressible anxiety flashed through Donnie, turning the gears in his body in hardly comforting directions. He considered the obvious option of simply turning tail and running away. It's not like Rhycher would pursue him... would he? Getting caught would strengthen the accusation of spying against the blue-bowed ragdoll. Besides... Donnie could hardly admire the thought of him fleeing from Rhycher. Ever.
"This is the wrong person to be messing with today--"
Donnie snatched the closest thing he could reach - a pebble of tarnished cement - to create the guise of one scavenging for materials. Rhycher rounded the rubbish pile with a warning that plummeted into a small sound of recognition. A moment or two of unnerving silence passed before Donnie forcibly molded his lips into a small smile, nodding lightly to Rhycher in greeting, although the disquiet in his optics was obvious. "hi... Rhycher."
Donnie fell silent again, glancing down at the piece of rubble in his hands before tossing the useless thing aside. The image of Rhycher's lifeless, claw-ripped body flickered into his memory momentarily, and Donnie could only guess if Rhycher was thinking of the same thing.
I wish you'd stayed dead.
His gaze hit Rhycher's optics, studying them vigorously before his pupils focused on the dull, death-caked dirt beneath him. The question of Rhycher's own wandering was easy to answer: a topic which made Donnie's thoughts even more disgustingly bitter.
"Out looking for parts for the new little one, huh...? Is it a boy or girl this time?"
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Post by ‹ kˆ†eworth › on Nov 9, 2010 18:58:41 GMT -8
< 145 Rhycher - to dissect us >
If he'd had a heart it would've jumped with adrenaline at the first sight of Donnie, not because he had a rock in his hand, but because he had a rock in his hand and it was.. Donnie. Even so his optics trailed to it suspiciously, as if it were a weapon, yet his own didn't draw itself out of the belt at his back. But neither did his hand stray from the handle, not even when Donnie had tossed the cement to the side.
Rhycher's optics flicked up to Donnie to find them already locked on his, but only for a moment.
He wasn't sure what he thought of this topic.. especially when in an exchange with Donnie. So.. a few moments of awkward silence stretched after Donnie's question, during which Rhycher merely blinked at the other.
"We.. we don't…" We don't know yet.
That was as far as he could get. Or allow himself to get. A mental wall lifted itself up between his family and the thought of Donnie, simultaneously obliterating the previous cheerful mood. Rhycher was careful to hide it, showing nothing beyond a hardening of his gaze. This was his family. Donnie had his own family. Was it so selfish to want to keep such a thing - or anything, no matter how simple it was - to himself? It wasn't as if he'd gone asking after Donnie's….- and again the line of thought brought up an image of Mikey and the harsh words about to leave Rhycher's lips, ready to accuse Donnie of watching him, were replaced by a stutteringly awkward question of his own.
"…how is Mikey?"
It was only after these words left his mouth that he shut up quickly, realizing that this.. probably wasn't the best thing he could've asked. He actually felt some guilt well up inside. Why should he care?
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Post by ♫ e s h e ♪ on Nov 9, 2010 21:39:16 GMT -8
⚇ What is he...? Donnie hadn't noticed the odd angle that the gray ragdoll's arm was bent in until his stare subconsciously traced it. Rhycher was gripping something behind his back; hiding it. He felt the inner mechanisms tense up in his chest once realizing this, wrought up and heavy with anxiety. A weapon? Could Rhycher still be bitter enough to try and attack him? The black night of Rhycher's murder still echoed clearly around Donnie's thoughts.... and death was too vivid an event to be forgotten.
Is he so stupid as to try and assault me this close to the Theater? He deserved every spilt drop of oil I ripped from him. He almost killed... could have killed...
Donnie attempted to swallow the dark pulse of horror he experienced each time the thought of Mikey dying leaked into his mind. It was a parent's true nightmare. The fact that this... this... monster standing in front of him had almost killed that innocent, giggly little soul... made something boil and burn. He could have...
"…how is Mikey?"
... spark. A cold surge of anger drenched Donnie's insides when Rhycher spoke his son's name. Despite that, the only clue of his emotions toward the topic was a slight twitch of the fingers. His smile widened slightly, his stare now hardening and set at Rhycher unwavering.
"He's good. Just as bouncy as always..."
Donnie tipped his head slightly to the side, standing uncharacteristically still; grinning. His gaze flicked once toward the place where Rhycher's hand disappeared, before returning to the hardly calm face of the doll across from him. For a moment, he almost wished that Rhycher would attack. It would give Donnie the perfect excuse to "defend" himself... ... but what was he thinking? Eden had been kidnapped recently, by Don nonetheless. Rhycher knew what it felt like to have your button threatened. ... Eden.
"...and Eden? How is she?"
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Post by ‹ kˆ†eworth › on Nov 9, 2010 22:31:28 GMT -8
< 145 Rhycher - to dissect us >
Eden. There was an understandable flare of protectiveness at the mention of her, and if there hadn't been such events between the old them and the new them, he might've jumped at Donnie right then and there. For now, instead, his hands clenched tightly together, fingers scraping against palms.
"..good to hear he's still himself. Eden..-"
But Donnie had graced him with an answer about Mikey. Did that make him obligated to return the information? The intentions, they didn't matter, from either side.. right? But when his answer finally came out, it was a bit… lofty. It was even a surprise to Rhycher, though he showed it only through a blink of his optics.
"-she's fine. Wanting a new body now, actually."
That.. wasn't intentional. He actually let a grin slip slowly onto his face, matching his old enemy's. He stood up a little straighter, forcing the anxiety and fear to a lower, less-readable layer, and met Donnie's gaze with one just as steady. Now that he'd had time to let the initial feelings subside, thoughts were floating slowly back into place. He could think. He could evaluate. Science. Rational thought.
Yet all he wanted to do with this revitalized brain function was… to mock Donnie. Sure, maybe it hadn't been this specific soul in front of him that had caused half of the drama and pain before when the BRAIN played a bigger part in all of their lives. But it had been this soul.. this one right here had made the decision to run those blades through his back. Had he deserved it?
….maybe. But Rhycher's family had been just as destroyed as if it had been Don, or a machine, instead of Donnie.
And the copper-framed ragdoll wouldn't accept that each family had been through such similar traumas in their pasts, both ancient and recent, that they might be on an even keel now.
So he stood there with his hands clenched, staring right back at Donnie with a challenge on his gaze. Which one of us deserved it all more?
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Post by ♫ e s h e ♪ on Nov 10, 2010 17:08:23 GMT -8
⚇ What force is stronger than a parent's defensive embrace around their child? Could it be titanium? The earth's very crust? Or were those things easily penetrated by the sheer will to protect? It is beneath this influence that most parents choose to eliminate whatever thing threatens their young one... .... whatever repulsive, loathsome presence makes your baby scream; and sob.
Rhycher's returned, taunting stare made an unnerving feeling ooze up into Donnie's throat. His previous foe displayed a smile of distraction, just as Donnie did. It was the perfect addition to concealing one's true take on a situation; the perfect touch to a well-constructed mask.
Well, if it's a game he wants... I've always been one for games.
An old sense of deception leaked into Donnie, and he openly relaxed, his smile shortening to a good-natured expression as he half-closed his optics and let his gaze trace the landscape lazily. His new bodily-conveyed message was that Rhycher wasn't worth any anxiety, and he spoke in a tone lacking intrigue as his optics locked back onto Rhycher's: the world's most unstable staring contest.
Toy.
"A new body... it seems as if she's finally growing up. Too bad Eden won't be so easy to keep an eye on once she's off on her own, hmm?" Donnie didn't want to openly mock Rhycher into launching the first punch, that was more of Don's style. Donnie was more... subtle. He continued to watch Rhycher with a smile, his optics capering dangerously.
He had been spending too much time trapped within the walls of the Theater, feeling as if Ven and Stronghold were blaming him for an old incident; feeling as if Lilith's family watched him from behind gaping doors, whispering "murderer" behind his back. Even when he saw 71 from time to time, he felt as if each stare she sent him was smothered in guilt. He was perturbed by his own paranoia. In that moment, something began to pulse against Donnie's temple, and he felt as if a secret, well-maintained wall was about to crumble.
He was a very different kind of monster.
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Post by ‹ kˆ†eworth › on Nov 10, 2010 21:44:47 GMT -8
< 145 Rhycher - to dissect us >
Subtle, not subtle.. apparently it didn't really matter. That comment was enough to set Rhycher right at the edge, and the smile that snuck up on his face quickly vanished. He finally let his hand come out from behind his back, but rather than being left in the belt, the blade found its familiar place in his hand, right in view now.
Screw self control. And subtlety. And staying calm at all.
Was that what it sounded like? Considering the relationship between himself and this individual.. probably. A threat. He took a step towards Donnie, temper only flaring up thanks to the suddenly apparent lack of concern. Don't I pose a threat to you? Want to run back to the safety of that theater of yours, to that spider freak?
"I'm sure she can defend herself perfectly well now. She does know how to handle a knife."
Well.. truth and lies. Eden knew how to handle a knife, but would she? Rhycher had come to accept that his daughter didn't want to hurt anyone, and he gave her absolutely no arguments on the matter. Hopefully she would mine to take a means of defense with her whenever she went out..
"But it would be a lot easier if you and that shadow self of yours weren't wandering around. If you hadn't been split up I wouldn't have to keep track of two."
A few minutes before he would've grinned at the offense, O how clever he could be, but that time had passed. He would've probably just ended up looking like a fool anyway.
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Post by ♫ e s h e ♪ on Nov 10, 2010 23:44:59 GMT -8
⚇
Aha... there it was. Good boy. No need to hide.
Baleful iron blades were aroused and aching in their sheaths due to the glint of a scalpel in Rhycher's hand. Donnie could feel them shifting, as if they could scent the body they had once made still... so still and dark and empty. For now, Donnie resisted the temptation, straining his knuckles to hold each callous claw in place; hidden from view. He could feel Rhycher's puppetstrings snared in his fingers, and a surge of power frothed from the depths of certain memories he had once worked hard to bury. Just a nudge here... a little tug there... yes.
You missed this, Donnie. Didn't you?
Donnie pretended not to notice Rhycher's threat. He turned his head to glance at the mound of debris beside him, acting oblivious. When Rhycher spoke of Eden, Donnie nodded knowingly, managing a light chuckle as if all this was only good talking. Then, the hostility hit the air, like a rattling scream that left everything else in silent horror. Oh Rhycher... oh Rhycher, Rhycher, Rhycher. Picking at Don was a little low... especially since Donnie felt so much resentment toward the other part of his soul. A coldness laced itself into Donnie's optics as he glanced back toward his resurfacing foe, clearly noticing the scalpel now. A smirk.
"I'm sure Eden learned enough from you, Rhycher, to keep her safe. You seem to have such a wonderful way with children, now don't you?
Bastard.
Donnie remained outwardly calm, brushing the scalpel's presence away as if it was nothing. "Getting a little tense are we...?"
"Tsk... tsk..."
"I think we both know how this certain scenario ends."
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Post by ‹ kˆ†eworth › on Nov 11, 2010 7:02:26 GMT -8
< 145 Rhycher - to dissect us >
"Considering how you were sneaking around like a guilty rat before... yes, I think we do."
He traced Donnie's shape with his optics, looking for any sign of a weapon, sure that the enemy wouldn't try to sound so confident if he didn't have something to throw it on. He knew what weapons were there, thanks to so many previous battles, but the lack of view was.. surprising, to say the least.
Donnie had been the one to attack first the last time, after all.
With that line of thought, a disturbingly depressing realization flicked through Rhycher's mind. They might be enemies, but they both had devoted families. All sentimental reasons aside, if one of them were to die - or, die again - in these violent meetings, it was likely that neither would stay dead for long. Unless that... pull got stronger and stronger each time..
How easy is it to keep from REALLY dying?
That sent a shudder through Rhycher like nothing else, and he hurried to cover it up with a snarl he hoped seemed directed at the kid comment.
"--and it seems my children have an advantage of survival skills over your's."
He would go back to the BRAIN before letting himself die again. Never.
It was easy enough to push these pessimistic thoughts from his head by just focusing his mind on the situation before him. Two old enemies facing each other in the simplest kind of survival behavior. Though he wouldn't know it might apply to Donnie, Rhycher too felt an excitement he hadn't been able to feel since actually leaving his employment.
It was a terrible and horrible feeling of freedom.
But it was good.
He wouldn't have waited this long, back then.
As his mind lingered on the thoughts of the past, it didn't register on a conscious level that his body had moved forward, elbow locked and arm straight, his blade swiping sideways at the target - in this case, that bright, painfully cheerful blue ribbon...
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Post by ♫ e s h e ♪ on Nov 11, 2010 15:25:17 GMT -8
⚇
Is that what he'd been reduced to? A guilty rat, slinking around in the shadows, fueling his paranoia with each piteous day? Rhycher certainly seemed to have it all figured out; a sadistic scientist, a loving father and feared enemy without remorse. What was Donnie now? A raving madman, or a frightened little ragdoll? What was it that allowed Rhycher to live with a foot on both pathways? .... Rhycher had no friends. No Ven or Jayden, no 71, no 49. The key to living a deceitful murderous existence is isolation. Was that better? Maybe so. Especially since Donnie had a knack for harming those closest to him. Friends, anyway.
You know what you are? You're 371's beloved. You are Mikey's mama. You have companions and many people who care for you, Donnie. Why should anything else matter?
"At least a guilty rat is better than a timid one. What have you been doing since we last met? Hiding under a stone? It seems like you finally dug your head out of the dirt and returned to your family who you almost abandoned. Nice one." Donnie could feel the words dripping; slithering from his lips like a steady stream of acrimony. He forced the grin to remain on his face, but he could feel it melting like warm wax.
Rhycher's next comment struck him with a blow of malice. Rhycher wouldn't sparking know! No button stood a chance against a full-grown stitchpunk with a magnet. Donnie's disguise twitched just slightly in the eyes as his hatred toward Rhycher intensified at an alarming rate. "Oh... and I suppose you're planning on teaching your new little one the same--"
The sudden glint of a flashing blade screamed danger into Donnie's mind, and he almost stumbled over his own feet in his haste to try and avoid the blow. Plain. Stinging, loathsome, awful pain: it was Donnie's old friend. Donnie glanced down at his chest to note a clean slice across the left side. It wasn't very deep, but it had torn through one of the bow laces... and the meaning behind the gesture was clear. Let's play!
"Living is such a hard habit to break..." A ringing giggle escaped Donnie's lips as he raised his hands and let them go limp at the wrists. Slowly, almost as if he was savoring the moment, the six blades slid from their hiding places, reflecting the melancholy gray of the sky. Donnie lunged, his optics alight with the thrill of a fight as one set of blades was lashed toward the scalpel; the other set placed on a malicious course toward Rhycher's midsection.
"... let me help you!"
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Post by ‹ kˆ†eworth › on Nov 11, 2010 19:06:35 GMT -8
< 145 Rhycher - to dissect us >
The playful jibes from Donnie were enough to make Rhycher want to back off altogether, bringing up memories of the last time they'd met in a violent way. Like hell he was going to give the satisfaction, though he'd take some for himself. It was apparent that he wasn't the only one who had something floating under the surface, waiting for such a moment to come ripping through his social skin and rip something apart.
"It seems like you finally dug your head out of the dirt and returned to your family who you almost abandoned."
Rhycher's optics widened and he hesitated, in turn caught off-guard by Donnie's retaliation. He grunted and wove about, turning sideways to avoid the blow to his center of gravity, but a moment too slow. Pain lanced up his side as Donnie's blades clipped the fabric. Rhycher moved fast to make up for his mind lapse and caught his blades on Donnie's other set, not even flinching as metal scraped on metal and he shoved his scalpel towards Donnie's fingers.
"I DIDN'T ABANDON THEM! That was all your fault!"
Any and all subtlety was gone from Rhycher and in place, direct hatred and accusation. This was the cause of all the problems. This one ragdoll. The split soul was only a technicality. It all came from one source and he had direct access to it, right here and now.
He threw his weight onto that arm, scalpel pressed into Donnie's weapons, in his rage excitedly imagining Donnie's arm snapping in half. He would pay. Oh, so dearly. Rhycher knew that if he could only get his enemy down, get in a good shot, weaken him, make him helpless… The memories of the lifestyle he'd had in service to the BRAIN rose up to support his growing rage and it was the easiest thing to direct it at Donnie.
Don't worry, after this everything will be better. Maybe you can start being a scientist again.
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Post by ♫ e s h e ♪ on Nov 11, 2010 20:15:12 GMT -8
⚇ Everything ethical Donnie had managed to obtain in the years following the detachment of Don was struggling in his thoughts, calling out as if trapped in an empty black room. How could this possibly help anything? How many times had 70 pointed a finger at Donnie and clearly voiced his lack of forgiveness toward a soul that would never change? Memories of Lilith's face upon Rhycher's death - twisted in an expression of grief and agony - were stirring there in the dark. None of that mattered. It was buried deep: shoved back into drawers of insignificant thoughts. Even 371's disappointed stare, which he knew he would receive in response to this violent impulse, didn't grace his conscious.
Are you defending your child... or doing this for yourself?
Donnie hissed excitedly as his claws made small rips in Rhycher's delicate polyester skin. The delicious moment was instantly knocked away as Rhycher pressed down on the scalpel, the uncomfortable grinding of metal on metal sending painful jolts up Donnie's arm. The sharp blade was caught between two claws now, pressing onto Donnie's aluminum knuckles, and Donnie took care to clench his hand into a fist in an attempt to make his fingers less of a target.
"I DIDN'T ABANDON THEM! That was all your fault!"
..... Clarity. All the blame Donnie knew was there - the pointed fingers in his direction he never saw - was suddenly out in the open. If he reached out a hand, he felt as if he could touch the cool rush of honesty. The pause lasted for only a moment before the burning surge of hatred overtook his thoughts, making Donnie shove his face closer to Rhycher's, screaming so loudly it made his voice box rattle.
"YOU ALMOST KILLED MY BABY!!!"
Simultaneously, Rhycher's weight descended against Donnie's clawed hand, making Donnie wince and grab onto the arm supporting Rhycher's scalpel with his other one. The springs in his legs shook as he felt his body bend against the force of Rhycher's building rage. Curse his light, aluminum frame! Donnie screwed shut his optics, straining whatever weight he could muster against the hateful press of Rhycher's scalpel. He'd forgotten... he hadn't fought in so long. His limbs were frail; his frame easily bent. Donnie knew he could only last so long in this position before Rhcyher overpowered him, but still he held. He was sick of being weak.
"You almost... almost k-killed... m-my.. child..."
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Post by ‹ kˆ†eworth › on Nov 11, 2010 21:08:20 GMT -8
< 145 Rhycher - to dissect us >
If Donnie's words had any meaning in Rhycher's conscience, it didn't show on his face. He was past that. Why the hell should he care about Donnie's kid? It wasn't the same! They weren't the same! Rhycher had never killed anyone. Not directly, and never anyone that mattered. Donnie had! Wasn't that true? It had to be true.
Damn it all!
He gave no space, not one chance for Donnie to get a step in. The adrenaline caught up and flared beneath the terrible emotions he was… treasuring? Even below all the sadistic thoughts, all of this was exciting and… dare he think it… enjoyable. He missed it, fighting for his life on a daily basis, defending Lilith from their enemies..
This change in Donnie's demeanor.. going from nervous to relaxed to cheerful to fury.. then what? What could come next? He was curious. Oh so very curious. It was enough to flip a switch in Rhycher's head. It was his turn to pull the strings.
Rhycher's grimace curled into a smirk and he shoved the smile close to Donnie's face.
"You didn't get there in time to protect him, did you? Someone else had to do it!"
With the hand that held the scalpel he forced it closer towards Donnie, hardly noticing if it was already cutting into fabric and choking out a triumphant laugh as the other's free hand went to support the caught one. His chance.
Rhycher's free hand was..
"Look at you! Getting rid of Don didn't do anything! You're still just as bloodthirsty as I am! You're enjoying this!"
…free. He lifted that arm and forward it flew, the copper fingers spread in the perfect shape of Donnie's throat.
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