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[inklongdry]

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"Arthur Inkwell here.
I've no earthly idea how this thing is supposed to work, but leave me a message if you're so inclined. I'll retrieve it at some point or another!"

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[inklongdry]

I think asking me to move qualifies as asking for more.

[ Look at that, he's still got some sass left in him.

He doesn't run again, not this time. He may not look it, with the book and the spectacles and the scholarly demeanor, but Arthur knows his way around a close quarters fight. His brother spent many long years of early morning training making sure he does. And, as ever, he has speed on his side.

He steps up suddenly into her space, inside her reach. One hand snaps up to try and catch the front of her shirt and he drives a knee up at her gut in an attempt to wind her, to stun her for even just a moment, to buy himself some distance. ]

[velluminous]

[ she never... tries to dodge. every blow, she simply tanks, wearing the same rictus smile like this is all a farce for her. her eyes widen and the corners of her mouth do twitch when he winds her, though—the sound of impact is a dull thud, like a hammer, and it drives the breath from her in a satisfying rattle.

hunches over his knee, body twitching.

grabs his leg.

tzzt— ]

[inklongdry]

[ Oh fuck off with that. He whole body seizes, twitches around hers, and he jerks his leg to try and shake her off. BUNNY KICK ]

[velluminous]

[ boy, where'd you learn to kick like that? her heels squeal on the floor as she staggers back—into the abused pool table. she catches herself on the lip and holds herself up like that, one arm hooked over, the rest of her hanging, ragged, her hair falling free from its ribbon, her lips ever-curved. she braces herself with the electrified kanabo.

wheezing. ]

She ever tell you you look good like this?

[inklongdry]

[ Arthur is looking far worse for wear that she is, with blood staining his clothes, a bright read line eking from the corner of his mouth, a charred patch of skin that still stings. His hair has come loose from its tie.

He grimaces at her, and with a flex of his fingers, green light coalesces into his hand in the shape of a sword. He falls into a defensive stance. He's not sure if he should bother trying to go for his book anymore... maybe if he can keep her at bay enough. ]

If I've my way, she won't have to see me like this.

[velluminous]

Oh, I'll make sure she does.

[ eyes on that blade. seems familiar. she must have seen it before... ]

That metal?

[inklongdry]

I suppose you'll find out, won't you?

[ It's aether. Though it is very solid and real, and cuts as surely as steel would, it isn't conductive. Small mercies. ]

[velluminous]

Haa. Come on, then. Let you go first.

[inklongdry]

[ There is a split second, a fraction of a heartbeat of hesitation. He doesn't want to hurt her — well, were she not in Sprezzatura's body, he would hurt this wretched oni without a moment's hesitation. He also understands that if he doesn't fight, she will kill him. She will kill him and take this blood and do who knows what kind of terrible things with it.

Alright then. He steps in quick and aims a stab at her shoulder. Someplace he can hopefully cause the least amount of damage, but he will pin her to this pool table with his blade if he can. ]

[velluminous]

[ oh, he actually went for it!

almost too late, she jerks the kanabo up for the sword's edge to skate against—it deflects him from her shoulder, but only in the abstract, because rather than deflect outward, the oni turns the bat so that it pulls his blade in towards her body, towards her chest— ]

[velluminous]

[ —she tumbles back fullbody onto the pool table to avoid its bite ]

Whoops, haha! Close one!

[inklongdry]

[ Gods above, this absolutely insane creature. Even if he tries his best to minimize the damage, she comes right in to try and make it worse instead.

Well, with her tumbling back onto the pool table, he's not going to waste this chance. He steps back and... sprints for his book again, ducking behind another pool table for cover. ]

[velluminous]

Go on! Go on! Run!

[ hey, remember how she shattered, like, half the the bottles in this place? you know what is conductive? all the booze pooling, puddling on the floor. ]

[inklongdry]

[ HO DON'T DO IT. OH MY GOD.

His spell tome is right there but of course he can't get to it before he comes into contact with one of those puddles. His whole body convulses again as electricity surges through him, and he drops hard to his knees, his sword dissipating in a burst of green flecks of light. ]

I am getting exceedingly tired of playing this game!

[ His fingers finally close around the spine of his tome, and with it in hand, he slams his other palm on the ground. A dome of translucent, shimmering light, like the surface of a soap bubble by way of stained glass, pops up around him. The radius is wide, and she'll find herself just on the outside of it. Sacred Soil. A barrier she cannot pass. ]

[velluminous]

[ ramey characters :handshake: shields

is it a setback? sure. but she has the goddamn time. hefts her kanabo back and lets swing. fore! ]

Come on! No one ever gives me a fair shake!

[inklongdry]

[ The dome shimmers at the point of impact, but holds strong. For now.

Arthur shakily gets to his feet. In one hand, his tome. In the other, the vial of Sprezzatura's blood. Does she have the goddamn time? ]

You and I both know that fairness was never a part of the equation.

[velluminous]

[ her eyes dart to the bottle.

is she actually smiling bigger now...? ]

Gonna break it?

[inklongdry]

I would thank you not to think of me as some barbarian.

[ Still just as sassy as ever, it seems.

He hefts the vial, and neatly lobs it into the air. In the same moment, a set of circular glyphs unfold from the pages of his tome, casting the room in harsh orange light. The magic whirrs, hums, and motes of blue fire spring forth from each circle, four in all. They arc up to converge on the vial. In another burst of light and magic and arcane script, the little bottle and its contents are immolated in a ball of flame.

Fuck you, Svetka. ]

/2

[velluminous]

Fuck me.

[velluminous]

[ all that work gone to waste.

...

well.

back to the drawing board. ]

Hahaha. I'm really gonna kill ya now.

[inklongdry]

[ Ohhhh gods. With that vial now out of the way, he does feel a mote of relief. The poor state of his body is also catching up to him, and he wavers where he stands, sucking in a rattling breath. ]

Once again, I'm afraid I must decline.

[ He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, not wanting to waste the waning duration of Sacred Soil. Is it time to send a harried text to Dream now? It sure is. (If only he would have explained to Arthur that all he needs to do is say his name and he'd show up. It would have saved him so much trouble.)

Anyway, no time for context so:

Help pool hall urgent

That's all you get buddy. ]

[dreamlord]

[help pool hall urgent sure is a message to receive, and definitely not one that makes Dream feel very confident about whatever is going down in said pool hall. In fact, he wastes no time in arriving.

And by arriving, for this Endless, it means appearing in a whorl of black — though it is almost impossible to make out how. Like night coming together to form the shape of a person, or a hundred raven’s wings beating at once, or sand, sieving and coalescing into the feeling of an entity.

Either way, there he is, quite suddenly, standing right behind the oni.

And what a sight he sees, chaos in the first half-second alone. Alarm surges through him, but he has zero context for... anything.]

What is going on here?

[velluminous]

[ the feeling of an entity, you say? Arthur will be gifted with the most precious view of Svetka's eyes widening with fiendish delight as that raven's beat-sound, that sand-sieving sensation filters in behind her, and she realizes exactly what it is he's done.

he's— ]

Made it a party!

[ she pinwheels and hefts her kanabo for an uppercut on Dream. ]

[inklongdry]

[ Dream really is greeted with quite the sight. There are pool tables shoved into one another, broken bottles and puddles of alcohol all over the floor. The bar has been kicked into one wall and left everything behind it in ruins.

And then there is Arthur, barely keeping upright, bloodied and bruised and charred by lightning in places, with a rapidly fading dome of shimmering light between himself and Sprezzatura.

Hi.

So here in the split second before a weapon starts flying at Dream's face— ]

Dream! It's her oni!

[ YOU KNOW IN CASE IT WASN'T OBVIOUS. ]

[dreamlord]

[It looks like the aftermath of a particularly lopsided fight, and he wouldn’t be wrong. But there’s no time to linger on the damage done, shocking as it is, because Sprezzatura—

(No, her oni. It is very obvious, all things considered, but Arthur just cements this notion tenfold.)

—whirls around and brings her weapon in an upward arc with the intent to cause harm.

Dream frowns, brings up a pale hand, and catches it in his palm, halts it with gripping fingers. This is surprising strength, maybe; or maybe not so surprising given that Dream is an aspect of the universe itself. Takes more than a kanabo to harm him.

His eyes are like a starlight void as he cuts a hard glance at the oni.]

Return control to Sprezzatura, or I will put an end to this immediately. Those are your choices.