Idle Hands: Night #2 [Every]

[Jesse Fforde]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Jesse Fforde> The second night of war. An imaginary war, of course, fought by all the lost boys and girls. The Eyrie may as well have been their Neverland. At least, Jesse always equated the place to Neverland, what with shadows acting up and living in a goddamned treehouse. Their weapons are made of wood and plastic; their blood of water and paint, all the colours of the rainbow.

Not content to have only one night of fun, Jesse wakes the following evening, still covered in paint and muck (it all blends together, when one’s being attacked with water balloons, too). The tattoos on his skin are barely discernable. The elevator ‘dings’ as he steps out of it. He’s already on the lookout for attacks – but there are none. He looks for his first foe for the evening—he can’t see Dulce or Nemesis, those whom he had the most fun with the night before. So he’ll have to find someone else.

Over in the corner he can see Every; she’s fallen asleep at the computer desk. With a smirk full to the brim of mischief, Jesse approaches. He stands right beside her, and yet she still doesn’t stir. He takes a step back and aims—before letting loose a volley of multi-coloured paint.


<Every> She hadn't been asleep long after hacking a system for a little while and then comfortably setting her forehead against the desk while trying to get a few more hours of shut eye before her day would begin fully. The woman was even still dressed in her yoga pants and a loose teeshirt for all things sane. On her lap, she had her waterballoon launcher hidden within her bag along with her usual crafting items - she'd later work on traps.

The paintball to the middle of her back the night before had reminded her that not everyone could claim neutral and with a quiet small sigh escaping past her lips, she at least hoped that someone wouldn't shoot a sleeping vampire. Her dream had consisted of beating Robert Pratt to death with a baseball bat, uncommon and random, but she was preoccupied with that when the elevator dinged. In all reality, it was her fault. She did have a hut to sleep in peacefully.

The first pellet caught her in the side and once again, the shriek of response caused Every to fall out of her chair. The tumble brought her bag down with her and despite the multi-colored paint covering her skin, Every reacted by collecting her water balloon launcher and aiming directly back at him.


<Jesse Fforde> Of course Jesse didn't expect that he'd get so quick a reaction from a sleeping vampire. And though this whole childish war could be considered training, in and of itself, in live battle, he wasn't reacting to his normal speed. After the fun last night he'd gone for a romp through the sewers and gained himself a few fresh wounds, too - the water balloon hit him square on the jaw, splashing into his eyes and dousing what little hair he has on his head. Eve was turning out to be a worthy adversary. He grinned the grin of the mad hatter, before one again lifting his gun; aiming, and shooting even as he ran backwards, ducking for cover behind one of the couches.


<Every> Had she been asleep longer, well, that would have probably gone against her as she scooted backwards while he moved away, pellets connecting with her feet and the wooden floor beneath her, squeaking when one snapped into her upper thigh. By the time her back connected with the wall beside Axel, she sprang up and stood up to her full height to launch another balloon in his direction before diving for cover beneath the multi-colored shop counter. Less than graceful, the thud could be heard followed by an 'ow' before she reloaded and peeked over the counter to the couch carefully.


<Jesse Fforde> Plenty of those within Tytonidae probably got the wrong end of the stick, as far as Jesse was concerned. Not so long after his induction, he had to deal with a whole bunch of ******** with his sire. On top of that, nightmares that forced him to jump from the third tier of the treehouse, thus shattering his whole body, aroundabout. His mood, generally, hasn't been grand. Deep down, though, and in the beginning, he is a happy guy. And very, very willing to have a bit of fun. He seems to have been given a reprieve from his foul moods. And Every is the current witness. He peers over the top of the couch to see Eve peering over the top of the shop counter. He gives a four-fingered wave--before swiftly aiming and shooting. Sure to miss, but why not try?


<Every> Moody. Temperamental. Those were words that Every was usually accustomed to hearing describe her, and for the most part, they were correct. At least, temperamental was the one that fit better and as she carefully sweeped over the counter before taking note of Jesse. Not a bad distance, really. At the wave, her eyebrows lifted to show her amusement before she ducked back down quickly and she moved into a crouch while the wall gained several more shades of color. Something told her that Vel telling them to clean it up would at least be worth it. Moving off to the left, Every rose up enough to get a better stance and quickly fired off another balloon before dropping back down, crawling a bit further behind the counter top and reloading. She really needed to get a paintball gun later.


<Jesse Fforde> The second floor of the Eyrie isn't exactly a prime battlefield. Jesse remembers the times he's spent at actual skirmishes, in the sunlight. Out in the open, in the crisp air, amongst the trees and man-made dunes. Here, there's a few couches and bench tops, but most things are pushed up against the walls. Jesse reloads his gun as another water balloon explodes on the edge of the couch, water raining down on top of him. He smirks and crawls toward the edge of the couch. Peering around the edge, he can't see Eve. Stealthily, and shoeless, he sprints toward the counter. He's crouched on the opposite side to Eve. He pushes himself flat up against the wood, waiting for her to emerge, ready to hit her as soon as she does.


<Every> Carefully extending her arm to take her shot, Every held in one of the exhales that had she continued from habit and listened for any indictation of movement before she got up carefully once more and waited for the first sign of the male. At least, she thought to herself, the paintballs weren't frozen. Her older brother used to do it to their stepfather when the man would be a bigger dick than expected in the winter.

[Every]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Jesse Fforde> The slightest movement caught Jesse's attention. Although he could see her, it was almost as if he could feel her moving. Still as death, he waited for a second or two, before he leapt up from his hiding place; paint gun waves left and right before he finally got the aim right - and then he pelted her. Up close and personal, this time. All this sneaking around, he was almost tempted to drop the guns and find them some wooden swords.


<Every> She released the water balloon the second she saw him, however her reaction time to duck back down was off as she felt a pellet connected with the middle of the forehead. The brunette's expression was a mix of being unimpressed and amused. And after a second, Every simply grinned and winked at the male before summoning the shadows to encase her body and disappeared from sight, moving around to reposition herself before firing once more at him - and allowing her shadows to move away afterwards as she ducked behind the elevator.


<Jesse Fforde> If Jesse could speak, he might have shouted at her. Cheat! The way she wraps the shadows around herself and uses them to get away--and to get in a cheap shot--is not something that he is capable of. It's something he wishes he were capable of. As it is, he does just as he had previously thought they ought to. The last water balloon collapses against his forearm, which he held up to shield himself. By this point, he is saturated. He drops the paintgun on the shop countertop. He then backs into the training area, where there's a mat, and a few dummies. And a few swords, too. He crooks his finger, indicating that Every should follow. He then picks up two swords, and prepares to toss one in her direction.


<Every> All is fair in 'war' and considering he had ambushed her when she was sleeping, it was safe to say that she could slip into shadows at least once and still be fair, right? Probably not, but she didn't particularly ask and waited for the sound of paintballs to tatter against the wall before peeking out once more, watching Jesse with an uplifted 'brow. Reaching up to at least smear her paintcolored forehead when she took note of the gun being set down, she tossed her launcher back in the direction of her bag before moving towards him warily. "You know, that was cheap waking me up like that." She huffed, but the grin on her features showed she wasn't too sore about it. After all, that was entertaining and lightly, she held out her hand for the sword after adjusting her pants.


<Jesse Fforde> Now they really were lost children. Wooden swords, imagined to be real, could be real. Not that Jesse has any reason to imagine a real skirmish with Every. He doesn't actually want to collect Every's leg. It's quite a nice leg, and he thinks it looks just dandy still connected to her body. Swords had always been his forte, anyway, and he wondered how he'd fare against Every. One heavy sword left his grasp. The remaining one he twirled with expert ease. He circles Every. He gave her a weak - he could be a cheap ******** sometimes. He then leveled the sword, point aimed at Every, the blade resting against his opposite arm. His legs are spread, shoulder width apart. He's ready for the onslaught.


<Every> From the day that she had been turned, Every had always preferred her blade - at first it had been an enchanted one from Micah, the second a master blade once again from her sire, one from her ex and finally her custom - which she had purchased after the second snapped in half. It could still be found in her hut, too. Perhaps it was because of the fact her glock blew up in her face the first time she tried to fire it, but Every considered it to be more personal with her enemy. Until her duel with Enver, she'd never even removed her combat pistol in an actual fight before. Taking hold of the one from Jesse, she held it carefully with the blade to the ground in wait, a small smirk gracing her lips as she kept her eyes on the male.


<Jesse Fforde> There is one skill Jesse had before ever being inducted into this life. When not drawing or tattooing or out on the town, Jesse kept fit. His specific brand of fitness? Parkour. He liked to defy gravity, and used his limbs to do so. In perhaps a way that Every might not expect, Jesse does not lunge straight for her. Instead, he sprints to the side. There's a wooden bench, which he uses to launch himself off--using one foot to push off, his body twists through the air; he soars over Eve, wooden sword aimed squarely for the back of her neck.


<Every> The sword tip came too close to comfort for her as she moved, still feeling it against the ponytail that protected the nape of her neck and with a small huff escaping past her lips. The surprise playing across her features was evident, but rather than allow it to linger, she stepped forward once more and swung in attempt to throw off his balance. Straightening up afterwards, Every waited and considered slipping back into shadows once more before she tested the weight of her sword by rolling it over her hand, giving Jesse a look and then readjusted her grasp on the handle. It'd have to do. Stepping forward, she took the consideration to attack directly.


<Jesse Fforde> Every does indeed throw Jesse off balance. He doesn't land where he had intended to, but when he does land, he does so in a tuck and roll. Doesn't matter that he collides with a bunch of crash dummies. He uses them to help himself to his feet, making sure not to trip over them as he steps closer to Every. Still grinning, and with no more theatrics, Jesse lunges forward.


<Every> She let the smallest of smirk play across her lips as she watched him land, making a mental note to pick the dummies up later as she lifted her gaze back to Jesse once more. Taking note of the man's height and build, she pursed her lips together before she swung once more, keeping her elbows close to her torso as if in a normal fight.


<Jesse Fforde> Sword fighting, for Jesse, was like a dance. Never had he really trained with a sword before, but he used the Parkour skills, the swiftness of foot that a boxer might accomodate, to strike and dance away, to strike and dance--a way of tiring one's opponent, or confusing them. He wasn't using all his energy, however; was merely having fun with Every, rather than caring too much who hit who, or where. The constant grin was tantamount to laughter.