thechanged | let's break some shit | day 4 afternoon [open]

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let's break some shit | day 4 afternoon [open]

It's been days now since he found himself stranded here. In that span of time, Squawky Man has only managed to grow more frustrated, more irritated, and more desperate to get some kind of grip on the situation. He's been searching the house for anything that might be of help, but so far has turned up with nothing.

Enough was enough. If the obvious tactics weren't doing any good, he was going to have to resort to more drastic measures. He's only met one being so far who had any idea what was going on, and he intends to make use of that. He stands at the top of one of the larger staircases, hand resting on the banister near a large vase of flowers, and yells sharply toward the center of the room, "Mason!" And in a more level (though still quite irritated) tone of voice, "I have some questions that need answering. If you don't want to cooperate, then..." He lifts his hand to the side of the vase and gives it a quick shove over the railing. A few seconds later, it shatters against the floor of the hall. "Too bad about the interior decorating." He smirks. "Got it?"

Without waiting for an answer, he snatches up a nearby lamp and smashes it against the wall. He proceeds like this through the house, tearing down curtains, kicking aside any moveable objects at his feet, and leaving a trail of damaged furniture in his wake.

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The nearby sounds of things breaking draw the girl's attention, and she rushes to investigate. The sight that meets her upon arriving at the source of the noises is a bird-man, much like herself, breaking or ruining whatever he can. She sees the trail of property damage behind him, stretching out as far as her vision goes.

"What are you doing?" she yells at him. "Do you realize how inconsiderate to everyone else you are being?"

Anger bubbles up inside of her. The shards of glass and ceramics on the floor are dangerous, the pieces of furniture are now unusable, and someone is going to have to pick all of this up so that nobody gets hurt. Something tells her this man isn't going to want to be the one to do that.

Hearing footsteps sound behind him, he pauses in the middle of tearing down a painting and glances over his shoulder. He's not particularly impressed by the bird-girl, but she looks like she could get in his way if she wants to. That's inconvenient. It isn't a compelling reason for him to act more polite around her though.

"No, I hadn't really considered that," he replies, ripping the frame from the wall and stomping on it with a clawed foot.

Well, it was true.

She's not sure what kind of answer she expected there. Considering both his words and how much damage he has already caused, it's safe to say that this guy doesn't really care. She takes a deep breath to calm herself. It hasn't been long, but perhaps it's time to try a different strategy.

"What are you trying to achieve with this childish destruction?" she asks, her anger contained but still peeking through her voice.

In the meanwhile, Squawky Man's rampage continues, unfazed by the attempts to halt it. If all she's going to do is yell at him, there's no point in stopping to answer (or even face) her, so once the painting has been ripped to shreds he moves onto smashing the light fixture next to it. The only reply he offers is a shrug and "Who knows?" directed more at the wall than the girl.

She considers his answer, then nods as if he can see her. She was right: he doesn't care. Not only does he have no respect for their shared living space, as evidenced by the ruined furniture around them, but he has no respect for anyone else either. In turn, she has no patience for his nonsense.

"Then you have no right to continue," she says, shortly before hurling herself at him. If he won't respond to words, maybe he'll respond to force. She's loath to use it, but this destruction needs to stop.

That response causes him to glance over his shoulder again, eyebrows raised, just in time to see the girl lunging forward at him. Though his reflexes are fast, he's at enough of a disadvantage that he can't get out of her way before they connect, so instead he opts to whirl around and attempt to push her out of his way, both with his hands and his considerable wingspan.

He's irritated by the interruption, but he's not after a fight: he's got much more important things to do than stand around squabbling with wannabe heroes.

She's prepared for a retaliation from the moment she charges, but some part of her is still surprised by the push. It's not enough of a surprise to render her immobile, though it throws her balance off-kilter. The feathers suddenly in her face don't help. Despite the falling, she's able to determine where she is in relative space, and she reaches out to grab the other's arms, ready to dig into flesh with her claws for extra purchase. She's fully intent on taking this delinquent down with her.

He shrieks in pain as her claws take hold, redoubling his efforts to get away. His wings beat at full strength now, focused mainly on getting him off the ground and away from his attacker. This frees up his legs from the burden of holding him up, and with one clawed foot he lashes out toward her legs, aiming to knock her off balance and get her claws out of his flesh.

She's dragged upwards with him when he lifts off the ground, stopping her from tumbling. As soon as he kicks at her, though, she goes right back to tumbling. Her claws detach from his arms, and she hits the floor with a loud thud and a hit to the head. The pain is intense, and her vision is swimming. She considers lying there until it calms down, but something deep inside, perhaps her bestial instincts, tells her to get up and fight again.

Blocking out the pain, she rolls onto her back and launches herself back up. A fallen floor lamp to the side catches her attention. She grabs it and readies it as if she were wielding a staff. After a moment, she runs at the bird man again, this time swinging a metal lamp-turned-weapon and yelling some sort of infernal battle cry. If you were to ask her now, she wouldn't be able to tell you why she was fighting.

He has a head start on the other bird person, and he intends to use it. Pausing only a second to make sure his attacker has fallen behind, he takes to the air, rapidly gaining altitude. At this point he doesn't have a specific destination: his goal is to put as much distance between him and the girl as possible. When he's shook off his tail, he can get back to more important matters.

Leaping over toppled furniture, she chases after him with the floor lamp in hand. She soon realizes that he's gained too much ground and is flying too quickly for her to continue pursuing on foot. She begins to beat her wings, faster and faster, until her running turns to a speedy flight. The distance between them closes, and she gets near enough for one last move. With a stop mid-flight, she hurls the lamp in the other's direction. It shouldn't hurt him enough to incapacitate him, perhaps only enough to get him to reconsider his actions a bit, but that's only if it hits.

It hits squarely between the shoulders. He plunges several feet from the shock of the blow, fluttering wildly. A moment later he regains his balance and dives beneath a staircase out of range of his pursuer, but not before shooting her a very ugly glare.

She watches him disappear, without a word or a change in expression. Then, the weight of what she did hits her, and she breaks out into tears, letting herself fall to the floor. She hurt him. She shouldn't have, but the anger was so powerful, so consuming. It clouded her mind almost immediately, wresting control from her and pushing her to senseless acts of violence. There's no justification for it, she knows, and she's just glad he got away. The realization that she is capable of such monstrous behavior sickens her.

After a good while spent on the floor, she wipes her tears and slowly gets to her feet. There's work to be done here. Hoping that the bird man won't come back to wreak more destruction, she begins to clean up the mess he's made. She's in for a treat, because there's a lot of it.

Normally happy and bubbly, the fish girl -- upon hearing the commotion while passing by on her way back to the garden -- catches her attention straight away. Was someone fighting? Maybe that nice ogre girl, what if she was being made to fight again? Or it could be any number things, really, so she turns and instead heads towards the sound of things smashing.

It's not until she sees a somewhat familiar face among the wreckage of some innocent ceramics that her heart sinks and she rushes forward to try and get a grip on his hand.

"What are you doing? Stop that, that's mean!"

It's hard to keep to a quiet shout, and it comes out more as a hiss, and just short of being nearly as imposing as she hoped.

Edited 2013-09-03 20:38 (UTC)

"Hey!"

Squawky Man snatches his hand away from the oncoming girl, and he's halfway to attacking her before he realizes that quiet voice is a little familiar. In a place where very few things are familiar, that causes him to hesitate long enough to realize that she's not a threat as he'd initially assumed - the memory of being stabbed in the back has him on high guard against enemies - just a nuisance.

So instead he laughs and less than delicately attempts to shove her out of his way. "Does it look like I care?"

"Well I care! So calm down and tell me why you are doing this!"

She doesn't mean to shout, and she doesn't realize she's going it at first. When she does, she almost regrets it, and she clamps her mouth shut, but her face is fixed with a stern glare. He kind of deserves it for breaking things with no apparent reason.

A jolt of pain makes him jerk back, and he instinctively clutches his hand to his head. But there's no wound there he can feel, and already the throb is starting to fade. He snarls. Calm down isn't an order that he responds to well (not that there are any orders he responds to well), but the threat of that happening again is enough to provoke a more helpful answer.

"The house is the only thing around here that seems to know anything," he replies in a haughty tone of voice. "I'm just giving it some reasons to start talking."

The thought crosses her mind to apologize, but she doesn't. She just shakes her head, reproachful. The house has been nothing but nice to her, so she's not exactly inclined to agree. "I don't think he knows anything he's not telling us. Besides, you could be hurting them!"

He shrugs - as far as he's aware he's not hurting anyone other than the house, and even if he was he wouldn't particularly care. "If that's all it knows, it can tell me itself. Get out of my way."

"Throwing a tantrum, are we?"

This fair servant doesn't seem terribly impressed by the destruction, although that's possibly because his armor plating means he doesn't stand much chance of being damaged by it. He's slouched in a doorway-- the portal behind him locked, but he'd given up his search for an open door when he heard the tempest of destruction approaching-- and watching impassively with his arms crossed over his broad, shiny chest plating.

The birdman stops his rampage long enough to take stock of whoever was addressing him. It takes him only a few seconds to make a judgement: the armored thing, whatever it is, doesn't seem interested in bothering him, so it's not worth bothering with.

"If that's what it takes to get what I want." He shrugs and resumes his attempt to kick through the railing of the nearest staircase.

The guard watches him for a moment, optics narrowing steadily as he watches the attempted destruction of Master's house. For a long moment he's disinclined to act, but he only has to wonder what Master would say if ey found out he'd stood idly by and allowed this.

He knows his purpose, and that's to protect his Master-- and what ey hold dear. And in lieu of direct orders, he thinks that protecting the house might not be a bad choice to make.

When he moves it's faster and more quietly than someone armored in so much metal ought to be able to move. He ducks in, graceful as a dancer, and moves to seize the birdman's shoulder, just as the other raises his leg for another kick. He figures throwing the other to the ground before he can fracture the ornate railing any farther is a good first step.

The tatrum-throwing birdman doesn't even have time to realize his mistake before he loses control of his body and topples inelegantly to the floor. As soon as he hits though, he's scrambling to his feet in a bristling mass of feathers, instinctively taking on the more beastlike attributes of his form. His forearms lash out towards his attacker, fingers hardening into talons, but as strong as they are they have nowhere near the power to damage someone made of metal, and the assault is more show than anything.

At the same time, his wings spread to their full ten-foot span and begin pushing up and away from the guard. Unless he's drastically mistaken (again), there's no way he can take this guy on the ground - but from the air, it's a whole different game.

Claws might not be able to actually hurt him, but they can do injury enough to his finish, so he steps adroitly out of the way of the lunge. Turning the motion into a pivot, he reaches behind himself and makes his staff appear, extending it out to its full length. Both hands wrapped around one end like a club, he swings out the momentum of his turn, aiming to knock the miscreant down again, or at the very least foul those wings before his can get off the floor.

He's not trying to hit him too hard, or even injure him, he just wants him to quit destroying Master's things.

He's wandering the halls, lost, when he hears crashing and yelling. Very familiar yelling. Curious, he follows the noise to its source just in time to see the bird man ripping out some curtains. They really have to stop meeting like this.

"Hey!" He shouts, approaching him, "Cut that out!"

Oh. It's that guy again.

The bird man has no intention of listening to his demands. He meets the other man's eyes and holds the newly-detached curtain in front of his face. Maintaining eye contact he slowly, deliberately, tears a seam down the middle of it, then tosses the two halves aside. How's that for an answer, dino boy.

Dino boy doesn't like that answer. Dino boy's starting to think he doesn't like this bird, either. He looks around, assessing the damage. When he turns back to the bird, he's glaring.

"Why would you do this? What if you hurt someone?"

Don't worry, Dino Boy. The feeling's mutual.

He glances around the room, sees no one in the vicinity, and shrugs. "They can keep out of the way if they want to."

Dino boy makes a little frustrated noise. He can't believe how selfish this guy is being!

"What if you broke something important? Or you broke someone? Think about other people!" He doesn't exactly expect bird man to listen to him, since he clearly doesn't care, but he's getting kind of genuinely worked up. It's starting to get a little hard to talk around his teeth.

Other people? The thought makes him sneer. Why should he care about other people?

"Let's hope the house starts talking then soon, hmm?" His right hand closes around a light fixture attached to the wall, and he jerks it in order to tear it off.

He takes a step forward to grab bird man's arm in an attempt to get him to stop wrecking things and have a normal conversation.

"Is that why you're doing this?" He asks, shocked. "I don't think he's gonna be happy with what you're doing to him."

Edited 2013-09-10 03:13 (UTC)

"Yeah," he says, tugging his arm away. "That's the idea."

"I mean... I don't think he's going to talk to you. He'll just yell at you, like before." He says, letting his arm fall to his side. He thinks about cleaning up some of the mess, since bird boy here probably wouldn't.

"Guess he'll have to deal with some ripped upholstery then." The purple guy doesn't seem like he's going to back up his threats, so he shrugs and turns away.

"Hey!" He grabs the bird man's shoulder and tugs, trying to get him to face him again. "No, he won't. And neither will anyone else. If you don't stop... I'm going to stop you." It's only fair to give him a warning.

"Are you?" he asks, with a bit of a smirk - it's not like he's doing a good job of it so far. He pushes back against the dino's chest dismissively.

"Yes." He says. He warned him. His job is to protect others - to protect the house, so he's well within his rights when he springs forward to try to tackle the bird man to the ground.

In spite of his taunt, squawky man isn't actually interested in starting a fight - at least not with this guy. When the attack comes, he ducks. At the same time his body shrinks, and his attacker will find that it's not a man he's lunging after, but a parrot. He flaps upward in hopes of escape, letting loose a squawk that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

Running through the house screaming seems to be swiftly becoming a normal occurrence. Thankfully, this one doesn't seem to be setting anything on fire. But he is breaking things at random, and that is very very bad if one so happens to be a thing.

Cashier's spiritual body is busy investigating a very expensive looking sculpture on the other side of the room when a lurching sensation almost knocks him to his knees. Looking over, its immediately apparent that a feathery stranger has grabbed his physical body from the desk it usually rests on and is-

-oh no. He manages half of the word 'wait' before the little ornate cash register that happens to be part of him is flung into the hallway. It's subsequent landing on the hard tile floor treats Cashier to a lovely astral battering.

"Cut that out!" he snaps, normal friendly salesman tone of voice abandoned. Once he's able to, the register gets to his feet and heads after the serial thrower, scooping up his other body on the way out.

Compared to everything that's happened lately, a colorful metallic dude scurrying after the junk he's kicking around the house is the kind of reaction he's expecting. He stops to glance over at the robot and smirk, but only for a moment and then he's back to bashing in the furniture. He very pointedly chooses not to cut it out, and if there's any stopping him, the cash register's going to have to do it himself.

His body is safe for the moment, but if this maniac isn't properly reprimanded than he may be in danger again in the future. Unfortunately, bird boy has a good lead on him and he's not going to catch him if he doesn't do something.

Thinking quickly, Cashier pops open his drawer and digs out a length of curtain he'd pilfered from the bedroom and ties the end into a loose loop. The make-shift lasso is sent flying through the air, its success depending on Cashier's aim and Bird kid's dodging ability.

Bird kid's dodging ability is quite good - from the corner of his eye he sees the robot move, and when the lasso comes flying toward him he steps forward into its line of fire and grabs hold of the cloth. Smirking a little, he hefts the fabric in his hand, then laughs derisively and tosses it away.

She hears the commotion long before she sees it, curiosity abandoned for laziness and comfort. It's not something she's capable of ignoring for long as the culprit comes into view. It's not just someone making noises, it's someone smashing things, things like her, like what she used to be. She cringes, frozen in her spot on the floor, a gut that she no longer has turning insider her, making her feel nauseous.

She wraps her glass arms around herself, holding tight. Master's belongings. She hides her face, not wanting to see before another thought strikes her. Her window. What if he got to it, smashed it in? She looks up frantic, standing so quickly she almost falls , before rushing to the stained glass window she knew was her and flinging her arms out wide before it as though to protect it from harm.

"D-don't!"

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let's break some shit | day 4 afternoon [open]

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