Log file from Blade's Edge.
Log date: 12/10/99
Renaissance Pub and Disco
The Pub is a rather high class establishment, strangely modern despite its name, done in all black, marble, glossy walls and dim tasteful lights. The bar along one side has a back panel of mirrored glass, over which flows a sheen of water, spilling from the top. In front of that are glass shelves filled with bottles of every sort of liquor imaginable. The tables are all high, with tall stools and chairs all done in black wire and metal. A doorway on one side of the room is marked "dance floor", and faint booming beats spill over from beyond, the frosted glass of the doorway occasionally glimmering with assorted lights.
[Exits : [D]ance Floor, and [O]ut ]
[Players : Mariana ]
[Things : None ]
Much to Arashi's good fortune, amidst all the liquor that the
Renaissance Pub had on store, sake was among them. It wasn't the best
of brands, but it was far from the worst, and very much worth the price
he paid for it. A hefty price, since it was imported. Imported alcohol
in an Italian bar. The bartender had even found the right sort of cups
for him. He was beginning to like this shady little town more and more
as time progressed. The solidly-built young man is seated at the bar
itself, and noticeably alone; for some reason or another, no one's
deigned to take a seat next to him. Perhaps they just don't like
foreigners.
If foreigners are frowned upon, then the entrance of the brash young
woman named Raze is sure to call attention, as she pushes aside the
bouncer and moves inside, bootheels echoing loudly against the ground
as she weaves her way through the tables impervious to any catcalls or
lingering looks she might get. They might dislike foreigners, but she
certainly doesn't. And she pauses for a moment, eyes lingering over
your form, one eyebrow raised and a tiny smile flitting over her lips.
With a tiny shake of her head, her fingers sliding through her tousled
blue black hair, She eases her way onto the stool beside you, with the
graceful slinkiness of a panther that has just spotted its prey. "You
know what I like, Tony," she says with a wink to the bartender, her
Italian coloured with numerous accents, though the main one seems to be
from some asian dialect. She rolls her shoulders slightly with a sigh,
the muscles of her back rippling, before she turns to you, her lips set
in a small pout. "So aren't you going to hit on me? Or do I have to do
all the work?"
It's a good thing that the sake is of as good quality that it is.
Otherwise Arashi would have spat it out in surprise instead of making
an effort to choke it down. Though the young woman's exotic beauty did
indeed earn her more than enough catcalls, he didn't turn to see what
the source of all the commotion was. Her appearance took him by
surprise when he casts a sideglance towards her as she takes a seat
beside him, but he's seen women just as outrageously clad in the
dirtier regions of Tokyo; it's her words that nearly sent the rice wine
spraying. The lines worn into his face indicate that he had been
brooding before, though now all such thoughts are chased from his mind
as he eyes the young woman with bemusement and curiousity, his
composure regained within moments. You didn't see him choke on his
sake. Really. There's a pause before he answers, then the corner of his
lips twitches upwards into a wry semblance of a smile. "Good evening."
And that's all he says. What a lady killer. Not.
Raze shifts in her seat to face you, placing her elbow upon the bar and
resting her chin upon the palm of her hand, as she watches you with
amusement within the golden depths of her eyes. She takes perverse
pleasure in crossing her long, leather clad legs in front of you, her
fingers drumming against her chin. "You're going to have to do better
than *that*," she says after you say good evening. The bartender
arrives with her drink--a vodka on the rocks, but she ignores him for
now, instead leaning over to you, her mouth close to your ear so that
you can feel her hot breath against your lobe. "Let me show you." Her
hand slides down your back, to rest against your ass. "What's your
name, lover?" Arrogant and oozing sexuality, her teeth close lightly
against your earlobe, just enough to sting.
The reaction the young woman earns is probably not the one she expects.
Because Arashi laughs. Not mockingly, but it is indeed with amusement,
though soft enough not to draw unwanted attention. There's a rich
quality to his voice, low and deep, but gruff. If one gave a bear or a
lion the ability to speak, their voice would be the same as his. True
to his appearance, the young man is built like a rock. And, like a
rock, he isn't moved easily, not even by the presence of her hand
against his backside, or the whisper of her teeth against his ear. He
downs the last of his cup before replying: "My name.." The cup set back
on the counter, he reaches around and down to take her hand in his
calloused palm and remove it from where it rests, his fingers firm
around her wrist. He smiles, as if he were buying her a drink instead
of untangling himself from her. "...is Mitsurugi. Madam."
Raze purses her lips and looks slightly peeved at the rebuffal, pulling
away with a feline little shrug that looks more like a roll of her
shoulders, as if to imply apathy to you. "I'm not a madam, I'm a Raze,
and that's all I like to be called." She pauses then, taking a sip of
her vodka, and then swirling the fluid around in her glass as if in
thought. "Well... maybe sometimes bitch is good too." She gives you
another of those catty little smiles and takes a sip of her vodka
again, before downing the whole glass and motioning for another,
seemingly unaffected by the burning liquid, as she pulls out a silver
cigarette case from seemingly nowhere. She flicks it open and pulls out
one slim, filterless cigarette, eyeing you with wariness as she slips
one between her lips. "Got a light, Mitsy?" Already, a nickname is
affected for you, whether you like it or not seems a moot point. she
taps the case lightly against the bar's counter, raising an eyebrow as
she waits impatiently.
Arashi releases her hand the moment he sees that his point has gotten
across, and returns it to around his now empty cup. A slight nod
indicates acknowledgment when the name is offered, his attention
apparently more fixed on refilling his cup. He has the bottle with him,
already lacking a significant portion, but he doesn't look in the least
bit inebriated. A man of high tolerance or endurance, or both. "I think
I will just call you Raze," he replies after taking a sip of the warmed
liquid, his brown eyes smiling whereas his lips have resumed a more
neutral state. An eyebrow darts upwards at the nickname. "Mitsurugi,"
he corrects patiently, already reaching into his pocket with his free
hand. "I am called Mitsurugi, or perhaps Arashi..." A smirk is readable
somehow, though his lips don't so much as twitch. "...though never
'bitch.'" A lighter appears in his hand, of fine quality brass, though
without design or decoration. The flame reflects off of the polished
metal, and in Arashi's eyes as well as Raze's, making the fact that
he's studying her face quite noticeable. He has met a number of
attractive foreign women since coming to Medici, but she is the first
fellow Asian.
Raze seems comfortable with the scrutiny, preening like any cat, as she
holds her cigarette steadily in the flame of your lighter, then takes a
long drag, holding the smoke in her lungs for quite a while before
releasing it to curl and mingle with the hazy lights of the bar. She
returns your stare measure for measure, but is quite indiscreet in the
fact that she is staring rather boldly at your torso and your body,
perusing with interest the muscles and the beautiful build hidden
beneath your clothes. It goes right past admiring and right into
ogling, as she hooks the heel of one boot against the rim of her stool,
and then reaches for her vodka to take another long swig. "So what are
you doing here, Mitsy?" She says, ignoring your patient exposition upon
your name. "Here to sample the foreign flavours?" She says with a lewd
smile that makes it known exactly what she means.
The lighter is clicked off, and the flame dies from Arashi's eyes,
returning them to their woodsy brown hue. Whereas she stares at his
frame, he keeps his eyes riveted upon her face as if entranced, the
gaze unmoving as he replaces the lighter back in his pocket and lifts
his own drink back to his lips. "Mitsurugi," he repeats again, quietly
but firm. A faint smirk finally twists his lips, the first indication
that her flirtatious overtures are reaching past his rock exterior. "I
think you and I are the only 'foreign flavours' to sample here,
Raze-san," he comments wryly before sipping his drink. He allows the
taste to fill his mouth, holding it for a few moments, before finally
swallowing, clearing his throat. His head cants towards her, his gaze
still intent, unobscured by the brown-black spikes of hair that fall
over his brow. He states, bluntly, "You're from Asia."
Raze lets the cigarette dangle from her bloodred lips as you lean
forward, a seductive and playful little smirk still keeping the corners
of her lush mouth tilted upwards, the golden depths of her own amber
eyes reflecting your features within them. She dips a finger into her
vodka, and then moves to trail that vodka covered finger along your
lips, as she pulls her cigarette from her lips with her free hand,
tapping it lightly beside her hip to let the ashes drift to the floor
unheeded. She blows the smoke into your face now, and the smile widens,
her eyes flaring lightly as she lets her finger come to rest at the
center of your bottom lip. "You know... they say the spiciest and most
delicious dishes come from Asia." Her voice is husky as she speaks, a
wisp of hair grazing the paleness of her cheek, as she pulls her hand
away, to trail lightly down along your shoulders, before her hand cups
your bicep, squeezing testingly. "Mmm, nice."
As your fingertip moves away from his lower lip, Arashi's tongue flicks
out, a quick flash of red that whisks all traces of vodka away in one
smooth movement. Other than that, he doesn't react outwardly except to
close his eyes against the dusty sting of smoke against his face. They
reopen, but no longer look at your face; the woodsy orbs have lowered
to study the hand on his arm with a measure of bemusement. Then he
chuckles again, low and rich, and sips his sake. "Yes," he agrees.
"They say that." The cup is set down, and the man leans forward towards
you, the distance closed further, his eyes back on your face. It would
seem as if he were finally responding to the overtures, except his
eyes, as they return to your face, are opaque and intense, no trace of
sensuality except in the play of his lips. His eyes are probing, trying
to discern your thoughts just by looking at your face. "It makes me
wonder what a delicious dish such as yourself is doing in this
unremarkable town so far from Asia."
Raze lets out a husky laugh, still watching you closely without
speaking, as if carefully thinking over her next words, as she holds
her cigarette up beside her face in an affected manner and takes a long
sip of her vodka. She too licks her lips, but in a much slower,
deliberate manner. She takes a drag from her cigarette and blows it out
to the side this time, before she raises an eyebrow in response to your
question. "Well, as wonderful as Asian dishes might be, one sometimes
gets the urge to sample international cuisine." She gives you a sly
little smile before uncrossing her legs and sliding forward in her
stool until each knee is sitting on either side of your own knees, your
lap between her spread legs. she leans forward and places her hand on
your thigh. "I've always had a penchance for Japanese..." The hand
creeps up, upwards, regardless of the fact that this is a rather public
place. But then with what Raze is wearing, can it be any surprise, how
bold she is? She's probably unlike any woman you've met, something
slightly predatory in her smile, as she is in complete control
of her body, of all her words--a confidence that usually only men hold.
She /is/ unlike any woman he's ever met. The surprise and intrigue just
barely visible in Arashi's eyes give him away. He's had his share of
pleasure women and one-night stands in the past, but the women went
about it in a very different way. They played the part of the
submissive, pouty young mistress; the aggressiveness you display with
your flirtations are something new. It intrigues him, but at the same
time makes him wary. That too is given away, in the subtle line that
creases his brow. He shifts, just slightly, beneath the weight of your
hand upon his thigh. It somehow ruins the cool calm exterior he's
presenting. "Don't tell me you've come all the way to Italy just for a
change in menu," he says after a moment, a black brow still flicked
upwards. Despite the disconcertment the placement of your hand
provokes, he doesn't straighten back, continuing to lean towards you.
He has met two young women in this city, both of them foreign, that he
suspects of having the same goal as he. Though you have yet to give any
sign of having a weapon on you, simply the oddity of yet another
foreigner being here is enough to make him wonder. The corner of his
lips twitches upwards wryly. "Or, after coming all this way, you would
settle for a humble businessman as myself." Right, like most
businessmen are built the way he is. At least he's not trying to pass
himself off as a pool salesman again.
Raze lets her hand continue to move higher since you have yet to stop
its progress along your thigh. It grows dangerously close to that
certain part of you that probably shouldn't be fondled in public, as
Raze finally extingusishes her cigarette in the ashtray, and then takes
another sip of her drink, so nonchalant all the while as her hand
drifts beyond the boundaries of good taste. "Why not? This is a
vacation town, and I needed a vacation. And I *love* Italian food," she
says with a bit of a purr in her voice, and it's not hard to imagine
her as a cat pouncing onto its prey and batting it about before moving
in for the kill. She leans towards you too, her breath smelling
slightly of vodka, as she brushes her lips along your jaw, to your ear.
"If all businessmen in Japan are as sexy as you are, I'll have to make
sure to make that my next vacation destination."
Just before your hand creeps into the forbidden territory, Mitsurugi's
is there, fingers once again winding around your hand in another
unrelenting grip, pulling it away before the venture goes from
dangerous to possibly embarrassing. He clears his throat and releases
her hand once it's been removed, his eyes hardening just a bit, his
point made without him voicing it. Of course, it remains to be seen
whether or not the point is taken. His jaw is slightly prickly to the
touch, a light glazing of hair that indicates a morning or two gone
without shaving, just dark enough to give the polite, unruffled
gentleman a ruggedly handsome appeal. The twitch of muscles is feelable
beneath your lips as his twist into another faint smirk, though this
one fails to reach his eyes. "You aren't one to.. ah, beat around the
bush, are you, Raze-san?"
Raze makes an irritated face, even to the point of sticking out her
tongue, pulling back and draining the glass of the last of her vodka.
She produces a folded bill and throws it onto the bar, as she pulls
back and closes her legs to cross them again, giving you a look that
seems almost challenging you to a fight. "Gods, you're such a
pussytease," she says with a sound of derision, as she puts back her
silver cigarette case to wherever the hell it came from, idly tapping
her fingers against her thigh as if trying to rid herself of the
annoyance. "And no, I'm fucking not. So listen, do you want to fuck or
not? Really, you're going to get yourself in trouble one day if you
lead people on like that." It does sound odd, coming from a woman, the
same spiel told the world over by men to their recalcitrant
girlfriends. She frowns again, pursing her lips in a pout of annoyance,
before lifting her eyebrow in question, waiting.
Arashi can't help it. He laughs. Leaning back, he laughs, and shakes his
head, echoing your actions as the contents of his cup are thrown back
as well. "You must forgive me then, if I am teasing you so, for it was
certainly not my intent." Sh'yeah. Right. "But you were the one that
came over and grabbed my ass," he points out with a bluntness of speech
that clashes with the unruffleable etiquette he had displayed up until
that point. He shakes his head in amusement, studying his bottle of
sake, as if considering whether or not he should take that next cup. He
decides against it, instead looking back to you, the curious intrigue
once more entered his hazel depths, the hardness gone, but not out of
reach. His smirk shifts, nearly a smile. Now who is the one playing cat
and mouse? "You smell of danger, my dear. If I say yes, would you kill
me in my sleep?"
Raze crosses her arms over her chest, looking less amused by the minute.
She quirks a brow, her lips slanted in derision, their blood red
fullness twisted as she shakes her head. "I only put my hand on your
ass because you made it seem like you wanted it, hon," she says with
admonition, tapping her fingers against her forearm as she watches you,
as if trying to decide exactly what to do. "Actually, I smell of
expensive french perfume that I bought on the way over here, thanks.
And if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't need to wait until you were
asleep." She gives you a rather feral grin then, revealing slightly
pointy canines, and amazingly white, even teeth. "I just wanted to fuck
you. but I couldn't guarantee that you wouldn't keel over dead of a
heart attack, afterwards, of course." She smirks then, lowering her
hands to her thighs once more, letting them rest on her knee.
"You could discern all of that by 'Good evening?' I'm impressed." A
chuckle whispers in Arashi's eyes, but remains in his throat, giving
his voice a pleasantly amused thrum beneath his tone. He keeps himself
turned towards you slightly, leaning against the bartop with his elbow
pressed against the counter, rubbing at the stubble of his chin, his
opposite hand resting midthigh, fingers splayed. "An Italian setting,
expensive French perfume, a Japanese man-- international flavor,
indeed." He's teasing, but not mocking, less unsettled by the turnabout
of the situation. Now the chuckle escapes. "It would take far more than
that to kill me." And he means it. A confident man, perhaps even
arrogant. His eyes once more study your face, intrigued by your
appearance.
Raze has suddenly grown deathly still. Perhaps you had mocked her once
too much, perhaps she has merely grown weary of this game. But her eyes
are unblinking as she stares at you, her lips set in that pout, her
legs uncrossing merely so she can brace her long, muscular legs on the
ground and put her hands upon her knees. "Whatever it would take, I
know I've got it." It's all she has to say, all she's willing to say, a
brief spark of morbid humour glinting in her eyes only to be replaced
with the same arrogance you possess, perhaps even more. She is
certainly a striking creature, as you look at her--a creature, more
than a woman, with those golden feline eyes, those full red lips, the
length of her blue black hair. The way her muscles tense and dance
beneath the white silk of her skin shows that there is more to her than
just first appearances, but it might be something dangerous to uncover.
Arashi returns the unblinking stare in kind, settling back in his seat
slightly, a hand waving in the air to motion to the bartender,
indicating that he is finished with the sake. The bottle disappears,
and with it the cup, and soon after being placed on the counter, so
does the money paying for it. "Do you?" An innocent question filled
with a million implications. He played the innocent, disinterested
gentleman earlier; now it becomes apparent that he is anything but. A
fine actor, or more simply, and more likely, a fine liar. Now his eyes
travel your body, from the fiery orbs of your eyes to the toes of your
boots, then up again, doing what he tactfully refrained from doing
earlier: checking you out. The barest hint of a smile touches his eyes.
"I do not think so." Smiling opaque eyes study yours once again. Three
women he has met that he thinks will eventually prove to be his
opponents. With two of them he played the unwitting tourist; his
tactics change with the third. Perhaps he's tired of beating around
the bush. Perhaps it's that intrigue, that interest, that you have so
kindled inside him. He wants to uncover that dangerous something.
"You're looking for it as well, aren't you?"
Raze is still, as still as a statue as you study her, and just as
unflinching and apathetic as you 'check her out.' Even her eyes don't
shift as she watches you with the same unsettling gaze. "Try me. Come
on. Let's go out, right now. I bet you I could kick your ass from here
'til Tuesday." She grins ferally, and then finally leans forward
slightly like a predator, smelling the scent of its prey. She doesn't
even bother to answer your question as she waits, literally at the edge
of her seat, ready to bolt out the door as soon as you agree. "What's
wrong? Too scared to take on a woman, Arashi?" Your name on her lips
comes out like a taunt, each syllable pronounced in less than dulcet
tones, sharp, drawled, to make it sound like something less than
stellar. Everything, of course, is calculated to make you take up her
taunts, even the hand that slides out on the bar to move beside you,
gripping along the edge as if she's ready to pull herself into your
arms.
"I fear nothing." The statement was not particularly loud, and yet it
draws notice, eyes in the bar turning towards the pair. The bartender
pauses in his polishing of glasses. Fellow patrons halt in their
conversation. For a moment, there is stillness. Then it is gone again
like the wind, breezing through and disappearing in the returning rise
of background noise. For a brief moment the situations had been
reversed. Now Arashi is the rock again, his eyes hard, unflinching.
Even the smirk upon his lips seems frozen in place.
It doesn't take too long for Raze to give you a smile of invitation
then, slightly sexual, but more taunting, as she slides off her stool,
her bootheels clicking once more on the wooden floor. "Then show me
that you aren't. I want good, hard..." she trails off for a moment,
giving you a smile, aware of her double entendre, wanting to make sure
you know that she knows. "..proof." She turns away then so that you can
see the burning rose tattoo that blooms along her back, covering the
entire expanse of the shapely and exposed flesh, walking towards the
pub exit without even so much as looking back to see if you are
following.
And follow he does. Somewhere between the bar and the exit, the smirk
dies from Arashi's lips, replaced with a neutral line, his face
expressionless. His long coat rustles around his legs, his own shoes
making muffled noises against the floor, lost amidst the beat of music
in the background. His hands have slipped into the pocketse of his
jacket, the jacket itself pulled tight around him, as if to hide his
form. Watching you make your way across the pub, he notes the height
difference with a measure of inward irritation. Foreign women are so
tall. It will take some getting used to.
[...]
Alleyway
This is a VERY creepy and very dark alleyway. There's garbage strewn
about from the dumpster in the corner. And it's a dead end too!
Yup yup.
Raze leads you into the alleyway, moving inwards towards the dead end
without any seeming fright, or even apprehension to what's about to
take place. In fact by the way she moves, the slinkiness of her walk,
you might just think she was coming back here to fuck your brains out.
But when she turns around, any doubts would be wiped away, her golden
eyes glowing slightly like a cat's, a feral gaze affixed upon you, a
wide smile upon her lips as she juts out her hip and props one hand on
that hip, waiting for you. "So, show me what you got," she says like a
prostitute to her john, her eyes moving over your form, and though she
may have taken a non violent stance, there is a wariness and a
tenseness to her muscles and her form.
The stiffness had bled from his stance on the way to the alley. Arashi
had left the pub irritated, but you'd never know by looking at him now.
The rock has turned to mud, cool and smooth, and liquid enough to slip
through your fingers, but with enough tangibility to leave behind a
stain. A soft chuckle escapes him, and he bows, even as he opens his
jacket. (Hey kid, would ya like to buy a watch?) There, on the inside
of his jacket, a katana and scabbard. A fine quality katana, not the
sort you would purchase from a magazine, but handcrafted, forged, and
probably worth a small fortune. What's he doing in a bar with a sword
inside his jacket? And, more importantly, how the hell does a
businessman, even one as powerfully built as he is, learn to sit at a
bar with a sword in his jacket without security blinking twice? The
sound of metal upon metal slices through the air of the alleyway as he
draws the sword from its sheath, leaving the side of his jacket to
swing heavily once he releases it. Light dances off of the steel shine
of the blade. He doesn't say anything though, staring at you with
remarkable impassiveness, only the faintest hint of a smirk on his
lips, just like before.
There is a brief glint of surprise, and some grudging respect on Raze's
part, but besides the quick movement of expressions over her face,
these are quick to pass back to blaseness and feral intensity, as she
shifts, and moves to stand with her legs wide apart, her balance
equally spread. "Well, that's a mighty nice katana you have there," she
says, licking her lips. "You probably spent a small fortune on it.
Didn't know many businessmen carried those around in Japan, now I'll
most *definitely* have to go for a visit." She grins again, slyly.
"Well, since you showed me yours, I guess it's my turn to show you
mine." She bends over at the waist, her legs straight, her hair
tumbling forward for a few seconds until there is a flash of light as
her own weapons catch the glint of light. From tucked into the sides of
her boots emerge a pair of sai, meticulously crafted themselves, but
obviously the woman who owns them has used them many times before. She
twirls them with expert hands, until both of the long shafts are facing
outwards, towards you, and she crosses them for a few moments, before
she twirls them again, grinning all the while as she gives you her
little show. It's *her* turn to smirk now, and that she does, arrogance
plain on her feline, striking features, as she licks her lips
lavisciously again--this time the movement smacks of aggression and
danger.
The light continues to dance off of the silvery steel of the blade as
Arashi spins it, first on one hand, then on the other. He might seem as
if he's showing off as well, but in truth he's simply warming up,
waking his hands up. Swordfighting before your body's ready for it is
usually a good way to sprain something. "Sai," he says after a moment,
a touch of irony to his amusement. "The same weapon that the commonfolk
used to wield against the marauding samurai. How apt." He too is
impressed, watching the two weapons sing in your hands, the smirk
unfading, yet somehow milder than before. His hands move to the handle
of the katana, his feet sliding across the garbage-slickened ground,
spacing themselves... And then, without preamble, the swordsman is
suddenly coming towards you with sword slashing. A diagonal strike,
aiming from your waist to your opposite shoulder. If he were coming
hard, it would be an attack vicious enough to cleave you in two, but
his intent right now is nothing more than a simple flesh wound.
Raze smirks back, obviously amused by your snobbishness. "There's a lot
to be said for simple peasantfolk and other such 'trash'," she says as
she twirls the sai again, this time to place the long shafts parallel
with her forearms, crouching down slightly, waiting for you to attack
as she knows you will. Her own rubber bottomed soles are planted firmly
to the cement, her eyes following your movements as you strike, and she
shifts to lift a hand to block the relatively light blow, as the other
one shifts upwards, to try to knock you out with the combined force of
her arm and the hard steel of the sai, aimed rather viciously at your
nose. The force of your blow is still enough to make her slide
backwards somewhat, the black rubber making track marks along the
cement from the friction, though she manages to hold her ground as you
push at her with your blade.
"I never said there wasn't," is grunted out amidst the clang of steel as
katana meets sai. Fast, but not remarkably so, Arashi does have one
thing on his side: strength. The solidly built form you had admired
earlier lives up to the picture it depicts, the force of the steel
against steel enough to send the weapons screaming at the air,
fingernails against a chalkboard. Sensing the movement of your other
hand out of the corner of his eye, Arashi is forced to jump back again
or risk a broken nose, the pressure and his presence darting backwards
as quickly as he came forward. Two weapons against his one? Hrm. The
sword is held at ready in front of him as he chuckles dryly, hoarsely,
his hazel eyes watching you. "Impressive," is commented as an aside.
What Raze lacks in strength, she makes up for in speed, and in cunning.
She pulls back her fist quickly when you avoid the threat of her fist
and her sai coming towards your face. She gives you a grin when you
admit to her abilities, and shakes her head, as if mockingly. "You
ain't seen nothin' yet, gringo," she says, copying those cowboy movies
of old, as she hooks the toe of her boot into a rusted old tin can, and
flings it towards you as a decoy, and then attacks low, aiming one of
her sai towards your knee as the other one is kept upwards as
protection in case you decide to take her out. Her body is bent and
slithered, as the foot that kicks upwards to launch the poor can moves
down and bends, like a lunging panther, a growl on her lips as she
thrusts her fist out to strike.
Arashi falls for it. Switching to hold the sword with one hand, he snaps
the other hand in the air, smacking the can out of the way, letting it
clang off the near wall and rebound into a pile of garbage. It's pure
reflex that saves him from getting his knee dislocated; his katana
jerks downwards, catching the sai before it connects, but the hold is
uncertain, being only one handed and with his off hand at that. Arashi
isn't ambidextrous, and he used the hand he's most used to when he
slapped aside the flying can. Precious seconds are wasted ascerting
his grip, his strenght slow to kick in until both hands grip the
handle. Then, unable to attack directly, he instead pushes back on the
sai violently, trying to knock you off-balance.
Raze lets out a loud curse when you block her sai, but not one to be
outdone and outmaneuvered, she lifts her other hand, hooking her fist
behind your knee to try to pull you off balance, using your own fulcrum
and force of gravity as you push against her against you yourself,
trying to get you to fall backwards. After a few moments she too is
shoved back, onto her ass, and she winces but quickly rolls over to get
back on her knees, and then on her feet, advancing towards you. "You're
good, you're fast, but you aren't fast enough, lover," she says with a
purr. "At least you got stamina."
"Chikushoume!" The snapped vulgarity echoes off the walls, just before
Arashi topples back as well, his knee giving away against the pressure
of your fist and bringing him down. Once again his sword is left to a
one-handed grip as the other hand slaps out against the concrete,
saving him from smacking his head against it. He rolls to his feet as
quickly as he can, but not quick enough; you're already approaching by
the time he has his sword back in both hands, his legs bent so that he
kneels somewhat, the same position a man takes when asking a woman for
her hand in marriage, except instead of a ring he holds a sword. Not
having time to regain his footing and his bearings, the man stays low,
looking up at you with a terrible grin. "We shall see," is all he says,
rotating his wrists slightly so that the blade faces horizontally, then
slashes an arching sweep in front of him as you approach, aiming for
your knees.
Raze moves with speed, trying to close the distance, but pauses,
midstep, lurching when you swing your sword towards her knees. Then, a
not altogether sane light in those golden eyes, she lets loose with a
crazed, husky laugh, her chest heaving with the strain of the fight.
Rather than coming to a full stop and blocking the arc of the blade
with her sai, she uses the velocity that she's gained to propel
herself in a jump, her arms crossed in front of her, jumping over your
blade to try to ram right into your shoulders and knock you down. A
suicide leap, certainly, and not something any sane person would
attempt, but if you hadn't guessed already, Raze is far from sane, and
it must have been something you picked up on already from the bar.
Indeed. Arashi is not all together surprised when his blade slices air.
He is, however, /quite/ surprised when he's suddenly being plowed into
by a full grown, sai-wielding woman. So surprised is he that he doesn't
even have a chance to think long enough to get out of the way. The
swordsman falls, his back striking the ground hard, the wind knocked
out of him in a harsh release of breath against your face. But though
he can't breathe, he long ago developed the ability to react without
thinking, and that's possibly the only thing that saves him. His
fingers release his sword, abandoning it to freefall, clanging against
the ground. Then strong arms sweep from both sides to try and bearhug
you to him, perhaps to literally crush the life from your form,
except, if he gets that far, the next thing he'll try is to roll both
of the two fighters over, so that he'll end up on top with her beneath
him. Providing her sai don't get to him first. If he gets that far.
Raze doesn't waste time, after all, though the initial impact did hurt
quite a bit, you cushioned her fall for her, and she was braced for the
feel of flesh hitting flesh, her arms held out in front of her. As the
sword lands to the ground with a clatter, she pulls her hands from in
front of her face and places one hand on either side of you as she
extends a leg, looking back to kick the sword away to send it scuttling
towards the darker shadows of the alleyway, before she is held in your
grip, gasping to feel your strong arms wrapped around her body, though
her arms remain free. Now while being held this way by a virile man
such as Arashi might normally be exciting, getting the life crushed out
of one is not, and thus Raze lets out a grunt of anger, and wraps her
legs around your waist as you roll her over onto her back, using her
own strong leg muscles to try to crush the breath out of you as well,
her thighs clenching and abdomen tightening as she does so. The sai are
still in her hands, and she lifts up her hands, grunting out in a
breathless voice, "give up, you know you've lost..." the husky sound
comes out like a sigh, as she arches and bucks against you, her legs
still wrapped around your torso.
Again, a growled vulgarity, except now it comes from between gritted
teeth as Arashi must focus upon keeping his arms firmly knotted around
your form as well keep himself breathing, since such a simple act has
become quite complicated by the strong legs encircling his broad frame.
Hazel eyes flashing -- with anger? with menace? somehow, it is neither,
yet it holds their ferocity, their blind determination -- he manages to
hiss out through his teeth, "Not yet." He still has time before the
lack of oxygen makes his vision blacken. Going as slack against you as
he possibly can, literally laying atop you, he tries to use his weight
to keep you down while his arms unwind, hands snapping out in awkward
tries for your arms, to pin them down and hopefully /keep/ them down,
and keep the double threat your sai pose at a minimum.
Raze continues to tighten her hold on your form, her legs threatening to
squeeze the very breath of life from your body as her thighs press
against your sides, her abdomen pressed against your diaphragm as she
thrashes madly, hands hard to get a hold of since she's moving them
around so much. "I could stab you right now and you couldn't do shit
about it," she says with a growl, thoguh she too is out of breath,
strain in her voice from your heavy form draped over her much lighter
one. "Just give the fuck up, you stupid Japanese pencil pusher!" You
manage to knock one of her sai away, sending it flying, but
unfortunately, all it does is free up one of her hands so that she can
attack again, not one who is adverse to using girlish maneuvers if they
would be effective in a fight. Her long red fingernails move to scratch
your cheek, and failing or not failing to do that, moves then to yank
hard on your hair, pulling back even as she holds her hand way up out
of your reach, so you can't take your last sai. "Give up, give up!"
Arashi isn't looking to knock your sais away; he's looking to grab your
hands and force them to the ground. You can't stab him if your hands
are plastered to the ground. The fact that one actually gets knocked
away is pure luck, or at least that's how he intreprets it. Then the
sharp pain of fingernails rake across his cheek, and he jerks back just
before they get deep enough to scar, a sharp cry squeezing out between
his teeth, cut off abruptly when the pain transfers to his scalp, his
thick black hair going taunt as its yanked. "You fight like a woman,
Raze-san," he wheezes, darkness beginning creeping in on the edges of
his vision, but pride, woefully stubborn pride, keeps him fighting,
keeps him from admitting defeat. His breath, through quickly
shortening, is hot against your face, his hazel eyes wild with rage,
but not yet lost. Blood drips from the grooves clawed into his cheek,
splattering against your face. He's still thinking, still trying to
find a way out. When he realizes he can't capture your hands, one
braces on the ground beside the pair for balance, and the other slips
to the outside. His attack, admittedly desperate, comes from that hand,
a ridgehand to your elbow. If it succeeds, he'll probably lose hair
with it, but better that than defeat at the hands of a woman.
Raze twists her body, bucking against you, though she too is beginning
to get tired, her legs showing a little less strength than they
formerly did. She takes a deep breath, and redoubles her efforts, one
last ditch effort, squeezing tighter and harder than before with the
last push of her strength. She retains her tight grip to your hair,
pulling and yanking, as she grins into your face, her feral laughter
seemingly echoing through the alleyway. "I fight like an animal, I do
what I have to and fuck all if it means looking like a 'tard." Your
chop to her arm makes her grunt and jerk, and her hand does indeed fall
away from your hair, taking a huge clump of hair along with it. It
probably forces your head to recoil forwards and knock right into
Raze's, or else the woman just proves to you how animalistic she is, by
moving her own head up to bash against yours, trying to further your
unconsciousness by knocking you out. "Fucking give up already! You're
starting to piss me off," she growls, knowing that she too soon will be
too weak to put up a good fight.
Spots begin to swim in Arashi's vision, worsened with the collision of
heads, bright painful spots that dance in his head like sparks of fire.
Not daring to waste what little air he has left to snap back with a
witty rejoinder, it instead is forced out with that final squeeze of
your legs, a harsh blast of air snorted through his nose. The bright
spots fade to a quickly dominating blackness, but he still doesn't give
up. Not yet. His thoughts are rapidly losing their coherency, and it
shows, as his blind stubbornness bleeds into his eyes. It's all that
keeps him going-- that, and his stamina. Otherwise he'd have passed out
long ago, though he's dangerously bordering on doing so anyway. He
doesn't even have time to mourn the loss of hair; once your hand is
free, he braces both of his hands against the ground and pushes UP. Not
to try and break free of your legs -- they're too strongly entwined for
that -- but for leverage, his hands trying for your shoulders blindly.
His voice reduced to the hoarsest of whispers, he forces out, "I don't
care if you beat me, I'm not going to give up."
Since you didn't expect to break free, then it must come as a surprise
as you do, Raze suddenly unwinding her leather clad long legs from your
form, letting them sit, spread with her knees up as she falls back on
the cement, panting, with her eyes closed. "Oh for fuck's sake. You
win." She pants some more, her grip on her sai weakened, until she
opens her eyes again, or at least one eye, to fix you with a curious
glare. "I coulda beaten you, you know." It's a mere observation of
fact--any and all ferocity and anger has bled from her form, or rather
vanished--quickly, without a trace, as if it hadn't been there at all.
If the sudden change of moods takes you unawares, then Raze's sudden
quick kiss to your mouth must take you doubly by surprise, as she
struggles to push herself up so she can prop herself up on her elbows,
her chest rising and falling as she pants. She doesn't make any move to
push you away from resting between her legs, seeming to quite enjoy the
position, even as she continues to suck in great gulps of air. It's
hard to imagine the woman who looks at you so seductively now, is the
same one that tried to strangle you into subconsciousness only a few
moments ago, save that she's got some strands of your hair still
tangled in her hand.
It does indeed come as a surprise, and Arashi is so busy sucking air --
beautiful, beautiful air -- that he almost doesn't hear your admittance
of defeat. Arms shaking with exhertion, fingers knotting into the
concrete, he just wheezes, not even arguing when you state that you
could have beaten him. He wouldn't have argued anyway, might have even
agreed. Arashi will never give up, but he'll admit defeat when he's
defeated. It's just getting him to think that he's been defeated that's
difficult. He starts to heave another huge breath, to convince his
lungs that yes, he can breathe again, but then you kiss him and his
mind goes blank. His thoughts were already scrambled by the lack of
air; the abrupt change of moods is too sudden for him to comprehend. So
he's left like that, suspended over you, just staring at your face
blankly. Until he blurts, "...What was that for?"
Raze's breathing comes easier now, especially now that you aren't
actually lying on top of her but propping yourself up. Her other sai
remains discarded, her focus upon you rather than on her fallen weapon,
as she gives you a flirtatious little smile, and leans forward, this
time to draw her tongue against your lower lip, licking you and tasting
you, before pulling back again, to gauge your reaction. "You just look
so cute, panting and heaving like that, as if you just had one hell of
a hot fuck session." She grins, watching to see how her words will
effect you, curiously, her head tilted to one side like a cat's. She's
probably got some serious scratches along her back from being rubbed
and grinded against the pavement so much, but she doesn't seem to mind,
all smiles and sexual banter now that the fight is over.
An incredulous look smoothens across Arashi's face as his lips are
tasted. They're salty with sweat and tanged with blood, the slightest
bit having run over from the grooves clawed into his cheek, the angle
convienently set just right. His reaction is surprise, and a typical
'I can't believe you just did that' expression painted across his
chiseled features. It isn't exactly a common practice to be seduced by
your opponent after nearly suffocating each other in a fight. "I..."
His brain is still blank; no responses come to him, so again he's left
staring at you like a big dumb idiot. Then coherency finally returns to
his eyes, and he laughs, a hoarse sound since his lungs still aren't
quite convinced that they can breathe yet, but no less genuine. "You...
You are the oddest woman I have ever met," he confesses. The words
somehow seem like a compliment, as if being odd were a good thing, a
source of curiousity and intrigue, something that he has never seen
before. One of his hands lifts from the ground, the other keeping him
propped up, and brushes fingertips against your face, trailing down
the slope of your nose, tracing the shape of your lips.
Raze seems to find it quite adorable, your speechlessness and your
seeming inability to understand the shifts of her mood. Of course, the
fact that you *almost* beat her in a fight (like she'd ever admit
defeat) certainly raises her estimation of you, so that she lets out
another husky laugh, when you tell her she is the oddest woman you have
met. She gives you a playful wink before dropping her other sai and
lifting her hand to brush your hair from your face a bit more gently
now, pushing it away from your temples to gently follow the line of
your brow with her thumb, then sliding down to hover over the slight
scratches on your cheek, not touching, merely hovering over the skin.
"Thanks," is her reply, and a sincere one at that, as she looks at you
with rather seductive eyes when you run your fingers down to her lips.
She parts them and takes them lightly into her mouth, biting on the
pads of your fingertips, just enough to make them sting, always keeping
her eyes on your face. She lets them go merely to speak again. "You're
not so bad yourself, Mr. Arashi Mitsurugi." She drops her fingers then
to the collar of your shirt, to pull you down, her mouth parting as she
attempts to kiss you fully.
This time Arashi goes willingly, the cool disinterest and
'pussyteasing,' as you so eloquently referred to it as earlier,
banished from his response. Both hands splay their fingers against the
cool concrete as he allows himself to be pulled down into the kiss,
breath warm against your face until it vanishes into your mouth. Though
not a lady's man by any means, he's a man who has kissed before, and
does so with experience (though this is the first time it's ever been
on the ground in an alleyway), gently at first, then progressively
harder, perhaps to see just how far you'd let him go with it.
Weaponry, even the dull metal weight of the scabbard in his jacket,
forgotten for the moment, his blood still boiling from the fight though
his mind has regained coherency, his body heat rises with the closeness
and intimacy of the scene, arousal beginning to send electric shocks
through his system.
Raze's hands both rise to grab fistfuls of the materials of your shirt,
using you as a handle as she kisses you, her mouth open, her tongue
boldly moving into your mouth, to meet yours and tease it with gentle
flicks and swirls of her own. She is electric, her body arching upwards
lightly even as you kiss, propelled by her boots and her raised knees
as she shifts, pressing herself against you even here in the alleyway
like a cat in heat. The kiss goes on seemingly forever, and though
you're both deprived of air, this time, it's a voluntary condition. She
breaks the kiss first, and then draws her tongue along your lips again,
before keeping her hands wrapped up in fistfuls of the fabric of your
shirt, trusting that your strength will be enough to keep both you and
she upright. She pauses then, to meet your eyes from this close
distance, her own breath hot against your mouth, her golden eyes
meeting your own brown ones. "You feeling dangerous tonight, Arashi?"
The words are spoken against your lips, hot, like a caress against your
fevered skin, your name this time a purr on the lips of this feline
creature that clings to you. She turns her face then, to draw her
tongue lightly against one of the scratches along your cheek, tasting
your blood.
Electricity turns to lightning until the shared body heat between the
two is nearly palpable. Despite his exhaustion, a second wind of sorts
hits Arashi, leaving him more than capable of supporting them both.
Though he'll later wonder what the hell got into him to lose it so
fully that he forget his surroundings and the probable danger of being
caught thusly in the alleyway, he doesn't seem in the least bit
inhibited, eating at your mouth until you break away. His eyes blink
open at that, not even having realized that he closed them, and stare
back just as intently, their brown hue flecked with green like a
forest. Perhaps just the sort of forest that a wildcat would go
romping in. "Yes... I do believe I am," he responds in a low rumbling
tone, arousal deepening his voice, making it gruff. The flame of your
own golden eyes is reflected in his, a forestfire amidst the woodsy
colours. His blood is thick and tangy, no determinable taste except
for an odd bittersweetness that can't quite be pinpointed, lingering in
the back of your mouth long after you think it's been washed away.
Raze laughs, huskily, her lips returning to brush against yours, one
hand rising to cup your uninjured cheek as she presses small kisses to
your mouth, tiny ones like a kitten licking its owner's face, the
kisses interspersed amongst her words: "So, are you gonna fuck me here,
surrounded by the smell of spoiled garbage, or are we gonna go to the
hotel next door?" There is a trace of humour in her voice, as she's
quite aware you've completely forgotten where you are. She hasn't,
however, retaining some semblance of her mind though her own arousal
sits like a lazy ball of heat between her legs, palpable through the
slick leather at her crotch, as you press against her. She licks your
mouth again, as her hand slides down your cheek, to your shirt again,
but not grabbing the material, rather sliding over the bulges of your
pecs, the taut, ridged muscles of your abdomen. "I want you to fuck me.
Are you man enough to do it?" Another challenge, issued, followed this
time by another deep kiss, her tongue swirling against yours, eagerly.
Now really, what kind of chance is that? How could Arashi possibly come
up with a coherent response when he's too busy relishing the sweet
taste of your lips pressed against his? He doesn't allow himself to be
lost again though, responding back for a few moments, then pulling away
with a half-laugh rolling its way from the pit of his chest, a
pleasant thrum beneath your hand. "They say that the spiciest and most
delicious dishes come from Asia," he growls, low and deep, through the
smile pulling at his lips. "The day I am not man enough to sample a
dish such as you, I will give you that sword." He leans in again, just
close enough to brush noses with you, his eyes still intent upon
yours. Then, quick as that, he pulls away again and off, pausing a
moment to get his bearings, then rising to his feet. He is suddenly
grateful for his long coat; just before he pulls the ends of it around
him, his own arousal is briefly apparent in his groin. Once that is
taken care of and hidden, he smirks faintly and offers you his hand to
help you up, an eyebrow arched.
Raze laughs delightedly at your rememberance of her words, her eyes
flaring, eyebrows shooting up. "Well, I find I've got a taste for
japanese, to expand my exploration of the international cuisine," she
whispers in that husky, womanly voice, brushing her nose against yours
before stand, she still laying there, and then holding out her hand to
grab onto yours to stand up. She lets herself 'fall' against you
momentarily, and though she is taller than you, her body fits nicely
against yours, her breasts right near your face. She looks down with a
bit of a grin, before pulling away and turning around to collect her
sai from the ground, tucking them back into her boots, giving you a
nice view of a leather clad rear end and another glimpse at the
complicated rose tattoo, that has been marred with scratches, some
pink, and some bloody, but the woman complains naught as she stands
once more, and then quirks a finger at you, beckoningly. "Let's go, hot
stuff."
Arashi's grip is firm and strong, but not hard, as he grasps your hand
and helps you up. His other hand briefly plays against your back,
tracing the line of spine and shoulderblades, for the brief moment
you're pressed against him. The fact that his fingertips come back
slightly bloody doesn't seem to bother him -- he was, after all, the
reason that the scratches are there -- but he studies the spots of
crimson with a moment of bemusement. Retrieving his own sword and
resheathing it with the sound of metal sliding against metal again
echoing off the surrounding walls, he's not above enjoying the view you
present, his eyebrows slowly arching with frank admiration. He chuckles
softly when you turn, his voice slightly thickened, but no less gruff,
his woodsy eyes alive. "Lead the way, madam," is his reply, accompanied
by a jerk of his head and a half-grin, the sword and scabbard invisible
beneath his coat once again.
[end log.]
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