capeandcowllogs | Belonging to possibility with the middle switched, ending in shun.

WHO: EDWARD and ERIDAN.
WHERE: A very classy sewer.
WHEN: September 23rd, 2011.
WARNINGS: You're ducking and moving just to hide your bruises from all your enemies
SUMMARY: And I'm in the crossfire dodging bullets from your expectancies
FORMAT: Quickparagraph.

[It was a anticipated confrontation, between him and Eridan. As he slid down the opened manhole, Eddie considered the various avenues this could play out. Assured loyalty. Seedlings of rebellion. Desperate trust. Snapped contempt. Whatever the outcome (and Eddie had carved the likelihood to his favor) one thing was absolutely certain: Eridan would not enjoy their dramatic setting.

Not. At. All.

But sewers were the lifeblood of the underworld (at least, according to the Gotham scene). How often had Eddie himself escape through one? The numbers were somewhere, sunken through his memories.

He carried a lighter. The small glow illuminated the green slime lining the walls, the turgid water sloshing along his shoes. It provided an eerie atmosphere. A perfect atmosphere.]

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[Eridan didn't feel fear often.

or at least, he told himself he didn't. most of those instances (wigglerhood brushes with death, torrid FLARP matches, duels gone bad) could be explained away. and he told himself, sliding down the grimy ladder into grimier water, that what he felt was only nervous anticipation, not fear. that he, the great Eridan Ampora/Orphaner Dualscar/Prince of Hope, after swatting a cockroach off his sleeve and turning on his flashlight, would soon find that there was nothing to be anticipating besides a discussion between moirails. that the sewer, crawling with all sorts of things he tried not to shine his flashlight on, didn't unnerve him.

he didn't need Eddie around to know those were lies.]

Ed?

[he pulled the ugly green and purple scarf up over his nose and mouth, and sloshed onwards, occasionally calling Eddie's name and listening to it echo. Eddie wouldn't hurt him. Eddie wouldn't hurt him. the thought (mantra) offered shallow comfort.

Eddie wouldn't, but Riddler might.]

[He heard the calls. The bravado masking a quibbling fear, bouncing off those slick walls around him. The noise brought a sick smile to his face, one haunted by the faint glow of his lighter. Eddie calmly unhatched his gun from its holster, checking the safety. Off.

It was just a prop, after all. Fear was only a prop, tonight.]

Eridan.

[His tone was almost in sing-song.]

Eridan, I'm only right here. You needn't worry.

[that tone - that very unlike Eddie sing-songish - sent Eridan's heart into his throat. and, for the first time, he considered leaving. abandoning Eddie down here to whatever had consumed him, and calling it simple disgust at the meeting place his moirail had chosen. he could suggest a new one, a less dank, less isolated one. nobody would know but Eddie.

but no, that would be retreat. and though he had lost, though he had struggled and whined and cried and even surrendered, when there was no hope in any other option, he had never retreated. had never abandoned an altercation out of fear. and he never would.]

I'm not.

[his voice was dry, edging on cracking. the pause in his sloshing footsteps, though only moments long, was telling; he went on with renewed, empty vigor. his voice now boomed with courage he didn't have.]

And if you don't want me worryin', not that I would, you'll quite playin' this fuckin' hide and seek wiggler game a yours and come face me proper.

[The darkness hid his smirk. The show of spine was almost endearing, to Edward. It meant that Eridan wanted to prove himself, that he feared for Eddie's opinion of him. That he needed this, and he was willing to endure the slimed stench of a sewer for it.

But it wasn't enough, and Eddie was only beginning.]

Marco. ["Polo" came in the form of two shot, blam blam, the bullets ricocheting at calculated angles that wouldn't touch Eridan's skin. The flare from the gunfire illuminated the sewer, flashing quick and blinding images. Smoke barely cut through the infested smell.]

Have you found me yet?

Edited 2011-09-26 06:38 (UTC)

[the shots rang out and Eridan ducked, instinctively dropping to one knee and throwing his hands up over his head. that was one pair of pants ruined, and one flashlight lost somewhere near his feet in the turgid water.

Eddie had shot at him.

Eddie had shot at him.]

Fuck you!

[he howled into the inky, reeking blackness. soon he was illuminated with the harsh white light of his drawn wand, eyes wide and teeth bared in a snarl. and now he charged in Eddie's direction, his outrage momentarily overpowering his fear.]

You ewer shoot that fuckin' toy a yours at me again and I'll hack your goddamn trigger finger off myself, you hear me?

[The boy's fury was palpable. Eddie smirked, loving the display. The drama. The spectacle. Loving the man that it brought out from Eridan's childish depths.

But he didn't love it enough to risk his own life.

He fired another shot, above their heads. Bullet driven into concrete and steel. A warning blow.]

Feisty. That's something you've always had going for you, Eridan, when everything else failed. That attitude, that determination -- even when you know how it's going to end.

[He paused, taking aim at the charging lad's head.]

Make your move.

[Eridan paused at the gunshot. stared wide-eyed, still seething, still gripping his wand so tightly that his hand ached, as Eddie took aim again.

moving forward was potential suicide. going back was unthinkable.

Eridan started forward again, this time at a forcibly casual pace. he dimmed his wand to the point of barely being able to make Eddie out ahead of him. but his answer was a controlled hiss.]

Use that fuckin' peashooter a yours or aim it at somethin' else. I came here to talk, not play your goddamn games.

What makes you think one's exclusive of the other? [He asks glibly, licking the back of his teeth after he speaks. There's a manic confidence in his words, in his molecules. Something new.] Maybe I'm interested in your reaction to new stimuli.

[He walks closer, gun still aimed. But no more firing, not right now. They're in the middle of a moment.]

You know that something's changed, don't you? I wonder -- does it scare you? That something changed, something outside your control. Do you fear it's put your sense of place in danger?

[Eridan stops, when Eddie starts towards him. his eyes occasionally stray to the gun muzzle, but always back to Eddie's face right afterwards.]

Why should it? [he drawls, cocking his head. the picture of being unmoved by Eddie's theatrics.] We got a dynamic to us, don't we? Me an' you. It hasn't changed.

[he brandishes his wand; it glows a little brighter, illuminates a little more of the sewer. his drawl is just barely on the right side of an unimpressed, near disappointed grimace.]

Do your fuckin' job as my own personal moirail and it doesn't matter.

[lie. but to his credit, he lies very well.]

Belonging to possibility with the middle switched, ending in shun.

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