she left me roses by the stairs

[symmachy]

WHO: Scathach & Lancer.
WHERE: Her dojo, then elsewhere.
WHEN: RIGHT NOW
WARNINGS: N/A.
SUMMARY: Lancer comes to ask Scatty a favor, and conversations happen.
FORMAT: Quick.

[The week had been quiet. Things at the Institute had been going smoothly, and incidents in the City had been kept to a minimum.

She knew it couldn't last.

No amount of solo meditation could keep her from thinking of that. It makes the entire process of meditating more or less useless. After two hours of trying, she decides that there isn't any point in continuing on. Scathach sighs, opening her eyes and unfolding herself from her lotus position. She leans back on her hands, tilting her head to stare at the cream colored ceiling briefly. Maybe a little excitement will help. She just hopes it isn't the wrong kind.]

Comments

[lucke]

[Like a phantom, Scathach kept fluttering in and back out of Lancer's life since arriving in the City. Small snippets on the Network and brief, chance meetings in other dimensions wasn't satisfying. If anything it drove his curiosity further up the wall.

She was a treasure dear to him, in more ways than one. But a treasure he had assumed long since lost to the cold ravages of time, just like the rest of his life. But here she was again. Whole and exactly as he remembered her. A small token of the man he once was.

After days of searching (because Cu is a proud man and can't be bothered to do this the easy way and just ASK her where she is) he finally found it, her dojo.

Slipping in quietly through a side door, using all his guile to try and get the drop on her, he slides into the room and assumes a furtive posture. No Servant tricks here. It would be rude of him to cheat in this little game.]

Figure's I'd find you in a place like this. [He gives a mock exasperated sigh, shrugging.] Some things never change.

[symmachy]

[She almost doesn't hear him. Even when she's certain she can't meditate, she still manages to full into a sort of lull that one could almost call a daydream. If she could sleep or dream, that is. But for a creature like her, there is no true rest. Just remembrances that are as vivid as the day they occurred.

But then she hears someone takes a breath being taken and her eyes snap open. But she doesn't move. That would just waste time. If it's an attack, she may as well use momentum when it comes her way.

Nothing comes, and his voice calms her, makes her fingers uncurl from the mats where they had been about ready to tear into the vinyl below her.

She doesn't turn, already knowing exactly how he's standing and the exact expression on his face. Her nostrils flare as she inhales, and his scent fills her head. This isn't good. She can't feel, she shouldn't try to pretend. Not even for him.]

I guess I'm just set in my ways. It comes with age.

[lucke]

[Her stature gave nothing away, to his amusement. Maybe a slight tension. But that could be annoyance just as well as surprise.

Or, as unlikely as it may be, perhaps she knows his situation here in the the City and correctly assumes he can't be trusted... But what where the chances of that?

But her light, self-depricitive comment puts him at ease, even drawing a derisive snort from him.]

Well you bear it well. Why you can hardly even notice the wrinkles. [Huehuehue]

[symmachy]

[Scatty just makes it a point to assume nobody can be trusted, and after her experience with the Cu Chulainn in her world... well, it's a pretty good assumption.

There's a moment, after he speaks, when she considers letting the comment slide. He isn't the exact same man, he may have a different sense of humor. She should tread carefully, she should give him the benefit of the doubt. Being in the City had, after all, made her something of a better person.

... Oh well.

In less than half a heartbeat she's up and standing in front of him. She could have attacked, but an attempt at a shock factor is good enough for now. He's taller than her, but she looks imposing anyway, all coiled muscle, angular features, and vertical pupiled eyes that are contracted to mere slits.]

How about now?

[lucke]

[Without giving any resistance, Lancer leans back politely as the beast of a woman rushes him --his soft smile never leaving his face.

Getting a rise out of Scathach had always been relatively easy. The challenge was knowing when you'd be pushing her too far. As a student, Lancer's "charm" got him face first into the ground and a mouthful of dirt more times that he cared to recall. But after a while he and his Scatty had come to an accord.

Maybe he had proven himself as an equal. Or that he had defended her lands against a rival kingdom. --Or it might have been when they shared a bed. THE WORLD MAY NEVER KNOW.

Gently. Oh so gently, Lancer leaned forward, daring the jaws of the beast as he moved in almost cheek to cheek with her and breathed softly into her ear. Her sweet scent becoming his world, taking his mind back millennium.]

Oh, my mistake... you're just as beautiful as I remember.

[Slitted eyes and all.]

[symmachy]

[Moving slowly is probably in his best interest right now. She isn't used to experiencing emotions so violently--at least, she hasn't in a while. Her time in the City, starting from her failed attempt at romance with Alex and her lack of action towards Jack has led her to accept that being alone and keeping things locked up is the best plan. She still feeds, of course, but no nearly as often and not nearly as intensely. Keeping everything to a minimum has been how she's lived her life for almost a year.

And he's messing it all up with just one phrase.

Scathach bares her teeth, almost a smile when he speaks again. Or maybe a grimace, who knows. Pleasure and pain are hard to distinguish nowadays. They just always seem to come together. She doesn't breathe, not wanting to ruin the moment. Or maybe desperately hoping that her lack of human mannerisms will unnerve him and shatter it. Contradiction seems to be the name of the game right now.

She tilts her head back, eyes finding the ceiling once again.]

Flattery can only take you so far. You should know that.

[lucke]

[Inhumanity had never before been enough to cool Lancer's advances. Heck, he was only marginally human himself.

But he was enjoying the... passionate responses he was eliciting from his teacher.]

Far enough..

[He whispers, taking advantage of her stance by reaching up and gently, oh so gently, brushing the side of her exposed neck.

With a chuckle (and before she could retaliate) Lancer steps past her, looking over his shoulder at her.]

And sometimes that's all you need.

[He looks around at the decor, spying the weapons on the walls.]

I take it you're still in the teaching business. Giving all those hopeful young students the benefit of your iron hand?

[symmachy]

[He's touched her and, for once, she doesn't flinch away or make a move to stop him. Usually, physical contact means an attack. But she allows him to touch her neck. Because she wants to or because she doesn't care? It's hard to tell.

His nerve annoys her, but she doesn't want to give him more satisfaction. Scathach doesn't follow him, instead turning as casually as you please to face him, arms crossed loosely over her waist as if nothing had just happened.]

There was no reason to give it up upon my arrival.

[lucke]

Heh, no. I suppose not. [Scanning the Spartan surroundings.

Same old Scatty. Would it kill her to invest in a couch or something?]

So I have to ask... Where... Or when should I say, did you get taken?

[symmachy]

[Very possibly. She doesn't generally invest in furniture because she's just as happy to sit on the floor and really, who cares about the comfort of visitors?

Her lips pull back in something almost like a grin. Here she is on her guard again.]

I would ask the same of you. [Because he seems way too friendly to remember her, you know, killing him.]

[lucke]

[The coldness in her voice creases Lancer's brow as he regards her, hands going to his hips. But as he muses over an answer his face alights once more in a self-depreciative smirk.]

After my death I suppose. ...Well my second one, if we're going to be specific.

[He gestures out with his hand in a half shrug.]

Its been a bit of a bumpy road for me. But not boring, so I can give it that.

[Though she's not very forthcoming there's a bit he can estimate.]

Its clear you know who I am, so that means you were taken from after I came to the shadowlands to train under you. [Tilts his head pensively and crosses his arms over his chest.] The trick is I don't know how long after that. Was I still a student of yours? Or am I long gone? [Though in a different way than she's thinking.]

I suppose my appearance might be throwing you off a bit. I do look a fair bit older than you remember me, yes? [Seeing as he was like, what... 16 then?]

[symmachy]

[Her heart drops to her feet. After, then. She still remembers when she and Aoife had heard that he had died, the bloody tears they had cried together. The hate that had grown between them. The centuries of restlessness.

Only a lifetime of training keeps her from showing the pain that reaches into the deepest part of her. He wasn't from her world. He couldn't be, not if he didn't remember what had happened. Or perhaps he had simply grown has hard as her, and was able to hide it. Either way, it hurts.]

Older, aye, among other things. [She pauses.] And do I look different to you?

[lucke]

[He tosses her a fond smile.]

To my delight, not at all. Though you seem very well adjusted. That's a very nice outfit, for example.

[Seemingly satisfied with his examination of the room Lancer returns to her, openly looking her up and down as he spoke.]

So... You didn't answer my questions. I had the pleasure of being scooped up after my death at the hands of Lugaid. Its not the first time that's happened too. I hope this isn't a pattern..

[symmachy]

[She squints, unsure if he's being sarcastic or not. She's a little out of practice with reading him, for obvious reasons.]

I prefer practicality nowadays.

[Though, who says armor can't be practical?

Scathach mulls for a moment, crossing her arms and letting her gaze wander idly around the walls of her dojo. She ignores the way he looks at her and decides to give him a break.]

I was in San Francisco, but made a trip to France for a very short time. Then I was pulled into a shadowrealm and thought myself trapped.

[lucke]

San Franciso? So you visited North America, huh?

[Lancer's brow knits at the puzzling statement.]

How... is that possible...

[Surprise flashes through his body as the truth, at least partially, dawns on him.]

Wait. How old ARE you?! [He's a slow learner. And he didn't mean it the way it came out.]

[symmachy]

[If she had less training, she might have lost her temper at the question. Scatty has always been particularly sensitive about her age, as many Elders are. Her cheeks flush scarlet, almost the same shade as her hair, and she looks away, arms crossed.]

I've spent over... ten thousand years in the Earth shadowrealm and others.

[Never before has she looked more like an awkward teenager.]

[lucke]

[Giving a low whistle, Lancer regards his former teacher with respect.

SOMEONE ages well.]

Don't know what this shadowrealm business is, but I have to say. That's pretty impressive. I mean, I knew you were beyond the scope of a mortal life but never imagined the degree.

[He firmly plants his wrists on his hips, tilting his head to the side as the gravity of the numbers sank in.]

So I must be one heck of a fossil to you by now. [A puckish smile crosses his lips.]

Ooh. So that means you must have received word of my demise. I beg you tell me what such a word was like? Did it make you proud?

[symmachy]

[Canon is sketchy, but she might actually be cursed to look like a teen. What a curse, huh.

She considers his words for a moment, confirming her earlier belief. He'd known a version of her, to be sure--but "beyond the scope of a mortal life" seemed like a bit of an understatement. She opens her mouth to say so when he brings up his death, and the change is instant.

Scathach closes herself off; her shoulders hunch, her eyelids lull slightly. Her feathers seem somehow sharper than they were just a moment ago. Her hands remain pressed against her thighs. If they weren't, he could see them tremble just slightly.]

You died a warrior's death.

[The response is automatic, there's no real inflection to it. You died because I wasn't there is what she means. You died because I killed you. Twice.]