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[wutaibandit]

Determination etched into the disposition of the rogue, still lock within the hold of the technique he'd tried to iniate upon his mentor and trainer—Goku. Only, as much to his eagerness to enact and surprise the Saiyan fighter, he'd only managed to keep Goku retained in place within the hold, instead of lifting him and dropping him harshly in descent on his cranium. He'd never imagined Goku to be the *deviant* type when it came to fighting, yet, here he was...fighting dirty and taking advantage of moves that one would normally deem: cheap, underhanded tactics—something that HE would had thought of doing to Goku, not the other way around by any means.

"Unnnffff!" Fleeted sounds left the brunette's lips, the strain of cloth ebbing from the hold Marthe's right hand, firmly entrenched into the blue material of Goku's sash, whined in protest as the gambit to suplex Goku had been halted by a secondary force. The instant Goku's boots had left the ground, the simian limbs of the Saiyan's lower appendages lunged forth and now wrapped around his own hips, digging into the tight-compression material of his shorts. The force being unyielding, unbreakable to any degree he tried to twist and wriggle his frame—sabotaging his attempt to suplex Goku for the time being while his legs were entrapped around his own body despite his best efforts to try and lift the Saiyan off the ground into a deadly drop.

"Nnhnf! Damn it—!" He cursed through clenched jaws, teeth gritting past parted tiers, restraint clearly crumbling as he became more frustrated in attempt to lift him off his feet, despite in futile effort to throw him over his own shoulders. More wriggling tugs in failed success—defiance clearly ridden in the man in reluctance to give in, he really wasn't as clean-cut easy to get the best of as being Earth's Saviour. He gave another solid tug—but the Saiyan barely shifted a few inches. T'was then when cerulean's widened to the shadow of an object shooting for his face, (Goku's tail?!?) did he truly intend on using it as a fifth appendage? How sly...considering that he'd agreed before they'd began to enact this grappling spar of wits-and-technique—that Goku's tail had been off-limits to grabbing, due to how it would incapacitate the fighter in a complete moment of paralysis. the sound of it didn't seem remotely appealing to the rogue as he wanted to learn—train to be a stronger combatant, despite being human, that the thought of taking advantage of such an weakness didn't interest him. At least for now...

"What the—nnnf! Oi!!" Marthe barely grumbled aloud upon being assaulted by the furry-appendage, vigorously tickling the openings of his nasal passageways, threatening to distract and cause an adverse reaction to errupt from his nose. (God damnit! The lil' shit...!) Attempting to pry his face away from the repeated motions being made by the tail to tickle his nose, t'wasn't something he had been prepared for—let alone, expecting from the Saiyan to be this resourceful. Marthe wrinkled his nose, taking a deep inhale of air through his mouth than using his nose to try and halt the sensation building within his bodily function. Twisting and shaking his head in a comic-display trying to avoid the bristles of the penhensile tail acting on its shenanigans.

Tightening his grip into the thick, blue material of Goku's sash belt, the rogue braced himself as the sensation couldn't be ignored any longer, feeling a build up from the irritation of fine-hairs preying on his susceptibility that was a weakness of his own. "A...A...ahh...Ahhhh!" Abrupt inhales took over Marthe's human responses until the fleeting sensation to eject the irriation from one''s nose, lids closed sharply over his eyes in natural reaction when one would sneeze in a violent display. "CHHHHHHHOOOO!!!" The intensity of the sneeze broke the thief''s concentration for several seconds—unknowingly, pulling loose now Goku's obi-sash from his waist from the allergic reaction after bracing himself fully embedded in holding the waist cloth. The long, blue sash now unfolded and spooled down from his right hand all the way to the ground.

((So wanted to do a spar with Goku in a grappling spar like this of moves))

In a flurry of motion, Marthe lunged off the soles of his boots and made haste to find his leverage on his grappling partner. His left arm coiled around the Saiyan's neck—snapping him into a frontal headlock. Right appendage seeking to grab the left arm of his opponent's, pulling it over and around his own neck until his arm hung loosely there.

Pursed lips part lightly, emitting a hushed exhale of a breath. Buckled knees straighten; the brunette now standing tall whilst directing a passive gaze in descent. Soon, he turns his attention toward his next task, slowly initiating in its direction. Leather bound appendages trailed down the alien fighter's hips while the man was slightly dazed from the previous altercation. His hand quickly retracted from his side, finding its place at Goku's waist to gain a foothold in his sparring partner's clothing with haste in his dextrous movements to showing him a new move.

Dexerity pursued; sliding forefinger and thumb beneath the thick material of the blue sash-like-belt that wrapped around his waist—spooling the fabric within his grip once those spidery digits gained a firm hold on the captured opponent. Marthe gave a rough pull to force the locked contested male up upon the tip-toes of his weighted boots in preparation to throw him with a suplex. Now’s his chance. And with a mild grunt, Marthe jerked his strength into his appendage forth with the intent to lift him from his rooted position.

It was in these intimate moments between master and apprentice that Goku couldn’t help but wonder to himself if these were the feelings that his own previous mentors had enjoyed during his younger and current years spent training with them. A feeling of excitement over the potential that he could see before him, a feeling of pride over the skill that was being cultivated under his instruction, and a feeling of happiness at knowing that his skills were being passed on over to the next generation of Earth’s defenders. Or ... perhaps it was more so a feeling of peace to the uneasy question that lingered in the back of his mind. What would happen when his time on Earth came to a natural end ?

At this current point in his life ? He already had his life restored a few times through wishes granted by the Dragonballs located on Earth as well as on Namek. He’s cheated death even more times than he could count on his fingers. Chuckling to himself, he figured that his soul had a special place in King Yenma’s book considering the number of times that he walked through those gates for his soul to be sorted and judged. All in all, it was probably bookmarked in King Yenma’s books for easy retrieval. But, more to the point, the question of what would happen when his time on Earth came to a natural end rather than through defeat at the hands of a much stronger foe for now was still unknown.

It was his hope that the Marthe would be the answer to that question as he wasn’t certain that he could allow himself to revived by the Dragonballs once more if his time were to come naturally within the next few decades ... not even if the Earth would be threatened. Aside from King Yenma throwing another fit, he just wasn’t certain if it was right of him to cheat life and death in such a manner. It was a privilege that as far as he knew, he was the only soul in existence to have been blessed with. Even then ... there was a part of him that wanted the Earth to move on from him. To let new fighters and warriors take the center stage as Hercule had. It was the reason as to why he no longer participated in the World Martial Arts Tournaments anymore. Aside from not wanting to cause harm to Mr. Hercule whom had proven himself to be honorable and pure Goku had already had his time as Earth’s greatest champion. A time he had enjoyed thoroughly. It was only right that he make way for the next generation.

In days now gone, ... he had thought Gohan would be the answer to that question. That his son might be the one to take up the mantle of Earth’s defender but he now realized that he couldn’t ask that of his son. It had been selfish of him to assume that his son would be willing to take on that responsibility. Gohan was still a powerful fighter, and truth be told aside from Vegeta he was the next strongest defender that the Earth had but ... he lived for his family now. He had a wonderful job teaching in a University that he enjoyed, he had a loving wife and child that he came home to every night. As his father, he’d rather see Gohan live out the rest of his days in happiness rather than training for the next imminent threat to arrive.

For even if it was in one year or two, ten years or twenty, one day another threat could very well arrive on Earth’s shores with Goku himself long gone from it. For a while his thoughts had turned to Goten to be one to face that threat but he wouldn’t make the mistake of assuming that Goten shared the same love of fighting that he did. A love that was instilled within him through his earliest years of training with his beloved Grandpa Gohan. For now, Goten was living his life in the same manner as Gohan did when he was younger. Albeit, Goten possessed greater ambient strength but still ... Goten hadn’t had to endure the same struggles Gohan did and for the sake of his son’s happiness he preferred it to be that way.

For now, as long as he willing to continue to train ... Marthe would be the answer to the Earth’s threats in due time.

As a burst of speed originated from his Ki allowed Marthe to get behind him unexpectedly he lightly gritted his teeth as he body was being forced into the suplex position. Lightly chuckling aloud, he was happy at the resistance that was keeping him in place. It felt stronger than it had been before. Yet , Goku wasn’t nearly as helpless as the other might have thought himself to be. For it would be the moment in which his body was being lifted off the ground that both of his legs would hook around the others thighs. Pressing against the cloth of his pants to lock themselves in place. There would be no way for Goku to be lifted any higher without Marthe lifting himself up in the process.

Chuckling mischievously, the Saiyan also had one other trick up his sleeve. For obvious reasons, they had agreed that Goku’s tail would be off limits as not every opponent had that same kind of clear, exploitable weakness that he did and even if so most if not all tended to take steps to guard it unlike Goku did. Keeping his tail coiled around his waist for so long felt straining on his tail’s muscles. So it would be that Goku would will the length of his tail to shot upwards directly towards Marthe ... to tickle his nose with it’s fur in hopes that it would trigger him to sneeze that could create an opening for him to loosen the grip one the arm that was being kept in place behind his neck.

[wutaibandit]

"Do you want to go take a nap with me?"

//Prince wants a nap buddy :3 //

"Hn...uhn...sure? I am kinda feelin' a lil' tired lately, actually..."

//Nap buddies for life.

[wutaibandit]

"You're not from around here are ya?" The silver haired one would find himself staring at the other that had suddenly ran into him in the streets of Wall Market. "Looking for something? Could help you out."

//Just wanted to throw Leslie at you :3 //

Bumping into some stranger down in this cellpit of a slum, wasn't his idea when coming to Wallmarket; the place practically rank of corruption and booze, along with the exploitation of human beings. As if Shinra couldn't seem any more disgusting, even the underworld below felt just as foul as the ones living lives of luxury at the expense of those below.

"Nyeh! No...I, uh... only just arrived in town recently... I don't really need any help, honestly! I prolly won't be 'ere long..." Twiddling his thumbs out of awkwardness and trying to distract himself from letting anything spill, bleeding out his REAL reasons for coming to Midgar would proably earn him a holding cell for the rest of his life, or a swift exeuction at the hands of Shinra. But he couldn't let those bastards get away with what they did to his homeland -- not his family...never.

[wutaibandit]

The Prince couldn't help but feel joy. Someone else who had fished. The circumstances that they stated for doing so were a little disheartening but Noctis would try to put that to the side for now. Blue irises stared at the other as he'd speak excitedly. "Let's go fishing together. Just you and me. It'll be a really good time. We can take a cooler. Have a few drinks in there. Talk...get to know each other...fish...just enjoy the weather" he was fidgeting from side to side at this point. A little bit embarrassed but for the first time in a long time, the Prince was putting his anxiety to the side (even though it was screaming at him not to even try making a friend) and he attempted to be friendly with someone who wasn't one of his three companions from Insomnia.

A lone hand strayed while the Prince conversed about his idea to go fishing, fingertips brushing through the feathers of his own hair at the back of the neck, trying not to look awkward as much as possible. "E-Eh? Y...You wanna go fishin', with me?" He gave pause while letting that thought simmer a moment in his head. Marthe couldn't recall anybody asking him to go fishing with them...

Usually people were either prey or simply trying to kill him when it came to the Empire, anyhow--thievery not being the popular thing when governed by machines and an iron fist.

"Uh...sure, I guess -- if that's what you'd really wanna do with me. Not like I have much ta talk 'bout m'self though.." Dismissing any lingering sentiments that he had much to expose about his past. (nothing but nightmares) Shaking some remnants of awkwardness from his slrured speech in that moment, it might actuallly be an interesting proposition -- not like he had anything else going on.

[wutaibandit]

"Ever gone fishing?" The Prince asks as he was curious. Maybe they shared something in common? Maybe he'd have a fishing buddy? The mere thought of that made Noctis smile.

"Fishin'?" He parroted to the other's question. Suddenly caught in a moment of thought glancing over to the raven-haired prince, a hand reaching up to scratching his cheek in tandem with his myriad of thoughts reaching into the past of his history. "Eh...I s'pose..." Replying briefly at first, gathering those thoughts of troubling days. "If only to survive while on the move through the lands of Lucis...s'not like I always had money back then when the Empire first took control - lest I had to steal it, or kill it."

[wutaibandit]

A fleeting exhale filtered from betwixt pallid tiers to scoff at the tripping Prince, now struggling into a fumble, ensuing from his altrication that landed a cheap shot on his reddening jawline that marred from the blow.

Rolling his eyes now at the retort given his direction, the brunette didn't think for a second to give the Prince anything but a serious response given his response. "Heh...yer welcome by the way," He reciprocated the gesture with a light tugging of the lips into a mocking smirk. "yer Highness. Though I guess it takes a Prince of Brats, to know one, am I right?" Rubbing more salt into the injury. Marthe's right hand busied itself while standing in a cocky stance, lightly tossing the stolen cell phone up in the air a few times to show the fruits of his thievery before wrapping phalanges around it, tightly. Settling to take a peak into Noctis' wallet for what riches he could find within giving the prince time to digest what had happened under his nose.

"Y'know...fer a Prince...y'don't got much money, don'tcha, ah?" He mused; cerulean visionaries lifting to take in a glance of the other before he continued his searching for gil in the confines of Noct's wallet.

“Not that I’d expect anythin’ less than so,done from the Crown City—let ’lone—a Prince, would have plenty of qualifications growing up in a life of comforts. You could have any outfit ya wanted.” Somewhat bitterness bled into those words given form as he clenched fists by sides, rigorously, the material of his leather gloves creaking in protest to the tension. “T’ch!“ He scoffed. “Wipe yer boots?! How ‘bout ya eat me a knuckle sandwich, first!” Ceruleans glowered in that snap moment, his right fist took a moderate swing for the Prince’s face—aiming to sock him violently across the jawline of his porcelain features. All the while the Prince would reel from the punch, the left hand had snuck below and into the pockets of those tight-leather, cropped pants of the others—fishing out his wallet of gil and his crown city phone while at it.

The outburst had caught Noctis by complete surprise. Not only did he not move in time but the stiff had made contact with his jawline. Porcelain skin was now red as he'd find himself practically tripping.

Baby blues stared at the other as he simply was shocked. Sheesh someone couldn't take a joke. Maybe Noctis had struck a nerve. A pale hand came up to his face as he'd begin to curl his lips into a pout. "...take a joke why don't ya..." he retorted as he'd then begin to stand. Dusting himself off, Noctis would then sigh. "...I was kidding-" he mused as he'd then add. "...sheesh- you don't have to take everything I say so seriously...jerk"

Blinking the Prince found himself staring at him, a laugh escaped his lips. "...you throw a good punch...for a brat..."

[wutaibandit]

Thoughts of taking everything from Sasuke right now an' leaving him with naught but thirst for more felt rather appealing to the thief. Humming, deep, throatal sounds from between the locking of jaws. Marthe's seeking to steal every last inch of those contours and break into the treasury—namely Sasuke's mouth—which he did as a pink muscle slipped forth to tease and slither over Sasuke's lips, leaving trails of lust in its wake. He could simply force himself access, alas—brute force simply wasn't his style. A sound bubbled up from the other, vibrating against the connection of lips from the Uchiha only elevated a sudden rush within the ambidexterous thief, cropping arched tiers to widen the smirk across his disposition further, slightly encroached fingertips curling into the pale-tones hidden beneath the folds of white, pinching the skin, taunting the stoic shenobi.

Suddenly, the thief broke the connection of mouths entwinned, pulling back ever so slightly so that those blues could gaze into visage of the captured male's before him. Sensing a sudden tension below in the form of Sasuke's hands now firmly embedded into the fabric of his clothing, smugly, cracking a wry grin at the Uchiha as his own gloved digits wandered lower until an obstacle stood in his way. A barrier, in the form of that purple, rope-like belt that fastened the Uchiha's robe and attire together snugly around his waist—what a nuisance, it simply had to go...

“—You’ll get wrinkles with a face like that, Susky. A shenobi would do well to smile, t'wouldn't do to sour his reputation, y'know?” He mocked Sasuke as leather-clad appendages grasped the ends of the rope—tugging on it, forcefully, until the knotted complexity became undone now spooling in a coiled mass at their feet. The waistcloth equally falling to drape over the belt now that it's binding attachment had been removed completely, now exposing more of Sasuke's chest with the parting of his robe completely coming undone.

"Nhn....remove yer sandals—now." His voice taut, parting aperture to flash the whites of teeth at the other with the ordered instruction. A single digit managed to make its way upon peeling back some of the white material that was the forefront of the other’s chest—exposing some of the tinted flesh that had red-blood vessels, now rising to the surface to the afflicated area of the epidermis of skin. Marthe was ensnared by the immersion of his own calculating thoughts—the pads of leather digits tapping gently on the spot now before slipping down to gently hook beneath the waistband of Sasuke's pants, tugging at the material enough to hint an inkling of Sasuke's briefs beneath them. Skittering on the edges of the thief's bold behavior, was a sense of smugness, something that was reserved only for the Uchiha, it seemed

"D'ww... somethin' stuck in yer throat there—cat caught yer tongue? I didn't gag ya, Susky—despite enjoying the sight of seein' ya like that, heh." Rubbing salt into the wound; anything to get Sasuke's blood going, driving for a reaction as always with this stoic shenobi. 'Twas how Marthe played with him given his stubborn-hardened nature and attitude. "Did I hit a...vulnerability, hm? Mayhaps we should exploit that, hmn? I don't see ya removin' those sandals yet from yer feet. Do ya wanna be tied up again in a cell tonight without any more of these touches to continue..." Maintaining eye contact all the while watching for any slither of emotion to appear on Sasuke's pallid features, enjoying the game of toying with ones prey much like the thief he was to seek opportunities.

Continued from Xxxxx

@wutaibandit

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[wutaibandit]

Pain like no-other, ransacked throughout Marthe's body as he laid on the ground, struggling to focus the strength to pick himself up from his battered state in the dirt. His muscles felt like jelly; unable to tighten to gain strength to move his posture in any given direction after that vicious assault of blows by that hulking behemoth, uncertain to whether he'd had every bone in his body broken or injured along with his pride.

At the back of his mind whilst the constant, sounds of vibrant blows were exchanged and energies being focused between Son Gohan and Broly ensued, caused the hairs along the epidermis of his skin to rise from the tingling sensation it derived. Feeling the extreme powers of these colossal beings fighting beyond that of any humna being could on the planet Earth. Lashes of sparking Ki tore the land apart, and the parries and blocks with fists sounded like explosions in the air to anyone else not trained to understand such complex methods of fighting, the thief had to wonder, just to wonder — was this real, really? He'd heard stories and rumours of such powerful conflicts and weird, mysterious encounters happening on the Earth — but this? This was beyond anything almost any human could comprehend...

"Nng...!" Grunting aloud, Marthe began to attempt to reopen his bloodstained eyes after gathering enough strenght to manage even that after being knocked down by that monster with golden hair. Still — what haunted him the most were those eyes — lifeless, pupilless white eyes that looked like death incarnate. Truly a monster like no-other he'd ever encountered. Cerulean eyes narrowed, glaring into the ground that had been stained with his own bleeding form as he tilted his head down slightly, ignoring a breeze that ruffled the ends of his mahogany hair as the winds began to pick up once more. Another surge of enormous energy was being concentrated between individuals: the monster now standing at the pinnacle of the destruction he'd wrought upon the landscape surrounding them, facing off to the lone form of Gohan down below, forming his hands into a technique that had saved many from the tyranny of evil. The Kamehameha wave.

His eyes took in the scenery about him only to be caught abruptly by blood crawling up his throat, choking incessantly, a mouthful of crimson fluid spluttered from lips into the soil beneath him. The feeling of dying right there almost felt good, NO, he couldn't; not when the fate of the entire planet and everyone around was at stake here. It felt odd, like a clinging sensation in the form of a strange need to hang on to something, even if his body couldn't exactly offer much assitance to help Gohan or the others right now. The hollow sound of emptiness filling the void around his body, his thoughts. Inside he wanted to run, to fly, to scream. But he managed to crawl, barely, several inches to gather a better glimpse of what were about to transpire between the two individuals as those legendary words began to resound clearly from the smaller hybrid's vocals across the landscape, prodominantly, bellowing in anquished state of NEED.

KA....ME....HA....ME....HAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

“I...Is...thi...s...it....nhng...?” he whispered to nothing as light emitted like an erruption from Son Gohan's hands in conjunction to his bodily movements involved in the technique. Elusive atonement was his silent answer. There was nothing worse than that, and this was the very version of hell he had so adequately described in his mind. The rustling of trees tearing up the roots from the ground around from the shear force as the behemoth situated on the towering structure began to forumlate a gigantic ball of green energy in retaliation from his inhumanly-sized hand. The warm blanket of false security provided by the sun that filtered through the clouds as these powerful energies began to change nature itself around them. The coming darkness that began to settle upon the land due t o the change in darkened clouds massing over them.

Silence had ensued for many moments. Coy details breaching the flaring stress when ocean pools returned to the boiling pit of carmine staining his face. He could do naught but understand now. It felt like his life were flashing before his very eyes with the imminant destruction of their home, the planet and everything living on it. That was when a secondary voice had ruptured the silence in the form of the younger prodigy: Son Goten, mimicking his elder brother's own stance and posture beside him in unison, powering up his own KAMEHAMEHA wave, attempting to bolster his brother's waning power compared to that of the infecting green energy beginning to overpower him. He snorted, requiring the need to clear his throat so his defense would not be a series of gargled sounds, breathing heavily as his lungs felt full of fluid right now.

Something was amiss. There was a foul static in the air making even the habitual task of breathing a chore. Squinting lids shut tightly over eyes, he tried to block out the searing pain enveloping himself. The monster's power were too powerful — even the combinated strenght of the joint KAMEHAMEHA wave proved to be losing its intensity to the overwhelming power of the hulking behemoth whose maniacal laughter echoed over the sounds of the earth being torn asunder beneath them. Marthe could feel the very tetonic plates shifting in movement due to the straineous tension caused from the raging powers. The Earth feeling as if it were about to fall apart at the seems, literally.

(NO...he couldn't ...this couldn't go down like THIS!! )

It was to this, the thief awoke his eyes to, that and the intense throbbing that had ignited in his core forcing limbs to begin to move. Muscles tensed unnaturally and his skin was aflame in pain. With clenched teeth, the man rose to wobbly legs, stumbling against a nearby protrusion of rocks for a moment of support. He couldn’t remember the last time his body felt this much pain that it'd had attacked him with such ferocity. Perhaps not since the early beginnings. A gloved unsteadily reached out to clasp over his afflicted bicep, clenching the cloth of his sleeve desperately when blues of eyes caught sight of something laying in the short distance from his position: an open satchel, containing seven spherical orbs.

(Were they...? Aren't they the objects that Goten and trunks had been trying togather and carried all this time across the globe? Dragonballs, they called them — objects of the divine that were capable of carrying out a single wish to the bearer who could gather all seven. Or so they said; not that Marthe had ACTUALLY seen or believed it to be but a myth at this point, but right now... when all seemed lost and everything about to vanish before his very eyes..that NEED to believe didn't feel so stupid or incomprehensible.)

Restless and experiencing a vehement amount of pain, the unstable thief pushed himself into a stagger toward the satchel trembling on the ground as he fell only but a few short meters from the glowing orbs that seemed to resonate together with pulsating, myscital propertises the human from Earth couldn't even fathom to understand what were happening...only that he needed to do something, and this felt like the only desire for a wish he couldn come up with — so he spoke aloud — loud enough for the heavens to hear his plight.

"Damnit!! I...I wish Son Goku were 'ere an' alive ta help us all!" Despite his newly obtained plight voiced to the heavens, the skies grew quiet but rumbles of thunder and the heavens only darkening more into a pitch darkness. Marthe could only assume it were a cause of the colossal energies being unleashed between the two Son's and the monster, Broly, but something...strange resonated in the air close to him, feeling almost a warming light or presence in the atompshere despite the chaotic forces at work. A hand reached forward to try to cling onto a remnant of the ground as he felt himself losing his grip on the land when he grabbed ahold of something entirely unsuepcted. By the time Marthe peered to look at the object he'd clung onto in the form of a standing figure; fingers now entrenched around the blue boot of Goku's right foot, the grip on it so harsh the sound of leather from his gloves shifting was audible. His expression was that of shocked awe; uanble to comprehend just how Son Goku now stood there.

“How…? H-how are you here!?“ His vision still blurry due to the strain his body struggled to stay conscious with the blood-loss and pain consuming his body, but there he was, the man that Gohan, Trunks and Goten spoke so highly about as the hope and saviour of the planet Earth. It felt like a desert mirage to Marthe; he had to be dreaming, surely...or were this truly the heaven into the afterlife where one would meet the dead? Upon perceiving the phonetic sounds of Goku's chords that spoke out aloud to him in what he struggled to comprehend given his waning struggle to remain conscious finally began to fade, dark brows lowered to fall at ease as the mien upon his visage, softened, finally succumbing to the abyss of the realm of unconsciousness as his grip slackened from around the tension of Goku's boot.

Continued from here ( X ) 

@wutaibandit​

There would be a resounding quake of the earth beneath his boots that would travel far and wide once he was made to touch down on the planet’s surface. Despite the fact that he had been knocked down in the first place by Kakarot’s scum of all people his reaction to the blow was far from his typical response. Rather than feel rage, hatred, or embarrassment at the notion of being forced down unto the ground by another … he felt elated, overjoyed. 

The raving laughter that burst from his lungs a definitive sign of his current sentiment as mere seconds later he would see the evening skies of the earth filled with hundreds of twinkling lights that reminded him of stars … stars that were all being hurtled towards him like meteors. Yet … rather than move to avoid them, rather than conjure a solidified sphere of his own Ki around himself as a protective barrier from the chaos that was to come the legendary super saiyan simply smiled and waited for it to come to him. He didn’t feel the need to shield himself from it in any manner. 

Words failed to do justice to his current state, the reason for his odd complacency in this battle thus far was not due to some sense of internal peace knowing that his life was at it’s end. What nonsense. No, nothing could be father from the truth of the matter as even now as he lay still waiting for their Ki blasts to make contact with his body in his mind he could clearly picture himself torturing them, one after another. Bloodying, bruising, and breaking them all. Making them suffer in the same manner he had done so in slumber for so many years. Imagining their final breaths being filled with pain and agony rather than tranquility … a wonderful thought.

 Yet , it was solely due to those years in which he had suffered silently underneath the frozen waters of the Earth’s northern hemisphere that had brought him to this point … had raised his level of power to this point. 

“ I get it now ! He’s gotten a huge Zenkai boost since we last fought ! “ 

With his hands slamming down on the table with enough force to cause the empty plates of food to rattle against one another as his mind finally arrived at this revelation his Grandfather moved to clear them as quickly as he could. Once the crystal ball stopped shaking, Goku relaxed himself. Settling himself back into his seat but no calmer than he had been before at that outburst perhaps even more anxious now that the finally realized the truth behind Broly’s newfound power. With his mind racing at a mile a minute, Goku could only wonder how he could have not realized what was taking place right before his eyes any sooner.  

Judging by the expression from King Kai at the moment, the deceased Saiyan knew that he didn’t need to explain the idea any further than that to him but as his Grandfather returned and parroted the word “ Zenkai “ in clear confusion to him Goku’s gaze would rise from the crystal ball to settle on his beloved Grandfather. Nodding once in affirmation of the word. 

“ Vegeta told me about it a long time ago back when we were fightin’ together on Planet Namek. Krillin probably knows about it too … I don’t know if Gohan knows anythin’ about it … but it won’t make a difference now. “ 

With his mind starting to wander once more his expression hardened as he returned his gaze back to the crystal ball to watch as the fight progressed. His anxiousness at being unable to assist and only watch his sons fight against arguably one of the most powerful foes that he had ever encountered in his lifetime causing his tail to twitch subconsciously. This new realization making it all the harder for him to sit still. 

“ Since Saiyan’s are a warrior race an’ all our bodies are conditioned to keep on get stronger an’ stronger for as long as we’re still kickin’. It’s called ” Zenkai Boost “ and there are two different types of em’. The first kind is real simple, as long as we keep fightin’ we’ll keep on gettin’ stronger even if it’s just little bits here and there. The second one is more complicated … and a lot more risky to pull off but without a doubt it’s the strongest of the two to end up gettin’. If a Saiyan is brought down to near death and manages to recover from that state then his or her power will grow by leaps an’ bounds the instant they get back up on their feet. An’ sometimes, that sudden rush of power can trigger a new transformation too. Back when we were fightin’ Frieza on Planet Namek the reason why Vegeta went from barely bein’ able to handle himself against the Ginyu Force to fightin’ Frieza in his final form was because he had asked Krillin to blow a hole in his chest so Dende could heal im’ right after. The moment he got back up after Dende healed im’ his power level grew by so much that even Frieza got cold feet for a little bit and in this case … Broly’s been in a near death state for years now. Ever since our fight on New Vegeta he’s been sleepin’ off all of his wounds, he nearly died on account of losin’ control of himself but somehow, someway he managed to keep on survivin’ all this time. Which means his power … he’s a lot stronger than he was before when we fought back then . “ 

Now, Goku certainly knew that each and every one of his friends had grown considerably stronger their first encounter with the legendary super saiyan back then. However , when they had been fighting Broly together on New Vegeta what concerned him was that even back then they hadn’t been a match for him. Not even close. The only reason Goku had managed to emerge victorious that day and truthfully speaking victorious didn’t even feel as though it was the right word to use. Survived, felt more appropriate. It had been because he had received energy from Piccolo, a much younger Gohan, Trunks from the Future, and Vegeta. He couldn’t say with certainly that his level of strength had come to surpass Broly’s at that time as victory had only come when he had managed to trigger Broly’s wild power to go rampant, to turn against the Legendary Super Saiyan which had caused his ultimate transformation to go awry by imploding on itself. Goku, having escaped the subsequent blast had saved his friends via immediate use of the instant transmission technique right after to get them away from Broly’s implosion and that of the comet that destroyed New Vegeta soon after. 

“ King Kai … Granpa’ “ 

Closing his eyes resolutely as he watched the the form of Broly disappear underneath a barrage of Ki blasts from Trunks, Goten, and Gohan there was no need for Goku to watch any further to know that it wouldn’t have an effect on the legendary super saiyan. If he were to guess .. no, he knew that Broly wasn’t taking this fight against his sons seriously. He was simply using them as a means to gauge his current level of power. Treating them as a warm up and nothing more. 

With bright flashes of light emanating constantly from the crystal ball as the Ki blasts imploded against Broly’s body the deceased saiyan had seen more than enough. Rising from his seat, his left hand had only just risen a few inches upwards to his face before the Elder Kai had realized his intentions … reaching  immediately to grab his hand to keep his fingers from going on up to his forehead. The signature pose he’d invoke to calm himself down, to focus, and to search for the energies of his sons … and that of Broly so that he might return to the Earth in an instant to aid them. Worrying that the longer he took to find them, the greater the chance that their life energies would soon disappear from the realm of the living altogether. 

“  ( Goku ! You’re dead ! You can’t go back to Earth again ! ) “ 

The deceased saiyan’s retort would be swift, filled with anger … but none of it meant for his mentor of course. 

“ I know that ! But Broly’s just too much for em’ to handle ! Ya know as well as I do that If I don’t go back right now everyone on Earth is gonna get killed ! Same for the rest of the Universe too ! I just gotta do somethin’ ! “ 

With King Kai keeping his hand locked into place Goku was tempted to use more strength to wretch his hand free from the other’s grasp but stopped himself from acting out as his mentor continued to speak. Tail tense at his back all the while. 

“ ( Goku , listen to me ! It won’t be anything like when you went back to help Gohan fight against Bojack. You may still have your body now but the rules have changed because of what you did back then. You can use the instant transmission to get yourself over there but you won’t actually materialize in the living world unless King Yemma gives you more of that special time like when you were given twenty four hours to participate in the Earth’s Twenty-fifth World Martial Arts Tournament ) “ 

With his mouth slightly agape, his shock at the news soon turned to anger but once more it certainly wasn’t towards his mentor because in the end … he was right. Goku’s anger was solely towards the entirety of the situation taking place both on Earth and here in the Otherworld where his ability to help his sons was so restricted. Ultimately … he did understand, technically what he had done back when Bojack had gone to the Earth seeking to conquer it had been blatantly against King Yemma’s rules. Even though he had only been around for less than a minute’s time just to save Gohan from Bojack’s grasp and to remind his son of the true power that was waiting to be unleashed within him he had blatantly broke many of King Yemma’s rules by doing so. Abusing the rare privilege he had been given of being permitted to keep his body in the after life. He was fortunate in that King Yemma had only scolded him in the matter, he couldn’t expect the same gracious treatment again. 

Back on Earth …. 

It felt as if it was nothing more than the breeze brushing against his skin with each strike, warming him even as his skin was seemingly set ablaze by the explosive onslaught the heat only tickled him at best. The only real discomfort emanating from the sounds of endless booming and incessant bright flashes repeating over and over being the only irritants to him. Irritants that were paid very little mind. The smile growing across his expression threatening to become booming laughter once more as his left arm which had been resting idle for a little while now was slowly raised … only to quickly swipe at the air in front of him to shift the direction of the air around him violently. A mighty gust of wind following the path of his fingers, sweeping up the remaining blasts of Ki along with it’s pull … scattering the remaining attacks in all directions. 

Fangs bared in a toothy grin in amusement as he watched the rest of their attacks implode across the Earth’s surface , making for an amusing display of destruction , of death. A display that would soon enough pale in comparison to what he had in mind for the rest of the Earth once he was done disposing of these nuisances. With their attacks having been diverted elsewhere all that obscured him now would be the dark, wispy, trails of smoke, and bright fiery embers encompassing his form. Trailing along his skin like water, yet falling off his skin like snowflakes. Crossing his arms over his chest, his ears picked up the sound of someone running in his direction yet he couldn’t sense the ambient higher power levels of either of Kakarot or Vegeta’s offspring. Was it another of these worthless humans ? Coming to grovel before him for mercy ? 

Remaining put , he would find amusement in the human’s attack on his person once the distance between them was gone. He would at least admit this, while foolish, suicidal, he would respect this human’s tenacity … by treating him as he would any other opponent and striking back at him without any manner of restraint. 

Taking one pace backwards the legendary super saiyan grabbed the human by his ankles before the Earth’s gravity had a chance to bring him back down. Pulling him inwards towards him. Right hand released his legs, moving upwards along the length of his body rapidly, lunged to press against the boy’s chest in a merciless punch, followed swiftly by his left hand as a follow up strike that moved to smack him away, far away.  

His laughter would escape once more, watching in delight as the human came to a rolling halt on the ground. Broly’s eyes fixated on the sight of Marthe’s suffering for striking him. Scarlet staining the dirt around him, marking the spot where he had first landed before he had started to roll. Right hand slowly rising now, as if being aimed towards him like a cannon. The thought of tearing the boy’s body to shreds by imploding it with a Ki blast of his own making would have been an genuine act of mercy from Broly, sparing him any further pain, and sparing him the fate of what would befall the rest of his species … were it not for the voice of Kakarot’s eldest off spring drawing his attention away. The sphere of his Ki having been barely formed but having been aimed solely at Marthe, a glint of emerald light escaping between the cracks open spaces of his fingers. 

“ ( I’ve had enough ! ) “ 

Chuckling in response to the half breed’s shout, in response to the pitiful amount of Ki that was being gathered between his hands Broly would move away. Focusing his attention now onto the half breed. Pushing himself off of the charred, burned earth to the very top of a rocky spire that overlooked all the fighters that were left standing before him. His laugh dissolving into a small grin, fangs bared in eager anticipation for more. 

“ Not until you all lay dead at my feet “ 

[wutaibandit]

A leather clad hand guides several of the fleeing villagers over to the protection of the nearby rockface away from the where the majority of the intense fighting had been taking place between those kids and the guys he knew from the city, pulling downward into a kneel in order to guard themselves from the threat. Again, one of the villagers falls into a panic, clutching at tresses and whimpering before burying their heads as the ground shook from the tetonic shifts in power being exerted on the planet.

Marthe couldn't believe it if he wasn't watching with his own eyes at first-hand account—what the flying heck was going on!? This was supposedly just a trip to track down some objects called "Dragonballs", not some sci-fi encounter you'd normally see in movies. Concern wells within his own being, directed toward the residents now thrown into an unforeseen state of hysteria. How often had this scene transpired? Evidence of battle still ripped through much of the village. Inanimate or otherwise, imperfections upon the flesh or stone serve as an agonizing memento of battle being fought.

But there is also an urgency revolving their own situation. How would they be able to weather this onslaught...that oversized brute of a giant wasn't going down despite the best efforts of those guys and their powers; what would it take to take down this monster was beyond him, all he could do was try to help those innocents around him from getting caught up for the majority of things. For once in his life he actually were helping others stay alive, not just saving his own skin; despite the massign urge to simply take the mystical dragonballs and make a run for it—something inside his gut refused to let him take such a selfish gesture, even if that'd been the tip of the thief's mind the entire time helping these guys track these orange, spherical balls of the divine.

They had barely escaped with their lives due to the previous altercation in which Gohan had showed up out of the blue to help them, exhausting their stamina in exchange for time for which that beast could've wiped out the entire planet by now, as crazy as it sounded in his mind—he believed it could be true. As much as it pains him, the task of being supportive to the inhabitants is quite a risk to undertake, and all alternatives must be considered prior to any actions performed. One key factor in his choice is his regard for those that actually believed in him. Witnessing them experience distress or pain is a sight that only fueled something inside himself to the surface to emerge to want to help in any way he possibly could given the dire circumstances...

The grip at one of the villagers shoulders becomes firm as flurries of energy explosions and debris project from the forefront of the commotion, delivering a chilling jolt to the core of his spine that his life could end in an instant at any moment if any of those blasts made contact with them, which prompts the dip of his crown as if to segregate thought from reality. The attempt is futile.

With haste, the ill-thoughts is supplied with a solution, releasing the shoulder of one of the sheltered villagers as he made a break for the outside where the conflict raged on between those kids and Gohan, knowing he ahd to try something, no matter how small to try and make a difference (if he even could; that didn't matter right now! He had to try...).

Marthe ground to a halt just short of where Gohan backed away from one of his attacks on the monster, allowing a short repireve in the battle as the clouds of dust and dirt clouded the area that had been the target of Gohan's attack. Knowing that he'd given the instruction to guide the villagers to safety than fight. But he is responsible for his own interpretation of what words are about to be shared. Should he label the explanation as folly, let it be so—the situation will remain dire regardless by the looks of things. Prior to the establishment of any assumptions, he intrudes to instill a sample of the knowledge he possesses of the predicament. Though it shall be terse. A pat against the chest, a typical mannerism she shall witness often, is the first display of his expressive nature.

“I know yer gonna ask, so m'gonna answer right now. No—I’m not gonna jus' sit back an' wait fer this monster to kill us all. I-I have to try somethin'...even if its a tiny piece of the puzzle." a brief exhalation left his lips with the dip of his crown. "The problem is, I have no idea how to stop it right now watchin' you guys doin' whatcha do. The wisest thing to do is to get away from it and make up some kind of plan. But I don't think we have the luxury of such a thing...so 'ere goes nothin'!” Shoving past the hybrid without giving a chance of protest to emerge. Marthe shot forth toward the now clearing mass obscuring the shadow of the monster cloaked behind it from view with an intense burst of adrenaline coursing through his veins, not knowing what would befall him in those next few moments—he didn't care—this was his chance to do something for others, even if he didn't stand a chance.

Eyes are attracted to a brief flicker of the beast floating out of the smoke; through wisps of flame licking at the behemoth that had been engulfed in numerous ki blasts moments ago, yet unscathed in the slightest. Inwardly cursing himself for doing something so...foolish, Marthe atoned for it by leaping off the balls of his feet the instant he felt himself close to the beast, delivering a swift kick toward the solar-plexus of the behemoth. His heel of his boot burrows deep into his stomach before he followed up and verily does he leap higher using the momentum he gained kicking off the brute's body to gain height off the ground, planting both feet aimed at clashing into the spiky-haired beast's face. But before a breath is drawn to direct the secondary attack, a blunt ache radiates at his ribs. Another brutal blow is delivered to his left side of his cranium from oversized fists, sending the thief sailing across the expanse with the wind sailing through his core, crashing across the ground of rock and dirt alike scratching his form in feeble attempt to slow his velecity from which he'd been sent hurling. The earth settles beneath the dust, the heat of the embers only intensifies as Marthe rolled to a stop engulfed a bloody, busted up slump feeling as if his body had been hit by a truck, and more.

As the world spins and a gripe sounds, bitter copper is sampled atop the tongue, coughing splutters of his own fluids from his mouth. He wonders just what had even struck him—struggling to move his bloodied limbs, feeling the energy sapped right out of his core, as all he could do it watch through a half blurry sight in his crimson stained peripheral: The sight of Gohan standing tall, forming his hands into some sort of technique or stance—he didn't know—wincing through the bitter strain it took on his body to focus staying conscious in that moment riddled with pain.

🐲 “Family” /w Goku muse!

Send in a “ 🐲 ” for a small starter or drabble of unspecified length in which your muse either joins mine or goes against mine in a beam struggle ! Please specify muse and for any ships please include “ Family ” for a scenario in which our muses and or their children join together for a family unified attack !

Based off of this ( X )

There was no denying the blush that came to his cheeks as he felt the juices touch his tongue, no hiding the charge that ran up along the length of his tail as he pulled back with delight ! He was completely captivated ! It almost felt criminal to let any go to waste as a small bit fell out from his mouth, dribbling down to the bottom of his chin, only to be scooped up by the tip of his tail before it could touch the ground, and flicked right back into place with the rest of his food. He simply couldn’t help himself whenever he got to eat some of his Grandpa’s famous cooking !

For so many years, Goku had always tried on his own to replicate some of his Grandpa’s recipes as best he could from both memory and from taste but it never did end up being quite right ... even if he were to follow the recipes to the letter. He supposed that if anything, it was the nostalgia of his Grandpa cooking for him that made the food taste all the better. In the same manner that he regarded Chichi’s home cooking to simply be on a level of it’s own that was completely indistinguishable from anyone else’s !

Each bite taking him back years in time when life was far more simple, back when his only concerns aside from his training was taking care of his Grandpa each and every day.

There was certainly no point in Goku askin’ Gohan for any of his recipes because he was certain of it now, there really was no replicating the magic that his Grandpa was able to bring to the kitchen anytime he got his apron on to start cooking.

Laying before the hungry Goku was a vast spread of dishes, delights, treats, and appetizers from one end of the table to the other. Every now and again his beloved Grandpa would emerge from the kitchen to swap out some of his already emptied plates. While normally, Goku would have felt a bit sorry to be the only one enjoying the meal Gohan had insisted that it would be alright. After all, it had only been because Goku’s life had come to an end so many years ago that they had been able to properly reunite with one another once more !

So, in it’s own way ... he figured that his Grandpa cookin’ for him was nostalgic for him in it’s own way and ... there was also another reason in particular that Goku was getting treated to such a wonderful feast from his Grandpa and that was because in a few hours he was fully expecting himself to dig into another celebratory banquet altogether ! Despite the fact that his cheeks were already stuffed to the brim with a spoonful's of his Grandpa’s famous pork fried rice and steamed dumplings he felt his stomach gurgle in eager anticipation for what was to come !

This time around however, the cause of this feast wouldn’t be to commemorate the past ... no, quite the contrary. Rather, it was to celebrate the future ! The future that his son Gohan would be having with his fiancé !

Even as he chowed down, in a few hours time he knew that Shenron would come knocking for him here in the Otherworld once Marthe, Goten, and Trunks finished collecting the seven dragon balls from across the Earth’s surface.

Well ... that was what he had been originally expecting to happen and for the most part it certainly did sound like they had collected all seven ... before he had been reawakened.

His spoon had dropped the moment that King Kai had come bursting through into their home in the afterlife, shouting that he had returned to Earth, that he was still somehow alive after they had been so certain that he had met his end at the hands of Comet Camori on New Vegeta. It had taken so much to stop him then, and now that he couldn’t be with them to help them fight him off ... he felt fear course through his veins. Broly had almost killed them all on New Vegeta ... and from what King Kai had told him ... it seemed like it was set to happen once more.

The table had been cleared almost immediately to make way for King Kai’s crystal ball, allowing them all to see clearly at the events taking place on Earth.

His eyes widening, hands balling into fists, muscles becoming tense at the sight of Broly fighting Gohan, Videl, Goten, Marthe, and Trunks all at once ... and winning despite being outnumbered. How ? How ? could he have survived their battle on New Vegeta ? As memories of their fateful encounter returned to him he was certain that during their final blow after he had finally received Vegeta’s support that he had watched first hand as Broly’s body detonated itself. The rupture of power from that strike having caused the flow of his ki within to become completely unstable, uncontrollable, deadly. Goku had been incredibly fortunate that he had maintained just enough leftover energy to have performed a wide sweeping instant transmission to have gotten everyone off New Vegeta before Comet Camori came in. So even if by some miracle he had survived his own blast ... how he could have gotten off of New Vegeta in such a short amount of time before it had been destroyed ? Where had he been all this time ?

While the details of how Broly miraculously escaped death remained unknown to him he couldn’t help but lean in closer to look at the ball as his eldest son, Gohan whom had been named after his Grandpa whom was sitting next to him rose from the dirt. Bloodied, battered, and beaten ... he would rise, hands coming together in a familiar stance. The kamehameha wave.

“ Gohan .... “

[wutaibandit]

Tiers uplifted the instant those foreign phalanges of the captive Uchiha glided along the side of his face, flashing a toothy grin, the thief canted his cranium to the side of the hand all the while taking in the Uchiha’s body language exerting the decision with indecision of his demand. It must've been shear torture on that mind of his right now to uphold such a demand...

"Y'better not disappoint me now, Susky... I like seein’ ya squirm there." Just as those words left his lips and their faces intersected, feeling the warm breath of the other male seep into the pores of his own skin, creating a reaction of tingling needles resulting in a firm exhale as those lips grazed his own—it wasn't enough—he wanted more. Just as Sasuke broke their minor interaction, marthe already had *other* plans in mind for the other as those sly sets of blues narrowed with gleaming thought within watching that heated reaction on Sasuke's disposition.

"Nah," he replied childishly "I ain't quite satisfied with that performance, Susky—time fer ya to feel husky." The thief’s right hand rose in motion toward the Uchiha’s body, leather-clad pads poised to snag a hold of the right-sided parting of his robe, gripping the white material clutched between digits, again, roughly tugging on the material to pull the raven-haired taller male closer as his other hand grappled to reach behind Sasuke's head in unison, grabbing a fistful of raven hair rather roughly betwixt fingers to push into the kiss more greedily craving that taste of the treasure.

Pallid tiers exhaled a content , muffled noise—meshing lips rather forcefully on Sasuke's own, occasional bites and nips being instigated from the rogue on those other lips fighting for opening to the inner vaults. Contemplating the thoughts going through the shenobi’s mind given the nippy actions made on his behalf. Slowly, a booted foot interjected forth between Sasuke’s own legs, pressing the right flank of his boot firmly against the sole of the other’s left foot. Padded dactyl of his right hand gently skimming along the interior of the white-linen shirt, patting for any hidden objects of value—drawing a leather-clad index finger down the soft, pale skin of his upper exposed torso through the parting in his robe; drawing a straight line with his index finger down to his navel where he tease to insert his finger, provocatively.

"Can I kiss you?" *waves trying to get Sass attention*

Send "Can I kiss you?" to see how my muse responds. accepting

Of all the things for the older male to ask, Sasuke never would have guessed that this would be one. It would be a lie to say that Sasuke did not find Marthe attractive, because in all honestly Marthe was very visually appealing. There had to be some good in this man, whether the other knew it of himself or not, so Sasuke considered the pros and cons. There did not seem to be any real pros, or cons, it was very neutral. If they liked the kiss, maybe they’d find some common grounds and get over the whole trespassing thing and if not, then things go back to normal between the two of them.

“Fine.” Sasuke replied finally before closing the distance between their two faces. His hand went up, automatically as if he would if it was a lover, to caress the side of Marthe’s cheek. Their lips brushed against one another for a fraction of a second before Sasuke could feel the older of the two press into it more so to give the kiss more friction. It, surprisingly, pushed out a soft hum out of Sasuke’s throat as his eye lashes gently fluttered against the tops of his cheek. He wanted more, to taste more of the other’s kisses and to give into the desire for pleasure but he had to stop himself and pulled away when the kiss seemed to last more than just a test.

His face was red, he could feel the heat rising off of his pale skin but Sasuke pulled it off by giving a small shrug. “Happy?”

[wutaibandit]

—Another long day. He could already feel himself beginning to doze off making his way back to the makeshift camp he'd made for the evening, certainly not wishing to remain out in the dark for TOO long given the threat of daemons once the sun went down. Booted soles kept an undeviating stride as they ambled along splintered earth pushing through the foliage and fauna of the Dusacae region, finding each step quite treacherous with how difficult it were becoming to see in the darkness and with little light offered from the portable flashlight he carried. Ruined terra firma being trampled on reverberated with each oppressive step threadbare boots made over them. Aside from that sound constantly echoing over the still land, there was nothing.

A noise within the vacinity immediately halted his movements. Disheveled strands shifted ever so slightly in tandem with a slowly turning head. Cerulean blues sharply peering off to try and locate the direction of the source through tattered trees, halting his own movements to blanket out any other sound that might interfere with his tracking. What prompted him to reach out and to locate the source, he wouldn’t say—he didn’t know. It just happened.

❝ …..? ❞

To see what was occurring just beyond the thicket wasn’t needed; he knew something treacherous was at hand. A voice—someone vociferating for assistance—rang throughout the dense forest. He stood for a moment in an attempt to trace the unanticipated voice back to its source. Thankfully (oddly enough) another bellow echoed along the trees.

—Over there.

With a light nod, worn boots quickly hastened their pace, running into what the thief hoped would be his intended destination. Ignoring the fact that daemons might be lurking nearby if indeed someone had become a victim to an attack in the darkness, Marthe pushed those thoughts aside, and swiftly kept on through dilapidated trees and discarded branches. He didn't take long to locate the source of the sounds in the form of a body laying on the ground, clutching a wound in his abdomen area, though unable to see how serious or severe the injury was with how little light there were to work with from his portable device.

Blue hues focused on the individual as he crouched down on his haunches to get a better look of the situation, thoughts of klepto nature teasing the young man; torn between helping the individual and with those thoughts of unscrupulous nature of simply taking his belongings and leaving him there to his fate.

There he was. All alone. Nobody would know if he stole his goods right there—it was a clarity of survival for Marthe to get by each day with little to no GIL in the pocket, and checking this guys fancy riggings, he looked like he had money.

Shaking his head from those ill thoughts; he couldn't—wouldn't do that, not when thoughts of his own childhood being abandoned came into fruition, turning him to lend a hand, instead. ❝ Hey. You alright? ❞ Not the most appropriate of things to ask… but it would do. It would do. Taking a closer look at the injury he noticed he was clearly bleeding from the soaked discolouration on his shirt,which led the thief to immediately grab one of the man's hands and place it firmly over the wound spot with firm force. ❝ Hold here! Don't let go of the pressure to the wound...I'll... try take ya back to m'camp to help ya, buddy.❞ And with that said; the thief slid an arm beneath the backs of his knees and craned another to support his neck, effectively lifting him off the ground into a cradled hold close to his chest as he then took off in a hurry.

@wutaibandit​ discussed starter!!

This trip cost Noctis his nerves. Although he enjoyed driving the Regalia, it was very tiring to sit in the car all the time and just watch the landscape while Ignis took them to their next destination. The distances were long, and the next town or gas station were farther apart. He was glad when Ignis told them that they had finally arrived in Duscae and that he was heading for the next rest area. The sun was high in the sky, but the prince was tired and wanted to lie down. However, Noctis was not allowed to rest a little. The next monster hunt was already approaching, because they did not have enough gil to replenish their supplies. It was a long hunt because the Garulas did not want to give up easily and fought to the bitter end.

They came back when the sun had almost set. Gladio directly picked up the reward and went shopping with a long list. Meanwhile, Ignis started cooking in the trailer and Prompto helped him. Noctis instead sat down on one of the chairs outside and leaned back, exhausted. Fortunately, the evening went quietly. They sat together, ate and then played Kings Knight for a long while until each of them was finally exhausted and they wished each other a good night.

It was the middle of the night when Noctis woke up for some unknown reason. He tried to fall asleep again for a long time, but he just could not. Groaning, he got up and put on his boots and jacket and left the trailer. He stretched with a groan and looked around for a while. Maybe a short walk would help him to get tired again. The prince wandered around the sleepy area for a while. Any beasts seemed to be sleeping or quietly enjoying a night meal. It happened out of nowhere that he heard a loud noise behind him. But before he could turn around, the black-haired was knocked down and found himself on the ground while a daemon attacked him unstoppably. Noctis seemed to have no chance but eventually he was able to draw his sword and ram the blade into the beast’s body. Noctis took a deep breath and sighed with relief. However, when he tried to stand up, he collapsed again in pain. Although it was too dark to see anything, he felt that he had a deep wound in his abdomen. If he didn’t get back to the gas station as soon as possible, he didn’t know what would happen to him.

[wutaibandit]

Lucian Thievery

● ||

Another day, another steal. Marthe sniffed at the open air of the Leide region with a slight crinkle of the nose, unappreciative of the need to hang around such an arid place for longer than necessary after he had briefly escaped a narrow encounter with some of the vermin wildlife that roamed the outdoors. From one extreme to the other. The sensation of thirst nips at the delicate flesh of his throat as another breath is taken. It is fairly tropical despite the lack of rain at all in the air, and miserably heated—but what else was there to expect of a desert portion of Lucis? Even with the breeze flowing across the landscape providing a touch of humidity to each fleeting breath permeating his lungs, it does little to alleviate the subtle burn crackling at exposed skin to the sunlight.

Throwing his arms behind his head, the thief takes a moment to turn away, taking in the serene view before him. Worn boots sunk into the sandy ground, kicking grains as he trudged onwards, and the scuffing sounds of his boots somehow adds to his immersion. As he looks forward, shades of blue are all that he can see cracking through the tufts of grey in the heavens. The weather REALLY was always so unpredictable in this part of Lucis ever since growing up. Some things never changed, despite the change in governments. With the fall of Insomnia to the Nifs just days ago, it didn't look like he'd ever find the answers he had been searching for all of his life. The death of the King meant his questions would forever go unanswered... He finds it bitter, to say the least to swallow.

With the shake of the cranium, the young thief turned his attention back to the task at hand while expelling a shallow, sharp breath to alleviate himself to strolling across what finally felt like a straight in the road. Getting out of the sandy-desert onto solid asphalt felt like the best thing right now, especially for his appearance. Hopefully that could lead to one of the many wayspots to find another quick heist on some traveller stopping by to pick up gas or supplies along the way.

Slender arms faltered back into place at sides while traversing down the windy-road that led to the coastal port of Galdin on the southernly part of Leide, mentally thinking for the inkling of a chance to pilfer a few wallets from the citizens that more likely lingered in places like this.

Expensive sea food, massages, and spas littered this resort—what better place for a heist for a thief?

Leather soles trek carefully along the beach as sea water suffused to fill the indentations left behind in his wake leading onto the wooden decking of the pier. The instant he drew closer to the building on the horizon, a familiar scent grasps his nose. Fish. Judging from how unusually strong it appears to be today, there must have been quite a few patrons ordering seafood today from the restaurant. For now he was keeping it cool, despite the rush of excitement to delve into those deep pockets of the patrons to relinqiuish them of their gil. “I wonder jus' who'll be on the menu today?” He says, as his blue optic’s were scanning the area. now surely wasn’t the kind of place he was expected to live in with such luxeries. Luxury, huh? Quiet, peaceful, no harm nothing. Really? At the time, he didn't like it...seeing such content faces that had little to no-care in the world to what they were living under: Imperial occupation of the Nifs.

How could anybody be happy under that?!

It derived a momentary scowl across the young Lucian's features. He would then begin to explore the inner establishment, walking around aimlessly, beneath the canopy of the resort. He was observing all his surroundings, and the sounds he could've happened to hear. But still nothing of interest. There was no doubts that something were a miss. He was a thief for a reason. He wasn’t calling shots, at least not yet. When he wasn’t paying attention, from wandering around. Just then, something jolted the thief from his momentary traipse of the mind—sharply hitting a solid mass—Marthe untintentionally had bumped into something by accident during his meandering of thought. He would quickly turn around and just stare ahead at this person garbed in jet-black leather attire.

“Uh, sorry.” He said in an apologetic tone. First assuming the guy were some rich Nif taking a relaxation tour (not the kinds of people you wanted to anger). A singular gloved hand reaching back to ruffle the strands of hair at the rear of his head as his other hand had already taken advantage of the confusion to had pickpocked the stranger's cropped-trouser pocket with nimble-fingers, keeping his gaze on what seemed to be a lone person around the same age of himself, if he were to hazard a guess.

“Didn't mean to bump into ya there...enjoy yer stay at Galdin 'ere, pal!” Flashing a wry grin at the patron with a mock bow, Marthe made little time in leaving before the stranger could offer a response. Hastily, he quickly took to scarpering away down the pier once more to put some distance between them, as best he could. Finding a quiet, secluded spot just off the tail-end where he hopped off to take a seat on the beach to see what spoils he managed to steal from that sap back there.

(A Lucian smart-phone, and a wallet...)

The finds of the wallet turned out only to be a few, measly gil... just how much of a pauper was that guy!? Considering his fancy-riggings for clothes and the latest smart phone in Lucis, this proved to be quite the disappointment for the Lucian thief. Ugh.

[wutaibandit]

It hadn't come to much of a surprise that evening when Marthe found out from one of the others in the village of Sasuke's attempted escape. Pushing a trolley along the hallway toward the cell where the captured Uchiha had been taken, a brief nod had been given to the one guarding the doorway to open it to allow the thief access inside while wheeling the cart of instruments along with him.

The sight of Sasuke once more came into view of his peripheral vision; arms tied behind his back and ankles much the same, seated within the confiens of a chair, dripping with fluid from what seemed like water from the ends of his hair and skin alike. As it is staring at the bound Uchiha, he feels a rush of excitement slithering up his spine all the while shaking his head, for already he hears the faint sounds of Sasuke's breathing within the walls of the cell being those of the only sounds now audible since his own movement ceased.

"Susky, Susky..." he chided the other with his name at first "jus' how many times must we go through this, hn?" Perhaps there’d been a faint sigh of disapproval escaping with those words, really, by now the uchiha must know he wasn't escaping out of here without his permission. "I guess... I have to take it to the next level; seems like things really ain't sinkin' into that stupid head of yers there, that you jus' don't get the point—so I'll make it fer ya." Leather bound appendages reached down then to the cart in front of him, picking up a single instrument from there in hand, parting company from the trolley as booted feet sauntered toward the chair that held the Uchiha upright.

He poised to freeze mere inches from the soaked ninja; easing himself down to to directly stare into those pitch-black coals of Sasuke's eyes, directly. He studied his movements, how casual the other poises, and the looks clearly visible on the Uchiha's features. However, Marthe was about to turn up the gears in this engagement in power play. His words made it very clear, and the thief visably frowned, suddenly reaching his free hand forth to grasp the hem of the soaked pants Sasuke now wore, in turn, the sharp medical instrument followed held within the opposite hand, now driving into the material from the waist—cutting the fibres of the pants with the knife, Sounds of the stitching being torn and ripped soon ensued, cutting the pants straight from Sasuke's hips and legs until they could be removed entirely with a single, yet strong, violent movement before standing upright once more to take a first good-look at his handiwork.

The Uchiha now sat there in naught but his briefs; uncertain to what he were about to do, bound and humiliated, still—which left a semblance of amusement toying within the thief's mindset to what he had in mind. Little did he know that he would obtain more than he bargained for with that show of defiance trying to escape. "I don't think ya deserve any dignities anymore. So...what should I do, hm? Mayhaps I should take somethin' from ya everytime this happens as the point jus' doesn't seem to be gettin' through." He let a simper of a laugh escape then, not entirely just aiming to incite the other even further against him, but merely because he really is amused. No, not by the words themselves but the reaction he was given, just by his own presentation and he can see the irritation rising within coals of black.

A step is taken forward, bending down to take a seat on Sasuke's legs, straddling the seated prisoner as he let one hand holding the knife glide around various parts of the Uchiha's body. "How 'bout a toe, a finger, or a hand..." humming to himself as he toyed with the other; eyes drifting up to Sasuke's face, "mayhaps an ear even jus' so that point gets through that head of yers, or...better yet—" Leather-clad fingers of the thief's free hand reached behind Sasuke's head, suddenly, grasping at the back of those damp, raven strands of hair, yanking his head back in perhaps another show of power but he’s cocky enough to actually do it. Forcing Sasuke's face thrust close to the knife held within his right hand—only to stop merely millimeters from the blade's edge to the cornea of his eye to demonstrate that he could pluck his eye out, that instant, if he so wanted. "d'ya get the soddin' point now...Susky, nyeh!? How 'bout an eye-fer-an-eye..."

‘a moment of weakness’ Susky!

‘A MOMENT OF WEAKNESS  (Randomized.)

accepting

24.My muse is being punished by yours.

@wutaibandit

It has been.. What, a month since Sasuke had gotten captured by Marthe. He surely thought that he would have either been killed by now or released, but it really just seems that Sasuke had been turned into some sort of pet for Marthe to ramble on to about nothing and play with. It was highly annoying, growing really tiresome and Sasuke felt like he was going to go absolutely crazy if he couldn't get out of this shit-sutation and quickly. Since being here, though, Sasuke had managed to get SOME freedom back, he was no longer tied up all the time which was a win. Sometimes he was lucky enough that marthe would take him on a little walk, blindfolded most of the time besides the few moments he is allowed to see the outdoors and get some sunshine on his skin, but he still does sit in the cell most of the time. 

This escape, that has been planned quietly, had been in the works for a few days now..He had to wait for someone else to drop something on the floor, not planned but he had just hoped someone here would get careless and they did. There was one afternoon where Marthe was taking Sasuke out of his cell to get some sunlight, and the Uchiha had noticed a small blade (looked like it might have belonged to a razor of some sort) on the floor. Luckily, he had managed to get it stuck to the bottom of his shoe on their way back from the outdoors and into the cell with him. Marthe somehow did not notice the difference in the walk back from the outdoors, the sudden limping that had happened when the razor pierced through the ran down sandals and stabbed at the bottom of his foot with every walk. But, he did it, and managed to get it. 

That night, everything was lined up. He wasn’t tied up, Marthe had left the holding cell to go get some shut eye and Sasuke all alone. “Lets do this..” He mumbled to himself while taking the blade out of the bottom of his shoe and went to the front of the cell door. After many trial and errors, many cuts to his fingers and palms front he blade slipping or turning the wrong way inside the lock, the cell door finally opened and Sasuke could have cried of pure happiness in that moment if he wasn’t so set on getting out. If one was paying attention, they would have been able to see that this moment was too good to be true but Sasuke, being so tired and running on pure fumes, didn’t notice that. 

Sasuke had memorized the way out, the way the two of them would take to go get some sunshine and that’s what he did. He had to shut his eyes for a part of it but eventually he made the final turn and the door to the outdoors was right before him. This time he did pause, question how easy it was but.. He wasn’t going to risk this moment getting away from him. He sprinted towards the door and threw it opened, was in a deadsprint until he felt something heavy land on his back and all of his hope of escaping came crashing down the second the grass came up to meet his face. A quick stab into the side of his neck came next, along with some whispers of being in trouble, he wasn’t able to catch what was said for sure with the ringing in his ears followed by the blackness that over took him. 

When he woke up, he was sitting up in a chair with his arms tied behind him, feet tied together at the ankle and stripped down bare besides for some gray sweats that had been given to him prior to all of this. It wasn’t Marthe before him right now, but the masked guy told Sasuke not to worry, Marthe will be in shortly, then dumped an ice cold bucket of water over the head of the Uchiha followed by a rather hot bucket next. Not enough to send his body into shock but enough to make his brain pause all thinking and focus on the changes of temperature. Cold, hot. Cold hot. Break. Hot, cold. Hot cold.. Break. That repeated for a handful of times before the door opened and a Marthe walked in, pushing a cart of all sorts of veils of liquids and blades. 

‘Great’ Sasuke thought to himself, his teeth chattering as the last cold bucket of water was still dripping down his bare skin and soaking his sweats.

[wutaibandit]

"Only the next few hours? Hmm...lemme think on that.." Marthe poked at the Tantalus thief again; somewhat taking a little pleasure in 'rubbing him the wrong way', so to speak, although it t'was in his nature to piss people off with that smug attitude. Taking it the extra-length with Zidane to yank on his tail at every opportunity, that he possibly could do so. Marthe hid his true inner-turmoil well, however; masking his inner demons well with the attitude and witticisms clouding the languish of his resolve...that he might actually be trapped on this island, forever...

Never did he think in all this time of impersonating the legendary Tanatlus Troupe, that he'd wind up stranded on an island that doesn't even know of his exploits or escapades he'd been surmounting across the Mist Continent with notoriety. A stifled exhale breathed out into the salty air that surrounded him; feeling a wave of irony washing over with every wave that bled into the shores of this isolated island. Now, nobody would know who or what he were in the world, forsaken to die out on some un-named island on Gaia.

Suddenly lids fluttered in awareness; the breaking of movement in the air knocked the thief out of his internal plight into reacting to the object being hurled at him from the tailed-bandit. A gloved hand responded in catching the can before it could make contact with his face, despite the force implied behind it caused the rogue to lose his balance seated on the crate, somewhat, leaning back into a straigthened posture with a grunt expelling from his mouth.

"T'ch! Y'think that'd work on me?" Marthe scoffed a little perturbed by the rude interuption. "While m'leg might be injured—m'senses an' arms ain't, monkey-boy!" This is mere child’s play and the other should know this, even he was very in-tune with his surroundings as a thief—one had to be, to survive being caught.

The action in itself had caused Marthe to shimmer about his concerns about the island, despite being annoyed; he gripped the can staring down at it with full knowledge he had no-way of getting it open with his bare hands. This was some cruel joke to wind up marooned with his only companion being Zidane for company, in another sick irony of life, he hated (refused to) admit...Zidane might be the only one who was able to keep them alive.

"Hm?" A brow cocks in unison to the tilting of his head in the direction of the flattened thief residing upon the nearby crate. " I thought y'didn't beleive me when I said somethin' were out there a moment ago—wha....now, y'suddenly BELIEVE ME, eh?"  Marthe snorted in Zidane's direction. yet the lips should do all the speaking, both verbally and physically and he still retains the smirk upon them. "Knock yerself out, pal...if y'wanna go find out—jus' don't come runnin' back to me with yer tail skinned. I can’t walk fer shit like this to save yer hide." But for the moment, he is merely observing the other, waiting for any reaction from his stranded companion groaning about the camping ordeal.

wutaibandit​: 

It’s with a response from his tailed-companion that he’s brought back to the realm of the living; previous thoughts swirling about his brain and eventually blending behind the realization of something didn’t feel quite right. Not with those sounds that he’d heard far off—into the distance of the island’s inner core. The blond’s contrite reply did nothing but amuse him, however; and initially Marthe simply brushed it off as either ignorant prattle or he were simply masking his stupidity. He tried not to sigh in annoyance, he tried not to think too much at all; but it’s difficult when on a day like today there was little else but constant reminders to pull him back into insistent pondering being stranded on an uncharted island with no-way of getting off it with this tailed-oaf as his ONLY company.

“T'ch! It’s that kinda dismissive attitude that makes ya a second-rate thief—an’ me the more distinquished bandit of Gaia,” he simply scoffed at the mundane retort from his rival. “hearing senses…” Marthe explained to his companion. “they do wonders when you’re intune with them, don'tcha think?” A smug grin formed in unison to getting-one-in over his rival, chuckling lightly before responding again. “Because unlike YOU—I actually have  a good sense of hearin'—an’ THAT definitely wasn’t some mist monster.” Raising a brow in turning back to staring off in the direction of where he presumed the sounds came from, it only raised more welling concern within the injured thief.  

Deciding he’d rather not be caught by ‘what ever’ it were on this island, he attempted to shimmy himself off the crate he’d been seated upon, the weight of his body shifts in order to rise him to his feet with a stumble on the dry sands. Feeling a wave of discomfort reeling from his unjuries, and settles into the unrelenting salutation of the sun twarted by these injuries. And the bandit hisses through teeth in slight annoyance, as if the heat could get any more severe on this island.

“Are ya jus’ feigning stupidity, or is this natural?” He asked with a intrigued glare towards the worn-out blond taking a breather from hauling all of the cargo that he could from the burning wreckage on the beach shores. “At this point m'not sure which it is; y'do know that whatever it is would be in the direction of findin’ said shelter, don'tcha? Not t’mention they’d hear ya comin’ a mile away with those clunky boots of yers.” Growling under his breathe, his patience with this predicament in this moment was wearing thin. Despite finding comfort disguising his own demons behind  a mask of sarcastic retorts at Zidane, especially with the amount of issues he’s facing being stranded alone, injured and having to rely on someone else to survive for once in his life. Marthe hated it.

Though the matter at hand comes parading back— no amount of ill-feelings or witty retorts were going to get them out of this situation, when the result was the salvation of staying alive. But they too were also on a limit of time, and it was required for the pair to utilize it sparingly if they were to make it out of this ordeal in one-piece.

“Fineeee—I concede; let’s find some shelter if I hav'ta put up with yer fleabitten-furry-hide, I might as well be comfortable while at it from the elements.”

“Could you quit bein’ a dick for the next few hours or what?” Zidane groaned. The grating attitude would at least make it easier to strangle him to death while he slept– given Marthe’s condition, it would be easy. Too easy.

But unlike him, Zidane wasn’t a cutthroat… maybe life would be easier if he was. In any case, he wasn’t even paying attention anymore. There wasn’t anything in the forest he couldn’t handle; regardless of what it was.

“I don’t know what you think could possibly be out here. This is some no-name island in the middle of the ocean. You’re acting like whatever it is gives a crap what we’re doing out here.”

Zidane leans aside and tosses a can at Marthe, aimed specifically at his face and with a telling amount of force; though really, his intention was to distract him from his griping.

“Manage to open that and you got a meal at least.” he said. “… and for your information, I don’t have fleas, jerk.”

If there was one way to offend Zidane, it was to insinuate that his tail wasn’t meticulously cleaned at every opportunity. Looking around, he thought of a place for them to set up.

“I hate camping… this is going to be a nightmare…” he lamented, falling on his back on top of the crate where he had been resting. “I say camping… but clearly there is something out there that’s got you spooked. Maybe it will be like one of those horror stories people tell you as kids?”

[wutaibandit]

Circumstances were beginning to expand towards an awkward field as the thief watched—waited with anticipation for the lavander-haired stranger to show off this "flying" escapade he so boasted. Still holding *some* reservations he was simply full-of-it and flowing from mutual discomfort, rendering him to a near silence as he stood there  with blue ceruleans observing his companion. There was still so much he had yet to learn about this Trunks, and him to himself. Certainly this was not a good start; they were not on the same page, stepping in with the wrong foot assuming this guy were an android much like the one that had shot him in the leg.

A slight exhale was deposited through lightly pursed lips, gloved digits fiddling with one another out of sheer habit. He found the second Trunk's voice broke the silence once more somewhat of an engima, but it did not go unappreciated. It further solidified they had to get moving, stop wasting time.

 "Eh... if it gets us the hell outta this place before those machines return." He replied with the twitch of an eye to the corner. "I'd rather not be 'ere when those things come back, if ya catch m'drift? The second half of statement had been thrown rather swiftly, an assurance that he was not bluntly shrugging off the previous conversation. Still not understanding exactly what this guy meant entirely by his methods of travel learned from some other named person, Marthe figured it'd be worth some intrigue at least to see what exactly he'd pull out of a hat; the thief still expecting some sort of car to appear much like the Capsule Corporation's old devices—not that they were in business with the world being practically turned into an apocalyptic hell.

A soft snort expelled from pallid tiers with the mentioning of carrying his load, merely the slightest shift of leather attire, gingerly waving a gloved appendage flexed in the air at the gesture. "Yea, yea... though y'don't look like much bein' pretty scrawny-like." Marthe stated with disbelief still lingering in his tone. True, Trunks didn't appear any much than an ordinary person around his own age—if not a year or two older, give or take. His body mass didn't exude much to say how strong he truly were beneath. Lightly biting down upon his lower lip in internal-thoughts over musing what this guy meant by feeling distress from what he were about to reveal.

Then it happened; the lavander-haired stranger began to elevate from the ground before his very eyes much like those androids had shown. It promoted a wave of disbelief, and terror radiating from the thief now up from his slouched position momentarily...forced into a hobbled stagger due to moving his weight onto his injured leg too quickly in shocked-awe. "Y-Y-You... wha are... how're y—" words all but jumbled from the brunet's lips in a hastened mingle of confusion sweeping over his disposition. Ceruleans widened before taking in the sight of the stranger now hovering in thin-air...

(Who is this guy!?)

A step is taken forward after steeling some courage to venture forth, perhaps another show of curiousity beckoning to know how he could perform such a feat, mayhaps, but Trunks had for once silenced the thief completely for the first time. "How'd...you do that? Is that some kind of technology?" Marthe asked; studying Trunk's still with the craning of the neck to try and catch there were nothing he were standing on. In-fact, there was naught but anything beneath his yellow-shaded boots—nothing at all but thin air, it looked a pure miracle in his eyes much like the feats only those machines could conjure up. But they were machines, robots—Trunks was a human being—of flesh-and-blood, right?

"I....I mean—it's amazin' an' all, yer like some kinda super hero," pausing in his choice of words in a skittish nature. "without the spandex attire, y'know? With the tight-fitting trunks—like from comics and movies—well, back when we actually had those luxuries, anyhow..." Feeling arrant irony in his wording, and the stranger's name.

Shaking his cranium suddenly, the fringe of his unruly hair swaying in his vision trying to brush that ill-thought aside from his mind. Life was depressing enough to not think about the former things he used to remember back as a child. Lightly scratching the cheek with a padded index finger following closely by the inaudible prints of the lavander-haired man’s yellow boots meeting the ground once more. He thought he would never see day such an opportunity would land in his lap, as his world only knew desperation.

Booted feet of his own stirred to life once more. Traipsing a step closer toward Trunks with a limp in his step, due to his injury, pulling a slightly stop before the other. "Think....y'could show me how ya do that—I mean teach me?" A smirk devilishly engraves his pallid features, even as the thief is suddenly mere inches in front of his companion. Yet doing nothing really; a brow cocks with the extension of his right hand in junction to meet the offering, yet his actions should do all the speaking as he wanted to know more about this stranger the more now. Both verbally and physically, and he still retained the sly-etched grin as he took ahold of Trunks' hand firmly in his own, leather bound digits squeezing somewhat to see if he actually felt warmth beneath the padding of a blooded-creature—thankful to feel he did, and none of it were the cold embrace of a machine of death.”M’ready ‘ere when ya are, pal.”

wutaibandit​:

Human emotions is quite a convoluted subject to grasp. One could perceive the sentiments in which one is experiencing and one could not control how one felt, but there were a myriad of things in which the stranger with lavender hair did-not know from his own personal experiences out in what were the remnants of a once civilization.. The conflict with the androids had changed humanity drastically; people were solely out for themselves to survivor and wouldn’t hesitate for an instant to sacrifice another if they were able to live another day. Trust were all but gone in his eyes—to trust another in this world would surely bring you closer to the other world, more than certainty. Survivors laid traps for other humans. Hunted them even for supplies or food. It brought out the cruelty and need for self preservation in many, while others simply gave up on hope and lingered in despair awaiting death to take them.

Marthe was one of the former. While he didn’t particularly like what he did to survive—it became a necessity to him in a drive to do whatever it took to see another sunrise on this wasteland of a planet. Even if they meant taking advantage of others to do it. He saw it purely as him, or them, preferably “him” to come out the better. Twas why he struggled in that instant to comprehend where this stranger’s motives were driven or headed. (Was this a trap?) If so, it felt very lamely developed considering how open this guy were and alone. Not to mention his gestures and bodily movements did not jar any kinds of alert within his honed senses over the years of trying to survive.

Keep reading

[wutaibandit]

It’s with a response from his tailed-companion that he’s brought back to the realm of the living; previous thoughts swirling about his brain and eventually blending behind the realization of something didn't feel quite right. Not with those sounds that he'd heard far off—into the distance of the island's inner core. The blond's contrite reply did nothing but amuse him, however; and initially Marthe simply brushed it off as either ignorant prattle or he were simply masking his stupidity. He tried not to sigh in annoyance, he tried not to think too much at all; but it’s difficult when on a day like today there was little else but constant reminders to pull him back into insistent pondering being stranded on an uncharted island with no-way of getting off it with this tailed-oaf as his ONLY company.

"T'ch! It's that kinda dismissive attitude that makes ya a second-rate thief—an' me the more distinquished bandit of Gaia," he simply scoffed at the mundane retort from his rival. "hearing senses..." Marthe explained to his companion. "they do wonders when you're intune with them, don'tcha think?" A smug grin formed in unison to getting-one-in over his rival, chuckling lightly before responding again. "Because unlike YOU—I actually have  a good sense of hearin'—an' THAT definitely wasn't some mist monster." Raising a brow in turning back to staring off in the direction of where he presumed the sounds came from, it only raised more welling concern within the injured thief.  

Deciding he'd rather not be caught by 'what ever' it were on this island, he attempted to shimmy himself off the crate he'd been seated upon, the weight of his body shifts in order to rise him to his feet with a stumble on the dry sands. Feeling a wave of discomfort reeling from his unjuries, and settles into the unrelenting salutation of the sun twarted by these injuries. And the bandit hisses through teeth in slight annoyance, as if the heat could get any more severe on this island.

"Are ya jus' feigning stupidity, or is this natural?" He asked with a intrigued glare towards the worn-out blond taking a breather from hauling all of the cargo that he could from the burning wreckage on the beach shores. "At this point m'not sure which it is; y'do know that whatever it is would be in the direction of findin' said shelter, don'tcha? Not t’mention they’d hear ya comin’ a mile away with those clunky boots of yers." Growling under his breathe, his patience with this predicament in this moment was wearing thin. Despite finding comfort disguising his own demons behind  a mask of sarcastic retorts at Zidane, especially with the amount of issues he's facing being stranded alone, injured and having to rely on someone else to survive for once in his life. Marthe hated it.

Though the matter at hand comes parading back— no amount of ill-feelings or witty retorts were going to get them out of this situation, when the result was the salvation of staying alive. But they too were also on a limit of time, and it was required for the pair to utilize it sparingly if they were to make it out of this ordeal in one-piece.

"Fineeee—I concede; let's find some shelter if I hav'ta put up with yer fleabitten-furry-hide, I might as well be comfortable while at it from the elements."

wutaibandit​: 

“Yeah, yeah… how ‘bout ya shove it.” A leather clad hand flicked in the air in gesture over to the blonde abruptly butting in, snorting in response to the remark telling him to pipe down. Still feeling rather moody to Zidane’s intervention, very much to Marthe’s own annoyance to find that he might be actually stranded on this island. Stranded, alone, stuck mayhaps with the guy he’d been emulating all this time somehow made his skin crawl with the shudders.

Marthe had brushed aside the fact the island could potentially be infested with monsters of the mist, given the fact there were a large concentration of it lingering all over the inner parts of the island, covering the jungle-like forest to blanket the most inner parts completely from human sight from the distance to the shoreline.

Exhalation ensued from the hazel-haired thief while tuning out almost the actions of his sole companion (not by choice),dragging the crates and what might’ve been salvagable from the wreckage of the airship that was going to be his ticket to Alexandria—not stuck with this bumpkin of an oaf. Marthe had like to imagine adventures somewhere else while drifting off in thoughts, maybe he would be relieved of this ordeal to wake up from a dream. (fat chance of that!) For now he was keeping it cool, and  level-headed, all things considering. “Mmm?” He broke momentary silence, as his blue optic’s were scanning the area surrounding them suddenly on the sandy shoreline. Spotting nothing around but the one he were stranded with.

“Nn… Will ya stop that crap!” He interjected with a huff. “S'bad enough I gotta be stranded with ya, never mind havin’ ta listen to ya bangin’ crap with that bloody tail of yers.” Voice taut and frustrated, a fist resting tensely against his hip.  A slight raise of cranium and lids dropped over aquamarine hues twice briefly trying to think of a solution to get out of this messy situation, somehow, someway…

Thump Thump Thump.

There it was AGAIN; dragging lids to show a glance of utter annoyance once more toward the blonde situated by the crates that he’d lugged off the burning wreckage, smoke still lingering in the air that caused his noise to crinkle to sour the mood even further. “I thought I told ya to stop that crap?! T'ch.. don’t make me come over there an’ tie that tail in a goddamn knot—”  Concern wells within his being that forces the brunette to break off his threat, directed toward the the distance away from Zidane, now. Taking note that the sounds that he’d picked up the last few minutes hadn’t actually come from the Tantalus troupe member.

“Then that…wasn’t really ya… don'tcha hear that?” Sounded more like drums, now he’d had time to mull over it in solitary thought since the first accusation. Curiosity eventually trumps what previously annoyed emotion he felt toward the tailed thief, adopting a mien more at ease, a demeanour more approachable. A gentle shift in his posture toward the mist covered forest where the feint sounds were coming from—still miles of distance away from where they were deep in the dense trees.Any normal person would’ve simply passed it off as mere background noise, if heard at all; thankful to his acute hearing as a thief to had picked it up in the first place.

(Did this mean they weren’t entirely alone on this island?)

Zidane had met quite a number of unsavory people in his life, but this one was easily one of the worst– he just didn’t know when to shut up. As if grabbing whatever they could to survive and keep it from burning away wasn’t a massive priority, and one he didn’t even expect him to help him do in his condition. Some people were no good down to their core, he had decided as he rolled his eyes and continued doing his thing. As far as he knew, he really wasn’t making that much noise at all; but when the other continued to shriek at him, he from where he had been sitting, he stopped what he was doing to listen. “What are you nagging about now?” he replied in frustration, arms out at his sides, “It’s probably some stupid Mist monster that’s gonna come eat us if you keep screaming and getting it’s attention!”

Having amassed a huge stack of boxes, and the ship already beginning to become unstable from the fire, Zidane decided not to risk going back inside, lest he burn to death and let Marthe have the last laugh. Zidane would rather starve to death on this island if it meant seeing him die first– maybe getting the attention of those Mist monsters wasn’t such a bad idea?

“Damn… I’m really worn out… as soon as I catch my breath, maybe we can look for some place with water where we can set up….”

At the end of the day, neither one of them would last very long if they didn’t find fresh water; and besides that, sleeping out in the open with no protection at all would likely prove fatal if the monsters came out.

“Not like this crap is going anywhere, anyway…”

[wutaibandit]

"Yeah, yeah... how 'bout ya shove it." A leather clad hand flicked in the air in gesture over to the blonde abruptly butting in, snorting in response to the remark telling him to pipe down. Still feeling rather moody to Zidane's intervention, very much to Marthe’s own annoyance to find that he might be actually stranded on this island. Stranded, alone, stuck mayhaps with the guy he'd been emulating all this time somehow made his skin crawl with the shudders.

Marthe had brushed aside the fact the island could potentially be infested with monsters of the mist, given the fact there were a large concentration of it lingering all over the inner parts of the island, covering the jungle-like forest to blanket the most inner parts completely from human sight from the distance to the shoreline.

Exhalation ensued from the hazel-haired thief while tuning out almost the actions of his sole companion (not by choice),dragging the crates and what might've been salvagable from the wreckage of the airship that was going to be his ticket to Alexandria—not stuck with this bumpkin of an oaf. Marthe had like to imagine adventures somewhere else while drifting off in thoughts, maybe he would be relieved of this ordeal to wake up from a dream. (fat chance of that!) For now he was keeping it cool, and  level-headed, all things considering. "Mmm?" He broke momentary silence, as his blue optic’s were scanning the area surrounding them suddenly on the sandy shoreline. Spotting nothing around but the one he were stranded with.

"Nn... Will ya stop that crap!” He interjected with a huff. “S'bad enough I gotta be stranded with ya, never mind havin' ta listen to ya bangin' crap with that bloody tail of yers." Voice taut and frustrated, a fist resting tensely against his hip.  A slight raise of cranium and lids dropped over aquamarine hues twice briefly trying to think of a solution to get out of this messy situation, somehow, someway...

Thump Thump Thump.

There it was AGAIN; dragging lids to show a glance of utter annoyance once more toward the blonde situated by the crates that he'd lugged off the burning wreckage, smoke still lingering in the air that caused his noise to crinkle to sour the mood even further. "I thought I told ya to stop that crap?! T'ch.. don't make me come over there an' tie that tail in a goddamn knot—"  Concern wells within his being that forces the brunette to break off his threat, directed toward the the distance away from Zidane, now. Taking note that the sounds that he'd picked up the last few minutes hadn't actually come from the Tantalus troupe member.

"Then that...wasn't really ya... don'tcha hear that?" Sounded more like drums, now he’d had time to mull over it in solitary thought since the first accusation. Curiosity eventually trumps what previously annoyed emotion he felt toward the tailed thief, adopting a mien more at ease, a demeanour more approachable. A gentle shift in his posture toward the mist covered forest where the feint sounds were coming from—still miles of distance away from where they were deep in the dense trees.Any normal person would've simply passed it off as mere background noise, if heard at all; thankful to his acute hearing as a thief to had picked it up in the first place.

(Did this mean they weren't entirely alone on this island?)

wutaibandit​: 

“T'ch! I’ll hav'ya know—I were piloting said airship perfectly fine until a certain stowaway intervened tryin’ to sock m'lights out WHILE pilotin’ an airship. Backseat drivers, I tell ya.” He drawls at first. There’s no real admission of guilt on his end, far too engaged with his own moodiness at the moment to really give a damn about anything else forthright, and so there’s a flippant tone he adopts even as he turns his head partially to acknowledge the one suddenly releasing him from his bondage. Taking a moment to rub his wrists; trying to feel the circulation back through them from the vicious hold that tail had on them moments ago. And dwelling on that for a short second, he decides he cannot really resist his next jibe.

“Guess it’s to be expected though—y'got onboard the airship, chasin’ after me, so…doesn’t that make'ya more of a dumbass, eh?” Lips ascend at the corners to form a rather goading smirk falling under the amusement of another verbal jab right back at him, although, he should be more hospitable than this, especially since they’re both now stranded on this god-forsaken-island in the middle of no-where. Uncharted by the looks of it…but the brunette found this situation to be more than that now, and so tests the other instead—to find out who and how this Tantalus person operates, exactly. Now they weren’t trying to maim or kill each other, but rather ‘needed’ each other to stay alive.

Arrant irony that was presented in this situation had managed to influence the gradual ascension of pallid corners, ultimately drawing the most unobtrusive of grins from the thief as he hobbled to find a spot just off the waves edge, faltering to sit on a rock that ebbed out of the sands as his legs finally gave way due to the strain of having to work mostly from one healthy limb, noting that his right leg was injured in the crash, along with a gash across his forehead from the feeling of the sticky-dampness riding his fringe.

“Guess I got no choice but t'call a truce. Don’t make ME regret it, MONKEY ARSE.” The rebuked statement is of worth despite annoyance to the bandit, but it is one he may not undertake. He was never a team player—always out for himself, and only himself in the spirit of things. Having to rely on someone else wasn’t something he’d openly obmit to delving into, even with the situation as dire, but this weren’t the normal of situations even he’d have to cave into. All attention however were diverted; shifting cerulean gaze from the annoyance of his plight to those associated with tending to injuries while Zidane surveyed the spilled cargo—patience was a virtue—one he would need great amounts of to get through this ordeal. If they ever did.

Taking a moment to grip a piece of his shirt within a gloved appendage, tearing a strip off, using the material to bind and wrap the wound around his forehead. Knotting the material into somewhat of a makeshift bandanna, now peering in descent to take a look at his leg that didn’t seem to have any external injury; definitely pain were felt,though with the struggle to move at full ability. The subtlest of a breath sweeps past lips. The bite of disappointment imbues within, bearing news of maybe never getting off this island without any method of transport.  

A sway of the crown signifies protestation, staring off into the distance of what their new home had to offer. The range of vision his peripheral is giving him is blurry at most so all he can make out at first is a rather indiscernible forestation covered by mist—heck, at least he has some colour to look at for new home, though he supposed they’d have to do more than stick to the coast to survive considering there had to be some form of food on the island.

“Quit talking so loud.” Zidane nagged at him, “You see all this Mist? We’ll be lucky if it isn’t crawling with monsters that want to tear us apart for dinner. If we stay around here at least… maybe the ocean air is a little cleaner…” The Mist was known to drive people insane after breathing it in for too long. Zidane already hated Marthe but now they had to worry about being made mad by the thick Mist on top of all of it. If neither one of them killed each other for sure now, it would be a miracle. Still, it wasn’t like Zidane to needlessly make things worse. Marthe was in bad shape and would need to get better quickly just in case there was something here that was more dangerous than either of them. Zidane groaned as he began his current task; dragging crates away from the burning wreckage and leaving them in a pile elsewhere.

The symbol on the boxes was unfamiliar to him, but he would concentrate on opening them much later. Thankfully it seemed that the two of them had managed to hold onto their weapons. It may have been impossible to work on anything without them. ZIdane would delight in making Marthe regret ever knowing him, and being stuck with him of all people, but that was besides the point. The sky was blue and calm, the wind just slightly cold. Zidane hoped the weather stayed this calm for a while, in any case. The two of them would need some place to sleep eventually; the ship was a complete goner.

“This sucks… I really wanted to have a drink in Lindblum after I stuck you with a dagger.” he complained, slumping onto one of the boxes from exhaustion. He was feeling pain more prominently now that he has been working.