Things to Remember (Quest!)

[prythian]

The voice sounded puzzled for a moment. Both of you...? Oh, I see! And in its voice was realization. You are fragmented! That makes more sense now, explaining why you don't know about the amulet... and she who gave it to you. If you find me, I may tell you more... Janus, of the Kingdom of Zeal, come to me! The presence of the voice faded from the area. The two Nobodies split up, going in opposite directions. One went off towards the central square of Twilight Town, while the other went the other way.

Heh heh heh... You think I'm only in your head. Perhaps you need to reevaluate your surroundings, and remember precisely what you are missing... Those memories were best forgotten in your opinion, weren't they? An entire world, destroyed, and with the strength you showed you might've been able to stop it. The voice wasn't sounding as friendly as it had been before.

[nascent]

'Janus... of the kingdom... of Zeal?'

The pounding headache was gradually fading now, his thoughts and actions once more his own. As the Dusks ventured off Magus gradually rose to his feet, his mind awash in what had just occurred. Janus... the name rang with a strong familiarity , as though it were indeed part of him. And a kingdom... and a woman who gave him the amulet. The amulet... no wonder he'd felt that it was precious. But to think he'd been toting around something with so many answers in it, and hadn't even known! He felt a fool, and absolute unremitted fool.

Fragmented... that was what the one voice had said. The warlock mused the concept over for a moment, pondering its significance.

"You, the voice from before." He half-whispered, not knowing if this was going to work. "I want... I will have answers from you!"

Oh, will you now? Hmph. You have some nerve, casting me out and then just willing me to return.

But then, that's really all you have, isn't it? Not wisdom, not understanding, and only a half-measure of power at best. You just threw yourself forward headlong into some wild gambit you thought was oh so clever, yet all it did was leave you exposed!

If that is your willpower at work, you will get yourself killed.

The shadowmage grit his teeth, bearing the insulting diatribe that the unseen other threw at him. "So, you can hear me after all. Answer my questions, then: are you a fragment of me? How did I get like this? Who am I, truly?"

A fragment of you? HA! Don't flatter yourself.

"Give me answers!"

Or what? You know nothing, and based on your recklessness it will be better if it stays that way.

Magus' patience had worn thin, and he knew the voice had an advantage over him. He had no leverage on it, no knowledge of who or what it was, thus no means of control or coercion. He hated being at the mercy of something he couldn't even see, much less strike back at. What was he going to do? This was getting him nowhere! Leather-gloved fingers clenched into tight fists... then slowly relaxed.

"Fine, then." He began walking towards what he guessed to be the center of town.

Where are you going?

"To get some answers."

Fool! Even you must realize that this is a trap!

[/color][/center]

He allowed himself a slight grin. "Perhaps, but what other options are open to me?"

. . . So, that's your game then. You do realize you're playing with your life.

"One must play the cards in one's hand."

Hmph... fine. If that is the way of things, I'll play along.

He stopped walking. "Good. Then you can start by telling me who I am, and then who you are."

No.

"What?!"

Not yet. I promise to give you the answers you seek, but I cannot do so now. It would jeopardize us both.

"... Very well then." He resumed walking.

You wish to die, then?

"Honestly? No. But I do wish to get the amulet back."

Then it seems we are agreed, for now.

[lysander]

[[I'm sorry for the wait. This weekend was crazy. School's back in for the week, so I should be able to post consistently from now on.]]

Lysander snarled at the voice. It just wouldn't shut up. It kept on going and going, wreaking havoc on his mental state. He'd tried to set some terms for them both to stand on, but it didn't seem like this guy had any interest in working towards the common goal. It didn't seem like he had any interest in doing anything except tearing down everything. Lysander tensed, spitting viciously off to the side lifting a hand up to his brow and pressing it there, as if to ward off a splitting headache, as if to ward off a torturous voice. He stumbled forward and kept fighting it, holding back the oncoming flood, clawing at a wall. "I hate you." He uttered before his last invisible restraint snapped.

Better forgotten images overtook him off, whipping the cowboy off his feet. Smacking against the wall he slid down to sit there, comatose, choking and wide-eyed while he remembered. He remembered them all. Every tally, and all the unwritten ones too. Men, women, boys, and girls. Those who slept through it, and those who cried out in their last waking moments. Lysander fell down to lay on his side, heaving. His mind vaguely registered the vomit rise from his throat, while memories drowned and crushed him in a vicious, leering slaughter. He was helpless to the memories just as they had been helpless to him. A horrible cycle. He wondered if he could have prevented it all.

He wondered if he could have stopped it.

In a violent surge of mental strength he flung his head backwards, cracking it against the wall. The sharp, realworld pain gave him the chance he needed to shut it all back as he lay on the ground. His heaving breaths tasted of stomach acid and blood, and he forced himself to stand. Lysander reached a hand back to touch the tender flesh on the back of his head, but when his fingers returned to his vision blood coated them. "I really, really hate you."

[prythian]

If you hate me so much, then use it. Use that anger and show me your true strength. Seek me out. One comes with the same goal as you, Lysander. Find me and face me. The presence of the voice faded as well as another Dusk bounced into the area from a street into the center town square, passing by Lysander. It paused and turned, looking the way it came as if waiting for something.

((Yes, that IS the same Nobody that Magus followed.))

[lysander]

Lysander's grim eyes spotted the dusk as it came bouncing, watching it while he thought of the words the voice had left him with. There was another one coming along by the looks of it. The way the Nobody had stopped to turn around, assured him of that belief. He didn't like the idea of being between a competitor and a likely enemy, but he figured if he had a headstart over the competitor he might as well use it to his advantage.

With a groan he pushed himself forward, forcing his weaker-than-usual body to meet his own exacting standards. He focused on the Dusk never looking back to see whether or not there was someone behind him. Lysander flipped a mental switch and the light pressure of his Tripwire ability shut off, hastening his recovery. By his own figuring he could afford the risk for now. His innate sense of awareness could suffice.

From his travel sack he pulled a paper parcel containing stale bread and dried meat, gnawing gently at the food his stomach growled for. He ate and he thought, walking until he was beside the Dusk and then taking a few more steps past it. The thing didn't seem to pose a threat yet, but if it attacked, Lysander wouldn't be too happy.

[nascent]

Magus was fairly certain that the man several dozen feet in front of him knew he was there, yet chose to ignore him. The steely click of the shadowmage's footfalls wasn't exactly a subtle sound, after all. That was fine by Magus... presuming, of course, that this person wasn't the voice who'd spoken to him before. True, he also seemed to be following the agile Dusk, but appearances meant little given his enemy's penchant for meddling. He had to be certain, and accordingly increased his pace.

"You there! Where are you going?" Magus demanded in no uncertain terms. This was no time to drop his guard; for all he knew, this sauntering cowboy could morph into a living nightmare without a moment's notice.

He kept his grip on the scythe firm, just in case things suddenly turned sour. Magus had been caught off guard once already here; a second time could steal his very life from him.

[prythian]

The Dusk once again slid in front of the two people and blocked off the way Lysander was going. It was apparent that they weren't to be allowed to leave the square yet. Oh, no, not yet. The voice echoed in their minds, sounding sly. I'm afraid only one of you will be allowed to find me. I suggest you two find a way to settle the matter between yourselves. But... Its voice had a mocking tone now. The loser will not gain back what I've taken.

[lysander]

Lysander was very aware of the person approaching, just as he was sure the person approaching had seen him. A cowboy in light pink wasn't exactly an easy sight to miss. Even so, Lysander turned to face the other and eye him casually. The man was all business, and no adventure. Probably really into himself. He wouldn't doubt that Magus would be a fight first/talk never sort of competitor. That made everything all the less enjoyable. "Urgh." He grunted his displeasure at the way all these events had conspired against him. The day hadn't been ALL that bad just sitting being lonely. It had been a waste of time, and he didn't like wasting his own time, but this was just obscene.

The voice made him raise an eyebrow towards the other, shrugging. If Magus wasn't stupid he'd know that things were throat-to-throat now. Even so. Lysander intended to play things close, letting reflex take over. "Same place you are, compadre. S'pose you knew that already though." His thumbs hooked in the black belts crossing his waist. Twisting them about he revealed the empty holsters, and with a shrug he lifted his hands in the classic ' don't shoot ' pose.

"Rock, paper, scissors?"[/color] He suggested offhanded, wanting to avoid violence if that were an option.[/size]

[nascent]

Magus looked the dusty cowboy over for a long moment, noting some of the oddities of his appearance. So, then this man was in the same situation that he was? Hmm... interesting. He closed his eyes, sighed... then gave a slight chuckle.

"Are you always this gullible, 'compadre'?"

No doubt the man didn't much like that response, so Magus was quick to explain himself. "Trusting the word of a thief so readily..." He cast a cold glare towards the Dusk which blocked their path.

"If what it took from you is even half so precious as that which was stolen from me, would you really leave the matter up to chance? Here we are, you and I, being strung along like puppets by some damnable hand from the darkness, and we're just supposed to passively accept that one of us has to walk away in defeat?"

He turned now, pointing one accusing finger at the Dusk. "Tell me, why should we play by its master's rules? I suspect that it's afraid... afraid that it can't handle the both of us at once. That's why it sends these hollow shells out to fight us instead, and why it doesn't want us both to continue. It's afraid! The thief is a coward!"

[lysander]

Lysander decided to go with a witty little trick he'd learned back in the day. Something to mess with your enemies. It was actually a very simple tactic, that his hands performed almost on reflex. Ignoring your enemies. He hummed a soft tune and his hands clapped out a horribly offbeat rythym. It was actually somewhat comical to see him like this, seeming to make a fool of himself in this way. Even so it was clear that he didn't give two and a half damns about this man, his resolve, or his beliefs on these things.

When it came to his turn to speak, he stopped his warbling and offbeat clapping. "I wouldn't say gullible. But since we're both compadres, I'll let you in on a little secret. I hate competition. Whether or not, only one of us can go. Only one of us will go."[/color] He cracked his knuckles, stretching out slightly. One of his hands rested at his waist, his finger tapping an odd, fidgety pattern on his belt. "So I suggest... if you don't want a beating to end all beatings... We play a friendly game of rock, paper, scissors. Two out of three. Plain and simple. Winner take all."[/color] He spat off to the side. Cocky and arrogant, confident and ready to win.[/size]

[nascent]

The man's peculiar actions made Magus a bit uneasy, unsure just what to make of this seemingly erratic man who insisted on the irrational. Why would he choose such a path? What was his intent...?

The shadowmage let the edge of his scythe rest upon the ground as he spoke, it's spear-point scratching the pavement unevenly, impatiently. "So, you are resolute in this folly. Hmph... very well. It seems I can't dissuade you. Pity."

His perpetual frown deepened, the scythe becoming still.

"Very well. Explain this... 'rock, paper, scissors' to me. I have no knowledge of the game."

[lysander]

Lysander smirked softly to himself. Good... Disaster averted... The only thoughts to run through his otherwise thoughtless mind. It was times like this that he was glad he was a reflexively oriented person, not only for his gun's sake. Flit-thoughts, or split second decisions were tricky, but they provided some advantages. Who else but someone who didn't think with their head could trust a mind reader?

"Wise decision, amigo."[/color] He uttered past his widened smirk. This guy was getting in over his head. As a marksman, fights of observation were his forte. And although rock, paper, scissors seemed to be a game of chance, it was in actuality a game all about awareness and quick thinking. This scythe wielding, noble man had no chance in hell. Lysander began his explanation.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors is a simple game of chance. Forming a fist both competitors punch their open palm three times while saying 'rock, paper, scissors, shoot' in unison. Once shoot is said, each competitor has three options of a hand signal to make. Rock..."[/color] He lifted his fist. "Paper..."[/color] He showed his flat palm. "Or scissors."[/color] He made a peace sign. "Paper covers rock, rock breaks scissors, scissors cuts paper. The game is played in rounds of three, and the best out of three is the winner. Every draw comes up as a redo."[/color]

With his explanation over, Lysander stretched his neck out, rolled up his sleeves, and generally prepared for a quick game of rock, paper, scissors before he went to go get his journal back. He lifted his fist above his above his hand, watching the other expectantly. His fingers stretched out in a noticeable pattern. Long-short-long-long, pause, long-long-long, pause, short-short-long. "You ready?"[/size]

[nascent]

The shadowmage nodded, his scythe vanishing in a brief flash of darkness. Both competitors assumed a position of readiness, left hand out flat and right balled into an upright fist. Magus wondered briefly whether he should be watching his opponent's eyes or his hand for clues... he'd been in enough battles to know that every complex motion, no matter how swift, starts with a few tell-tale lesser motions. In this way the body could be read and understood, even predicted in a limited fashion, and the warlock had watched the pink-hat cowboy's demonstration very closely, learning as much as he could.

If scissors, the ring and pinky fingers would remain firmly held; if paper, the whole hand would be loose; rock was best indicated by a subtle curl of the thumb. Even so, the warlock suspected his opponent was fairly practiced. Lysander's hands had made only the necessary motions, no more. Reading an action that happened so fast, especially while needing to act at the same time, was no easy task, and Magus worried that he himself might be easily read.

No time to dwell on it. The game was about to start.

"Rock." His clenched hand raised and fell on his palm. One.

"Paper." Two.

"Scissors." Three. He intentionally loosened his middle and pointer finger slightly. It was a feint, meant to see just how well the cowboy played this little game. He subtly indicated 'scissors', but his play would be 'paper'.

"Shoot."




(OOC: Geez, I must be one heckova nerd to turn "Rock, Paper, Scissors" into a psycho-drama like that! )

[lysander]

Lysander smirked. The mage seemed to be catching on to all the deeper intricacies of the game. So he wasn't totally oblivious. That was fair enough. It'd be no fun if this guy had no capability whatsoever. Picking around and bullying were both really boring forms of entertainment, things he couldn't understand. Challenges were where the good games lay. A man who could overcome a challenge had endeared just how much more worthwhile overcoming challenges was.

With the game beginning, passion and thought drained from his face to reveal a cold and steely expression beneath. The dull eyed cowboy drilled his gaze into the mage's pupils. Just about every ounce of his own focus found itself poured into knowing his opponent. Predicting him. He still had tripwire turned off. If he really needed the edge later on, he'd turn it on. He'd never played a game wrong with his tripwire. But then, he rarely played a game wrong without it. But even so.

His lips moved slowly, mouthing each syllable in an empty mimic of the other man. "Rock." Smack.

"Paper." Smack.

"Scis-" He felt a twitch in the mage's movements. "sors." Smack. It was either a feint to get him to play rock, or a poorly played real deal. The sudden twitch made it feel more like a feint, combined with the knowledge that the mage wasn't a dumb guy. Even so, it was his first time playing. The safe thing would be to go ahead and play scissors, end it in a draw (or win if it actually was a feint). Then he realized something. Hadn't he decided to play boldly earlier?

"Shoot."

Lysander's disenchanted look turned to one of certifiable confidence. Without looking away from the mage's face, he spoke. "You strike me as a paper sort of guy." Held above his open left was an open right. "So am I."[/b][/size]

[nascent]

The warlock's eyes narrowed, realizing that this man's skill at the game was nothing to be trifled with. He'd be hard pressed to beat him at this rate. Even if the cowboy was simply playing with him at the moment, the game would be lost all too soon if Magus didn't come up with something.

"I'll try not to... read into that statement." The back-handed compliment was Magus' way of recognizing Lysander's superiority at this exercise. The mage's expression became, if possible, yet more serious. "Let's not waste time."

Second round. Magus determined to play with as much subtlety as he could muster, slightly flexing each of his fingers at random as he brought his gloved hand up and down. "Rock. Paper." He'd already decided that his next play would be 'scissors'; regardless of his opponent's skill he had limited options for improving his odds, so one choice was just as good as either of the others. "Scissors. Shoot."