There was a good reason why Tsukasa chose the abandoned clock tower as her home. The clock hands no longer worked, drooping, hanging around 6:30 and neither did the bells. And as for the dial, well, a good third of it must’ve been chipped off, allowing the cold breeze to fly in. In such dismal shape, it was really no wonder why no one dared to enter this place.
Still, she supposed there were other reasons why she called the clocktower home- good view of the city, lots of space, privacy. A place to call her own. Home after she hung a few wind chimes up.
That’s why, with a vicious snarl, she aimed her bo stick at the intruder who had just climbed the last step.
“What are you doing here?!”
((I know you have a thread of this with Serenasterling too but Is it okay to reply?))
It had been a rough few weeks for Styx: calls falling through, empty leads and dead ends. Rough enough for one too many drinks and a badly played brawl at a local tavern. He had come to the tower to shake off the police who were no doubt sweeping the streets around where the bar had been.
He must be losing his edge to not have picked up on the subtle signs that the place was inhabited. Being half drunk didn’t help either, of course, but he was not one to hold to excuses. It was his own damn fault. Or luck. As chance would have it, he recognized the wielder of the staff and grinned crookedly, raising his red hands above his head.
“Peace, peace! I beg your pardon senorita. I promise my intrusion was anything but intended!”
She glared at him, refusing to move even a muscle. Whether he meant to come here or not, it didn’t change that fact that she was being imposed on, something she really didn’t appreciate. “Don’t. Move.” She demanded, taking another step closer so that her staff was barely touching his throat.
Upon noticing his red hands and how the substance (probably blood) dripped to the floor, she raised a brow. “Whose is that? Yours or someone else’s?”
His grin only widened at her snarling question. Oh the beauty of coincidence! He didn’t move, however, judging her as a skilled fighter with reflexes that would probably crush his throat before could draw. Not that he liked fighting in such close range to begin with.
“Not moving, not moving! See? Hands in the air means harmless, eh? Don’t worry about my hands, I crushed a strawberry smoothie by accident.”
If she fell for that, he would stab her with her own staff. She had unknowingly put herself in position for such a move and, though he was loathe to fight hand to hand, he did have some necessary skill where it was concerned. And he still had a fair pint of rum in his veins.
“I don’t believe you.” Tsukasa said flatly. Was this guy some of manic? Or was he one of them? Either way, he had to be part of one of those two parties, considering the twisted grin he gave her when she threatened to push his throat in. And besides, she knew the look of blood way too well to ever mistaken for a smoothie. Plus, the substance on his hands smelt like blood too.
She broke the staff in half, only to shove one of the metal sticks against the man’s throat. She was little more than a couple of inches away from him now. That blood couldn’t have been his; otherwise he would’ve been bleeding somewhere, which she didn’t fine.
It left only one option in its wake: it was someone else’s. This man could be a danger to the city. “I’ll ask you again. Whose. Blood. Is. That?”
The kiss of cold metal on his jugular was starting to annoy Styx, but he kept his hands in the air. He didn’t rightly know who half the blood belonged to and that person wouldn’t be needing it anymore, anyway. He decided to answer somewhat truthfully.
“Surprisingly, mine. Some of it anyway,"
He had a feeling she wouldn’t believe him, and so, motioning to remain calm, wriggled out of his trench jacket to reveal the gash in his black sweater which deceivingly colored his blood a rich purple red.
"As you can see, I have all the reason to be seeking a place to clean up. It does not need to be here, so I will take my leave, si?”
He pulled his trench back on and, hands raised once again, began to back carefully away. He would come back some other time, with better equipment. The wound wasn’t deep enough to be threatening and, as the cliche went, he had had worse. So it came as a surprise to the Spaniard when his right leg gave out and he found himself suddenly sinking down on that knee.
Jensen Blogs 