+ For Glory! For Death! +

[vitaelamorte]

Who: EVERYONE & Unwanted Guests
Where: The Grounds & The Palace
When: August 27th to 29th
Rating: PG-13 to R for fighting, violence, and death
Summary: Attackers from other realms threaten the Asgardian palace and your very lives! This is where you fight or flee, the place for all your combat mingle needs.
The Story:

+ Day 3 : Rock Trolls and Ogres +



Rock Trolls and Ogres are strong, tough and surprisingly fast, with great muscular bulk. Their sight is keen, and they hunger for human flesh. Fortunately they are lacking in tactical skill, and few to none will manage to break through Asgard's protective barrier to enter the palace. ( x ) ( x )

+ Day 4 : Frost Giants +



The Forst Giants will scare off yesterday's attackers almost entirely, bringing a greater threat to the palace. They are faster and stronger still, and skilled in cryokinesis. One touch by their hand might freeze a warrior whole, if they don't stop the spread of cold on time. Several of their numbers will manage to break through Asgard's protective barrier to enter the palace. ( x )

+ Day 5 : Dark Elves +



The Dark Elves are the last and greatest threat to Asgard. They rely on stealth and deadly energy weapons, their strength and craftiness yet unparalleled. They are weak to iron, and any warrior would be lucky to discover this weakness on time. They infiltrate the palace from the caves, and nearly all of their numbers will attack from the inside. ( x )

Comments

[hypoxic]

[Fitz gasps when Klaus grabs him; it isn't often that Klaus presents his true speed. Every time it's a fresh reminder of their power imbalance, and the daily kindness that his friend provides when he proves himself kinder and gentler than he needs to be. Fitz won't fight against the grip or try to push himself closer. Not yet, at least.]

Freya told me you'd been hurt. As I understand it, it's my turn to administer healing via blood transfusion.

[It sounds more confident than he is. He fully intends to look away until the deed is done, as he would while receiving a vaccination or donating to one of Jemma's experiments.]

[poppycock]

Well I'd prefer a carotid artery. [ spoken in jest. perhaps half in jest.

freya told me you'd been hurt. it's my turn to administer healing. of course she did. of course she'd choose the one human who would not hesitate to offer himself and the one he wouldn't slaughter on a whim of savagery borne of need. and of course he would come to his aide with a willing and level logic, prepared to open a vein.

it means something to klaus. he's quiet, something more than rage and hunger in his eyes. his thumb presses into leo's wrist; he feels the steady pulse pushing against the pressure.

but there is still hunger. there is still need. his eyes fill next with dark, his veins pulsing at his eyes, pupils turning to gold and the points of his fangs dropping. he may love this man, but he needs him more, his instincts are clear, and his greed — well his greed and entitlement have always been certain.

he pulls fitz in, sinks his teeth into the fleshy part of his forearm where the blood flows just a little bit better, and drinks. ]

[hypoxic]

Well -- if you think that would be best, I could--

[He only makes it part of the way through considering the proposition. All too quickly, Klaus' face twists into something beastly, and Fitz's eyes drop away out of instinct. He knows his friend hasn't left during those periods, but it doesn't make the sight easier to digest.

There's pain in his arm, and his hand clenches into a fist. It tenses -- but that won't help, will it? Klaus needs him to commit to circulation. He'll release and squeeze to the best of his ability. Perhaps he should have brought a stress ball.]

...There. Wasn't that hard, yeah? You're doing great.

[He'll come a bit closer so that Klaus won't have to pull so hard, setting his weight on the edge of the cot. He makes it a point to look anywhere but the point of contact, where his friend's breath is hot against his skin. This is fine. It's perfectly normal. Everyone does this.]

[poppycock]

[ even in his weakness and thirst he is not without presence of mind. he knows what leo seeks to do, looking with fear and denial away from the monstrous visage he bares; it's what he has always done. klaus is not hiding; he will not hide, and it's with a shameless display of the beast he is that he doesn't.

his eyes, scleras filled with black and pupils glowing golden, stay on leo until the draw of his blood, fresh and savory and sweet hits and consumes his senses. then he nearly moans at the whetting and sating of his appetite — it's one thing to be near death just a short hour or two ago and starving, and it's another to taste from the vein as he hasn't in ages.

he swallows down the mouthfuls pulsing into his waiting mouth. he draws in, ravenous. he can feel warmth in his insides, life in him; color and vitality and healing. he wants it all and he could take it —

he won't. there's no question, on the cusp of of hearing the moment just before leopold's heart beat slows, what he will do. he pulls away, head tipping back, lips parted and blood staining his lips, eyes closed in bliss. he veins again and opens his eyes, licking his lips and catching his breath. ] Thank you. [ this he means, a sincerity even in the fierceness of his ever-present hunger. he releases leo's arm. ]

[hypoxic]

[As Klaus drinks, Fitz considers the biology involved in the transaction. He can feel Klaus pulling from him in a way that he doesn't detect during routine bloodwork. That's most likely a result from the additional force behind the donation. If the puncturing is fang-based, then it's most likely at least twice as effective as a traditional needle might be. And then there's the suckling at his arm, the subtle movements his mouth makes to keep his veins spilling nourishment. Perhaps that's what keeps him from experiencing the sort of prolonged pain he would expect from something like this. Perhaps there's a numbing agent in vampire saliva to keep its prey from recoiling and disrupting the meal. Some predators have that kind of ability, don't they?

There's a heady sort of rush before very long. It's a little euphoric, if not merely peaceful. It derails his train of thought, until he dissects that as well. The blood is being pulled away from his brain, probably in an attempt to clot around the wounded area. It would be a sign of danger, if it was with anyone else. But with Klaus, this is still fine.

It's a pleasurable experience, he decides, just as Klaus pulls away and leaves him only slightly dizzy. He'll pull his arm back into his lap and slaps a bandage over it before he'll entertain the idea of looking down at it again.]

Was it enough? You're still paler than usual.

[poppycock]

[ it's not enough. he may not be able to ascertain his paleness from his stead, but he can feel his weakness, his sluggishness, and the persistent thirst that had only been fed to the point of adequacy. his foe had truly dealt a crippling blow.

his unease borne of that is ignored, as it has been ignored since it occurred: futilely and ineffectually.

he is still hungry, and he is still wrathful, and he is always struggling under the thumb of this place. ] Truth be told the last time I sustained an injury of that magnitude, I drained a score of people. [ granted the last portion was more the result of rage-fueled murder, but he was hungry. he might depart this information precisely because of what he saw in leopold's averted gaze just moments ago.

as a reminder. as a bait and as a fact.

klaus manages with some found strength to swing his legs over the side of the bed and walk over to the alcohol laid out. ] But that was well enough. [ he pours a healthy amount of mead and swallows it down, letting the influence take the edge of his thirst off.

he thinks of clementine. he thinks of the people he cares about in danger. he thinks of the battle still raging; he can hear its violences. he thinks, bristling, of his own powerlessness. he wants to be out there and knows he cannot be. all he can do is ask, struggling not to show he cares. ] How is it out there?

[hypoxic]

But this isn't the last time, Klaus. [It bears emphasis now. Perhaps especially now, while Klaus is feeling low and defeated. Is he tempted to fall back into those habits?]

If you need more, then take more. I don't believe I'm experiencing more than mild anemia at present, and your skillset is more valuable than mine is right now.

[That's how it is out there. A new day is bringing a new threat, and Fitz already knows he'll be outmanned. If this is the best way he'll be able to help, then he'll throw himself into it with full force.]

[poppycock]

[ he would't need to be tempted to fall back into those habits if he weren't here. the thought percolates; at home he would not hesitate to tear into a score of throats and leave behind a heap of bodies. he has reason to stay his hand here: in such a small, powered community, there would be those who would notice and hunt him.

(he feels the rising of his obstinance at leo's insistence, but there is also another reason he does not waste through the many denizens of wonderland: because there are those he cares about more than his rage or hunger. he cares enough to the point not to do so, and though he does not resent this, it frustrates him that leo sees it.

that he acknowledges and assigns a goodness to him.)

but it is his friend's self-sacrifice that truly hardens him. it's the answer behind it. he is not the selfless hero in this story. (he was hardly able to save himself, let alone others.) klaus turns halfway to fitz, his look steady and level and fixed. then he's in front of him, inches away, invading and dominating his space.

(he cannot say the offer isn't tempting. it's precisely why he intends to intimidate.) ] Yes, and then you will collapse, fall into a deep sleep, and not wake up. [ wry, dark humor takes him. ] Until tomorrow, that is.

[ he doesn't want to kill him ]

[hypoxic]

[Klaus is doing it again. He's pulling back, puffing up like a cornered beast and trying to make Fitz agree with his flawed self-assessment. It would be easier for him to be abandoned again, Fitz thinks. Perhaps it would be an excuse. He'll stand when Klaus chooses to loom over him, minimizing the height differential. He holds still then, even though his heartrate spikes in betrayal.]

Day after tomorrow if there's an accident. [At least that's what he's heard. Darcy says it takes longer after the first time.] But it's a good thing you're disciplined enough to avoid petty mistakes.

[He just wants Klaus to believe in himself as much as Fitz believes in him. Klaus will never gain confidence if he never knows what it feels like to have someone trust him.]

[poppycock]

[ of course. he stills at the reminder of the first time — that first time leopold's blood was shed and lost to this place. before he knew him, before anyone could do anything about it, his friend was beaten and left for dead.

klaus blinks at the well-used reminder. it is a weapon even if leopold does not intend it to be; it disables him if only for a moment. so does how bravely and naively his friend stands against him, an albatross in the wind. his jaw works; he's right.

he's plenty disciplined. and impulsive.

he's also not foolish, and he will not feed to the point of death on his friend. he will not stand for more vulnerability in the wake of today.

he relents. ] Nor am I willing to do more violence onto you. [ he relents nearly enough. he means to be just cruel enough. ] You've served your purpose. It's time for you to leave. [ klaus turns away and swallows down the dregs of his glass. ]

[hypoxic]

[Klaus chooses his wording well. Under any other circumstance, Fitz would protest more. He'd insist that he lacked worth, that Klaus needed strength. He'd push until Klaus had no other choice. But when Klaus skews the context of the talk, it cuts into the wound that never truly heals.

"You've served your purpose." The language of utility. He'd thought he was coming to the aid of a friend, but perhaps he was just the most convenient piece of flesh that happened to have a beating heart. The damage flashes in Fitz's expression, quick and terrible, before he masks it with stoicism.

He should have expected this. Why doesn't he ever expect this?]

Perhaps it is. [Perhaps he ought to send a bill for services rendered.] Good luck in your recovery, Nik.

[He'll see himself out without further discussion.]

[poppycock]

[ he's hurt. he's made a mark. he sees it, taking hold of leo's expression in a short order of anguish before it smooths over.

it does not comfort him but he thinks, good. he turns away and thinks, now he will leave. leo will not continue with his incessant self-sacrifice and faith, the former of which he admires and the latter of which he longs for. tolerates. denies. he has for a long while, through every hint and demonstration of it, full of fear and gratitude both.

(he doesn't deserve it. leo is a fool.)

he wants to be alone. he wants the time and isolation to temper and fume by himself, to process and hate and rage against his inabilities, against his terror, against it all. (he cannot do so if someone he cares for and someone he loves wants nothing more than to love him back and to place him on a pedestal of goodness and righteousness.

he cannot live up to that. he won't. but he wants to.

and more than anything he wants to bar himself from the tenderness interwoven through it all.)

he gets what he wants, stock still and tensed at the sound of his name — that name, familiar and intimate — used between them. for him. he knows it is meant to wound.

it does. leo passes him by and leaves the room. his hand tightens around the empty tumbler.

he attempts to ignore the regret that fills him. he envelopes the rage. he cannot help but take in both. ]