entrancelogs | [OPEN] We'll Take A Cup of Kindness Yet

[He just laughs, a strange sound that sounds frayed at the edges, as if he's gone a little mad in the last few moments. His eyes are intensely focused, the entire rest of the room nearly blocked out of his sensory peripheral, though he distantly hears Elena call his name as she's dragged away from them by that boy he's spoken to a few times.

It doesn't matter right now.

It was only a matter of time before something evil lifted it's head to him and he felt the burning need to punish. He hadn't expected it to be so near, for him to have missed it for so long.]

I'll take that as a compliment considering who I'm apparently disappointing.

[He truly believes that, though whether or not it's of his own repeated affirmations that got him there or if he always believed it is up in the air.]

It doesn't matter. You'll have plenty of time to spill your guts. Over, and over, and over again.

[ he knows that laugh and the madness behind it intimately; the pain and neglect and abuse: the agony. he knows, more than he can say, despite every affirmation he has made himself: he has struck a chord, made a mark, done a cruel service. lucifer may be focused, but despite how klaus' eyes do not stray from his, he is all the more cognizant of what's going on around them.

the screams, the rush and tumult of the few remaining people's surprise and fear, how they scuttle and escape away. (there are people in this room he needs to protect. there are also those who might come to protect him.) but more than anything, he is cognizant of lucifer, eyes burning and wrath focused, that crack in his veneer klaus can see so clearly. there is no one here to help klaus, not now, and he is straining against the unbreakable wall that is his adversary. he is not afraid of the torture or death promised, but he will not go down without a fight.

without a word. without another strike. a calculated mania alights in his own eyes. ] What are you waiting for? Make daddy proud.

Edited 2017-01-07 02:37 (UTC)

I wanted to see if you'd try to run with your tail between your legs. All the better that you aren't.

[He's not really waiting, though. Just that steady march toward him, though there's not much space left at this point. While their previous fight consisted of Lucifer taking punches just for the sake of getting hit, there's going to be less of that this time around.

He wants to cause as much damage as he can, knowing full well that Klaus can just heal it back. Then, he can do it all over again.

Without his wings, his telekinesis isn't as great as it could be, but with a gesture of his fingertips he pulls just at the soles of Klaus' shoes in an attempt to keep him unsteady on his feet as he goes to clock him with a tight fist across the face.]

[ the hit is followed by a sickening crunch as lucifer's fist finds klaus' jaw. there's little klaus can do to stop it, considering that little trick was not one he could have accounted for. he is unsteady, for just a moment long enough. pain radiates through his face as he stumbles back.

klaus doesn't run. he disappears, occasionally, when the situation calls for it. what he doesn't do is run, and he won't be running now. lucifer's punch forces him back a step, but he will not give that ground. his hand reaches to grasp lucifer's jacket, to cling and steady himself, to throw his own punch, its strength unhampered. ]

Edited 2017-01-07 04:17 (UTC)

[Klaus is much, much stronger than his average opponent, outside of his own brothers perhaps, but it doesn't change the fact that even if his fist connects (which it does), it will do little more than sting and fade away in a matter of moments.

He doesn't need to dodge. He simply absorbs the pressure of Klaus' fist, his head flicking to the side from the force, before he turns back to stare at him with those glowing red eyes and his wicked smile full of bright white teeth that look almost as feral as Klaus' own.]

Pathetic.

[He reaches forward to grab the hybrid by the chest again to hold him where he stands, fingers break through the skin and painting his hand with his blood, feeling the bones beneath cry out under his nails.]

What should I do with you? String you up in chains and flay you alive? I wonder how long it will take for it to all grow back?

[ it's much of what he expected. lucifer, undeterred. him, struggling under his thumb. it does not make the reality any more difficult to bear, but bear it klaus does: in silence, the physical agony and anger only told on his face and burning in his eyes. he trembles with the pain, trembles with the rage and terror of being so much at another's mercy and strength. (it's familiar. he knew it, at the hands of his father. he knew it, at the hands of his first friend.

his first love's. his first son's.

if klaus can bear that, he can bear this. just as he did by all those other hands, he is deserving of it. he asked for it, just as he asked for this.)

but there is more than one type of strength and klaus holds strategy (and desperation, here and now) in spades. blood pours from klaus' mouth and he chokes on it, his lips twisting into a sneer, but his hands shoot with preternatural speed to lucifer's face, his thumbs digging with all his strength against lucifer's eyes, into his skull, nails sharpening into a wolf's. ]

Edited 2017-01-07 04:55 (UTC)

[And dig in they do, although Klaus was likely hoping to pop his eyeballs like little more than grapes, they do no such thing beneath his razor sharp claws.

Perhaps he should take a trip to hell and have them properly forged in the bowels of hell, because they do little more than irritate him as they are.

But irritate him they do, considering they still slide against his eyes within their sockets, wide and half-crazed, and Lucifer bares his teeth in a mockery of a smile.]

I hope you don't make a habit of sticking things where they don't belong on top of all your other sins. What you've done will already have you begging for mercy at my hand!

[He releases Klaus' chest only to grab him by the hands half a moment later so that he can squeeze and crush the bones beneath without so much as a bit of warning, seemingly reveling in the sound of each delicate snap and crunch.]

[ he would have hoped and settled for inflicting any pain at all, but he knows better than to assume he would. it's just as likely lucifer is as durable as he seems, and now klaus knows one less possible weakness. (they seem to be eliminated by the moment.) cold dread settles in his gut, dark and blanketing; he knows in that suspended moment, the white of lucifer's teeth gleaming under the chandelier lights, that his play doesn't have even a fraction of the intended effect. klaus' chest heaves with breath and heaves harder as lucifer's hands wrap around his in a crushing grip. he trembles at each snap, each wave and wane of pain, every crack and crunch rendering him weaker.

his lips purse, his jaw tightens as his hands are forced from lucifer's face, inch by agonizing inch. his eyes flash yellow, for with fear follows fight, follows that instinctual rage simmering in him to lash out, to survive at any cost. with all his remaining strength he makes to push his breaking and broken hands against lucifer's chest, makes to push him away and find quarter. ]

[Pain would have resulting in surprise and shock, rather than fear, thought Lucifer shows none as Klaus' hands crush like eggshells in his harsh grip, his eyes burning hot as they stare in the others' bright yellow gaze. On any other day he would be elated at the sight of such a strange change in the other man, burn with curiosity to know why, but he's blinded by rage and the urge to punish, the instinct all-encompassing, a way to relieve himself of his endless lifetime of shame and agony and rage.

At least he only truly unleashes it those deemed truly worthy of it. It's been too long.

He feels Klaus break from his grip with his crumpled hands and shove against his chest, the effort of desperate will behind the action staggering in its strength, and Lucifer is distantly impressed by it all, would have acknowledged it had he been in his right mind. But there's no one here that knows quite how to ground him, the only hope of that either being dragged out the door or on another dimensional plane entirely.

He takes two single steps back, the slightest distance between him and his quarry, his eyes alight.]

Yes. Fight back! Struggle! It will make the end result all the sweeter!

[ this is a fight he cannot win, and one that clearly lucifer desires with a madness bordering on pathological. he knows it, seeing the gleam in his eyes, hearing the hunger in his voice. he knows it again and again, and now, with a clarity he will consider later, but klaus does not stop. he cannot stop, faced with the roaring of wrath in his blood, the fury of it. the challenge presented in front of him. the simple and implicit fact that he will not bend a knee to this pretender of judgements.

he will fight. he will make lucifer struggle, in all the ways he knows how, for it is all he knows to do. and if he can't, well: there are other ways to pain a man. his bones pop and crack back into place, his gaze hardened and set. in a flash of movement he moves past lucifer, behind him, throws him hard into the nearest pillar of the ballroom with a boom that shakes the room.

and he breathes, lifts his arms in a show of prostrate enticement, his lips stretching into a closed, bloody smile. ]

Edited 2017-01-09 20:45 (UTC)

[He hits the pillar with a sickening crack, though it's the pillar itself that breaks instead of his spine, even if it might have sounded otherwise.

And he laughs in response, a laugh that's low in the throat and resembles something akin to a growl. His eyes paint a target on Klaus' chest, which is already painted red with his blood, even if the wounds he's already caused are popping into place and healing over.

He raises himself off the ground, dust settling around him as he does so, and he doesn't break eye contact with the hybrid even as he telekinetically picks up two wine glasses from the nearby table. They fly into his hands before he separates the cup from the stem with a flick of each thumb and sending them sailing with blistering speed through the air at his chest, broken stem first, with an easy flick of his wrists.

He knows it won't do anything permanent. He doesn't care. Pain upon pain upon pain until he wears him down. It's as easy as breathing.]

[ wearing him down will take awhile, but there's a voice in the back of klaus' mind that knows it won't take forever. it's an unavoidable, inevitable fact—that there will be an end. he cannot win, but neither can he lose. the only question is if it will be by his stratagem or lucifer's endurance. (what he does know is there is his family. that is truly the only advantage klaus knows he has that lucifer doesn't: people. but he can't count on them, not in this moment; he'd rather not, seeing lucifer's familiar joy in his rage.

he wants to focus it on himself.)

either way, he'll endure the end that comes.

klaus is not afraid of injury, nor of pain, and the piercing of glass in his chest does little but irritate him. he hisses and turns with the punctures, but even quicker he removes the offending objects and speeds forward, his fist undercutting lucifer's chin. ]

Edited 2017-01-09 21:09 (UTC)

[His head rocks back and to the side violently as Klaus' fist crashes into his chin, the sound reverberating around them briefly before he brings his gaze back to bear down on his so-called friend.]

Well, hello.

[And then he reaches out to grab Klaus by the head, one hand over each ear, and starts to squeeze. Maybe his skull will eventually cave in like a grape. Timie to find out.]

[ he can't say it's not a method of torture nor death he's both considered and dealt: but it's certainly less pleasurable when turned on him. he would continue bellowing at the enormous pressure, if not for how he locks arms with lucifer's, pulls his hands down from his head, and lunges forward to crack his skull with his temple. ] If only your family could see you now. [ the words are spoken low and cruel between them: he means to strike him where it hurts. where it stings.

unhinged lucifer is, but he could be more. he could be stripped and decimated, heart and soul. he could make a mistake. ]

Edited 2017-01-09 22:25 (UTC)

[It's always hovering in the very back recesses of his mind, that when he does these things, he's fulfilling the role that his Father had set aside for him when he cast him down into Hell for eternity, the ultimate punishment.

Except for what had eventually been his Mother's fate, but that was neither here nor there.

He ignores it as best he can, but it rears its ugly head now and again, and Klaus poking at that nagging, bothersome thought only makes it stronger. It also only makes him angrier.

...Though that can sometimes be a disadvantage in and of itself, considering Klaus connect with his blow, and it nearly stuns him with its force despite any actual damage.]

I'd be exactly what I've always been to them; Father's biggest disappointment. I've heard it all before, you know. Do you really think you can throw it in my face and have it burn more than when I hear it from my own brothers and sister? Please.

[And then he draws a fist back and decks him across the face, from one side of the jaw to the other.]

[ they were friends, once. in some pretend world; perhaps could have been in this one. klaus remembers their kinship, their brotherhood, the common thread that connected them outside of their protection and possessiveness of their wayward little sister: they understood one another.

perhaps they didn't speak of it. perhaps they ignored that shared anguish, spoke of it only in quiet looks, but klaus sees the mad light in lucifer's eyes now; he sees the truth and how his words dig under his skin. he hears those words, spat back at him: father's biggest disappointment. even if they hadn't shared this one, terrible secret that bonded them as boys, it binds them now.

the hit is palpable; it nearly cracks his jaw and sends crimson and spittle to the ground. klaus doesn't lift his fists; he merely turns back to meet lucifer's gaze, blood spattered and stained, his voice easy and level. ] It doesn't burn more. It burns always. We both know what it is to be hated, corrupted, lesser. Torture me, kill me, but know you are only tormenting yourself.

Edited 2017-01-10 02:35 (UTC)

[Lucifer does something strange then.

He pauses.

For the briefest of moments, he looks utterly lost, like something inside him has snapped into or out of place (it's hard to tell). Like someone has switched a light on only to smash it into pieces a moment later.

He isn't used to caring. He's very used to anger and all the baggage that comes with it. He's used to hiding behind pleasure and debauchery and humor to dull it. He's actually become amazing talented at it, built an empire upon the very idea, in fewer years that it takes a human to grow enough to not piss their pants.

But there's a reason he's so angry this time. He feels betrayed by someone, and it's been a long time since he's felt that so vividly, because it's been a long time since he's cared enough to feel it when it happened.

And not only that, but they caused significant pain to one of the only people who knows and has seen so much, yet accepts him anyway.

In the same moment, Klaus is right. He doesn't want to admit that they are in any way similar, because while Lucifer is a lot of things, he is not a murderer of innocents. But he knows what it feels like to be all of those things, he's lived it every day for thousands of years, has written it across the backs of so many damned souls in their flesh and blood.

And it was all his punishment. He was, indeed, tormenting himself. He accepted it because he learned to enjoy it, because he was good at it, but it didn't really change anything, did it?

But he can't stop now. It's come too far. Klaus has to pay for what he's done, now not only to Elena, but to him.

He takes one heavy step forward.]

I think I've heard you speak quite enough, Nik. Time for you to lose your tongue.

[The evening has been winding down, the hour stretching late, and Cami has nearly decided to take her leave when chaos erupts around them. This is not the typical Wonderland fare, violence so easily blamed on some personality-altering event. No, the danger now is of a far worse kind, the unbridled rage that simply exists within a creature of immense power, one too strong to be stopped.

Two too strong; with horror Cami recognizes both the attacker and the attacked, catching sight of both Klaus and Lucifer before speed blurs their movements, then blood.

For far too many passing moments she watches in transfixed horror, far too weak to join the fight, to somehow sway either side to stopping. But her humanity doesn’t leave her powerless; she can still act, to follow those who have chosen to flee this room, albeit for a different purpose. She runs on delicate heels, the airy fabric of her dress dancing out behind her as she races through halls and up stairs.

Pockets, she thinks in the same way she would curse. Next time a dress with pockets to hold her phone.]

FREYA! REBEKAH! [Cami shouts out their names even before she’s gotten the door to their floor open. Thankfully none of their rooms are far in, and Cami can only hope the pair have both retired to their own beds tonight. She gasps for air between nearly every word, but still cries out all the same. Few things within any world have the power to end Klaus Mikaelson; Cami somehow suspects Lucifer might manage it.]

Lucifer is trying to kill Klaus!

[Freya's head pokes out her door first, scrutinizing Cami's words for a moment, before immediately rushing to move past her because she has no doubts that Lucifer could actually kill her brother if he put his mind to it.

Her brother may be the Original unkillable hybrid, but Lucifer is the Devil.]

Where?

[Rebekah is up quickly when she hears Camille's words. She has flashes of memories, of watching Marcel drive Papa Tunde's dagger into Klaus' heart and the fear of seeing her brother suffer again, perhaps even worse than he did before is clear.

But Freya has asked the important question so for now, she'll stay quiet.]

The ballroom. At the party. [How much time has passed? How much more before Rebekah gets there, even with vampiric speed on her side, or Freya and whatever magic can provide? Panic stunts her breathing as much as her run, but Cami can't stop for that. She has to make sure Freya and Rebekah know where to go, what they're heading into.]

He just threw Klaus across the room like he was nothing. We have to get back there, now.

[We—They. They do, because Cami has done all she can do as a human.]

[Yep, she would bolt for the ballroom, but she's not going to get there fast enough on foot. So instead of running for the door, she reaches for the talisman around her neck out of habit, before murmuring a soft incantation under her breath and astral projecting herself out of her body and into the ballroom where Lucifer and Klaus are battling.

Once that spell is complete, she changes focus, raising her hands and using a barrier spell to force Lucifer off her brother as quickly as possible, throwing him with as much force as she can manage.]

Enough.

[ there is blood in his mouth. blood in his mouth, staining his skin; blood caked over his knuckles and sticky in his palms. he has betrayed his friend. so fabricated a friendship it was, but there was something so very vulnerably sentimental in it to exploit. to manipulate with his words here and now. something real, something that hurts more than the blows lucifer lands. he feels it: anger, pain, and betrayal, ricocheting and reverberating through him, mixing with his fierce drive to persevere; to survive.

still he will fight with will and brutality, but the heart of it is gone past that moment: he absorbs any shots as much as deigns to return them.

until his sister saves the day. he feels the brunt of the spell, the release of his opponent's grip, and falls to the ground. klaus' eyes are wide as he breathes in, deep and sudden; despite how his bluster might fool others, there was true doubt in him to how this would end. there is relief, bottoming out his gut. there is worry, his gaze seeking freya. ]

[once rebekah has confirmation that freya is stopping things she zooms ahead into the right direction. panic pumps through her blood and veins and all she can think of is how her brother suffered back home, how she was powerless as marcel punished him. she feels that powerlessness now and it angers her. it makes her afraid in a way she hasn't been in a long time.

she stops when she gets to the ballroom and ignores every one else before she gets to klaus' side. she wraps her arms around him to hoist him out of there before lucifer can have the chance to recover.

(this is not the first time she has helped klaus when he was beaten, though it's been many centuries since then)

it is not until they are to the safety of their common room that she stops, setting her brother down in one of the chairs long enough to bite into her own wrist, offering it to him to help him recover. at least in this way she is not powerless.

this time she can help him.]

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[One moment he's stalking towards his prey, and the next he's being solidly thrown against a wall by what appears to be, well, nothing.

He shouts something unintelligible as he shoves himself back on his feet, his eyes not immediately finding the source of the attack on his person, instead shouting into the air in an attempt to get them to come forward.]

Do not interfere!

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends CW FOR GORE AND EYE SQUICK ABOVE THIS OOPS

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends CW FOR MUCH VIOLENCE AFTER THIS

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

or perhaps in slytherin, you'll make your real friends

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a million years late with starbucks

Re: a million years late with starbucks

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