Marrick
It took a second. A few, in fact. She was standing there after she had told Wendy to leave, she had given the kin a too-harsh look, an order, and seemed more than content to let her follow it. Instead? She just stood there. She stood, and she breathed. Once, inhaled deeply, through her lungs and she tasted the air. The Brotherhood had its own distinct taste, and its own distinct smell. Something, in her mind, that conjured the image of cleaners and university dorm rooms.
There are your orders on high, Peaches, guess your leash is getting yanked.
And pretty damned hard, too.
There it was, and there was the thought, and as Alexander Vaughn walked away, Marrick found herself with the infuriating question of why. Why the Hell did he do what he did? Why did he choose his methods, why this and why that and, really, there were a lot of questions that the eighteen year old's brain weren't quite geared up to make sense of. They brought about confusion. And when the moon was so close to bursting, confusion didn't stay confusion for long.
No, confusion turned to anger very, very quickly in fact. It was something that she wore openly, and wore beautifully. She turned, and she forgot to exhale. With that, the Fury was marching her way to Alex's room.
And she pounded on the door.
"We gotta fuckin' talk," she said. Funny, because she had the feeling that this wouldn't really be much talking, and it's been proven that words weren't Marrick Fisher's strongsuit.
Alex
"Fuck off," comes the courteous reply, muffled through the closed door. "I don't gotta do anything."
Marrick
"Fine. I'd appreciate it, if you opened the fucking door. I would be much obliged."
Obliged. Another word that she has learned recently, and on some level it brings her a strange tinge of joy to use it.
Alex
There's a silence. And then a loud thump, as if someone had swung his feet off a bed and onto the ground. And some muttering, and then the door explodes open and there's Alex Vaughn, bristling, compact and muscular and aggressive as a terrier.
"What the hell do you want? I'm not in the mood to fuck."
Marrick
"What's th' matter? Think someone's gonna call you on yer bullshit an' little Alex ain't happy about it?" her tone was sugary sweet and almost patronizing. No, strike that. It was patronizing. It was antagonistic; she was egging him on. She was poking a disgruntled pit bull with a pointed stick. The moon was too close to full for her to not be edged. Marrick was staring at Alex, and her eyes were too hard. She folded her arms across her chest, and she was planted. Her stance was firm, and she stepped into the doorway, or as much as she could.
Or, more appropriately, she took on a tactical position that would make it rather difficult to slam the door in her face.
"I don't fuckin' get you, Alex. Y'ain't dumb, but yer mouth gets in the way of all the shit yer sayin'. So. Wanna explain that one to me?"
Alex
Alex's jaw tenses sharply as that word, that harmless adjective -- little -- flies through the air. For a second his eyes spark almost as hot as hers, and the vein in the middle of his forehead pulses.
Then he laughs in her face. It's an angry, aggressive sound, almost spat out.
"No. I don't wanna explain. There's nothing to explain. What. You want me to tell you my grand plan? How I'm secretly doing good, empowering the weak and pointing out the cracks in the wall, in the guise of being an asshole? Would that make it easier for you to swallow the fact that I fucked you and you liked it?
"Fuck off, Marrick. Being able to turn into a monster and rip my head off doesn't make you a grownup and it sure as hell doesn't make you wise. You're still an eighteen year old girl from Butt Fuck Nowhere and you have no idea how the world really works."
Marrick
"Oh, yer real fuckin' secure, ain't ya? You can't take th'fact that someone thinks yer more than a speck on the fuckin' wall, or, oh, I don't know, doesn't think yer a fuckin' sperm bank-"
There would be a compliment in there, somewhere. Or, there would be a compliment in there were she not yelling at him. The Fury stepped up, and she wasn't a large creature by most standards. Neither of them were, when you think about it, but she was very much in his space at that second. The notion that he was alright, for a male, was in there somewhere.
She's had screaming matches before, though. This all rang of familiarity; it was the kind of familiarity that stung when she was reminded that, at the end of the day, she was still an eighteen year old girl from Butt Fuck Nowhere and had very little idea how the city worked.
Funny, the word girl came up, and it stang like a pejorative term. Made her tense, made her keep eye contact and fail to blink. She was focused.The world could very well fall to pieces on her and she wouldn't notice. Funny what harmless adjectives and thoughtless nouns could do to a person.
"Then how does the world work, Alex? Yer so fuckin' worldly? Enlighten me."
She gave him an opening, and he gave her a litany of reasons to throw a punch. Or a chair.
Alex
"How does the world work?" Another harsh, reckless laugh. "Fuck, baby." She told him not to call her that once. "Let me explain it to you.
"There are no heroes. Or villains. It's not all black and white, Gaia and Wyrm, whatever the fuck. Don't try to take me out of one pile and lump me in another. Don't stand there telling me you see me as more than a fucking speck, or a sperm bank, or that you think I've got a good reason for pushing that little bookworm around. Don't make it out like I'm doing evil for good, like I'm some kinda psychological Robin Hood or something.
"You wanna know why I pick on people? You wanna know why I stand around poking 'em where it hurts? You think it's some kinda ... twisted object lesson and I'm trying to make 'em stronger?
"HELL no."
Provided Marrick hasn't shut him up forcibly at this point, he rants right the fuck on: "I do it because it's fun. Because I like watching 'em squirm. Because I like to win. And you know what? Push comes to shove, that's true of everyone. Nobody likes to lose. Not in a fight, not in an argument, not in a race, whatever. That's how the world works. Everyone watches out for their own damn selves, and telling themselves they're doing it for some grand cause is just another way of watching out for themselves by soothing their own conscience."
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 6)
7
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
6+1d10
[Marrick]
Actions!
standard: Shove Mr. Vaughn into the room proper
rage 1: (because she would totally spend rage) if not shoved? Then kneeing him in the gut
[Alexander]
Action: shove back. HARDER!
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
(SHOVE!)
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 8)
Don't push me! dex+athletics, diff 8
[Marrick]
(Oww! Marrick's on her ass. Standard action is now getting up, and rage action is "Shove a bitch!", changed!)
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
Push! str+brawl = 7 (because, somehow, I get the impression that Black Unicorn Would Not Approve of this)
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8) Re-rolls: 1
(grr, wifi)
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7
6+1d10
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
Marrick looks like she's about to shove Alex. So Alex shoves her. Harder. Marrick goes sprawling. And then she gets up and shoves him back. Even harder. And Vaughn goes sprawling, himself, hitting the ground with a vicious laugh.
"Point proven," he pants, and starts clambering back to his feet.
(+7)
[Marrick]
He pants, she growls, and the look is very obviously, very clearly... something. Definition was difficult, but it was more primal than teenaged, that's for sure. So, in turn, she reacts, and she knows she's not supposed to hit kinfolk.
That said, she tries anyway.
(action: try and tackle Alex)
[Alexander]
(nevermind; he doesn't try to get up. he tries to kick her in the head as she's diving for him! twice!)
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7) Re-rolls: 2
(kick 1)
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)
(damage)
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7) Re-rolls: 1
(kick 2)
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
(damage)
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
(soak numero uno, sans black unicorn stuff)
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7) [WP]
(oww! dodge, -2. +1 diff)
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 4, 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)
(redoing that damage!)
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
(soak!)
[Marrick]
She's almost dumbfounded.
No, she is. The Fury blinked, and her head was swimming for the time being.
"... you kicked me in the head." Her nose is bleeding. She tastes blood, and she's sure one of her teeth got knocked loose.
"You sonofabitch! It's on!"
[Alexander]
-- so Alexander boots Marrick in the face. Twice.
"What? Am I not supposed to because you're a girl?" And he's still laughing, the asshole: angry, bladed sounds. "Or is it because I'm kin? Huh? Fuck you. Bring it!"
[Marrick]
"No, I just didn't expect you to land something."
(action: Go lock the door!)
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
7
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5
6+1d10
[Marrick]
Actions: standard: block
rage1: boot to the head
rage2: Yet another boot to the head...or stomach... or wherever is close
[Marrick]
(wait, she IS stunned this round! 1 rage to negate stun, abort rage action 2)
[Marrick]
(bah, and I'm cluttering up the transcript. New declare)
Actions: -1 rage to negate stun standard: block
rage1: boot to the head
rage2: Yet another boot to the head...or stomach... or wherever is close
[Alexander]
(action: threeway-split kicking!)
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)
(a. -3)
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)
(block!)
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7)
b. -4
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
(damage)
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
(soak)
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 1, 7, 10 (Failure at target 7) Re-rolls: 1
(c. -5)
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
rage 1: boot to the head! Or, umm, wherever is convenient!
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
damage, str3+succ4=7
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5)
aaaand rage 2: electric boogaloo
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
damage: str3+succ2
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
"Fuckin'--"
It's like she jinxed him; he doesn't land anything. Nothing that counts, anyway. The Ahroun's counterattack cracks Alex's head against the floor, sending stars into his vision, but he flexes his abs instantly, instinctively, to rebuff the second blow.
He's not laughing now, viciously or otherwise. He spits to the side, right onto Gabbie's nice woven rug, and then shoves himself up. There's a burn in his eyes, rare in those not of the Changing Blood. I like to win, he'd said. He meant it.
(and off we go again! +7)
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7
(Jeezus! 6+1d10)
[Marrick]
It is like she jinxed him, and on some level she's trying to make a point. On some level, she tries to reason this through as her trying to prove a point, that he can't push people around because there's someone bigger and badder and tougher than he is. On some level, she's trying to justify this as protecting the innocent and the weak.
At her core, she just wants to kick his ass now. He likes to win, and so does she.
His eyes blaze, and she smiles. Too bright, too sharp, and too feral to be beautiful.
She knows that, if she can outlast him, she has the edge here.
(action!
split block if necessary.
rage 1: Punch!)
[Alexander]
(a, b. - kicking; c. getting up)
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 8 (Failure at target 7)
(kick a, -1 for wound, -3 for splits)
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 5, 7, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 7) [WP] Re-rolls: 4
b. -1, -4!
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 5, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
(damage)
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]
(blocking action B: -2 (wound penalties))
[Alexander]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
(ahem. damage, -2)
[Marrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
Jeezus!
Alex
Marrick looks like she's about to shove Alex. So Alex shoves her. Harder. Marrick goes sprawling. And then she gets up and shoves him back. Even harder. And Vaughn goes sprawling, himself, hitting the ground with a vicious laugh.
"Point proven," he pants, and starts clambering back to his feet.
Marrick
He pants, she growls, and the look is very obviously, very clearly... something. Definition was difficult, but it was more primal than teenaged, that's for sure. So, in turn, she reacts, and she knows she's not supposed to hit kinfolk.
That said, she tries anyway.
(dicedicedice...)
Alex
-- so Alexander boots Marrick in the face. Twice.
Marrick
She's almost dumbfounded.
No, she is. The Fury blinked, and her head was swimming for the time being.
"... you kicked me in the head." Her nose is bleeding. She tastes blood, and she's sure one of her teeth got knocked loose.
"You sonofabitch! It's on!"
Alex
"What? Am I not supposed to because you're a girl?" And he's still laughing, the asshole: angry, bladed sounds. "Or is it because I'm kin? Huh? Fuck you. Bring it!"
Marrick
"No, I just didn't expect you to land something."
(dicedicedice)
Alex
"Fuckin'--"
It's like she jinxed him; he doesn't land anything. Nothing that counts, anyway. The Ahroun's counterattack cracks Alex's head against the floor, sending stars into his vision, but he flexes his abs instantly, instinctively, to rebuff the second blow.
He's not laughing now, viciously or otherwise. He spits to the side, right onto Gabbie's nice woven rug, and then shoves himself up. There's a burn in his eyes, rare in those not of the Changing Blood. I like to win, he'd said. He meant it.
Marrick
It is like she jinxed him, and on some level she's trying to make a point. On some level, she tries to reason this through as her trying to prove a point, that he can't push people around because there's someone bigger and badder and tougher than he is. On some level, she's trying to justify this as protecting the innocent and the weak.
At her core, she just wants to kick his ass now. He likes to win, and so does she.
His eyes blaze, and she smiles. Too bright, too sharp, and too feral to be beautiful.
She knows that, if she can outlast him, she has the edge here.
(dicedicedice)
Alex
--which Alex must know too. Irony defined: in a fight against a creature that could, if she wanted to, move faster than he could think, it was time he didn't have.
(And some part of him must also understand -- he's only winning this so far because she's not really trying to hurt him. If she were trying to hurt him, he'd be so much meat and gore on Gabbie's nice rug.)
But most of him only understands:
He's going to kick her fucking ass. And this is a good thing.
Which is what he does, rather brutally and rather literally, booting her again in the face. The Fury goes down for the count and Alexander, panting, grimacing, gets to his feet, one hand over his recently kicked ribs. He rotates his arm in its shoulder cuff, then reaches down -- unceremoniously -- grabs Marrick by the feet and half-drags, half-heaves her up onto Gabbie's bed. Really, it's just because he knows it'll drive sweetpea insane to find bloodstains all over her nice little bedspread.
Then he goes to write Marrick a note, which he folds up and stuffs into her hand before slamming out of the room. When she unfolds the scrap of paper later, it reads in big bold Sharpie ink:
EPIC PHAIL.
It's rapidly becoming clear why Alexander Vaughn was more or less run out of Miami by angry Garou.
Marrick
She wakes up, and there's blood on Gabbie's sheets. Some part of her wants to apologise for that. Some part of her is royally, irrevocably pissed off. And some part of her, on so many, many levels, wants to rip Alexander Vaughn's head off and throw it out the window.
She wakes up long enough to look at the note in her hand.
Epic fail. Phail, even, with a PH.
She blinked, then rolled out of bed.
"Oh, I am so claiming your ass at the next moot."
...
Well, that was not the intended result now was it?
Alex
Alex is on his way out. He pauses, stock-still.
And then -- a careless laugh. "Whatever. You want my brother's number, or Sinclair's?"
This is quite possibly the first time Marrick's ever seen Alex do what he goddamn hates doing: hide behind Garou.
come find me
13 years ago