Desert Arena: Greased lightnin', go greased lightnin'.

[shellfishlovver]

Who| Orphaner Dualscar and open
What| ANOTHER ARRIVAL POST
Where| Desert arena
When| Toward the end of week one, at nightfall
Warnings/Notes| A space racist, but no real warnings yet.

By the time Dualscar arrives, night has already fallen. It's deceptively cool in the arena, but he isn't all that troubled by the low temperatures, particularly since he has other things on his mind. There's an incredible temper tantrum simmering quietly in him as he gazes upon his surroundings. He doesn't know what to make of what he's been told, what he's been put through and what he's wearing, he's just not at a calm enough stage to coherently handle the situation. He's angry at himself for not fighting back harder, for being foolish enough to believe it had to be some sort of clown induced hallucination. He'll have to take his revenge another time.

He knows well enough that he needs to head away from the starting point quickly, dawdling would likely end in a quick death. He paces quickly, it's deceptively cool now but he can't imagine it'll stay this way for long. He needs to find shelter, particularly if the sun here is anything like it is on Alternia. He's muttering to himself as he strides along, to vent some frustration he kicks hard at a sand dune, sending most of the dust back onto himself and really only souring his own mood further.

Along the way he manages to find a fairly long and well weighted stick. It looks as if it were once part of a much more practical weapon. He's half tempted to launch it at one of the glowing screens out of anger, but for once good judgement comes into play and he holds onto it. Finally, he takes the time to observe the screens around him with a curious expression. Horrible slaughter is nothing new to him, but the candy land certainly is. His eyes are scouring the screen for anyone he might recognise among the countless aliens. He appears to have his guard down, but the stick is firmly grasped in his hands.

Comments

[pythianjudgment]

Terezi couldn't help but be curious about the glowing screens, especially when one flickered to life relatively close to her. She creeps closer, smelling the strange flickering light, and then the silhouette standing next to it. She doesn't catch anything distinctively familiar at first scent. Everyone is in costumes anyway, so it really wouldn't matter.

Her bo staff taps against the sand as she walks, held in her hand like a hiking stick rather than a weapon. At her hip is a collection of sharp rocks she's been gathering in her silver parachute, and two bottles of water tied to a string. One is half empty by this point.

Just like before, she approaches with the wind to her back. The parachute sags half open at her hip, just in case she needs a quick projectile.

"Wow, who taught you to sit out in the open like this? Are you new, or just really bad at this?"

[shellfishlovver]

Dualscar is quick to spin around the moment he hears Terezi's voice. Wandering the desert hasn't exactly done him any favours, despite surviving this long he is more alert than ever, to the point of being just the slightest bit twitchy. He's already gripping his hook sword defensively, daring her to make a move.

That said, everything she has on her is incredibly tempting to him. He wants that water, that much is certain. He doesn't imagine he'll have to try too hard to get his hands on it either. He casts a glance over Terezi as if to size her up before the familiarity of her becomes striking to him. He hasn't come across a troll in his time here, he's a little curious about this one, especially since she seems awfully young. He doesn't know her, but it makes him wonder if someone he does know is here. Someone like, say, Mindfang. Just a perfectly random example and not someone whose been on his mind since he started here.

"None of your business." He answers gruffly, feeling as if he'll be ending this conversation shortly. He's in no mood for sass, his patience has already been worn incredibly thin.

Approaching with caution, he takes a small step closer. "Who are you, wriggler?"

[pythianjudgment]

Ah.

Terezi smells the glint of the weapon almost as soon as he turns. The gills are next now that he's facing her, and she's taking a step back from the stranger. She didn't expect to find a sea-dweller in the desert. She didn't expect to find one at all, considering there weren't any in this place the last time she checked.

She takes another step back when he moves closer and addresses her. "I'm not a wriggler. And brushing off my question isn't going to make me answer yours instead. It's also considered highly rude."

Maybe she should just kick up some sand and leave now, rather than wait around. He's armed, but so is she. Not that she thinks she could take this guy in a fight, but maybe it would give him enough pause... Probably not. She's not so keen on just running, either, since she's almost certain he would end up chasing her.

[shellfishlovver]

"I wouldn't consider what you asked a question, it seemed more an insult with a different inflection. But I'll humor you for the sake of ending this conversation before it grows any more infuriatin' than it already is."

He's starting to circle her now, partly as a means of being intimidating and partly so he can get a better look at her. He certainly doesn't recognise her, so he's not sure where the sense of familiarity is coming from. Her brash attitude would surely have her killed if he truly knew her, but for now he restrains.

"I am relatively new, so you are correct in that regard. However, you'll find that in comparison to me you most certainly are a wriggler. Alone. So I'd choose my words more carefully if I were you."

The last sentence is hissed in a particularly venomous and threatening tone and he tightens his grip on his weapon.

[pythianjudgment]

Terezi doesn't like the way he's circling. She doesn't want him to circle like that, not when it throws off her escape strategy. For every step he takes, she continues to back-step one or two paces, trying to keep him in front of her without turning.

The hissed threat has her guard up, more so than it already was. While she'd only been holding her staff in one hand, she takes it up in both, holding it diagonally across her body. It's not exactly a shield, but it's the best she's got.

"I wasn't aware that wiggler was now a comparative term and not a progressive stage of development! I'll keep that in mind for the future. Sir." She adds the last bit in some last-minute attempt to sound polite without undermining her confidence. She's never had to deal with a full-grown sea-dweller before... Somehow, she doesn't think this crash course is going very well.

"What do you go by?" She's careful not to just ask for a name this time, since her run-in with the Initiate has taught her that's not kosher.

[shellfishlovver]

In turn, Dualscar isn't at all fond of how Terezi turns to match his pacing. At the very least, he feels assured that it's intimidating to her, which was the intent of the exercise beyond scoping her out. He lets out a mirthless, half hearted laugh at her attempts at defense and he's glad she understood that he's not here to play around.

"Perhaps not, but you're now aware that nitpicking your elders rarely ends well." His voice has gone back to the smooth, condescending but gruff inflection that he began with. The threatening tone is clearly for special occasions.

"Orphaner Dualscar." He retorts, without so much as asking what her name is. He doesn't care for it, she's none of his business. "How many of us are there?"

[pythianjudgment]

Orphaner Dualscar. Really? She sniffs at him again and the resemblance is a little easier to smell this time, when she knows what she's smelling for. Yeah... She suddenly doesn't want to be anywhere near this guy.

"I don't know. A handful? There's a few adults, a few kids. Wigglers. There's more humans than anything else. A few other kinds of aliens." She keeps her wandering pace backwards, away from him and the glow of the screen. How well can he see in the dark? she wonders, hoping the answer to that is Not Well.

[thefemaleson]

When darkness first falls, it's a welcome relief from the heat, but it doesn't take long for Oscar to realize the night carries its own danger. She's *cold* for one, and with limited supplies, she's not sure she could start a fire, even if she wanted to risk one. Worse, she's tired and hungry, not a good combination for a fight to the death. Or any kind of fight, really. At least she has water, though the bottle that had come floating down via parachute earlier was over half gone. And she has no weapons other than a decently hard branch she'd found shortly before darkness had descended. It has been useful for warding off the larger and more aggressive bugs, but she has her doubts as to its usefulness against other people. So far though she's been able to avoid people, though she doubts that luck will last much longer.

And, in fact, that luck seems to run out right now. In the dark, a smallish sand dune gives way under her feet, sending her sliding and tumbling right towards someone backlit by the seemingly ever-present screens and their gory show. She recovers quickly though, snapping her branch up into an approximation of a guard position.

"I don't want to hurt you" she says, though her tone clearly adds 'but I will if I must' to the end of that. "You can just... go your way and I'll go mine."

[shellfishlovver]

Dualscar is fairly aware of his surroundings, given that he’s a hunter. He’s sure he hears the vague sounds of someone in the distance, but his unfamiliarity with the location and his fixation on the strange but oddly entertaining screens means that Oscar’s abrupt arrival comes as a considerable surprise to him. He jumps as he hears the sound of branches breaking and the skidding of sand and he immediately makes the assessment that anyone foolish enough to fall out into the open like that can’t be all that much of a formidable opponent. He is nothing but utterly judgmental, after all.

Despite not feeling as if he’s in for a challenge, his stick is still raised defensively and he’s taken on a position that threatens a spring of attack should the stranger make a wrong move. He gives them a wary once over, sizing them up as a challenger and narrowing his eyes when they speak. He hadn’t at all been expecting his first approach with an alien in a death match to be so... Well… He hadn’t expected anyone here to shy away from death. He looks skeptical at the suggestion and he quirks his eyebrow, giving Oscar a dull look.

“What reason have I to believe you won’t try to kill me once my back is turned?” He asks plainly, taking a step closer. “Are we not meant to be pickin’ each other off?”

[thefemaleson]

Oscar is silent for a long moment, giving the horned man a long, evaluating look. She held her ground as he stepped forward, and shifted her grip on the branch slightly. This is obviously a fighter she was facing, though she doubts he is as skilled as she is. Still, neither of them have true weapons, and perhaps he knows how to use his branch better than she does.

"We're both armed with little better than sticks. Barring a lucky shot, I can not see a fight between us resulting in anything more than a potential injury, not death. I'd rather kill my opponents in a true fight, not just beat on them until I can escape."

[shellfishlovver]

Dualscar is surprised as Oscar holds her ground. He hasn’t had a very long time to develop any opinion on the aliens that seem to populate this planet, but his general assumption for any species that he doesn’t belong to would be that they are both weak and useless. While Oscar isn’t precisely proving him wrong, she hasn’t proved him right either. He keeps a narrowed gaze on her, quite happy to show his suspicion despite the validity of the points she makes.

Eventually, he lets out a dramatic sort of huff and lowers his stick from its defensive position. Its still held tight in his hands, but he seems less inclined to use it. “I could crack your head open like An egg and bleed the useless thoughts from it if I wanted to.” He points out, despite obviously having lowered his weapon. “But I’ve no desire to look ridiculous in doing so.” He adds, nodding decidedly. Honestly, thrashing at each other with pointed sticks seems more barbaric than anything else he’s faced today.

[thefemaleson]

While the stranger eventually lowers his stick, Oscar doesn't lower hers, though she does relax slightly. This man may be one of the obnoxious horned creatures, but at least he responds to logic. That he continues to bluster doesn't surprise her, and she has to repress a small smile. What is it with men that makes them so keen to puff themselves up?

She inclines her head slightly at his nod. "A wise choice, Monsieur. We can consider this a tactical withdrawal for now. I doubt our next encounter will be so peaceful."

[shellfishlovver]

Dualscar is barely aware of his ever apparent posturing, it's just so ingrained in his mannerisms that he seems to puff himself up without any thought behind it. That said, it's not as if he isn't intentionally trying to be intimidating, but his natural state tends to lean toward proving himself in some manner.

In any case, he's keeping his eyes trained on her stick as he takes gradual steps back. He nods in response, half tempted to end the conversation with a final, bitter look, but curiousity wins him over and he can't help nitpicking the one word that doesn't make sense to him.

"What did you call me?" What's a French???

[thefemaleson]

She is about to lift her stick is an approximation of a salute, but pauses at the question. "Monsieur," she repeats, carefully. "It is a term of respect for a man when one does not know or does not wish to use his name." She lowers her stick to her side and gives another slight nod, unwilling to risk taking her eyes off the stranger. "Forgive me if I has given offense."

[shellfishlovver]

"Hmm."

That's all she'll get for the moment as he seems to consider what's been said. Obviously he's not heard to word before, so he's skeptical, but it would be foolish to expect all words to translate seamlessly between two species. His fins twitch ever so slightly before he grumbles to himself and untenses again.

"Understood." The answer is curt, mostly because he has no desire to engage in a lengthy conversation about the intricacy of language. "Be on your way, then."