Post by Kefka Palazzo on Sept 14, 2008 19:32:59 GMT -5
Kefka growled, digging his heels into the sand when the sorceress grabbed him by the collar. He whipped his head around, glowering up at her. Had she really just demanded the cloak off his back? He shook his head at first, a wild look in his eye, before he really took the chance to think. The cloak was heavy and even in their tattered state, the fabrics that made up his once grand cloak were thick and insulating. Not at all the kind of thing to be carrying around in the desert.
"Fine," Kefka snapped, reaching up to undo the clasps that held the garment in place. Yes, let her carry it, he thought, ripping the cloak off and throwing it somewhere behind him. He not-so-secretly hoped it hit her in the face as he started walking once more, resisting the urge to kick the sand again; that gesture had awarded him with a mouthful of grit.
Of course, he shouldn't be so hard on her, he mused. After all, she had done him a favor in taking his coat; the once-general found it easier to trudge through the sand and harsh sun without it. He even gained a bit of confidence in the fact that the clothing underneath the cloak seemed to retain most of its vibrant color. He chuckled under his breath. He'd thank her if he knew she wouldn't catch on.
Up on the rooftops Out of reach Trickster is meaningless Trickster is weak
Post by Aerith Gainsborough on Sept 14, 2008 19:59:22 GMT -5
((Quick question: are you guys heading up one of the fingers or the ocean?))
Stand my ground, I won't give in No more denying, I gotta face it Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside If I don't make it, someone else will Stand My Ground
Adel caught the coat as he tossed it back toward her, draping it over her shoulder for the time being after checking to make sure it would fit. It wouldn’t, of course. She was entirely too large for it, and over twice Kefka’s height. She didn’t know what made her think she could have worn it to begin with. Adel growled under her breath as she tied the sleeves and buckles around her right arm and wore it as a sleeve. She was rather surprised to see the clothes under Kefka’s coat, however. The colors were almost painfully vibrant, if a little dirty and torn. They were nothing like his completely ruined coat, face, hair, and shoes. Adel cringed at the sight of these parts of him. Just looking at them made her want to bathe.
Some time passed as they walked—neither one saying a word to the other—and the sun began slowly setting. It was just about reaching the ground at this point, and Adel found herself enjoying it immensely. Not because she found it beautiful, because she didn’t, but because the heat was dying down. Off in the distance she could almost swear she could make out something that wasn’t sand, but it could have been a mirage for all she knew. Damn the sun and damn the heat!
Adel stared at the sun, then, silently cursing it. It was much easier to look at when it was like this; lower to the ground and without and vision-impeding brightness. Some part of her still felt rather hot, though. Her right arm, to be specific, felt very hot, in a very familiar way. Adel felt a familiar rush pass over her as a small wave of energy shot through her right arm and exited out her hand in the form of a ball of fire—landing somewhere in the distance.
“Fire!” The sorceress cried in rather uncharacteristic jubilation, merrily firing off a few more spells into the distance to be sure it wasn’t a fluke. She raised her eyebrows pompously at Kefka, and as she was in a particularly good mood now, Adel simultaneously sneered and smiled at the man in a childish display of mockery. She had magic again. Only one spell at the moment, but it was a start.
Take these plastic people. Read their lips, now let it linger. Is there anything that makes them sound sincere? Come on, tightly hold your hand, take a deep breath, give them the finger. Are you worried that your thoughts are not quite clear? Twitch!
Post by Kefka Palazzo on Sept 15, 2008 18:06:29 GMT -5
Kefka had been squinting at the horizon, straining to make out the images he saw there when a familiar hiss caught his ear, making him stop in his tracks. It had started out quietly at first, somewhere behind him, growing in volume and dying down again with a slight pop in the distance. The noise had been accompanied by a streak and a flash of light, causing Kefka a good deal of confusion.
Eyebrow raised, he turned just as the sound repeated itself, this time connected with a command from Adel and the bright flash of a fire spell whizzing past him. He followed the ball of fire with his eyes, snapping them back to the sorceress when it passed him by. She had popped off a few more spells in the time it took him to really understand what had just happened. She seemed to have recovered some sort of magic, and now, Kefka guessed, she was taunting him with it.
His lip curled up in a snarl at her mockery; she was looking at him with a smug expression that was altogether infuriating! Something about her had changed, but he pushed the thought out of his head as soon as it surfaced. Kefka raised a clenched fist, glaring at it. Something in Adel's actions had raised an alarm in him, and for the first time since he awoke, he swore he could actually feel the statues. All at once, he opened his hand to feel the pulse of energy travel through his veins and to the tips of his fingers. It popped and crackled, but this time, instead of fizzling out, the flames left his fingers, leaping up and scorching the ground just a few feet from where Adel stood.
"Heh... haha!" Kefka could hardly contain his laughter at a time like this. All in one familiar action, he had gained back a part of his precious magic and managed to overcome that witch's gloating! The thought sent him into peals of very distinct laughter; he simply could not help himself. It wasn't that he found the situation funny, no, it was the he found it so delightfully fitting, and when he finally managed to quell the laughter pouring out of him, he shot Adel the smug grin she deserved, sides still aching.
Last Edit: Sept 21, 2008 3:08:12 GMT -5 by Kefka Palazzo
Up on the rooftops Out of reach Trickster is meaningless Trickster is weak
Adel's smile faded somewhat as Kefka essentially replicated her spell, albeit looking somewhat different. Alright, so Kefka wasn't lying when he claimed to know magic. No matter: they were evenly matched in magic for now, but she was sure she could trounce him eventually. Even if he managed to keep up with her for longer than she expected he would, she still beat him in physical strength.
Still, she was certain she could defeat Kefka in a battle of magic if it came down to it. Para-magic had to be stocked, no? He couldn't have too many stored away in his little mind, while a sorceress' magic was everlasting. Adel would have to prove herself the superior mage if she was going to quell thoughts of rebellion. She knew she could defeat him in a magic fight, but he didn't, and he had to if he was going to realize she was still in charge. Adel called upon the infinite reservoir of her sorceress magic, raising her palms from her sides and firing Fire after Fire to her left and right, honestly attempting to turn the sand to glass in these regions of the desert.
Shot after shot she fired, the fire launching from her hands in an almost continuous stream as Adel let out a maniacal laugh. The laugh was little more than for show at first, but eventually it was extremely cathartic to feel the fire slipping from her palms in bursts, warming them ever so slightly as it tore off into the distance to explode the area it landed in. She stared directly into Kefka's eyes as she did this, as if to scream at him that she was an infinite wellspring of power. She let out a sigh as she stopped, clenching her hands as she did, and lowering them to her sides. She was unprepared, however, for the faint clunk of her bracers slipping off and hitting the sand.
Confused, Adel looked over at her arm to find it had considerably...altered. Her arm was slightly over half the size it had been when she'd started, and she was a full three or four feet shorter. Her skirt, much to her enragement, was barely holding itself up, which she quickly fixed as she altered the belt. Even her bare chest was almost, almost of feminine proportions. She looked back at Kefka, her eyes showing confusion for a moment before changing back to confidence. Something had happened to her, she realized as she picked her bracers up. Something had happened just now, but she couldn't let him know it was unexpected.
And so Adel slipped her bracers over her left arm and continued to walk.
Take these plastic people. Read their lips, now let it linger. Is there anything that makes them sound sincere? Come on, tightly hold your hand, take a deep breath, give them the finger. Are you worried that your thoughts are not quite clear? Twitch!
Post by Kefka Palazzo on Sept 17, 2008 0:54:08 GMT -5
Kefka was still trying to catch his breath as the sorceress began firing spells from side to side. Unfortunately for Adel, the gesture was lost on him. His face contorted into an odd parody of confusion as he watched the sorceress. For a moment, he lifted his arms, wary of possible attack from her direction, until it was obvious that she was just showing off. Was he supposed to be impressed by this display of power? He could very well do the same if it weren't for the fact that he was quite intent on conserving his power.
She had turned the area around them into a veritable firestorm, and it was then that her appearance alerted Kefka. She grew smaller before his very eyes; he could see this even as the fiery haze clouded his vision. Had exploiting her magic done that? He crossed his arms and felt a smug grin creep over his lips as he watched the transformation. She was blissfully unaware of the occurrence, as far as he could tell, and that had giggles bubbling up in his throat yet again.
That was, at least, until the flames died down and Kefka had the chance to get a better look at the sorceress. She had changed all right, and rather drastically at that. She was still of a formidable height, but due to her softer features she seemed quite a bit less... threatening. This, of course, pleased him to no end; he hoped, as he watched her scramble to readjust her clothing, that she was as ashamed as he was amused. He continued to chuckle softly as she regathered herself and started walking once more.
Without a word, he turned to follow her; the grin on his face said it all.
"Uwee hee..."
Last Edit: Sept 21, 2008 3:11:13 GMT -5 by Kefka Palazzo
Up on the rooftops Out of reach Trickster is meaningless Trickster is weak
Adel steadily controlled her breathing as she walked ahead of Kefka. She’d maintained her composure well enough, she thought, but that hadn’t stopped Kefka from snickering at her. The fury caused by this was almost insurmountably difficult to quell, but quell she did. She couldn’t afford to fight at a moment like this, when she was physically unfamiliar with herself. There was no way around it: she had just shrunk. The question plaguing her now was ‘why?’.
Obviously it was the magic, she figured. She could feel the spells siphoning away the magic used to alter her body as a source of fuel, and so she would no doubt continue to regain her sickening mortal form if she continued to utilize magic. She was too enthralled with the ecstasy of casting spells again to notice at the time, but looking back it was a clear feeling. The question, though, was ‘why?’. Sorceress magic was infinite, so it shouldn’t have been a problem for her to cast that many spells.
It was another obvious conclusion, of course. Adel’s powers had not fully returned to her, and so her ability to tap into the infinite reaches of sorcery was still limited. In trying to cast all that magic, her body found it couldn’t get magic from the infinite nexus of energy that was her sorceress inheritance fast enough, so it took magic from the one other place it knew energy could be found: her magically enhanced body.
So what to do about it? Adel knew the answer to that already, too. Wait. She would just have to wait until her body found the magic she needed for it to correct itself. It was simple, really. She’d have breathed a sigh of relief if she hadn’t known that it would be a sign that things were ever wrong to begin with. There was the outside chance that her body would enhance itself slightly differently this time, but that wasn’t at all worrisome to her. No doubt it would change to reflect her rage and be even more powerful than before.
For now, though…
“Kefka!” Adel barked loudly, turning on her heel and locking eyes with the former General. She would not be insulted without some form of payback. Raising her skirt slightly to reveal long, heeled leather boots underneath, she pointed to them with all the contempt she could muster with her left hand as she waved her parasol vaguely threateningly with the right. “There’s sand on my boots. Wipe it off.”
Take these plastic people. Read their lips, now let it linger. Is there anything that makes them sound sincere? Come on, tightly hold your hand, take a deep breath, give them the finger. Are you worried that your thoughts are not quite clear? Twitch!
Post by Kefka Palazzo on Sept 20, 2008 19:59:39 GMT -5
Kefka had been thinking that nothing could kill the high he was on right then, but Adel had done just that. Yet again, he dug his heels into the sand, skidding nearly head-on into the last person he'd want to, well, skid into. In the time it took for him to lift his eyes from Adel's barely worn boots, the smug grin had been wiped from his face and she had dared to demand something of him again.
Nearly hissing, Kefka reeled back a few steps and glared up at the still very tall and now rather horrid woman he had come to travel with. He hadn't even had the time to gloat over his victory; not to his content, at least. He might have been amused at the familiarity of the comment, perhaps even surprised if she hadn't been the one saying it. "Sand... on your boots?" He began to laugh again, apparent amusement taking a turn for something darker as he continued. "Sand on your boots," he repeated with a slight rise in pitch; The sneer on his face did nothing to hide the vitriol in his voice. Not that he had anything to hide.
He gestured to his own sand and dust-caked boots, staring the sorceress in the eyes as he did so. "There's sand in my boots, Adel," he cooed, voice taking on an eerily musical tone and deepening as he reached her name. "So I'm going to give you two options. Either you lick them clean," he began, practically spitting venom, "or you shut the hell up and WE. KEEP. WALKING!"
((You have no idea how hard it was for to not have him say, "shut your whore mouth!" No lie. -sage nod-))
Last Edit: Sept 22, 2008 0:39:34 GMT -5 by Kefka Palazzo
Up on the rooftops Out of reach Trickster is meaningless Trickster is weak
This would be the last straw for Adel. This man had pushed her limits for entirely too long, and her circumstances had been the only thing keeping her from killing him to begin with. Now, though, he was beginning to insult her. If one thing was to be known about Adel, it was that she was very powerful. If two things were to be known, however, it would be that she was very powerful and that she had a very, very short temper.
As she started toward Kefka intently, Adel‘s rationality screamed from the back of her mind to think her actions over. It wouldn’t be wise to attack the horrible tramp in her situation, after all. She needed Kefka to keep her boredom occupied during the long journey. She needed Kefka in order to stay alive in this place. She needed Kefka to get out of this terrible desert and into civilization. She needed Kefka to die.
Tearing the pipe from its sheet and wielding the two as a makeshift shield and staff, Adel stopped about three feet from Kefka and stared down at him furiously. “What was that?!” She bellowed, using her staff to punctuate her words with sharp jabs to the oddly dressed pauper’s chest. “I could have sworn I heard you say 'kill me'!”
Take these plastic people. Read their lips, now let it linger. Is there anything that makes them sound sincere? Come on, tightly hold your hand, take a deep breath, give them the finger. Are you worried that your thoughts are not quite clear? Twitch!
Post by Kefka Palazzo on Sept 22, 2008 2:40:59 GMT -5
As Adel stepped toward him, Kefka dared not move; the court mage kept his feet feet as firmly planted as his resolve. He watched her carefully, smirk fading into a scowl as she ripped her 'parasol' apart. That definitely was not a friendly gesture. He clenched his fists at his sides, barely flinching when she yelled and made the move to lift her staff. She really was going to hit him, wasn't she? Insufferable bitch!
He was sent reeling at the first jab, hardly recognizing just what was happening as the second and third hit him. Barely managing to keep on his feet, Kefka took a step back to steady himself, snarling angrily at the woman. He could feel his skin bruising where she hit him already. Every part of him wanted to lash out– to hurt her by whatever means possible. He could very well hurt her, but where would that leave him? He did not need her. She needed him, however, and he thought he had gotten that point across. She was also still very large, he noted, and that point did not bode well with him. Even if he had been able to cut her, would he survive it? Or would she drag him down, kicking and screaming, with her?
Kefka snorted, balling up a fist and letting it fall to his side. His face calmed, concealing the tempest raging in his mind; he would have to trick her for now. "Right. Go ahead and kill me," he drew out, straightening. "Kill me and hope to the gods that you can find your own way out of this mess." He watched her for a moment, sighing quietly when she made no move. "No? Then may I propose a truce? It's nightfall and we haven't yet thought of shelter." Ugh, truce... such a horrid word. Kefka hated it. He hated Adel, as well, but this was no surprise, and he soon grew impatient with her. "It's quite obvious we hate one another, Adel dear, but if you want to survive this whole ordeal, I suggest you accept and we be on with it!"
Last Edit: Sept 22, 2008 2:52:54 GMT -5 by Kefka Palazzo
Up on the rooftops Out of reach Trickster is meaningless Trickster is weak
Adel took a moment to think about Kefka’s ultimatum seriously. It was awfully tempting to just kill him and hope for the best, actually. She even reared her pole back for a moment, as if she were about to swing down on the poor clod’s head. Adel did not reach her position by acting on all of her impulses, though—simply most of them. Lowering her pole, Adel sighed and affixed it and the sheet of metal back into their hideous parasol form. It was somewhat more difficult with her decreased muscle mass, but nothing she couldn’t handle.
“Fine.” Adel said gruffly, propping the parasol over her shoulder and spinning it lazily. It was too hot for fighting anyways, and sometimes the less fun choices were unfortunately the smarter ones. Her eyes drifted to the dagger in Kefka’s belt, and so she gestured for him to lead the way. She wasn’t about to be backstabbed again this early after being freed.
And so they walked for another hour or so, not saying much of anything to one another. Far off in the distance the edge of the desert was now plainly visible, and the sun was just making its last peek at Adel’s side the world before settling off to light up Galbadia. “Well?” Adel questioned, gesturing around the twosome as though expecting to have something pointed out to her. “I assumed you were leading us to shelter for the night. I don’t see a shelter, Kefka. I see sand. I could have found sand by myself. Where is it?” She complained exasperatedly, crossing her arms in an angry huff. “If it was going to take more than a day to get there, you should have said so.”
Take these plastic people. Read their lips, now let it linger. Is there anything that makes them sound sincere? Come on, tightly hold your hand, take a deep breath, give them the finger. Are you worried that your thoughts are not quite clear? Twitch!
Post by Kefka Palazzo on Sept 25, 2008 0:23:59 GMT -5
"You didn't ask," Kefka crooned, stopping momentarily to survey the landscape. A deep-set frown found its way onto his face as he realized that just beyond the border of the desert there seemed to be an awful lot of water. Water that, as he recalled, shouldn't be there. He shook head, turning slowly to scan the horizon for any sign of Tzen. Sure, he had destroyed the sad little town, but it was still standing. Surely someone else hadn't come along and demolished the remaining pocket of civilization there, had they?
He quickly let the frown drop when he noticed Adel standing there, staring at him like she needed to be told what to do. Kefka raised an eyebrow at her, shoulders hiking up suddenly. "What?" he drew in a high voice, rolling his eyes at her petulant glare. "You want shelter, we'll make shelter. Did you expect an inn in the middle of a desert?" There was still plenty of scrap to be had on this side of the desert. She couldn't possibly be that clueless. Of course, Kefka was one to talk, but he was well entitled to be as lofty as he see fit; he was a God of Magic after all. At least, he had been. Honestly, where was a chocobo when he needed one?
Exhausted and irritable, Kefka toed the sand where he stopped. The desert was cold at night, cold enough that he hoped there would be enough scrap wood to keep a fire going through the night. None of that would help, of course, unless they had some sort of covering to keep them and the fire dry. So he bent down, hooking his fingers under the edge of a particularly large sheet of scrap metal, and heaved one side of it up with a grunt. He strained against it, moving to prop it up on his should and turn his gaze to Adel. "Don't just stand there," he snapped, eyeing the scraps she had carried with her all this way. "If you want to sleep under the stars tonight, then by all means just stand the-"
He was cut short when a low rumble sent a jolt up through his feet. Shaking his head, he eyed Adel suspiciously. She hadn't moved. It happened again, albeit stronger this time, nearly knocking the scrap metal from his shoulder. Soon, the quiet rumbling had become louder, more constant. Something was coming their way, and judging by the ground pitched and heaved it was under their feet. A sudden explosion of earth and sand caught Kefka somewhat off guard, causing him to drop the piece of scrap and stumble backward a few steps. "Son of a--" He stopped short, taking a few steps to point at the huge, undulating creature that was now looming above them, snapping its hungry maw. "L-land worm!"
Up on the rooftops Out of reach Trickster is meaningless Trickster is weak
((Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you-... So yeah, I didn't finish my post. I'll finish it tomorrow night. I know, I know, I'm terrible. FORGIVENESS PLEASE!))
Take these plastic people. Read their lips, now let it linger. Is there anything that makes them sound sincere? Come on, tightly hold your hand, take a deep breath, give them the finger. Are you worried that your thoughts are not quite clear? Twitch!
Post by Aerith Gainsborough on Sept 26, 2008 15:02:17 GMT -5
((I don't know if I'm supposed to forgive you for not posting, or the Rickroll))
Stand my ground, I won't give in No more denying, I gotta face it Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside If I don't make it, someone else will Stand My Ground