Naught was to be said
to retort the silverette’s bold statement.
Silence was an answer enough in itself,
& as such,
the crimson gunslinger’s own nonchalant gait
in which a holster upon which
gloved hand leisurely rested
was carelessly unbuckled
— the sound deemed only as loud as a man’s exhalation.
"Why are you here, Yazoo?"
how the man hates sounding like a broken record..
”After all, she is not.”
Like he had anticipated and tension remained, head tilted ever so lightly, focusing. Calculating. A futile effort, both had a high chance of wining, or losing. The risk was too high and thus one of the reasons he staved of attacking. It helped that he still felt hurt, having not been fast enough that one time. He knew that it nudged everything toward the other man’s favor.
Another question, the same, asked another time and he tossed his head again, "tsk." His tone was mocking, seeming to catch upon the irritation. "You sound like a broken record."
Nonetheless a chord was struck when she was mentioned and his eyes widened, pupils thinned. His features twisting into something ugly, before he spat his furious words, "I do not care for her,” not anymore remaining unsaid. He had seen what she had done and had not liked it one bit. The young male had turned against her, had for a long while now.
Even if the other two tried to nudge him toward her care again, would do so now, if they had been here with him. They weren’t though, leaving him to voice his distaste.
Stubborn one, this guy. She could tell. One Genesis Rhapsodos used to fight tooth and nail against going to see anyone after an unfortunate accident in the virtual reality room that fateful time, years ago — ah, best not to think about that. Remembering those years would only serve to make the woman depressed as Hell and, at the moment, she needed to focus. There was a skittish person here, possibly injured, who might need medical treatment. If not for something serious, then to at least make sure he would be looked after.
She really was too soft-hearted, but wasn’t that part of a lady’s charm?
Giving Yazoo a sidelong glance, she smiled enigmatically as she touched the bangle on her wrist, filled with mastered materia. The crystal glowed to life, charging. Dealing with difficult man children almost all her life had made sure the woman learned to do first and ask for forgiveness later. A yellow command materia shone brightest and she found out what she needed; that the man before wasn’t quite at 100%. Libra wasn’t always accurate or fully functional as far as manufactured materia went, but it often let Crisis know enough to figure out if somebody was fibbing about their health.
The next course of action was to throw a spell at him — a cure. Glowing green light would have surrounded the silver haired man, against his will, to help ease his pain a little. Without knowing the full extent of his health, she couldn’t do more than this.
“You’ll have to forgive me on this," she stated pleasantly, as she took a step back, "but I am a bit of a busybody and just can’t seem to leave people alone if I think they’re inn some kind of trouble. At least this means no hospitals, right?"
No, it wasn’t serious. He was too strong for that, at least he believed himself to be. A simple scratch or two wouldn’t stop him, not in a long shot. He was getting tired though, not psychical but mentally. Yazoo had never been one to be social for very long, if at all, had let Kadaj do the talking and it was draining he realized.
He would’ve called it a weakness, something to be destroyed. A world that was cruel wouldn’t accept anyone being soft-hearted in his eyes. It would swallow them up and spit them out, broken and crushed.
There was a hiss when the soft green glow surrounded him, he knew all too well what it was and he grabbed his gun, aimed it toward her and eyes narrowed sharply. Even when he felt the scratches knit together, sluggishly stopping with bleeding and aiding recovery. The pain did disappear, but he didn’t focus on that.
She had done something he hadn’t asked for.
Even if it wasn’t to hurt, he still couldn’t be sure. His muscles tensed again and standing still once more, still in control of himself and watching. She spoke again though, and he swallowed once more. At least she stepped away from him, but that didn’t make him relax, nor did the weapon lower one inch.
He kept it aimed, "you’ll get killed for that once." He finally rasped. At least it was a hint that he wouldn’t kill her now, which was a form of thanks in its own right. At least if it depended on Yazoo. Who never had learned the two words that one usually spoke in such a situation.
p i t y
— so do excuse the gunman
if any display of such an expression
on the silverette’s facade
was to be received
with a look of pure annoyance.
…you are here.”
”You would understand
that I can’t let you go.”
…knowing naught your intention.
Whatever pity he might have felt (if he truly even felt such an emotion) was soon squished anyway, his own features twisting in annoyance, "as if you could stop me." Not even spoke with arrogance, it was a fact to him.
A tilt of a chin; fingers twitching and ready to move, to grab, to kill in a moment. No, Yazoo didn’t take any chances anymore. If there was one thing he was good in, it was just that.
"Hn, not even in your dreams," lips curl up in distaste at the male in front of him. He wasn’t sure what had happened to him though, he had woken up and here he was again. Encountering new and old people.
//ooc: Yeeesssss. *and grins like mad*\
"I don’t much dream now…”
”What’s brought you here,
Yazoo of the remnants?”
There might have been something like pity, but that’s soon squished, "how… fitting." Doesn’t even know why he says it, really. The next question catches him of guard for a moment,
"…. I do not know."
Sometimes I don’t want to rp.
Sometimes I only want to rp selectively because a certain thread intrigues me at a time.
It’s not me being a bitch.
It’s me being the average human that has interests and moods.
Dealing with this man - Yazoo, she mentally corrected herself — felt no different than having to deal with an injured, wild animal in a way. There was something in the air that made it feel as if the other in her presence was cornered — not by her, because she was about as threatening as a butterfly on a marshmallow. No, there was something deeper going on here. It was…worrying, to say the least.
Especially since she hadn’t seen a shade of silver like that in a long time.
It was like seeing a spectre of one of the Planet’s most prominent figures standing before her today. But the General had no children (and certainly not any that would be this old!) and neither did he have any true blood siblings to his name. Silver was such a rare colour and it almost pained the woman to see it, a shock now that she even noticed it. And it flickered on her face; luckily Yazoo was in his own world of pain and thus too occupied to notice.
She took a step forward, palms wide open in a show that she meant no harm.
“I’m Crisis. You all right, Yazoo? You looked like you were hurting there, for a moment." A quick glance over did not find any immediate wounds, but maybe he had wandered into the woods after getting hurt somehow? Junon Woods was not overly dangerous for the wary survivalist, but it was still not a place for people to be, with a few exceptions. After all, she made this place her home for decades now. Concern now colouring her visage, she stared up at the other’s face, trying to read it for any signs, any hints. "If you’re injured, you should get that taken care of. I could lead you to a hospital…”
At least a wild animal that could think and reason, most of the time, luckily enough. No, she was not very threatening at first sight. He had learned in the short time he had been allowed to roam that everyone and everything could be a danger, most of the time something he could handle, but very rarely something that was out of his range and then he had to find a way to avoid it and escape.
Oh he had no doubt that she would recognize the silver hair, everyone would. First the man they descended from, if they even could call it that. Then from their own time that they wreaked havoc on the city.
It was such little things that could make him regret things, he hadn’t seen the look because he had been distracted. It wouldn’t affect him negatively this time, but other times it was possible. He needed to be aware of his surroundings at all time and he finally focused on her again. Not quite glaring, he might’ve twitched if she had given voice to her thoughts.
He was all too aware that he shouldn’t have existed. That he was nothing but a clone, either made because of circumstances he had no idea of or scientist. He vaguely remembered them, then again it was the question if it was his own memories, or another’s.
She spoke and she called his attention to her. The question didn’t register, before he scoffed, "nothing wrong." He wouldn’t admit to being hurt as he flashed his teeth again, luckily for him the suit was mostly self-repairing and hid the blood that slicked his skin. The mention of a hospital and he tensed, "no." A straight refusal, no changing his mind on this one.
Tilt head, freeze ever so lightly at the voice. He knows it. He has known it for a long time. He had heard Kadaj speak with that voice, a voice he respected, but mostly hated.
No word passes his lips, but there’s no doubt that the other man has his full attention.
//You’re welcome! ;w; \\
Walks in to see Yazoo pleasuring himself and turns to walk out a second afterwards.
Lazily looked over, not even ashamed of having done what he did. He was about to raise his eyebrows invitingly, but the other was gone already. Hmn, well alright then.