masticated: (Default)
SABER TOOTH. ([personal profile] masticated) wrote2024-12-09 12:38 pm

open


poke him
longlegs: n u ? (371)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-09 06:28 pm (UTC)(link)
i just need you to come pick me up
i already asked queen but he can't be bothered bc he's an asshole


[ ... Asking Queen for anything usually means some part of her body is in a Not Good State. ]
longlegs: u n (028)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-09 07:39 pm (UTC)(link)
we don't have to talk about that thanks

[ He gets a notification shortly after. Location: an abandoned house in the middle of some farmlands, for some reason. There's a wrecked car on the nearest road marking the spot, picture completed by weird scratches on asphalt and a few red stains. Aren't we all glad Raíz doesn't have a budget? ]
longlegs: n s (330)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-09 09:49 pm (UTC)(link)
thx

[ The phone is dropped carelessly on her lap, head resting against the wall with a deep sigh. Cellar's exhausted, but the pain is too loud to let her consciousness fade for anything resembling a nap. He'll find her sweating, splattered with someone else's blood more than her own and annoyed about it. The scrapes and bruises are unnoteworthy; she's only used her shadows to keep a broken tibia straight and make sure it stays that way. It's just until someone comes along to fix the fuck-up, really. Something that would have already been taken care of if Queen wasn't feeling lazy.

She puffs hair sticking to her nose. ]


Just the leg.
longlegs: ? s (008)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-09 11:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Ah, [ Barely a flinch, Cellar grimaces with a little more drama than the touch really deserves. Whatever, she's allowed.

She's got her arms around his neck like they've done this more times than she cares to count; certainly enough times for him to know exactly how to pick her up, how much strength is needed for her weight, how her body … fits. Cellar makes a little noise on the way, grunting as she adjusts her position on the hood of the car. She guessed Saber would have something like that ready for her, regardless of how bad her injuries actually were, and. Well. Does she care that she was right? Once upon a time she might have.

She cares more about not letting Saber get too much out of her. This already has a price, even without stroking his ego.

Puffing her hair off her face again, hands heavy on the car, ]


Mm. [ That's what we call a non-answer. Let her stall a bit to feel better about herself, jeez. ] Who is he?
longlegs: n u (249)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-09 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Now she flinches, because he moves from crushing some stranger's face to squeezing her mask under his boot. She'd protest against any claim that she enjoys this in a snap, probably throw some biting remarks to defend her case, but — this can mean a lot of things. If it means torturing some guy for her own sake, the answer is a large neon sign spelling no. If it's the fact that Saber went out of his way to do all of it because she texted him out of nowhere to fix her fuck-up…

Well, it doesn't hurt her ego. ]


… I know you don't have to kill him just to fix my leg, Saber.

[ Sorry, random guy. ]
longlegs: n (1411)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-10 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
[ Considering what she did on this road about — two hours now, she wants to say? — watching Saber kill yet again has less of an effect as having his nose brush up against her did. Most of the red staining her clothes belongs to someone else, after all, something she'd rather not talk about with him, if only so he can't call her out for a thing or ten.

Cellar's shoulders relax, a little annoyed that he went ahead and did it anyway. It's the same kind of predictable disappointment reserved for cats that nudge a glass of water off the edge of a table, as if he isn't the one with several decades of experience on her. Maybe that's why he's so happy to give negative fucks about going overboard. Cellar still feels like she needs a good reason to do that.

What's done is done, she supposes. Her leg is clear of shadows just before his touch fixes one of several problems witnessed by this road. Cellar stares at him for a moment longer, lower lip sucked in to lick dry tissue. Ugh. She blames Queen, only Queen, and won't be taking questions or comments at this time, thank you.

Sliding off the hood, one hand on his shoulder, she bends her leg slowly, rotates her ankle, grabs it like she's warming up for a race before finally standing straight. As good as new, if not better than before. ]


Thanks. [ A pause. Before she has to brace for what's probably coming next, ] Are we going to bury the guy, at least?
longlegs: s n ? u (280)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-10 02:06 am (UTC)(link)
[ She's staring at him, arms crossed over damp red clothes, bad posture and petty manners. Cellar walks toward the passenger door to stand in front of him, eye to eye, only to place a hand in front of his face — casting a shadow that elopes into her grasp, growing and reshaping itself until she sends it away to wrap around the decayed victim. Like a spider spinning its web without even having to look at her job, Saber is treated to a morbidly comical treat: a perfectly black cocoon carrying off the body until it disappears inside the house, to be hidden god-knows-where. If he won't do it, he'll just have to wait for her instead.

After that display, he gets an immature little smile. ]


Okay, I'm ready!

[ Inside the car she goes. ]
longlegs: n (253)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-10 03:26 am (UTC)(link)
Of course you'd think that. [ Because it is. RIP, that poor guy's dignity. She makes herself comfortable while he makes his way to the driver's seat, one shoe on the dashboard — so just happens to be the leg Saber fixed — thumb tapping and sliding across the screen. She picks a song off some random EDM Hits playlist, lets them both figure out what they're going to hate and what he may or may not tolerate. She's just vibing. ] So you're definitely not gonna tell Great, right?
longlegs: n (060)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-11 07:09 pm (UTC)(link)
You wanna sleep in my bed.

[ Maybe she's being a little shit now. Just a little. Her eyes say as much. ]
longlegs: s n (360)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-11 08:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Love's a bit of a strong word, Sabe.

[ That rhymes with 'babe', ew. ]

So... [ sooo ] That's what you want in return for...?

[ Because she'll take it. ]
longlegs: s (023)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-11 09:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Better than Cece. [ Defending herself!!, because she's pretty sure that was him criticizing her impeccable creativity. RIP, Cellar. ]

You definitely can't tell Great about that.
longlegs: n u (113)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-11 09:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Ah, mutual assured destruction. Though maybe Great doesn't deserve that much credit. ]

And you wanna call me something special because...?
longlegs: n (074)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-12-12 12:18 am (UTC)(link)
[ Oh, Saber. You know how to stroke a girl's ego. Cellar takes the cigarette, keeps her eyes on him through the inhale, opening the window to exhale. Doubtful he gives a shit about getting the smell stuck in this car, considering, but hey. Call it a force of habit. ]

Shouldn't you be saying that to Ash?

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