[closed]

[vulpining]

Who: rider (bornofgods) & caster (vulpining)
What: meeting up for alliances
When: when the world is burning
Where: olympia housing district
Warning(s): just two extra fuckheads



[ Knowing the city streets would be advantageous at this point. With the amount of horrible, childish uprisings going on in Olympia, Caster has to be careful. By habit, she attempts to keep her identity concealed further, wearing a darkened cloak as she weaves through alleyways and avoiding the riots going on. It's not her business. She's defended a few people but ultimately, Caster finds it is bet to let humans be humans.

She has other business to attend to, after all.

It does take her a bit of time to navigate, so sorry Ozy, thems the breaks. He sees her finally, approaching with a half-lifted wave. ]

I hope I didn't leave you waiting too long! [ YOU DID. ] I had to zero in on your scent above the sulfur and sweat of the people. You should be lucky!

[ Foxes, man. ]

Comments

[vulpining]

[ Caster wastes no time clutching the keys tightly, a bit of conviction flowing through her body. Despite her hesitance, if he's so willing to welcome a home and allow her to do what she does best...? ]

I will not be your servant.

[ She does demand. ]

I will cook, clean, and provide a home worthy of company and praise — but I will never be underneath you. Is that clear..?!

[ It's not antagonistic, Caster with the fierceness of a fox ensures her words are biteful on purpose. She's not cornered, but she ensures there's a common ground between them. ]

I ask for your company and for you to respect my privacy. [ It's not... much? She could have asked for the master bedroom, asked for dinner dates or monetary compensation, but — there's some odd sweetness to her tone. ] That's... all.

[bornofgods]

[ Her response is given in a form of a defense, as Caster shields herself from a man who she is choosing to ally herself with, yet still has the potential of being her enemy. If she could gather who he really is, such potential for danger would likely be heightened through identity alone.

Ozymandias, for once, isn’t too concerned with his position. He will always be pharaoh, a being closer to the Egyptian Gods than to man, yet he knows he commands no kingdom and wields no discernable power on El Nysa. In order to change that, he would have to confront his reality. He may want a servant, but he cannot afford to pay them, and there has been no opportunity to have someone indebted to him.

He begins to walk towards where she stands, making his way past the gates and towards their new home. ]

Yes. We are simply lost souls, making our meager beginnings together with what little we have been given. [ Then, he halts in place, gazing down at her. ] As far as where we stand next to each other— I wonder about that. Whether you are worthy of being my equal or not has yet to be determined.

[ Judgment of his situation aside, he smiles down at her. He doesn’t think this will be too bad. If he dares say so himself, it will probably be fun. ]

Still, I shall afford you the respect and the honor that you demand. Magnanimity is not so far from my reach, after all!

[vulpining]

[ There's a vulnerability in the way she looks at him. Hesitance, but she longs for company. For someone to know what it's like. Her Master slumbers, allowing her to work her magic — she had no qualms with that, but... no, this was different here. Weeks had past and the knowledge she once more must wait for someone tears her apart.

She's an amazing force to be reckoned with, a divine spirit that was more human than the cruel armies that once killed her.

Caster follows him, though. Her eyes are noticeably attentive, narrowed as she focuses on her surroundings. ]

You're in no room to judge, don't get a big ego!

[ Sorry, even as she stands her ground... she sounds pouty over it. ]

Then it is decided. It may not be a contract, but we are bound by our word and reputation.

[ She spins, facing him directly now. Her attention, as flighty as it was, focuses solely on him. ]

A tour — if you'd be so kind. ♥ I must find out what I'm working with.

[bornofgods]

[ Ozymandias walks along the thin roads that separates the houses, regarding her with a cool gaze at her request that he doesn’t get a big ego. Even he knows the punchline to that joke, but a pharaoh must remain calm and composed, and so he doesn’t even snort at his own expense.

It doesn’t take the pair very long to find House 11. Respective to the number, the house is near the very front of the district. Other than the number, the dwelling appears indistinguishable from all the rest from the outside. ]

I know very little in regards to what lies on the other side of these walls.

[ He didn’t even take the time to take a tour to deem it suitable. What other choice does he have? ]

However, I am already aware that the conditions will be more than lacking. [ Warning aside, he inserts the key into the slot above the door handle. As he twists, Ozymandias notices signs of tampering— the sides of the door have been splintered, the handle loosened.

When he pushes the door open, they’re greeted to the sight of their new home, with some additional damage wrought. It seems as though this district hadn’t been entirely spared from the devastation of the rioting— the only problem was that this place had been empty, so all they could do was open empty cabinet drawers, slash up couch cushions, break the living room window, and paint vulgarities on whatever wall space the rioters could find. ]

[vulpining]

You haven't —

[ Oh my God, she stumbles forward dramatically, wincing at the admission. ]

You haven't even examined your home.. — our home?!

[ Ugh! She stands behind him, allowing him to lead the way. It's what he deserves, after all. She sighs heavily at the implication that it was lacking, but it's always a glass-half full type thing. Where he sees inadequacy, she sees potential.

As the door is open, she winces — the insides ...actually very much glass empty. He watches as she pushes past, looking over the main living room. She's somber, her hand trailing against the furniture to the collected dust and dirt. ]

These rooms — they're to bring people together. To share experiences and make memories. How could someone do this to someone else's property...?

[ She's sad, but — she narrows her gaze. ]

It seems the memories made will be the restoration of this home.

[bornofgods]

[ Allowing the door to fall shut behind them, tucking the keys somewhere within his recently purchased Olympian robes, Ozymandias walks off to the side and into the kitchen. In the small space, their voices and their bodies are never too far from one another. ]

Hmph. [ He shuts one of the drawers with a slight shove. ] The insolence of humans rarely fails to impress.

[ Continuing on the easiest task available to the pair, which is sorting out the kitchen and putting everything there in order, Ozymandias laughs softly. At what, it’s not quite clear, but the noise is humorless. He is angry, with no one specifically to direct his rage to, and so he attempts to accomplish this yearning through wistful refrains. ]

One day, they shall be made aware that they tread on the territory of a God. I look forward to when their regret overwhelms their hearts and bends their mind into willful obedience.

slides this over before bed

[vulpining]

[ It was... a bit depressing. She imagines what the previous owners would have done here. How they could have raised a family, treasured their loved one, or worked on a craft that filled their life with joy.

No. Now, it's something else entirely. ]

Oh hush, you!

[ Sorry, she's taking away his thunder. ]

Have you no noble gain to power? No long-winded story of going from street urchin to royalty? Ooooh! ♥ Or saving a fair maiden to become her dutiful husband? People start with nothing — this ... this is merely another chapter of a story, you see.

slides this over in the morning

[bornofgods]

[ Finishing the first task among many in the art of tidying up, Ozymandias openly scoffs. ]

I have never dreamt of such things. My place is on a throne, ensuring the glory of my reign and the salvation of humanity.

[ The air of mystery… clearly is not his. He stops in front of a stove, a throughly foreign machine. His hands run over the dials, before he twists one to the right. It’s not immediately clear as to what he has just accomplished, and so. He waits. ]

But, that is just me. I am aware of the dreams others care to possess. Such as yours, my companion.

[vulpining]

The only throne here is a small lounge chair — surely, you'll find comfort in that as opposed to nothing at all.

[ It's humble, but he can see her purposefully dust it off, even using her tail to quicken the task. It wasn't much, but it was one of the cleaner things in the home. ]

So, hold on one moment — do you not see the challenge in the hunt in front of us?

[ She leaves it a true question, one to lure him into her next words. ]

[bornofgods]

[ Heat flares up, and gaining a newfound understanding of the stove top, Ozymandias turns the knob back where it began. He exits the kitchen, crossing the threshold into the living area. ]

Naturally. [ He readily admits. ] That is why I invited you to live with me.

[vulpining]

You're inviting a predator into your home, you know.

[ She clarifies, because at the root of it, that's what she is. Animalistic with wants, needs, and wishes out of grasp. Her beloved slumbers and instead she prides herself on domestication. A wild fox tamed, is it truly a fox then? ]

It... will be a struggle. I'm loud. I have bits of jealousy. But! But, but! It's all good-natured. Don't let my alignment confuse you... [ PINKY PROMISE. ] This task is one I hold close to my heart, it gives me purpose.



...


So thank you!

[bornofgods]

[ At first, a restrained and unfaltering silence is Ozymandias’ only response to her warning. It is unclear, what exactly he thinks of the oxymoron that he shall someday unearth between this natural, depraved savagery and her goal of domestication. The quiet is (perhaps) punctuated by the sounds of Caster fulfilling her calling. It is one not so difficult to find in a woman, after all.

His cool, detached gaze finally gives way to warmth. Unable to withhold his laughter, Ozymandias loudly caves to impulse. Closed lips part, and a snicker escapes. ]

Haha. That’s the spirit.

[ There is nothing obvious about what exactly is the source of his current humor. The answer to that would be everything, but especially this: the fact that he is being framed as the prey, being benevolently cared after by his predator.

He elaborates on none of that. Instead, he walks the gap between them in order to—

Vigorously pat her head with the palm of his hand. ]