Thief King Bakura (AU) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shegypt) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
voidtreckerexpress2021-06-22 07:50 pm
shegypt) wrote in voidtreckerexpress2021-06-22 07:50 pm
Entry tags:
be my mirror my sword and shield
Who: Thief King Bakura OR Atem & you!
Where: Throughout the train (Bakura); gym car (Atem)
When: Llama 27
What: Bakura slacked off on getting her crystals made into a pendant….and then lost a Shadow Game to Atem. Hope you aren’t all too tired of illusions cuz she’s stuck in one now.
Warnings: MIND CRUSH.
[ Bakura ]
Bakura walks through a tomb.
Oddly enough, the surroundings comfort her - it's right that she should be here, in the catacombs no man should dare to tread, hand grazing the spells and images marked on the walls, unconsciously pausing, grabbing a rock, scratching out the pieces she needs to proceed without being cursed. Even when she encounters more physical traps - a deadly pitfall, a cluster of undead soldiers - her body takes her through the motions of dodging. This is where she belongs. This is right.
Except it's also so very wrong.
The thought of treasure, as always, spurs her onward - the thought of taking, taking, her hunger raging inside her yet battering against the walls of a hollowed-out hole. There had been something in here, once, in her heart. Something that had rooted around, burrowed deeper than any gravebuilder. Now she's left with empty passageways, a vacuum that abhors itself. She's seeking. The prize that will fill her up, that will glue her cracks, is in here - but where?
Not there....not there, either.....what is it........what did someone take from her....?
And what's she supposed to....feel.......when someone takes from her....?
Aimless, Bakura wanders the silent, still hallways of her mind. In the physical realm, her drive to pursue has lurched her body into motion - but she's stumbling, she has to lean on the walls of the train. Or she's taken a break, lying flat on her back anywhere that will fit her (a table in the gaming car, the....hallway....), slumping in corners, always with her head bowed and her eyes unfocused.
She looks like she's trying to focus, though. Like there's something on the tip of her tongue - but it keeps slipping through her fingers, like sand.
Falling through the gaps where the sun has burned her rot away.
[ Atem ]
Returning to reality, Atem observed the thief for a moment or two just to ensure they weren’t in any immediate danger (to themself, mostly). He took a few steps up to relieve her of that weapon and, calm as ever, exited the car. Silence guided his footsteps down through the various carriages. Controlled deep breaths all the way to the gym.
And he remained controlled, almost too controlled the entire time. His movements were swift; they carried purpose and intention. Focus. Smoothly walking up to a rack and wrapping his fingers around one of the dulled practice swords, he moved over toward the dummies and brought that blade swiftly to its neck. It took a disappointingly miniscule amount of effort even with such a dull blade.
He watched as the head rolled, and something about how easy it was just made him snap. The Pharaoh let out a scream -- the kind you let out at 3am when one too many things have gone wrong and that last thing was the end of the road; the kind you find yourself smashing plates and slamming doors and throwing everything in sight and for one cataclysmic moment there’s not a breath of control in sight. All that’s left is anger, a soul wrenching type that radiated off him in waves. Thick, and heavy, and damn near enough to almost knock someone over.
The kind that brings that blade right through its target. Skewers it straight through the heart or at least where the heart would be. His jaw tight, his entire body tight as he curled idle fingers around the shoulder. A grip so tight on the sword’s hilt that he could almost feel it dig into his skin. Labored breaths desperate to reel it all back in, reel back in that fire, that rage, and shuttered.
He’s okay. Just breathe. Slow, yes. Breathe. He loosened his fingers from shoulder and sword. He’s okay.
Where: Throughout the train (Bakura); gym car (Atem)
When: Llama 27
What: Bakura slacked off on getting her crystals made into a pendant….and then lost a Shadow Game to Atem. Hope you aren’t all too tired of illusions cuz she’s stuck in one now.
Warnings: MIND CRUSH.
[ Bakura ]
Bakura walks through a tomb.
Oddly enough, the surroundings comfort her - it's right that she should be here, in the catacombs no man should dare to tread, hand grazing the spells and images marked on the walls, unconsciously pausing, grabbing a rock, scratching out the pieces she needs to proceed without being cursed. Even when she encounters more physical traps - a deadly pitfall, a cluster of undead soldiers - her body takes her through the motions of dodging. This is where she belongs. This is right.
Except it's also so very wrong.
The thought of treasure, as always, spurs her onward - the thought of taking, taking, her hunger raging inside her yet battering against the walls of a hollowed-out hole. There had been something in here, once, in her heart. Something that had rooted around, burrowed deeper than any gravebuilder. Now she's left with empty passageways, a vacuum that abhors itself. She's seeking. The prize that will fill her up, that will glue her cracks, is in here - but where?
Not there....not there, either.....what is it........what did someone take from her....?
And what's she supposed to....feel.......when someone takes from her....?
Aimless, Bakura wanders the silent, still hallways of her mind. In the physical realm, her drive to pursue has lurched her body into motion - but she's stumbling, she has to lean on the walls of the train. Or she's taken a break, lying flat on her back anywhere that will fit her (a table in the gaming car, the....hallway....), slumping in corners, always with her head bowed and her eyes unfocused.
She looks like she's trying to focus, though. Like there's something on the tip of her tongue - but it keeps slipping through her fingers, like sand.
Falling through the gaps where the sun has burned her rot away.
[ Atem ]
Returning to reality, Atem observed the thief for a moment or two just to ensure they weren’t in any immediate danger (to themself, mostly). He took a few steps up to relieve her of that weapon and, calm as ever, exited the car. Silence guided his footsteps down through the various carriages. Controlled deep breaths all the way to the gym.
And he remained controlled, almost too controlled the entire time. His movements were swift; they carried purpose and intention. Focus. Smoothly walking up to a rack and wrapping his fingers around one of the dulled practice swords, he moved over toward the dummies and brought that blade swiftly to its neck. It took a disappointingly miniscule amount of effort even with such a dull blade.
He watched as the head rolled, and something about how easy it was just made him snap. The Pharaoh let out a scream -- the kind you let out at 3am when one too many things have gone wrong and that last thing was the end of the road; the kind you find yourself smashing plates and slamming doors and throwing everything in sight and for one cataclysmic moment there’s not a breath of control in sight. All that’s left is anger, a soul wrenching type that radiated off him in waves. Thick, and heavy, and damn near enough to almost knock someone over.
The kind that brings that blade right through its target. Skewers it straight through the heart or at least where the heart would be. His jaw tight, his entire body tight as he curled idle fingers around the shoulder. A grip so tight on the sword’s hilt that he could almost feel it dig into his skin. Labored breaths desperate to reel it all back in, reel back in that fire, that rage, and shuttered.
He’s okay. Just breathe. Slow, yes. Breathe. He loosened his fingers from shoulder and sword. He’s okay.