be my mirror my sword and shield

[shegypt]

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.

Comments

[controlsthedie]

"Heavy, huh? Is it because I'm walking?" Thanatos doesn't honestly believe that a fight will solve his problems, but it might provide him with a distraction. That'll have to be good enough. "I'm simply practicing fighting without my powers. There have been instances when our powers do not work at all."

That and Thanatos knows his powers have had absolutely no application in these missions. He has to act like someone other than himself.

[almukhtar]

"If we're speaking physically," he mused aloud, a short smile gracing his lips. No, this would balm very little but it may indeed distract. Potentially help work through some emotions attached to whatever they're going through. If nothing else, hopefully, provide some training. Keep them on their feet.

"Very well, then. I'll happily provide. When you're ready."

[controlsthedie]

Turning the training sword over in his hands, Thanatos tries a few experimental slices to get a better feel for how this sword will manage. Just enough. There's better.

It seems to be the story of his life. He can't even feel jealous, simply sad.

Thanatos checks that his shades are secure and adopts a fighting stance facing Atem. "Show me how a god of your land fights."

[almukhtar]

Oh, there are many ways in which the gods and men of their lands fight. They haven't quite the proper weaponry or people to display a true formation and display of battle but the hooking edges of this ax will provide just enough. For now.

"Allow me to build myself an army and you'll see how we really fight," he knows such a thing is unlikely here so its part in jest, but its telling enough. The way they fought was like a well-oiled machine. "But I'll make do."

He tests the waters first, assessing how Thanatos moves. Striking movements aimed more toward hooking on limbs, the backs of knees, the curve of necks, the edges and corners of a body. Though they're not meant to actually make contact. His true aim is to disarm the other God.

[controlsthedie]

"If you build an army, then you'll need to fight one of the two gods of war. Not me." Thanatos will never lead or direct an army. He's only helping the Red Team as a point of contact. No soldier would listen to Death and take orders. They want someone else.

Thanatos's moves are not as graceful as they should be for a god. He's still more used to flight, being weightless, shifting when needed. His skill is more drill and knowledge than actual practice. As such, he is predictable and direct.

An edge of recklessness will creep in the longer a bout goes, as if he hopes mimicking another's recklessness might aid him.

There are plenty of opportunities to disarm Thanatos. However, should he be restrained in any way, Atem will see a drastic change in Thanatos.

[almukhtar]

"I see, you are a peaceful death god?" He supposed that did make sense. Thanatos had about him a very calming demeanour. So this made his quest for battle all the more heavy. Something must really be weighing on his heart. He wishes to find out what. An unhappy death god is not good indeed.

For now, they spar. Atem notices the awkwardness in which Thanatos moves. Untrained in footwork. That's alright, he would not dishonour the God by not giving it his all. So he does keep the other on his toes, finally disarming Thanatos from his weapon and cornering the God.

"With a restless heart, I think. Would you like to try again?"

[controlsthedie]

"I am." Though his domain still extended to deaths that may not seem "peaceful" to people. It's just considered peaceful and gentle compared to dying violently at the hands of an enemy.

Thanatos watches the training blade fly out of his hand and spin across the floor from the momentum. His golden eyes remain on the fallen weapon. A frustrated sigh escapes his lips. He steps away from Atem and goes to retrieve the sword.

He doesn't answer Atem's question right away. He simply turning the blade over in his hands.

"Again," Thanatos finally decides, and he takes a fighting stance again.

[almukhtar]

He supposed peace meant different things in different cultures and different times. Many people in the future he had once awoken to no longer experienced the strife that they did within his own time. To die fighting for what you believed was an honor. Though they were not as warmongering as others could be. They protected them and theirs.

Atem waits patiently, lowering his weapon and loosening his stance. He wondered the best course of action here. They both were distressed for different reasons. Should he share a little of his in an encouragement? Should he remain silent and allow their bodies to release their frustrations? Perhaps both.

"Someone from my world is here. An enemy, dare I say nemesis. They've been responsible for countless deaths of my people, my confidants." A nod. "But on earth, the Uncle of this body I inhabit was responsible for creating this person's hatred. He ordered death upon their entire village. Can I blame their hatred for me?" He readies themselves. "And how do I reconcile this understanding and my own hatred?"

[controlsthedie]

Meanwhile in Thanatos's frozen and struggling world, people fought over the scarce resources available. Many died of hunger or cold or illness or from their injuries.

"That is difficult to say. Does your culture assign responsibility to the family or individual? Could you have done anything about your uncle?" It's difficult to say, but Thanatos does not consider himself responsible for the actions of his sisters or his brothers. He does not thinking highly of some of his siblings. They are also distant in relation and age. Some of them, Thanatos has never met.

He also has enough reason for people to hate him for himself; he doesn't need to add his siblings' actions to reflect his own. "Regardless, this question might be better asked to one more experienced with emotions and not someone used to being hated."

Because Thanatos is having a hard time with those, and gods, he doesn't like himself right now.

[almukhtar]

"The family. Especially the family of Kings. What is done in the name of the King is done by the King and all of their blood thereafter." A beat. "In the realm of man, at least."

It is not as much so in the world of the Gods, each having their own charge and responsibilities. Atem was a product of both. He could not simply wash his hands clean because he was a deity if he lived upon the earth as a human. Even if he weren't. And besides, such cowardice was not anything he'd stand by.

"Are you troubled with that?" He tilts his head and nodding, strikes. Slow, paced out enough they can speak while matching blows. "I can feel darkness. Sometimes this means evil but sometimes it means hurt, or pain, or anger or fear -- or just the way someone is composed. It is what I meant when I said you felt heavy."

[controlsthedie]

That put Atem above a number of Olympians who do wash their hands clean of their actions' aftermath. So, the fact that Atem is worried about the matter is somewhat impressive. Being of god and man, living within both worlds, sounds completely frustrating, however.

"Troubled by you wanting to be not hated? No." Thanatos trades those blows, careful to not let his focus slip too much and end up losing his weapon again. "I'm just not the person to ask advice on the matter."

Is Thanatos missing the point or purposely dodging the question? Yes.

"And I believe I have told you before that I am made of darkness. That should not be surprising."

[almukhtar]

"Consider it an opening of dialogue," he insists, quite sure that Thanatos knows this already; he's done similar evasive maneuvers. In many ways, Atem knew well what he needed to do. The red tape, as it were, of politics made this a little more difficult, but still. He's made decisions unpopular with the council before.

"Indeed," the ax hooks itself upon that blade once more. Straining tension, locking them into something of a stalemate if only temporarily. "And I know many who walk the same path; are made of the same. Misery and heavy hearts are not mandatory for such a life."

His head tilts and a brow raises. How would you like to go forward, Thanatos? Atem's purposefully open.

[controlsthedie]

Instead of trying to struggle against the locked blade, Thanatos vanishes from his spot and reappears near the wall. He rests the training sword against it.

"You're just like the others lecturing about things you don't understand," Thanatos mutters. How many times has he heard this? How many times will people insist that he has to make a change? How many times does he have to reflect upon how he's powerless to even suggest change, how he won't be so selfish to hold the deaths of mortals hostage, and how he's trapped in something he now accepts as miserable?

A god can only take hearing this again and again before everyone makes him feel like he's pointlessly pushing a boulder up a hill, never to reach the top before it comes crashing down.

"Excuse me." And that's the only warning Atem has before Thanatos completely shifts away from the gym. He chooses not to go forward at all. Why bother hearing the same trite accusations?