@_superstar_: "Yeah, great." Amelia checked her watch, then held a hand to her head. The lightheadedness had already started to kick in. If she didn't get away from this nut soon, she was gonna miss her feeding time. She'd already missed it once, and synthetic blood only held her out for so long. "Are we done here? I really need to get going. Like.. now."
@amelia_: And, here comes Star's greatest trait. The flaw in his life. With a suave smirk and a chuckle, crossed arms, he looked to Amelia. "Well why not grab a drink? I mean it's been fun already, what's the harm in to fighters of evil just kicking back and relaxing?" Star watched the would be victim run past the two and down the street, screaming. "Well you're welcome! Jeez, people right?"
@amelia_: "What th-!?...Oh..OH!...Ohhh..." Star scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "Sorry hey? You're just pretty damn cute and-Oh jeez!" He dashed on over and caught her, offering his help by slinging her arm over his shoulder for support. "Please don't tel me you are a diabetic and fighting crime..I mean that's just a bad combo lady!" Star tried to make the situation a bit brighter while helping her sit down on a bench.
"What can I do? Waddya need?"
@amelia_: "Wellll then you don't know Rudy..Er..Superstar.." He smiled at the stranger he only met ten minutes ago, the very same person he just slayed a member of the living dead with. Rudy was the kind of person to never let a woman out of sight until she is safe, or in better hands than himself. "Sorry but not until I know you'll be alright?" He whistled for a cab, just barely catching it pulling up beside them.
@amelia_: "Hey! And fine!" Rudy was too much in a rush to be offended, hopping into the cab after Amelia. He raised up his blue shades and gave a bit of a smirk. "Never caught your name, and I'm guessing I'm not going to get one? Unless you wanna surprise me by giving your na-I'll just stop." He sighed and looked out the cab window.
@_superstar_: "Mel. Not my full name, but it'll do." The cab pulled up to an alleyway and she practically bolted out, yelling for him to wait out of sight. Grabbing something from a trash can, she ducked around a corner. The something in question had been a blood bag, and she tore it open just in time to sate her hunger. After a solid minute of gulping it down, she wiped her mouth off and tossed the bag away. Crisis averted.
@amelia_: "So..Need to throw up? Or..?" Rudy smiled and joked of course, leaning on the wall of the alley as instructed. "I like you, your're different..Shame you aren't playing for the other team or I woulda taken you out for at least a good dinner!" The blue clad hero laughed a bit and stuck out his tongue, offering his arm to be linked, in a friends only way of course.
"I at least owe you a drink, for putting up with me."
@amelia_: He knew somewhere that it wasn't going to happen, but it was Rudy. Walking along with her with hands in his blue blazer. "Sort of my second super power, I mean not really. Just got a good sense for bars, ah! See? One on every corner in the city of angels." He pointed to the bar right next to them, and before they knew it, was sitting in a booth inside.
After he ordered a Jagerbull, Rudy looked to Amelia. "So, Mel. Got anything to say?"
@amelia_: "Sooo..You usually fight agents of evil while having the flu? I don't buy it Mel, but I'm not one to pry at people's business..Too much.." Rudy smiled just before downing the Jagerbull. The horrid concoction of caffeine and alcohol had him slamming on the table once and shaking his head. "Ahhhhh!..That's gross."
@amelia_: Rudy looked down with a sigh, for he has heard that tone before. Sometimes it was just a girl he was trying to get with, but Amelia for obvious reasons wasn't a part of that. All in all, he was just trying to be friendly. "Right..Well I'll just pay for your...Water...And be on my way then, sorry I messed up your lay night." He cracked a half smile while feeling like an idiot, putting a ten on the table along with his contact card.
"Seeya round then."
@_superstar_: "Later." She mumbled. As soon as he was gone, she breathed out a sigh of relief. It'd been a stroke of luck that he'd stayed out of the alley earlier. She'd dodged a bullet when he decided not to press her. The last thing she needed was a fight with a hero.
Ring. Ring. Ring. The tone of the phone was almost soothing to the Gothic Knight as he waited. Waited for Abigail Aensland to finally pick up and hear his friend for the first time in at least three months. Kurt had all but vanished from the world, having first departed for the Ronin's Rest, and then having been contact by Santiago Porthos, apparently, Santiago and Kurt were now heroic partners. Apparently. She picked up. "Abby!" His words were one of the most sincere sounds of true happiness. It was as though all worry and hardness from his life had evaporated overnight.
How false that was. All in the world were unaware of the spiral of depression the Pendragon had slowly but surely slipped into over the last few months. Words which Charlemagne had whispered into his ears so many months ago flew around in his head like a raging storm. Memories of his pain when Abby had rejected his affection. Memories of losing his arm. But worst of all, losing Gothic to the Arcani. That had triggered it. That had triggered the Paragon of Imperfection's colossal slip from heroism to mental desolation. But his voice sounded happy. Strangely enough. "I I want you...You to come and visit, you free?" He sounded erratic, like he was drugged. Mentally high, probably. "You know where I am, it's the old apartment building in Los Angeles, the one we used before heading off to Venezue---anyways!" His sporadic shift in behavior was evident. "See ya soon!" Hanging up, the Defunct Knight smashed the phone down, skipping off and going to ready his things, or whatever he thought he was doing.
"God, Kurt, what is it this time?" Abigail had never been short on things that needed doing, even more so with the compounding of Ambrose atop her other, self-appointed responsibilities. But she recognized that it had been a while, and he sounded like he could use the company. Or a complete shape-up. The latest phone call didn't mark the first time he sounded so troubled. This time sounded much worse than the others.
Abby ascended the stairs and buzzed to let him know of her arrival, anxious for the both of them. Although she hoped a friendly face would wash away whatever he was apparently dealing with, he was clearly in deeper than any time previous, and she always held a significant fear that, through her interacting with him, Kurt would get his hopes for something more up again and set himself up for further disappointment.
It was true. Kurt was in far deeper than ever before, his old plights and misfortunes having persistently mounted upon his fragile shoulders until the pressure collapsed the once solemn Gothic Knight. He was a shadow of his former self. Destined for greatness; now this. Bubbling, wearing dark jeans and a blue, male dressing gown, the once revered Guardian of Gothic pounced towards his doorway the moment Abigail buzzed the door, energetically letting her in before bounding away to the kitchen without a word, she could see into the kitchen, for the door was ajar and nearly falling off of the golden hinges, having been broken in a little scuffle last week.
His once again scarred palm slipped into an ash tray and withdrew a cigarette, taking an emotionally elevated puff before effusively laughing, his eyes befalling upon Abigail, his best friend. “Abby!” He was psychotic, every laugh accompanied by a flash of green lingering in his manic eyes for a fraction of a second, and then disappearing like it had never existed in the first place. “I've missed you, soooo much!” He went to hug her, but then suddenly backed away, dabbing the butt of the smoke into the tray before turning, and leaning upon the counter, folding his arms across of his strangely chiseled (and savagely scarred) chest, he was an athletic superhero after all. “How comes you never call, hmm?” He squint, giving her an almost bothered stare, still jovial.
Taken aback by the overly jovial manner with which he conducted himself physically, Abigail hesitated before setting foot inside Kurt's dingy abode. So far, it was nothing out of his usual nervous habits; the anxious energy evident over the phone always intensified when they met in person. The scenario was all too usual, and just as troublesome.
The smell of smoke battered her nostrils so much that Abby thought it better to remain outside. "I'm sorry, but I can't take that smell - the smoke," she spoke up, as politely as she could, though she couldn't help her face showing her aversion in full. "Do you mind if we talk outside?" As if the Los Angeles were much better.
Although the Gothic Knight was zestfully psychotic and mentally undone through countless mental setbacks, somewhere, deep down within his heart, his fondness for Abigail was still burning, bright and alive. Although, now obscured with self-loathing and an assortment of drugs, narcotics, and other substances which had driven the Paragon of Imperfection into his current, worn out, and painfully degenerated state.
It was this subtle affection for Abigail which caused even the cognitively irrational Pendragon to acknowledge her wishes, turning around and placing the cigarette bud into the ashtray with a senseless chuckle, mumbling to himself like a fool, before slipping off the dress robe with no care for Abigail's eyes seeing his horrifically lacerated torso, as he wondered over to his red jacket and threw it on.
Nodding, the Knight was out of the door with his former love interest before she'd had a chance to say another word. Quickly leaning upon the outside of his house, flicking a piece of dirt from his jacket, and staring into her still alluring eyes. He knew he'd fucked up. He knew she had every right to hate him. But he also knew she was not faultless. Friendship was dance; and she'd quit without an explanation.
Over three months without a call. Months with nobody but himself and the crime ridden Gothic. She was meant to be his partner in heroics. She was the one who was meant to watch his back. Where was she when Charles stole his powers? Where was she when he lost his arm? Where was she when Gothic Burned? Where was she when he needed her most. Turning his head, his irritation was evident within his eyes as he said no words, if Abigail had a shred of intelligence, she'd know why he was upset. She'd know he would have given his life for her again and again, he'd even given his powers to try and stop Charles harassing her.
She hadn't even bothering sending him a text. Not one.
@pyrogram: Woah woah woah woah! What's this about "former flame?" As I have come to look it up in the dictionaries, an old flame is someone with whom you shared a romantic relationship, not someone you were crushing on with some unrequited love.
He really is daft.
Where was she when Charles stole his powers? Where was she when he lost his arm? Where was she when Gothic Burned? Where was she when he needed her most. Turning his head, his irritation was evident within his eyes as he said no words, if Abigail had a shred of intelligence, she'd know why he was upset. She'd know he would have given his life for her again and again, he'd even given his powers to try and stop Charles harassing her.
This is wrong because she had no idea of any of these things happening (and she was in Gothic, but she was busy with other things). And, with regards to the arm, is there a faux-flesh cover or anything, or is it just a fake arm hanging out very clearly?
Also, Brainy was right, and Antonia would deride him so much if she knew his thoughts.
@arquitenens: Oh, also, it's not about her stopping those things really. It's about Kurt's perception of how much he (thinks) he does for her and tries to protect her even if she does not know about it, and feels hurt that she never reaches out to say hi, kind of thing. It's not really about the actual events per say. So it's not really wrong.