[Those are a lot of words, more from Colin than from Sans, and after a certain point, Sanji's gaze drifts boredly behind the taller one. He's only half-paying attention because if it wasn't clear, Sanji isn't a man who tolerates men handing down lectures.
Colin's a spacer? Whatever the fuck that is. Don't care.
No one's asked Ozuma questions? Shithead, why do you think he's here.
Ozuma's no god, huh? Then get on spreading a better network of valid information, it's not Sanji's fault half the inhabitants in this castle all refer to him as such.
The list keeps on rolling, until a certain point when Sanji takes his own step forward - slightly to the side as if to circumvent Colin and Sans completely, and walk away from a fruitless conversation. The five minutes aren't up, but he's tired. He's done. This is exactly why he doesn't rub elbows with shitty pawns.
There's only one reason he stops. A pebble among many stones that never found their mark. The chef pauses on his heel, head slightly bowed, and gives the hand held out by Colin an arched brow. His expression masks into low key exasperation]
... I already told you shits I promised Maka-chan I'd behave. [And while Sanji knows that's not really a statement any stranger should hang their hat on...] I'm here for are answers, not a fist fight. [For all his fervor, Sanji needs to survive. He needs to keep his friends safe and that won't happen if he dies off planet. And he's got an aversion to kicking people when they're desperate. That's how you make a monster.
He points his index and middle finger at them] Your five minutes are nearly up. Anything else?
[ There's a moment during which Sans's sockets are blank pits of shadow, sometime while Colin is speaking and Sanji begins to move.
He thinks about conversations in the stillness of the Altar Room, with the memory of coming to inside one of those many stone sarcophagi still a fresh one scraping at the back of his skull. Requests made and answers given.
Gods. He doesn't believe any exist.
After closing his eye sockets for a moment his lights are back again, bright pin pricks tracking Sanji with the permanent fixture of his grin. ]
He's a spirit. And if that means nothin' to you, fuhgeddaboudit.
[ There's a pause.
Sans looks like he has something more to say, but this time, he shrugs. ]
Thanks for the summation, I talk too much sometimes.
[He looks back to Sanji then.]
I'm not asking you to behave, double redundancy ain't necessary here. I'm asking you to take it easy on him.
IF we need to take out our frustrations on him for any reason, I'd rather it be when he's done something to deserve it.
Besides, the guy's doing all he can to make our stay here... tolerable. Look at it from another perspective, try to see what makes this place work and what it needs.
Well, they're bound for disappointment. The truth is Sanji doesn't care enough about Ozuma's perspective - he does not care - and literally can't until he talks to the guy himself. He's open to presenting chances; he's not open to smiling and walking away like this talk with Sans and Colin has satisfied him. In his eyes, they're largely useless as bodyguards.
Which is a bit odd, considering they speak as if the end of the world is knocking on the door.]
You do talk too much.
[He is not looking at Colin when he speaks (probably because he stopped paying attention halfway through again), he's looking at the skeleton who seems to have some extra words on his soul.]
Something I don't get. If keeping our host stress-free is so important, are you two really who Ozuma drummed up for guard duty?
[ Sans pulls his left hand from his pocket and makes a show of scratching his temple with the tip of one phalanx. ]
Guard duty? Heh. Nah.
Only thing Ozuma's asked us to do is the same he's asked everyone else. Colin here? He solves problems.
[ They haven't known each other long and, quite frankly, Sans isn't the type to go expecting respect, but neither is he feeling much to swallowing disrespect without showing the line.
He doesn't know much about pirates, not much more than what he's read in old, mildewy, tattered novels like Treasure Island plucked from the subterranean junkyard. Figures manners aren't something to expect. But he's getting a little annoyed, and maybe there's a little edge in his voice that wasn't there before, beneath the lazy drone. ]
Problems a lot bigger than a high-strung pirate with a hair across his tailbone.
...But, y'know. Theoretically speaking, if I thought you were gonna pose a threat, to him or to Ozzy, or to our chances of getting home..?
[It truly is a shame, Colin, because normally Sanji would've bowed to common sense after that nakama-stirring speech. It's the type of shit Sanji's heard a million times before.
But Sans has won the race today. He doesn't know much about pirates? Shame, he certainly knows how to speak to one. Sanji very slowly lifts his head, revealing a pleasant smile.]
Maaah, now isn't that a coincidence. [With a very casual flick, he sends his nearly-done cigarette directly at Sans' face.]
[ As Sans ducks beneath the arc of the flicked cigarette, tucking himself into his hoodie as he shuffles forward one step and, on the second, straightens up again, he tosses a comment sidelong at Colin.
This comes with a shrug, eye sockets seeming to close, but not fully. Keeping his eye lights on you, cook. ]
Yeah, yeah. Maybe you're right.
[ He snaps his fingers. There is no immediately apparent effect except for the absolute stillness. The particularly observant may note that the flames of torches housed in iron sconces around the Altar Room have frozen in place, eternally burning.
No interruptions allowed. ]
Geez... if all you wanted was to burn off a little steam, you coulda asked.
[ Observation Haki grants combat beasts like Sanji the kind of edge Colin's cybernetic eye can, just painting similar pictures with a unique palette and an entirely different brush. Where there's just Sans, a diminutive but stout skeleton in baggy clothing and ridiculous pink fuzzy slippers, delicate enough to get knocked over in a stiff wind, there's a shift.
He doesn't change much.
But there's some considerable magic reserves locked up in an unassuming package. ]
Last chance, Snailbrow. One more wrong move and you're REALLY not gonna like what happens next.
[Colin rolls his eyes. As Sans ducks, Colin simply reaches his hand out and catches the cigarette butt in his palm.]
Take it easy, Sans. We've said our piece.
The flotsam's just goading us now. There's no reason for us falling for it..
[And yet, what did he just say?]
He wants to make a fight out of a conversation, that's on him. Let's not make this any more difficult than it needs to be. Besides, what's the point in showing what we can do here?
[He snuffs the cigarette butt between two fingers, and gives it an under-handed toss back to Sanji.]
Quit trashing this place, by the way. The world doesn't more disinterested irresponsibility screwing with her.
[Sanji's one visible eye is a harsh, narrow slit when time stops without so much as a whisper. Yes, thank you, he fuckin noticed, and if he weren't so ready to dropkick Sans into the pavement, he'd at least take more than a handful of seconds to assess the extent of this kind of power. He's dealt with similar power sets on the Grand Line and beyond, and generally they don't spell out much fun for him.
The skeleton's aura hasn't changed, however; Sanji has yet to decide if that's good or bad.
However, if we're awarding points for the sickest burn of the evening, it's Colin who snatches up first place. Points for creativity, and Sanji allows himself a pause to breathe deeply through his nose while fire and brimstone slowly inches up a path along his right leg, stopping near the knee.]
My apologies.
[The remains of the cigarette, now on the floor, suddenly catch fire until it puffs into smoke. He takes a casual step forward]
And... is it getting hot in here, or is it just--ah.
One blazing leg. There's a kinda magic in that, too, judging from the palette he's most familiar with, but another shrug has rows of bones jutting up abruptly out of the stone and mortar floor, shining blue--
and harmless!
So long as you DON'T MOVE.
Easier said than done, when he's summoned them beneath Sanji's feet. ]
Besides, all three of us are already full of shit.
[He steps back from Sans, eyeing Sanji with a cocky grin. He's not reaching for a weapon yet, just giving Sans a bit of room to work his magic as it were.]
Not sure we should take you seriously though, there's a schoolyard taunt about pants on fire after all...
[For the record, Sanji's as opposed to blue bones erupting out of the ground and trying to smack him in the ass as he is to white ones. Yes, he moves, he sees no reason not to, and even when caught off-guard by the attack, he dodges the majority. Two catch him at his feet - little bastards hurt, too, but they're love taps compared to the shit Zoro puts him through daily.
The pirate hangs in the air looking mildly irritated, feet seemingly immobile unless either of the pair can pick out the speed at which his legs are moving. Colin goes ignored; unless he makes a move for his weapon, he's little better than a gnat. Sanji's got his eyes and his senses locked on only aura for now. If he's messing with someone who can manipulate time...
Right, right. Let's get this shit over with.
Gravity gains control in the brief moment Sanji relaxes his muscles; his head and chest fall first until he's parallel with the ground, and that's when he surges forward with a powerful kick off the air. Leg still on fire, he comes down like a comet at the skeleton.]
Sounds about right. They do very little damage. Minimal, really.
Sanji, do you feel your sins crawling on your back?
It's the... lingering, leaden ache that should be more concerning, the weight of KARMIC RETRIBUTION sipping away at his strength. How much it burns like bright acid through him is up to a judge of greater authority than Sans, but he doesn't expect a pirate to be particularly beholden to the laws of morality.
Sanji is a lot faster than Sans anticipated, kicking off of thin air to bear down on him like a meteorite.
He can dodge, but the reach of that heat is long--
c l i c k
--in the span of camera shutter (and much the same disorienting experience, like a second's gone missing) there's only the floor to meet Sanji's attack, and the skeleton standing on the other end of the corridor, hands in his pockets.
He whistles through his teeth. ]
Quick, aintcha.
[ Sans will need a way to slow him down.
White bones emerge in rows, stacking, building vectors and curves that leave an ever-narrowing corridor with sharp turns and twists. You wanna fly, cook? How good are you at an obstacle course? ]
[Colin's just standing back, watching the bones, and watching Sanji. He's a little more tense now, active and prepared to move if he needs to, but he's letting Sans handle this for now.]
You got this, Sans? Not feeling the heat yet?
[He's got full confidence in his friend's abilities... and when his friend needs him, he's got full confidence in his own too.]
Sanji's a fire hazard always waiting to be set off, but he's no new school grad, either. If he'd managed a hit, that would've been such an unsatisfying way to end of the game. He's a busy guy. Wasting time never ranks high on his list of priorities. Doesn't matter what the other two consider to be the stakes of this fight, either; Sanji is playing by his own sets of rules, and his face lights up with a smirk as hot as his fire. At least there's one question definitively answered.
The obstacle course?
Well.
That's a little more like it. Sanji only touches ground for a breath of a second (harder than he meant to, not sure why his legs feel heavy), to pivot and angle himself with Sans back in his line of sight. Still got a lock on that aura, and the pirate favors himself as slyer in the skies than he is on land. He's not that worried about this graveyard of bones meant to block his way. What is a concern is that he can't hit Sans, not like this. He'll have to get creative.]
Poêle à Frire: Spectre--
[It's meant to be close-range attack, a finisher for many opponents. That makes this an egregious use of power for one enemy, but Sans has been pegged as a Devil Fruit entity. That's a far higher compliment than the pirate will ever admit. Besides, Sanji isn't interested in hitting Sans at close-range. He's still high in the air, having cleared the first of many bones, and that he briefly stops means that he will pay for it by getting smacked by a few more.
No, there's only one perk he's after, and those are the fireballs that spring from his fire-encased leg. They avoid Colin entirely, as well as anything that looks flammable. Sans? He's is a different matter. Two come directly for him, but five begin to fan out to cover more area. Bastard can stop time all he wants, but he's gonna have to find a very tight corner if he wants to avoid getting hit at all.]
Sans shuffles back a half-step, gauging the distance, the path of the two fireballs flung in his direction as he fires back a verbal volley of his own. It isn't worth dodging, there's nowhere to go. He gives up, but not without his irreverent humor.
"Goodness, gracious. Great balls of fi--"
The first fireball skims his sleeve, but the second one crashes into his perpetual grin. He collapses into a heap of dust--
Sans shuffles back a half-step, gauging the distance, the path of the two fireballs flung in his direction with his grin set. He ducks and throws himself to the left as cyan and yellow fire blooms in his left eye socket, streaming like a blue ribbon as he weaves around the third fireball flung where he still had room to run.
He sees the other one hurtling for the place he'd move next to avoid the fiery splash damage, wastes a precious second dismissing the cluster of bones taking up too much room. His coat catches fire--
What's that look for? Relax! Just kidding with you.
One swing of his left hand sends a cluster of bones flying up from the floor where they were rooted.
Sans shuffles back a half-step, gauging the distance, the path of the two fireballs flung in his direction with his grin set. He ducks and throws himself to the left as cyan and yellow fire blooms in his left eye socket, streaming like a blue ribbon as he weaves around the third fireball flung where he still had room to run.
He sees the other one hurtling for the place he'd move next to avoid the fiery splash damage, but nothing stands between him and where he can dodge. Sans pauses there to check on Colin, doesn't see the other fireball he missed.
The one that does, Sans has faith enough that he doesn't check on Colin, doesn't miss the fireball, but when he holds up his left hand and sweeps up in a wave rows upon rows of bones from the floor, they spin high above him like a pinwheel. They scatter the last fireball. He feels the heat but not the flames.
Blue magic seeks out Sanji's SOUL, tries to bind itself to it, to sink its oppressive weight on him, but to hold, not to stick him to the floor like a butterfly. Sans seems to stroll forward casually, gives an almost negligent sweep of his left arm and then a force might just slap into Sanji like a truck.
It'll seek to throw him bodily into one of the Sarcophagi, the large, jug-like stone constructs flanking the walls.
[Sanji doesn't sit quiet while Sans seems to flirt in and out of space; there are still bones jutted in the air, and he finishes the rest of the course before glancing down to see how the shit's doing.
... Remarkably well. Of course he is. Strolling forward with a hand suddenly lift in the air, like he's ready to catch butterflies. Tch. Sanji doesn't hide the twist of annoyance on his face. He'd hoped for at least one solid hit, jeez, what does it take to bring this skeleton down--
It's immediate how Sanji's expression warps into startled horror, even as his SOUL squirms and panics and lights with fire, flickering between red and blue. Pirates are never good at listening to rules they don't like -- but eventually his will bows to the alien magic, with a sudden tug that knocks him right out of the air (shit shit shit), rocketing him into the Sarcophagi. There's an explosion of dust and debris, the construct cracked in half from the impact. Goodness, Sans, if Sanji were a lesser man
[Five seconds of silence. More quiet than the Altar has seen since this argument started. What a reprieve, and maybe Sanji's anger has been sated, he's learned his lesson not to mess with the stout little skeleton, it's time to stay on the ground like a good bo--
Oh. Hahahahaa.
Just kidding.
The heaviest piece of the Sarcophagi goes flying vertically, then breaks into small missiles from the force of whatever kicked it. There's a man standing at the center. Head bent, blood dripping against his cheek from the head wound. Karmic Retribution is such a bitch, and even if Sans hadn't taken to dragging the pirate down with gravity, Sanji would've come down eventually.
But that's fine. What a party they're having in here. Since Sans is cooking, Sanji would be a terrible guest to fall asleep during the best part.]
Oi. Don't be modest, Sans.
[Grinning at the skeleton. Human's gone, pal. You kicked out the devil. What, you've never fought a pirate before? Next time why don't you aim for the throat, you shitty excuse for a--]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Colin's a spacer? Whatever the fuck that is. Don't care.
No one's asked Ozuma questions? Shithead, why do you think he's here.
Ozuma's no god, huh? Then get on spreading a better network of valid information, it's not Sanji's fault half the inhabitants in this castle all refer to him as such.
The list keeps on rolling, until a certain point when Sanji takes his own step forward - slightly to the side as if to circumvent Colin and Sans completely, and walk away from a fruitless conversation. The five minutes aren't up, but he's tired. He's done. This is exactly why he doesn't rub elbows with shitty pawns.
There's only one reason he stops. A pebble among many stones that never found their mark. The chef pauses on his heel, head slightly bowed, and gives the hand held out by Colin an arched brow. His expression masks into low key exasperation]
... I already told you shits I promised Maka-chan I'd behave. [And while Sanji knows that's not really a statement any stranger should hang their hat on...] I'm here for are answers, not a fist fight. [For all his fervor, Sanji needs to survive. He needs to keep his friends safe and that won't happen if he dies off planet. And he's got an aversion to kicking people when they're desperate. That's how you make a monster.
He points his index and middle finger at them] Your five minutes are nearly up. Anything else?
no subject
He thinks about conversations in the stillness of the Altar Room, with the memory of coming to inside one of those many stone sarcophagi still a fresh one scraping at the back of his skull. Requests made and answers given.
Gods. He doesn't believe any exist.
After closing his eye sockets for a moment his lights are back again, bright pin pricks tracking Sanji with the permanent fixture of his grin. ]
He's a spirit. And if that means nothin' to you, fuhgeddaboudit.
[ There's a pause.
Sans looks like he has something more to say, but this time, he shrugs. ]
Nah, I pass. Colin?
no subject
Thanks for the summation, I talk too much sometimes.
[He looks back to Sanji then.]
I'm not asking you to behave, double redundancy ain't necessary here. I'm asking you to take it easy on him.
IF we need to take out our frustrations on him for any reason, I'd rather it be when he's done something to deserve it.
Besides, the guy's doing all he can to make our stay here... tolerable. Look at it from another perspective, try to see what makes this place work and what it needs.
That's all I'm asking of you.
no subject
Well, they're bound for disappointment. The truth is Sanji doesn't care enough about Ozuma's perspective - he does not care - and literally can't until he talks to the guy himself. He's open to presenting chances; he's not open to smiling and walking away like this talk with Sans and Colin has satisfied him. In his eyes, they're largely useless as bodyguards.
Which is a bit odd, considering they speak as if the end of the world is knocking on the door.]
You do talk too much.
[He is not looking at Colin when he speaks (probably because he stopped paying attention halfway through again), he's looking at the skeleton who seems to have some extra words on his soul.]
Something I don't get. If keeping our host stress-free is so important, are you two really who Ozuma drummed up for guard duty?
1/2
[ Sans pulls his left hand from his pocket and makes a show of scratching his temple with the tip of one phalanx. ]
Guard duty? Heh. Nah.
Only thing Ozuma's asked us to do is the same he's asked everyone else. Colin here? He solves problems.
[ They haven't known each other long and, quite frankly, Sans isn't the type to go expecting respect, but neither is he feeling much to swallowing disrespect without showing the line.
He doesn't know much about pirates, not much more than what he's read in old, mildewy, tattered novels like Treasure Island plucked from the subterranean junkyard. Figures manners aren't something to expect. But he's getting a little annoyed, and maybe there's a little edge in his voice that wasn't there before, beneath the lazy drone. ]
Problems a lot bigger than a high-strung pirate with a hair across his tailbone.
...But, y'know. Theoretically speaking, if I thought you were gonna pose a threat, to him or to Ozzy, or to our chances of getting home..?
Buddy.
You'd be dead where you stand.
2/2
[ Hands up! He's just kidding you, pal. Think this lazy pile of bones could make good on that, just now?
Don't put your foot through his skull, ok.]You're not, so we got nothin' to worry about!
no subject
Sans, bro, that is not how we deescalate a situation.
[He turns and walks back over to Sans, then executes a CRISP military about-face so he's looking at Sanji again.]
Ozuma didn't choose us. Ozuma doesn't even know we're here doing this. I have to wonder if he even cares about his own well-being...
But... We care about the people here. EVERYONE here. Including Ozuma. Including YOU.
no subject
But Sans has won the race today. He doesn't know much about pirates? Shame, he certainly knows how to speak to one. Sanji very slowly lifts his head, revealing a pleasant smile.]
Maaah, now isn't that a coincidence. [With a very casual flick, he sends his nearly-done cigarette directly at Sans' face.]
I suddenly feel like being a threat today.
1/2
This comes with a shrug, eye sockets seeming to close, but not fully. Keeping his eye lights on you, cook. ]
Yeah, yeah. Maybe you're right.
[ He snaps his fingers. There is no immediately apparent effect except for the absolute stillness. The particularly observant may note that the flames of torches housed in iron sconces around the Altar Room have frozen in place, eternally burning.
No interruptions allowed. ]
Geez... if all you wanted was to burn off a little steam, you coulda asked.
2/2
He doesn't change much.
But there's some considerable magic reserves locked up in an unassuming package. ]
Last chance, Snailbrow. One more wrong move and you're REALLY not gonna like what happens next.
no subject
Take it easy, Sans. We've said our piece.
The flotsam's just goading us now. There's no reason for us falling for it..
[And yet, what did he just say?]
He wants to make a fight out of a conversation, that's on him. Let's not make this any more difficult than it needs to be. Besides, what's the point in showing what we can do here?
[He snuffs the cigarette butt between two fingers, and gives it an under-handed toss back to Sanji.]
Quit trashing this place, by the way. The world doesn't more disinterested irresponsibility screwing with her.
no subject
The skeleton's aura hasn't changed, however; Sanji has yet to decide if that's good or bad.
However, if we're awarding points for the sickest burn of the evening, it's Colin who snatches up first place. Points for creativity, and Sanji allows himself a pause to breathe deeply through his nose while fire and brimstone slowly inches up a path along his right leg, stopping near the knee.]
My apologies.
[The remains of the cigarette, now on the floor, suddenly catch fire until it puffs into smoke. He takes a casual step forward]
Now why don't you both go eat shit and die.
no subject
[ Kinda loves you for that one, pal.
And... is it getting hot in here, or is it just--ah.
One blazing leg. There's a kinda magic in that, too, judging from the palette he's most familiar with, but another shrug has rows of bones jutting up abruptly out of the stone and mortar floor, shining blue--
and harmless!
So long as you DON'T MOVE.
Easier said than done, when he's summoned them beneath Sanji's feet. ]
No thanks. Still full from the pie.
no subject
[He steps back from Sans, eyeing Sanji with a cocky grin. He's not reaching for a weapon yet, just giving Sans a bit of room to work his magic as it were.]
Not sure we should take you seriously though, there's a schoolyard taunt about pants on fire after all...
no subject
The pirate hangs in the air looking mildly irritated, feet seemingly immobile unless either of the pair can pick out the speed at which his legs are moving. Colin goes ignored; unless he makes a move for his weapon, he's little better than a gnat. Sanji's got his eyes and his senses locked on only aura for now. If he's messing with someone who can manipulate time...
Right, right. Let's get this shit over with.
Gravity gains control in the brief moment Sanji relaxes his muscles; his head and chest fall first until he's parallel with the ground, and that's when he surges forward with a powerful kick off the air. Leg still on fire, he comes down like a comet at the skeleton.]
no subject
Sounds about right. They do very little damage. Minimal, really.
Sanji, do you feel your sins crawling on your back?
It's the... lingering, leaden ache that should be more concerning, the weight of KARMIC RETRIBUTION sipping away at his strength. How much it burns like bright acid through him is up to a judge of greater authority than Sans, but he doesn't expect a pirate to be particularly beholden to the laws of morality.
Sanji is a lot faster than Sans anticipated, kicking off of thin air to bear down on him like a meteorite.
He can dodge, but the reach of that heat is long--
c l i c k
--in the span of camera shutter (and much the same disorienting experience, like a second's gone missing) there's only the floor to meet Sanji's attack, and the skeleton standing on the other end of the corridor, hands in his pockets.
He whistles through his teeth. ]
Quick, aintcha.
[ Sans will need a way to slow him down.
White bones emerge in rows, stacking, building vectors and curves that leave an ever-narrowing corridor with sharp turns and twists. You wanna fly, cook? How good are you at an obstacle course? ]
no subject
[Colin's just standing back, watching the bones, and watching Sanji. He's a little more tense now, active and prepared to move if he needs to, but he's letting Sans handle this for now.]
You got this, Sans? Not feeling the heat yet?
[He's got full confidence in his friend's abilities... and when his friend needs him, he's got full confidence in his own too.]
no subject
Sanji's a fire hazard always waiting to be set off, but he's no new school grad, either. If he'd managed a hit, that would've been such an unsatisfying way to end of the game. He's a busy guy. Wasting time never ranks high on his list of priorities. Doesn't matter what the other two consider to be the stakes of this fight, either; Sanji is playing by his own sets of rules, and his face lights up with a smirk as hot as his fire. At least there's one question definitively answered.
The obstacle course?
Well.
That's a little more like it. Sanji only touches ground for a breath of a second (harder than he meant to, not sure why his legs feel heavy), to pivot and angle himself with Sans back in his line of sight. Still got a lock on that aura, and the pirate favors himself as slyer in the skies than he is on land. He's not that worried about this graveyard of bones meant to block his way. What is a concern is that he can't hit Sans, not like this. He'll have to get creative.]
Poêle à Frire: Spectre--
[It's meant to be close-range attack, a finisher for many opponents. That makes this an egregious use of power for one enemy, but Sans has been pegged as a Devil Fruit entity. That's a far higher compliment than the pirate will ever admit. Besides, Sanji isn't interested in hitting Sans at close-range. He's still high in the air, having cleared the first of many bones, and that he briefly stops means that he will pay for it by getting smacked by a few more.
No, there's only one perk he's after, and those are the fireballs that spring from his fire-encased leg. They avoid Colin entirely, as well as anything that looks flammable. Sans? He's is a different matter. Two come directly for him, but five begin to fan out to cover more area. Bastard can stop time all he wants, but he's gonna have to find a very tight corner if he wants to avoid getting hit at all.]
1/5
"Goodness, gracious. Great balls of fi--"
The first fireball skims his sleeve, but the second one crashes into his perpetual grin. He collapses into a heap of dust--
What? That didn't happen?
2/5
He sees the other one hurtling for the place he'd move next to avoid the fiery splash damage, wastes a precious second dismissing the cluster of bones taking up too much room. His coat catches fire--
What's that look for? Relax! Just kidding with you.
3/5
Sans shuffles back a half-step, gauging the distance, the path of the two fireballs flung in his direction with his grin set. He ducks and throws himself to the left as cyan and yellow fire blooms in his left eye socket, streaming like a blue ribbon as he weaves around the third fireball flung where he still had room to run.
He sees the other one hurtling for the place he'd move next to avoid the fiery splash damage, but nothing stands between him and where he can dodge. Sans pauses there to check on Colin, doesn't see the other fireball he missed.
It doesn't.
...Huh? Are you sure that's not how it went?
Well, ok. If you insist.
4/5
Sorry, Sans-es. Guess you couldn't make the cut.
The one that does, Sans has faith enough that he doesn't check on Colin, doesn't miss the fireball, but when he holds up his left hand and sweeps up in a wave rows upon rows of bones from the floor, they spin high above him like a pinwheel. They scatter the last fireball. He feels the heat but not the flames.
Smells like burnt dust and sizzling magic.
5/5 gomen thank you for indulging me
Blue magic seeks out Sanji's SOUL, tries to bind itself to it, to sink its oppressive weight on him, but to hold, not to stick him to the floor like a butterfly. Sans seems to stroll forward casually, gives an almost negligent sweep of his left arm and then a force might just slap into Sanji like a truck.
It'll seek to throw him bodily into one of the Sarcophagi, the large, jug-like stone constructs flanking the walls.
"Now how's that taste, cook? Ready for seconds?"
1/2 everything is beautiful AND IT HURTS SO GOOD
... Remarkably well. Of course he is. Strolling forward with a hand suddenly lift in the air, like he's ready to catch butterflies. Tch. Sanji doesn't hide the twist of annoyance on his face. He'd hoped for at least one solid hit, jeez, what does it take to bring this skeleton down--
It's immediate how Sanji's expression warps into startled horror, even as his SOUL squirms and panics and lights with fire, flickering between red and blue. Pirates are never good at listening to rules they don't like -- but eventually his will bows to the alien magic, with a sudden tug that knocks him right out of the air (shit shit shit), rocketing him into the Sarcophagi. There's an explosion of dust and debris, the construct cracked in half from the impact. Goodness, Sans, if Sanji were a lesser man
he'd be dead were he landed]
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Oh. Hahahahaa.
Just kidding.
The heaviest piece of the Sarcophagi goes flying vertically, then breaks into small missiles from the force of whatever kicked it. There's a man standing at the center. Head bent, blood dripping against his cheek from the head wound. Karmic Retribution is such a bitch, and even if Sans hadn't taken to dragging the pirate down with gravity, Sanji would've come down eventually.
But that's fine. What a party they're having in here. Since Sans is cooking, Sanji would be a terrible guest to fall asleep during the best part.]
Oi. Don't be modest, Sans.
[Grinning at the skeleton. Human's gone, pal. You kicked out the devil. What, you've never fought a pirate before? Next time why don't you aim for the throat, you shitty excuse for a--]
I'll take thirds.
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1/3
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