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--]
[Colin just sighs, and shakes his head. Finishing this like a fight would be easy, in theory... draw his pistol, target something vital, put a pair of rounds in the pirate and be done with it.]
[He's not here for that, though.]
You know, this never ends well when you start pulling out the party favors.
[He starts to shuffle from foot to foot, finding a rhythm in his head.]
Watch the sarcophagi, though. Last time someone broke those, there were some problems...
[And with his warning given, Colin suddenly breaks out in dance. Hopping from foot to foot, moving as though the floors on fire, and spinning frequently, the steps Colin executes now are a significant departure from the steps he's performed many times before...]
[But as he moves, the temperature in the alter room rises a bit, and the air grows a little more dry. A wind picks up as well, and motes of sand (?!) start being carried on the breeze, impacting against Sanji. It's not much NOW... But does he want to see what comes next?]
[ That, delivered to Colin sotto voce, skips straight to the matter of the sarcophagi, as he whistles lowly while pieces go flying into the air. ]
Really? Huh. Thanks for the heads up.
[ Finishing this like a fight would be easy -- if Sans wasn't a monster and was more like Colin, or if Sanji wasn't a Straw Hat Pirate and one of the notorious Monster Trio. But there's a few verifiable facts here about the way he's fighting Sanji, and the offer of an explanation will lay his intentions bare.
He's not toying with him, but neither is he trying to kill the guy, either.
Sans is keeping an eye socket out for what passes for the pirate's HP and, uh, isn't surprised to notice he seems to be getting stronger as the battle goes on. That will to live. That... potential, that indefatigable desire to mold his own fate.
Humans and their Determination, geez.
The air begins to sing with magic, dry and hot. It's something different, something entirely unique from Hotland's steamy, volcanic humidity, the bone-deep gravel-rumble of the magic in the belly of the mountain.
And Sanji... ]
Wow. That look on your face. That's the look of a man ready to fight for his life, confident he can win. But I ain't interested in your life, buddy.
Remember: we tried chatting, you decided we were a couple'a pushovers talkin' outta our back ends.
[ With his hands spreading at his sides in a shrug: ]
[Sanji tried chatting for as long as he could stomach two assholes determined to keep him from Ozuma after he'd promised to keep his chill. He'd say as much if he didn't register the surge in aura from their previous non-contender. Oh look. Colin wants to literally dance? Fine by him, he can take a number after Sans. The pirate notes the change in the winds and stands there unimpressed as his hair whips over his eyes. Either a whirlwind or a sandstorm of some sort... and Sanji has weathered both on his journey, under more dire conditions.
The air dries, and Sanji feels his leg flare like brittle kindle. He looks at Sans like he’d appreciate nothing more than his blood on the walls.
[It’s a slow process, watching the surface anger slip off his features and cool into a flat, molten heat that covers his expression. Sans is paying attention? Then he’ll note that whatever drive the pirate had carried is suddenly tucked away, and he stands as a man instead of a force of nature. Colin might notice it, too. Sanji’s head inclines away, maybe to stare at the wreckage or just focus on something that doesn’t piss him off. It’s hard to tell.
Blood still on his face. He carefully mops it away with the back of his hand. The abruptness for his change of heart is never stated. He just stops moving. The fire around his leg goes out.
They don’t need to know why, frankly. Colin – despite the growing severity of his attack, Sanji only nods briefly in his direction. Like he never had much anger to express at him in the first place. He was a piece of a grass that had more cut than expected, but that's as far as Sanji's opinion goes.
Sans? Well. Now that he's not fighting, Sanji remembers how much Toriel and Frisk like him. A wonder that he forgot; that's a personal shame he'll go square away in a moment, but as for his personal feelings, they're... not important.]
[Colin doesn't cease his dance, but his steps certainly change. Their intensity is calmer, less directed. The sandstorm that was brewing to assail Sanji peters out, instead the warm winds begin to whip around Colin himself.]
[Sorry guys, you got this dance started, he's going to take advantage of it to enjoy the weather.]
You need anything?
[He's slightly miffed that things had to take this course, but there's no lasting anger there.]
[ Sans stands there, having slipped both hands back into the pockets of his blue jacket, his hood flapping against his back in the winds he feels circling now around the Corsican dancing nearby. In contrast with Sanji, his acceptance of the expression of Colin's magic (or more accurately, the vehicle of its generation) is not from unimpressed stoicism. He's just had time to become used to it, has seen what can come about of those steps.
Hell, he's even combined his magic with Colin's, and wasn't that an experience. There's a lot of power in that stuff.
It's probably as much effort and the heat in the air that has beads of condensed magic sliding down the curve of his skull while he watches the pirate's bloodlust reined in and replaced with a new sobriety. Bones start to disappear from the floor and walls, going translucent and dispersing into so much ambient magic, leaving the air momentarily charged with a potential that swiftly fades. ]
...
[ He doesn't say anything, Sans stands there, breathes evenly, and waits for Sanji to make his choice. ]
[Sanji can't help but arch a brow at Colin's change in tone and that the winds have immediately gentled in time with the dance steps. Weird guy, this one. Under different circumstances, Sanji would probably profess to liking him.]
Of course I'm fine. [This? This blood? Zoro would cry laughing at the chef if he could see him now, or just shake his head in disappointment. Dartboard, the hell are you doing? Apparently making a monkey act of himself. Sanji feels his chest burn and the bitterness rise higher in his throat. He keeps his expression neutral and his tone blank]
No, I'm good. [His eyes close, one of his hands moving through his pockets. Eventually, he finds a wayward cigarette, a little bent because it'd slipped out of the carton during the scuffle. He slips it between his lips] It's been fun, shitheads.
He's got some thinking to do. We left a mark. You left a pretty big one.
[He grins, still moving through the steps. That is the problem with the dances he performs... he could certainly stop moving, let the sands and the winds die down. But to disappoint the world that he'd drawn out for this performance would be a grave insult. It was probably the one aspect of the dance that he understood just as well as his father. "Leave them wanting more" requires satisfaction in the first place. You can't just end it on a whim.]
And cook, look me up when you're cooled off. Something tells me we're not quite done overall.
[ He remembers how Colin had kept up his dance -- albeit in a different one -- even as they guided two shell shocked kids from the wreckage of a disastrous adventure. There's magic in that, he can feel it, but Sans doesn't understand the rules and mechanics the act falls under. Colin sure does, though, so perhaps at some better time he'll ask.
Right now, Sans is standing there, not yet making a move to head out, even if he nods in agreement.
Sorry, he isn't doing a damn thing, other than to unhitch the snag on time, torchlight resuming their own dance, until Sanji's left.
That's when he drops down to sit on the floor with a wheezy sigh, mopping at his skull with his sleeve. Hey, when he's said he's not much of a fighter, he meant that. He hasn't had a workout like that in months, and like hell he was going to undo everything he'd established with the cook by betraying just how weak he is.
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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]
no subject
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.
no subject
[He's not here for that, though.]
You know, this never ends well when you start pulling out the party favors.
[He starts to shuffle from foot to foot, finding a rhythm in his head.]
Watch the sarcophagi, though. Last time someone broke those, there were some problems...
[And with his warning given, Colin suddenly breaks out in dance. Hopping from foot to foot, moving as though the floors on fire, and spinning frequently, the steps Colin executes now are a significant departure from the steps he's performed many times before...]
[But as he moves, the temperature in the alter room rises a bit, and the air grows a little more dry. A wind picks up as well, and motes of sand (?!) start being carried on the breeze, impacting against Sanji. It's not much NOW... But does he want to see what comes next?]
no subject
[ That, delivered to Colin sotto voce, skips straight to the matter of the sarcophagi, as he whistles lowly while pieces go flying into the air. ]
Really? Huh. Thanks for the heads up.
[ Finishing this like a fight would be easy -- if Sans wasn't a monster and was more like Colin, or if Sanji wasn't a Straw Hat Pirate and one of the notorious Monster Trio. But there's a few verifiable facts here about the way he's fighting Sanji, and the offer of an explanation will lay his intentions bare.
He's not toying with him, but neither is he trying to kill the guy, either.
Sans is keeping an eye socket out for what passes for the pirate's HP and, uh, isn't surprised to notice he seems to be getting stronger as the battle goes on. That will to live. That... potential, that indefatigable desire to mold his own fate.
Humans and their Determination, geez.
The air begins to sing with magic, dry and hot. It's something different, something entirely unique from Hotland's steamy, volcanic humidity, the bone-deep gravel-rumble of the magic in the belly of the mountain.
And Sanji... ]
Wow. That look on your face. That's the look of a man ready to fight for his life, confident he can win. But I ain't interested in your life, buddy.
Remember: we tried chatting, you decided we were a couple'a pushovers talkin' outta our back ends.
[ With his hands spreading at his sides in a shrug: ]
Guess I underestimated just how mad you were.
1/3
The air dries, and Sanji feels his leg flare like brittle kindle. He looks at Sans like he’d appreciate nothing more than his blood on the walls.
Both of them can just go rot--]
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Blood still on his face. He carefully mops it away with the back of his hand. The abruptness for his change of heart is never stated. He just stops moving. The fire around his leg goes out.
They don’t need to know why, frankly. Colin – despite the growing severity of his attack, Sanji only nods briefly in his direction. Like he never had much anger to express at him in the first place. He was a piece of a grass that had more cut than expected, but that's as far as Sanji's opinion goes.
Sans? Well. Now that he's not fighting, Sanji remembers how much Toriel and Frisk like him. A wonder that he forgot; that's a personal shame he'll go square away in a moment, but as for his personal feelings, they're... not important.]
We done here?
no subject
[Colin doesn't cease his dance, but his steps certainly change. Their intensity is calmer, less directed. The sandstorm that was brewing to assail Sanji peters out, instead the warm winds begin to whip around Colin himself.]
[Sorry guys, you got this dance started, he's going to take advantage of it to enjoy the weather.]
You need anything?
[He's slightly miffed that things had to take this course, but there's no lasting anger there.]
no subject
Hell, he's even combined his magic with Colin's, and wasn't that an experience. There's a lot of power in that stuff.
It's probably as much effort and the heat in the air that has beads of condensed magic sliding down the curve of his skull while he watches the pirate's bloodlust reined in and replaced with a new sobriety. Bones start to disappear from the floor and walls, going translucent and dispersing into so much ambient magic, leaving the air momentarily charged with a potential that swiftly fades. ]
...
[ He doesn't say anything, Sans stands there, breathes evenly, and waits for Sanji to make his choice. ]
no subject
Of course I'm fine. [This? This blood? Zoro would cry laughing at the chef if he could see him now, or just shake his head in disappointment. Dartboard, the hell are you doing? Apparently making a monkey act of himself. Sanji feels his chest burn and the bitterness rise higher in his throat. He keeps his expression neutral and his tone blank]
No, I'm good. [His eyes close, one of his hands moving through his pockets. Eventually, he finds a wayward cigarette, a little bent because it'd slipped out of the carton during the scuffle. He slips it between his lips] It's been fun, shitheads.
no subject
He's got some thinking to do. We left a mark. You left a pretty big one.
[He grins, still moving through the steps. That is the problem with the dances he performs... he could certainly stop moving, let the sands and the winds die down. But to disappoint the world that he'd drawn out for this performance would be a grave insult. It was probably the one aspect of the dance that he understood just as well as his father. "Leave them wanting more" requires satisfaction in the first place. You can't just end it on a whim.]
And cook, look me up when you're cooled off. Something tells me we're not quite done overall.
no subject
[ He remembers how Colin had kept up his dance -- albeit in a different one -- even as they guided two shell shocked kids from the wreckage of a disastrous adventure. There's magic in that, he can feel it, but Sans doesn't understand the rules and mechanics the act falls under. Colin sure does, though, so perhaps at some better time he'll ask.
Right now, Sans is standing there, not yet making a move to head out, even if he nods in agreement.
Sorry, he isn't doing a damn thing, other than to unhitch the snag on time, torchlight resuming their own dance, until Sanji's left.
That's when he drops down to sit on the floor with a wheezy sigh, mopping at his skull with his sleeve. Hey, when he's said he's not much of a fighter, he meant that. He hasn't had a workout like that in months, and like hell he was going to undo everything he'd established with the cook by betraying just how weak he is.
Geez. ]