[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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[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.]
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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. ]
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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.
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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. ]