A/N: I'm sorry everyone, I have to rate this M now. Ah, my mind is a gutter… So if murder, bloody messes and kisses are considered something you would rather not want to read about, then sadly you will have to turn away to doing something more user friendly. Arumat was never known to do anything kid friend anyhow.
A HUGE thanks to Shiaori for being my beta and idea giver, you've helped me a lot on this and I hope it lives up to its greatness.
Pain is my Pleasure
It was rare, at least for Crowe anyways, to see Arumat in one of his violent fits. It wasn't exactly the first time this had happened, or that he had seen this go on. Second actually, the first had really bothered him to no end and as was in his nature he had wanted to tell some joke in bad taste or do something off the wall insane, but frankly it scared the hell out of him. He considered himself to be off his rocker enough not to let this kind of thing bother him usually, and he had seen all kinds of things that would normally send people to blasting themselves out of the airlock. Not counting the insanity of bad humor, no, the madness of the Phantom, the psychosis of seeing someone familiar to you going on a killing spree. A sickening red hued bio-human blob shape with the face of your parent or loved one plowing down everyone and everything had a tendency to give you nightmares and bad paranoia.
Crowe shook his head, the long red hued bangs of hair whipping back and forth in front of him, giving him a bad flashback. Greenish grey hued eyes caught the reflection of an all too familiar pink that belong to that of a laser scythe as it illuminated in front of him, crossing his vision, its glow haunty, giving off an inhuman thirst that he shuddered at. A weapon should just be that, not some blood thirsty, soul sucking entity that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
By all means, pink should never be anything but a girly color, something that cued up images like bubbly hearts, sparkles, unicorns and rainbows. Not something that would cause you to piss yourself when seen extremely up close. Crowe found the notion both comical and fatal that death carried around a hot pink scythe.
Shaking his head again, clearing those dangerous thoughts, Crowe's mind went back to the severity of what was happening before him. This wasn't just about him being deeply disturbed… Or touched in the head, though he seemed to be accused of this sort of thing often, this wasn't exactly the type of situation he was dealing with. It was something that red bondage tape and a red saffron dress couldn't cure (or perhaps a sailor uniform…) As they say, if the shoe fits… well… maybe it was best not to go there being that the grim determined figure before him was still clad in a pair of red high heels.
Crowe's most recent partner seemed to have suffered twice over what a normal person should. Or so he got the impression anyways. Tense shoulders screamed out in knotted pain, a tall and lean muscled frame that was covered in vicious gashes made from past battle. They appeared to have been caused by a sword, almost as if they were made from intentional carelessness, then from inexperienced defensiveness. This to, deeply troubled the red-haired man, adding just one more thing to his list of worries.
Golden eyes with a subtle touch of jade green glinted under a mass of light grey, as the tall, battle hardened figure danced about the room, scythe ripping violently around him, an extension of his body. This pale figure before him moved with an inhuman prowess, something that human speed shouldn't be able to master. As if this weapon were nothing more than a butter knife in his hands, the Eldarian cleaved and flicked the long, heavy weapon around in a macabre staged dance play, himself playing the part of death, using its weapon to rip and tear the invisible foes around him, behind him, in front of him.
Crowe liked to think of death as a calm ending to one's life, watching this display however, disturbed him. In this room death himself was much like the demon's of lore he had read about. Ferociously clawing at life, stealing the breath right from under you, taking you to a place filled with horrors unimaginable. This cold and pale atmosphere would suck the life out of anyone. No wonder the Eldarian seemed to looked so much in his element, and fit all too perfectly into a picture of a bloodied battleground portrait.
"Did you really have to turn this room into an icebox?" Crowe asked but was unheard. Seemingly the other was oblivious in his concentration. Not that the red-haired Captain of the Aquila minded.
Watching… No, it was more than that. It was as if he was entranced, observing with a keen yet measured fascination, far more than he should perhaps, and for the first time it made this scene before him entirely unreal as if he were lost in a dream, his life outside of this being unnoticed and sucked away, his body shivering, but his mind ignoring it, mesmerized and unable to draw himself away, as if the pale figure before him were a mere snake charmer and he was the snake. Each dance, flick, wave or movement he would be caught along with it, moving with each rhythmic note.
It wasn't just watching Arumat practice his moves that held Crowe's attention, though that was a good portion of it. While in his mind he denied it, just like any normal male who grew up correctly world, Crowe secretly loved Arumat's body in the exact same way many people would when it came to at a certain pink haired Morphus female.
It didn't help matters that Arumat was not wearing his usual attire, being clad only in a dress. Red saffron that was now ripped and torn in several places, showing off parts though holes, rips and tears, making it more alluring then just normally showing it, much in the same way lingerie covers up the best parts of the body, leaving just enough for your mind to go into overdrive. Crowe thought this was more of an improvement then a bad thing; the fishnets were much the same, ripped, barley hanging on in most places. The pink hue of the scythe combined with the redness of the shoes and dress made him think about to the time he had been taken to a strip club on Earth for his last birthday. All that was needed would be many colored spotlights and a thumping baseline. Take away that scythe and give him a pink pole and he would be set.
Crowe's mind had started on a dangerous path. He began to wonder if Eldarian's had to worry about the same things Earthlings did. Hair and shaving. Every time he had seen Arumat his body was smooth and hairless, not that he was taking the time to admire him enough to notice this. No, no, it was just him noticing off hand, when he was bored one day.
The Eldarian's bare, strong arms glistened and beaded with sweat, they were also marred by long, jagged scars, even one that made a peculiar criss-cross pattern, giving the Captain just one more thing on his long list of things to think about in his free time.
Every now and again Crowe's eyes would wander and he would invariably find himself drawn down to the lower half of Arumat's body. The ever moving figure, while somewhat quick, was also slow enough for him to be able to catch a glimpse of a supple bare leg peeking out from the redness of the material.
It was hardly noticeable but that did not stop Crowe's mind from crashing down like a plane on fire, and well, while his mind was falling quickly into the gutter, other things were rising up in a similar manner. Getting back to the point, Crowe's gutter mind thought it would be a nice idea to investigate whether or not a certain Eldarian's legs would be sexy.
It was not all that easy to tell, but it was fine to take liberties and guess every now and again as to whether or not Arumat's legs were as sweaty as the rest of him, and Crowe thought yes would be a very good answer to that particular question.
Which left the other two, and Crowe was now tilting his head this way and that in a strange manner, attempting to gain a better vantage point to find out if the Eldarian had hairy legs, as this would be more obvious then the second question, which was if his legs were as scarred as the rest of him seemed to be.
Luckily for Crowe, the Eldarian warrior was too caught up in his own trance like state to notice the way the Captain was leering at him, that was… until the Captain fell over.
Having accidently leaned a bit too far, Crowe had toppled over on to his side. He was now looking up at the man whom he had been admiring moments before approaching him, the usual scorned look on his face. He had to say, this was an extremely nice vantage point.
"…What the hell are you doing?" Arumat asked measurably as if deciding if he really wanted to bother or if he shouldn't just murder him now.
"You know that spot of hair below the happy trail?" Crowe asked admiring the view and the fact that Arumat was panting heavily and hadn't realized it.
Arumat raised a brow in confusion, glaring down so heatedly at Crowe that the room itself felt a balmy 95 degrees. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Crowe reflected on this for a moment, looking at the lower half of Arumat's hairless, smooth stomach. Maybe Eldarian really didn't have hair on their bodies naturally. "Do you have hair down there?"
A resonance of metal cutting though meat and bone sounded out and Crowe found that perhaps asking such a dangerous question was not exactly such a good idea, especially while in a defenseless position, or perhaps best not to ask at all, but Crowe was never known for his tact.
That was just the first of many incidents in which Crowe would undoubtedly die way too many times to be healthy.
XXX
It had all started earlier the previous day. Crowe heading down into the kitchen for his usual routine of coffee (which would be stolen, of course, along with his cup) and breakfast conversation, but when he entered the room it was empty. Arumat had always beaten him there, and of course since the older man hardly slept it wasn't too much of a surprise. While Crowe waited for his long haired companion to arrive, he thought up reasons for his tardiness.
When the Eldarian had failed to show after an hour and three cups of coffee (the first Crowe was able to enjoy in a month) he went off looking. Cautiously of course, seeing as how they were still playing their little games of 'kidnap and torture', or 'cross-dress n' seek'. It was probably another of those instances where he'd get kidnapped.
While in his careful scouting his senses picked up a lot of disquieting noises sounding out from a nearby room. Metal scraping metal, the light clicking of a blade being flung about, and the swish of wind as a weapon cleaved the air. The closer he drew to the training room the louder the sounds got, along with feral sounding menacing roars, like a wounded beast in the darkness of a cave.
Standing still for a moment, listening to the sounds of heavy panting, breathing and screaming Crowe wasn't sure if he wanted to push the switch for the automatic door. When faced with what sounded like a hell demon bent on destruction a rational person would pause, turn heel and run for their lives. Crowe was known to be more of a 'running into danger' type instead of out, and if he had to walk out, it was at a measured walking pace while spewing ridiculous one-liners.
Crowe did not seem to have the same sense as a normal person in this case, especially since he was familiar with the angry monster in the room before him. "Locked?" Crowe externalized in surprise as he had hit the switch for the automatic door.
"Arumat?" Crowe said and banged on the door to attract attention of the room's occupant.
No answer, but apparently the man had noticed as the room became eerily silent.
"Arumat? Is that you in there? As Captain of this ship, I demand you open this door." Crowe called out as he rested a hand against the tightly sealed steel doors.
The sounds started up again and Crowe huffed at the man's reaction of ignoring him. "Arumat!"
Well, if that was how he wanted to play the game, he would just force his way in regardless. It was a little strange for the older man to be barricading himself in there having a practice battle before even having his morning caffeine fix. There was nothing wrong with having a little go at the battle simulator, but usually the two of them sparred after their morning conversations.
"Arumat, what- WHOA!" Crowe had begun to say after having inputted the bypass code and managed to unlock the door only to walk in and almost have his head knocked clean off. "What the heck Arumat, You could have killed me!"
"Nice reflexes." Arumat replied, the olive tint in his eyes flashing dangerously, though his tone was light and mocking. Eldarian's tended to have a strange DNA oddity where their eyes would sheen over with a bright hue when they were deeply emotional in some manner. Whether it was in extreme excitement or extreme pain, it made no difference. Arumat's was subtle enough that it was barely noticeable, unless you were looking straight into his eyes, and this was something that people very rarely tended to do, and with good reason.
"You scared the hell out of me!" Crowe cried out a little more than freaked, and his response did not really help matters much.
"Your defensiveness is useful for something I suppose." Arumat responded as he held that wicked weapon of his downward and away from the other.
"Why did you lock the door?" Crowe asked then shook his head, he doubted the other one would tell him and let it go as he watched the grey haired man silently walk back to the center of the room, drawing his scythe up to mid level, holding it parallel across his waist as he usually did when starting out a battle. "You were waiting for me to break in, weren't you?"
"Do I truly frighten you that much?" Arumat asked looking sullenly while dark amusement played on his lips. He swayed a bit as if he were measuring the weight of his weapon, tilting it from side to side. Effortless, it was just too light, and the Eldarian almost wanted to tie a weight to the end of it.
"You can't answer a question with another question." Crowe replied and frowned. The Eldarian had never really glanced over at him throughout this whole conversation, those golden orbs seemed transfixed… distracted on the weapon in his hands almost as if he were kinda out of phase with things and trying to snap back.
Arumat just shrugged. "I could always slice the other side if you'd like" Arumat replied distractedly pointing at red-haired man's left cheek where he had been grazed earlier, blood running freely down his face unnoticed.
Crowe lifted a hand up to it and drew back blood. "I think I'll pass."
The Eldarian went back to his practicing, Crowe taking the hint to leave him be and walking out.
XXX
The next time, which was only a few hours later, Crowe had again walked up to that door finding it locked, which wasn't so surprising to him. What was surprising was that when he walked in he found that Arumat wasn't so careful this time. Maybe careful wasn't exactly the word… perhaps Crowe merely expected differently and became careless.
"Why did you just kill me?" Crowe pouted as his soul was lifting up into the sky, but was forced back down and sucked into his body at the addition of a fresh sage being shoved rather roughly into his mouth.
"I control death on the battlefield." Arumat replied, apparently stopping for a rest, the blade of his weapon resting just above his shoulder. "I don't hold back, when I swing my weapon bodies tend to fall. It's… a measured sort of killing. That first time was a warning."
"Didn't know you were so black and white on the issue." Crowe said picking himself up off the ground and dusting himself off, checking to see if he still had all his limbs intact. A scythe tended to hurt a lot more than a regular weapon and he was feeling just how true that was now, having never really experienced 'death by scythe' until just recently, though he had been threatened with this method more times than he could count. He was kind of hurt that Arumat had done it but tried not to show it.
"Lowering your guard only leads to death." Arumat said as he lifted up his weapon of death and swung it around, killing Crowe again.
"Would you stop killing me!" Crowe yelled once Arumat had sage'd him for the second time in all of two minutes. He was beginning to think the older man was getting some type of sick enjoyment out of all this.
"Watch yourself, as death won't wait on you." Arumat replied, swinging the weapon back around and… yes, Crowe really is that dense to get killed a third time.
"Ugh." Crowe cried out overwhelmed first by this being the third time he's gotten killed in such a short amount of time and emotional from the strange look of glee in the Eldarian's features. He lied to himself, saying it was just a trick of the light and that Arumat wasn't being a total sadist as he didn't want to think of him as the type of person who would repeatedly kill his friend over and over for the sheer enjoyment of it.
"You're a defensive minded person. Perhaps you should try blocking me next time." Arumat asked looking down into the dulled grey orbs of Crowe's body. He took a moment to prod the Aquila's Captain's body a bit in the shin with the heel of a rather dirty red high heeled shoe before roughly shoving another sage into the Earthlings mouth.
XXX
"W-would you... knock that off." Crowe responded, his body filching and crying out in excruciating pain from a rather violent and rather sudden intimate meeting with the wall of the training room. He slid down it, losing his grip on his weapons and fell into unconsciousness.
"Amateur." Arumat chided as he strode over and shoved a sage into the other's mouth, this time not as violently has he had been. It had a strange gentle roughness, as if those few lingering seconds that Arumat's gloved fingers had rested on his lower lip meant something.
XXX
Crowe was learning his lesson, and if Arumat wanted a fight, he would certain get one, or so he was trying. If his last bout had taught him anything, it was that walking in with weapons drawn defensively was something not worth repeating. It earned him nothing more than an agonizing kick to the ribs and an up close and personal meeting with the wall which he still painfully remembered.
He had to come up with some type of plan. This time when he opened the door he ducked and made a run of it. However he sort of forgot that a scythe was also an area of effect weapon and that a Bloodstorm revolution was very aptly named for what it was supposed to do, even for little crawly bugs such as he had attempted to be this time.
"How many times are you going to sage me?" Crowe asked as he noticed the fingers lingering on his lips from the sage he was now chewing like a cow.
"As many times as it takes for you to win against me." Arumat relied and brought his gloved hand to his own lips to slowly lick the blood off them, which Crowe was finding incredibly sexy and dangerous all in the same moment before… as he forgot to dodge or get up, was sliced to pieces again.
"You didn't even give a chance." Crowe whined. The leafy taste of sage met his lips again. This shouldn't be a taste he should come to expect and/or get used to.
"That's why you don't get distracted." Arumat replied swinging his scythe back and forth above the red-haired man's body like a pendulum of death.
"I have a half naked-" Crowe began saying but, well, there was only one thing that could happen when you were underneath a make shift guillotine.
"Eldarian making suggestive-" Crowe decidedly continued as he was met with the God of Sage and was granted life once again.
"Motions at me and I'm suppose to-" Crowe managed to roll out of the way this time, but not without getting sliced a bit as Arumat let go of his weapon, letting gravity do its thing and imbedding it into the metal floor. "WOULD YOU STOP AND LET ME FINISH!" Crowe screamed, sounding much like a man who had finally fell off the cliff of sanity and into the tumbling waters of lunacy.
"There was an amusing story about a man who had an exposed left thigh. That must be how he won his battles." Arumat replied calmly, this stature high above Crowe, looking down upon him with his gleaming olive eyes and deathly features, smiling as he lifted the scythe and… accidently lost his grip on it again.
"ARRRGH!" Crowe's scream echoed throughout the ship, something that was happening so often that he was almost glad Arumat had, even if it was unintentional, made all the crew members suicide. Watching someone's head explode out in space atmosphere was an interesting sight, or so Arumat told him when he recounted that event back to him anyways.
XXX
"Okay, now I'm more than a little disturbed then you just killing me for being annoying." Crowe said as he failed yet again in his attempts to enter the room, or to sneak into it, or to… even have a conversation or find out why he was locking himself in here.
"The taste of your blood… is rather pleasant." Arumat replied darkly as a pale pink tongue slowly and sensually licked the blood that had spattered against the pole of death's scythe.
"See, this is what I mean… when I said disturbed." Crowe added as, surprisingly he hadn't died yet. Yet being the keyword there as blocking a quickly moving scythe was not exactly that easy of a thing to do. The quick upward slash, the quick downward slice… repeated a total of five times in what Arumat had labeled as Diabolic and it certainly held true to its name.
Just looking at a scythe you wouldn't expect such brutally fast strikes, as you would normally exploit the weak point between the times the weapon was lowered to the time it rose back up to strike. This however, would make you lose an arm as with the speed and fluid motion it was as if Arumat was using a short sword. It was hard for Crowe to keep this in mind as a short sword defense was different from long bladed defense. Maybe that is why Arumat avoided death so easily, people tended to think long blades were slow and heavy and used different tactics. Of course this only applied to humans. Monsters well, they weren't always so smart.
A red flash passed before his eyes, a hue that wasn't just his hair getting in his face, but more… pink, almost shimmering as it cut acrossed his chest, his body sending out the signal for pain as he dropped to his knees. Pink light danced before his eyes, fading in and out like a car driving on a dark road between lampposts.
"That's how it is." Crowe heard the taller man replied before he was gone and would be shortly up again as Arumat wasn't one for keeping him dead for long. The familiar sent of sage hit his senses, as the herb was placed tentatively into his mouth.
This was more of an efficiency in the Eldarian's mind. The more time Crowe spent dead meant fewer deaths and Arumat was not just being compassionate to match the dodgy shyness of his cross dressing Earth friend. The Eldarian didn't have time for meaningless actions.
XXX
This time Crowe had a good plan. He would use a distraction. Seriously, this time it would work, and how could it not? Well, he supposed that just because it worked on a certain blond haired boy that he was fond of, didn't mean it would work on someone hardened by many battles. This didn't really seem to matter as Arumat was… an extremely strange individual to begin with and normal logic wouldn't apply to him so this did have a chance of working. He almost wondered what he would do without the wonders of an intergalactic shopping network.
Opening the sliding automatic doors he took the soft, pink plush toy that was Roak's marshmallow like bunny - that also tended to give a certain Eldarian nightmares - and threw it into the room.
Giving a count to five he opened the door and charged in, only to see Arumat lying on the floor with the pink nightmare of doom seated almost perfectly on top of him, a softly spoken "Finally…" uttered out of his lips before he was incapacitated.
No one knew if Arumat was saying that as thanks to the Goddess Tria for finally being able to die, that Crowe had entered the room at exactly the right moment, or if Crowe could have counted that as a win, or at least a draw.
Crowe couldn't believe his eyes, and well, who would trust a cross eyed man? No one would, so it was a lucky thing from him that his eyes were not, though they did go all bug eyed at the scene before him. Surely, a harmless stuffed animal could not kill someone. Unless it was somehow possessed and Arumat had been right when he ranted off about how it had come straight up from the very depth of hell itself.
Arumat never ranted, hell the man hardly talked at all and Crowe was starting to feel a bit guilty for waving his hand dismissively and telling him such a thing was about as possible as Edge becoming more powerful as the Eldarian himself.
"Arumat?" Crowe attentively called out as he approached him, the bunny making an extremely cute lion face at him all the while. That thing was even starting to freak him out, being so… innocently cute seated as he was on the dead Eldarian's chest.
"RAWR!" It squeaked out far too cutely to be threatening, yet he still screamed like a little girl as it jumped at him, a huge mouth off of teeth and razor sharp claws coming at him like something out of an Earthling horror film.
It was undefeatable, apparently, as everyone knows that nothing could topple Arumat in five seconds (unless he was already half dead, but the man is a walking corpse so I suppose that wouldn't count) which meant that Crowe would not have a chance in heaven. Well, he would prefer to go to hell when he died because the afterlife just wouldn't be the same without his honey sweetie pie Arumat around.
All that aside, this miniature plush bunny was truly the kismet of all things that were too fluffy and cute. No wonder a certain young girl who said 'kay entirely too much was not afraid of large fiery guardian dogs of the abyssal gate.
As Crowe bit the dust he remembered something he had heard on Earth one time. 'Buyer Beware'. Maybe he should take ENII's shopping network a little more seriously next time when something seems a little too good to be true.
XXX
Crowe had thought this sense of accomplishment would feel… better. As he had finally -after many attempts- cut Arumat down and managed to kill him for once. Although maybe he was merely feeling empty because Arumat hadn't really tried, as if he had let him, and this was something he was not happy about. However, seeing Arumat just about gushing when he was brought back up from brink of death with the addition of a sage to his mouth (and almost having his finger bitten off) made him forget the whole thing. It was an extreme rare sight to see the Eldarian being anything but moody and to him it was like winning the lottery. He enjoyed seeing that light pink flush and small smile gracing the older man's pale, scared face.
"Oh, please re-embrace me, sweet merciful death." Arumat prayed to the heavens, which was ironic as he was an atheist, unbeknownst to everyone anyways, as he continued to lie on his back where he had fallen.
"Well, I could kill you again…" Crowe replied warily as he had gotten used to the fact that in this room, there was no escape from the possibility of being murdered by a rather bloodied looking scythe.
Crowe knew that all of the blood on there belong to him, which disturbed him but at the same time reminded him how much he hated to die, but didn't mind so much being teased by Arumat's fingers on his lips each time he was revived. It was a strange and morbid pained pleasure he supposed.
"What would you do once I was dead?" Arumat replied almost smiling for once. It was one of those oddities he tended to have, that he could be so playful and pleased in these dark types of situations that they tended to have a lot of.
"Finish drying my hair." Crowe responded. Ah, the distraction of sweaty -or in Crowe's case, freshly out of the shower- wet, half-nude bodies. While this was best left to people who normally stalked around in next to nothing, it still tended to work just as well as Bacchus suggested it might have.
Arumat gave a really short, harsh laugh at the comment.
That begs the question of why Bacchus knew this, why Crowe never came to this conclusion as it seemed very much like something he would do or think up on his own, and why Arumat never went this route, but considering how awkward the Eldarian was about his own body… we don't even have to ask, unless of course, one likes the tastes of death.
XXX
"You're just killing me on purpose now." Crowe pouted. He couldn't complain too much however, as he did manage to hold out for a total of ten minutes before the Eldarian seemed to have had enough playing around and murdered him in one stroke.
Arumat grinned playful as he reached into the virtual item storage and pulled out that all too familiar herb that was featured a lot in one of ENII's popular shows 'Chariot of the 4th' on the fetish channel. "You're going to have to try harder than that, but you're showing a bit of improvement."
Rising up from his grave, which seemed to be the metal floor of the training room Crowe replied with the usual giddiness Arumat secretly enjoyed. "If it makes you smile so much maybe I don't mind dying."
"Idiot." Arumat growled and shook his head in mock disapproval.
"I think I did well, blocking blow for blow." Crowe replied grinning a little despite having a bit of revive sickness.
"You were terrified the whole time." Arumat countered with his usual small playful smirk.
"That's because you're also overly aggressive. I'm beginning to think you like my blood being splattered all over this room, and maybe you want to give me-AHH!"
"In the future… you should refrain from talking too much." Arumat replied as he kicked him across the room and threw the disconnecting pieces of his scythe at him. The Eldarian truly had wickedly good aim as all three pinned him to the walls missing all the vitals. "By the way… when I attack to your right, I'm usually feinting."
Chucking quietly to himself, the Eldarian began to walk out of the room, leaving Crowe still pinned up to the wall. "A little help here?" He could hear the familiar voice of his companion call out.
Although unnoticed with that pale, scarred back of his turned, the Eldarian gave an evil grin rather liking the idea of anchoring the Earthling to the wall to keep him and his soul escaping his grasp as souls exiting bodies tended to be a dangerous and alarming thing. "Don't mock death so easily." Arumat replied as he stepped through the threshold of the automatic doors.
XXX
"You've been a bad, bad boy, now come accept your punishment." Arumat said taunting Crowe as he slowly inched into the room.
The grey-haired cross-dresser was still wearing the torn saffron dress and was now spinning his scythe over his head slowly, almost seductively. His hands lovingly twisting around the pole much in the way a stripper would dance upon it, A sexy, yet deadly revolution, but he loved calling it blood storm for… obvious reasons. Then he began to skip in place.
Crowe freaked out, screamed, then ran out of the room, locking the door behind him. He wasn't a coward normally, but there is an exception for every rule. Or would be, if that whole incident had actually happened. Crowe found himself waking up from a nap he had decided to take on the floor of the battle simulator. Or Arumat decided, as it were, as he had just been revived for god only knows how many times, as honestly he lost count after the fourth. It tended to be a bad sign when a man has died more times than he has made love. Maybe he should remedy that situation? However, he had a feeling that wouldn't be quite a good idea seeing as how his choice for a lover was… more prone to killing than love making, or even touching for that matter.
"I think I'm starting to hallucinate now." Crowe said shaking his head. He could have sworn Arumat had just decided to further his career as a zombie stripper, hungering for his flesh, and not the good kind, like he often tended to dream about.
"Well, sage is a medicinal herb, who knows what sort of side effects it could have when taken excessively." Arumat responded rather flippantly as he regarded the red-head with a tilt of his head, a sort of dangerous curiosity dancing in those golden orbs, an alien anal probe perhaps. All the while Crowe mumbled something about 'strippers' which confused the hell out of him as he wasn't sure what this term meant exactly.
"And whose fault is that?" Crowe cried, running a hand though his hair, combing out the knots he had gotten in it from all that tumbling about he had been doing as he had though it was a good idea to knock the weapon out of the older man's hand and try to play at fisticuffs.
"A weakling whose been granted a painless death." Arumat said evenly and with a bit of a smile. After receiving a dirty look from Crowe he added, "…or show me you enjoy it."
"Riiiight." Crowe said, his body feeling sore, his mind murky. "I'm taking a break."
"Feel free to come back if you want me to slaughter you some more." Arumat replied darkly, his lips curving up into that familiar grin of his, his eyes brightening like a cat's eyes in the sun, a small hint of olive that flickered like a broken lamplight.
"You know what they say… you can't spell slaughter without laughter." Crowe responded as he watched the Eldarian lean over getting a very nice view of the older man's behind.
"Here I was, thinking you were just enjoying me toying with you." Arumat answered, and while he could have just nudged his foot under then pole and kick it up, he wanted to tease a bit as he knew the red-haired Earthling would watch him in that way.
"You make it sound like I'm not even trying, that's a bit harsh." Crowe said offended and proceeded to cross his arms over his chest almost as if he was mocking the other as the Eldarian had a habit of posturing in his same manner.
"I could give you another chance to nap on the floor." Arumat added thinking it was a bit cute when Crowe tried to copy his actions and more recently in their fights it seemed he was doing this to some extent.
The Earthling was not just watching him so that he could explore his fantasies later, or he really would have left him dead. If he was to be honest to himself, then he would have to say, perhaps not. He never liked attention or anyone watching him, but with Crowe he was starting to enjoy it, but maybe it was the fact that the red-haired boy had a kinetic energy that he was drawn to. Aside from his bad humor and jokes, Crowe's charm was being energetic and he couldn't help that it had started to rub off on him as well.
Crowe also seemed to be getting better each time they had fought, as he seemed to be watching his movements carefully, figuring out by experience when would be a good time to avoid his strikes, and what attacks he could block. It was impressive, but he wouldn't give him too many compliments.
"Errr… I'll pass. I think my bed is the preferable choice." And with that Crowe left the room. Anytime Arumat had his weapon in his hands he tended to die, a lot.
Though still unknown to Crowe, this was just Arumat's way of teaching him to become better so that maybe, if the Eldarian was lucky –and it seemed he hardly ever was– the man wouldn't die on him like so many others had.
The Eldarian went back to his training, one of his rare genuine smiles gracing the pale lips of his mouth, and Crowe went off and did what he considered a bad habit, knowing he really should break it but didn't see the harm. With how vocal the Eldarian was in his training Crowe doubted he'd notice his new tendency to take overly long showers in which he considered that his vocal time. He then settled in with ice packs on his body as returning from the dead had a tendency to make one stiff, and not in the good way.
XXX
"As Captain of this ship, I hereby exercise my right to kiss you." Crowe demanded in one of their heatedly close moments, his blades pressing hard against Arumat's scythe.
With a movement of his arm, the Eldarian sent the man flying acrossed the room. Then accidently on purpose let his grip loosen on the blade. Crowe watched in mute horror as it flew threw the air and impaled him.
"You were supposed to kiss me, not kill me." Crowe cried as he was about to die from his injuries.
"I seem to have gotten the two confused. They sound so much alike." Arumat said sarcastically, pulling out a stalk of sage from the front of his dress.
XXX
"As Captain of this vessel, I'm advising you to stop killing me at once." Crowe said having just coughed up a pile of ABC-sage much in the manner a cat would cough up a hairball.
"As first officer of this vessel, I demand you fight me seriously." Arumat countered, regarding him with an 'ew' expression, wondering if perhaps he should hold back a bit on the killing.
"I have, and who made you first officer?" Crowe demanded as he wondered if there was a resell valve or market for ABC items.
Arumat became quiet and avoided looking at the red-haired man, suddenly very interested in the blood caked in his fingernails.
"Arumat, what did you do?" Crowe asked deciding ABC items were probably not the best of ideas and tossed it in the trash receptacle.
"…Well, you stole my clothes remember? Why do you think I'm wearing this dress?" Arumat deflected as if this should have been obvious and that the man was wasting his time asking pointless questions.
"You're also wearing heels." Crowe replied as if this made the difference and even motioned to them, giving him a chance to admire the way his blood looked on them. Then wondered if maybe he was losing his mind as blood wasn't his thing but Arumat really should wash those things.
After the icy hot incident, Crowe had waited for his chance and stole the Eldarian's usual battle attire, leaving nothing but the red saffron dress and fishnets in its place. Having nothing else to wear and really not keen on walking around in… well, let's just keep what he would normally wear for undergarments a secret, he had to resignedly wear a dress for better half of the week. This might explain why he kept killing Crowe all the time, other than providing amusement and… a bit of excitement on Arumat's part. He did have a blood fetish to feed and Crowe was the perfect victim.
"You know I can't get these off." Arumat replied with a well concealed whine and a slight pout, even if he was perfectly fine with the idea of having them stuck on him.
"I think maybe you secretly-" Crowe began and met the wrong end of a scythe. Not that they have a wrong end of course…
"Like wearing them. Thank you for that." Crowe continued as the God of Sage revived him. While in his time of dying he had come to the conclusion that he would never call him that out loud.
"You're welcome." Arumat replied as he looked down, watching the color come back into Crowe's skin.
"As I was saying before I was so rudely mur-" Crowe attempted, getting a bit of Déjà vu. He could have sworn this might have happened before, but couldn't be sure because he had begun to suffer from hallucinations lately. Large pink marshmallows, zombie strippers, and an Eldarian who liked to cut his sensitive bits with a razor blade. None of which made any sense in his addled sage flavored mind.
"Dered."
"Dered?" Arumat questioned titling his head and glancing over at the red-haired young man. The Eldarian was glad that the application of sage had an almost immediate effect.
"Murdered." Crowe spat out, the freshly applied sage still lingering in his mouth.
"If you say so." Arumat said and shrugged his marred, bare shoulders.
"You are impossible." Crowe said, sitting up and pouting.
"You're indirect. Get to the point already."
"That you are a sadistic bastard that likes cross-dressing and heels, as well as evil pink rabbits." Crowe responded back quickly and almost wish he had thought better of it. He could have come up with better insults maybe calling him his special nickname and with all the sage they were using up he could have made a little outfit for him to wear to go with it. Then all the Eldarian would have to do is pluck it from his clothing. Hmmm… he might have to get with Bacchus on that one.
"That's you talking about yourself." Arumat came back, and it was no surprise that the Eldarian was an extremely good trash talker.
"Who keeps murdering me in cold blood?" Crowe insisted still pouting from his place on the floor, glaring up at the older who seemed taller than usual.
"Its not cold blood if I happen to like you." Arumat admitted quietly.
"…What was that?" Crowe asked. He could have sworn that Arumat had said something nice about him for once.
"Nothing." Arumat replied glaring down at him and frowning, almost a pout forming on those pale lips of his.
"No, you said something, definitely." Crowe said getting up so that he could browbeat the Eldarian into talking.
"Should you really be tempting my bad karma?" Arumat responded slipping into an odd state of passive aggressiveness. Most things tended to have a reason to be done, and he wasn't being evasive like this for no good reason. Also, he was never one to be indecisive, either people died or they didn't. Crowe was just lucky that he was fond of him.
"Today's count is up to… what was it, twice, already?' Crowe said attempting to roster up the count for just today, as he would rather not want to know what the total count of it was but he was sure that Arumat was keeping a tally on that, much to his displeasure and the Eldarian's delight.
"Three times and I would be delighted to give you a fourth taste of death's sweet embrace" Arumat taunted passive aggressively, bringing up his weapon to show he meant business.
"That makes me wonder if maybe necrophilia is your thing."
Crowe always wondered if he could speak while dead, or become a ghost if he wasn't revived. It was damn surprising what one could do with the power of will. That or he was just comatose and not totally dead, as he had heard that there was a bit of a difference between being 'mostly dead' and 'totally dead' and he hoped the latter was something he would never have to experience.
"You are going to run out of sage and then what!" Crowe cried out, a bit scared of this happening. He had never really given the sage matter much thought in the past. Now he was sure it was going to become a nervous habit.
"…That is a valid point. As pointed as my scythe is." Arumat said regarding the way the man's blood on it glistened in the soft yellow light of the room.
"…I give up." Crowe said in surrendered defeat. He would have thrown his arms in the air melodramatically, but it was a bit hard seeing as he was still lying dead upon the floor.
"What were you going to tell me before?" Arumat asked, as he learned down, regarding Crowe's comatose body.
"That soaking your foot in a vat of wine would help get those off." Crowe said as if being dead was not a big problem. Becoming a ghost could have been considered a career change.
"I would accuse you wanting to get me drunk but seeing as how you're still dead…" Arumat remarked with remorse, almost as if he were stalling and leaving out something vitally important.
"Yes and I'm still waiting for you to shove sage down my throat." Crowe said stressing the importance that being alive would be a very nice thing, and he would he be the crazed Captain of a runaway ship if he didn't add in his usual bad humor at the situation. "While I am currently dead I would also like to add that there are other things I would not mind choking to death on if it came to that."
Arumat paused for a long while, almost as if he were lost. His eyes glossing over like 'deer in headlights' almost as if not being about to kill the younger red-haired man for his comment were a great perplexity, his mind going 'what now' as it was impossible to kill a dead man. Well, he could, but then he would just end up as 'totally dead' and neither really wanted that.
"…I'm out of sage."
"If the dead could cry, I would be wailing right now." Crowe said very seriously. "I could also use some chains and a B movie prop."
"I am not sure what you mean by B movie prop, but I would agree that you being chained is a very good idea." Arumat replied, still in bent knee position, looking down into Crowe's peace of death face as he proceeded to do last rites, placing his hands in prayer position. "Please see my very much dead friend Crowe safely down into the fierily pits of hell where he might be poked and prodded with many pitch forks and chased around by large pink marshmallows hungry for his flesh."
"You know…. Ghosts can go through walls." Crowe remarked, as his usual, and 'mostly dead' self couldn't help but deflect to his bad humor and that it wasn't very nice of his friend to wish him into an everlasting torment. "I think I at least deserve suntan lotion as a parting gift."
"I could hear you coming with the rattling of those chains." Arumat said not seeing the point of his words. "And if the dead could take possessions down into hell, I would have given you a parting gift before I murdered you, but alas you can not so you are out of luck, not that you had much to start with."
"Death can be a harsh mistress sometimes. Also, you realize that I can molest you with my transparent hands, right?" Crowe said in his best 'I'm a ghoooost~' with a semi-creepy tone and proceeded to touch the older man with his cold, clammy see-through hand on the thigh, making the Eldarian freak out and jump almost into the ceiling.
"…I think a trip to the general store sounds nice right about now." Arumat admitted after pulling his heart back into his chest, and quickly departed the room.
XXX
"I'm not locking you out." Arumat spoke as he whipped his scythe over to meet Crowe's parry.
Arumat seemed to have become -even more so as he was generally this way on a regular basis- gradually more aggressive and reckless, the usually playfulness gone from his voice and features. The Eldarian even seemed beat down and exhausted, but this was no surprise really as this type of thing had been going on for well over a week, maybe two. Crowe wasn't exactly sure as everything was starting to mesh together in the silly putty that was his mind. Aside from breaks and that time he had been left pinned to the wall, the long haired, pale skinned alien had refused to leave the training room.
"Then?" Crowe asked as he pushed the other back and drew into a defensive position.
And Crowe being Crowe would never let him be, even with how dangerous and intimidating he made himself to be, he could tell the other was suffering and he cared enough to ease it, even if it meant him dying a whole lot.
This time was harsh and it was taking all he had just to fight the other off. He remembered Arumat saying something about 'measured killing' in a slow, painful manner. Not playful as he had been before, this was vastly different from those times. It was also a bad indication that the silver-haired man was holding himself back, lightly slicing at him, wounding more than meaning to kill. His blood had been spattered upon the ground many times and also this time was different. Minor cuts, the blade barely nicking his skin, grazing it like a razor blade would but not deep.
"...Did it ever occur to you that I'm locking myself in?" Arumat said his breath heavy, his smile dark as he deflected a few of Crowe's blows. The Earthling was playing up his offenses a bit and this pleased him.
"Why would you?" Crowe asked as he took measured, strategic paces, analyzing the other's movements and striking where he assumed would be a weak point.
"You lock doors to keep something out." Arumat replied deflecting all the young mans blows, and hearing him protest with a loud groan, before coming around and nicking him on the side receiving a small outcry of pain from him.
"Okay?" Crowe asked confusion written on his face and it showed in his actions as he almost lowered his blade but thought better of it and twirled around much in the way a ballerina would, his blades becoming a spinning whirlwind of red light.
"To keep what you don't want... away from you... at a distance." Arumat said pausing between words as he blocked the blades and then countered with his own, creating a thin line of blood down Crowe's thigh. He was breathing heavily due to the fact that he was holding himself back. It was exhausting, being harder to judge smaller slices then just cleaving into him.
The red-haired captain slid back a bit, intaking breath, and bracing himself against the needle like pain of the cut. "Still not following you here."
"I... don't want you in here for that reason." Arumat replied, and found himself wondering why he hadn't thought to attempt this before. It was harder than the virtual gravity system which he now found boring and unexciting. This, however, was exciting. It thrilled him and got his blood pumping to attempt to scratch more than merely kill.
"You've already killed me so many times I've started losing my mind and imagining you as a zombie stripper who skips like a school girl. Also, you squeal like one to." Crowe replied and ducked just in time to avoid a high slice of the deadly quad-blades of the pink scythe. "You know I don't mind sparing with you, but I do mind being killed so quickly."
"You either defend too much, or not at all." Arumat scoffed, whirling around his blade again, noticing Crowe rolling off to the side to avoid it. "You're too weak and too slow. Honestly, it's boring fighting against someone with no guts, no lust, no passion, and no heat for battle."
"I thought you needed a break, you seem pretty exhausted." Crowe replied as he flip kicked himself back up. His voice held a sympathetic tone, though he knew better as Arumat would hate that from him.
"You'll always be an amateur, Crowe." Arumat replied frivolously.
"Harsh. Then how about I give you a real challenge then?" Crowe said as he took his usual defensive stance a few feet away from the other.
"Heh. Don't tell me, you've been holding back on me?" Arumat replied giving off a small chuckle and an amused smile, the kind that Crowe liked to see.
"Well, a little. Call it caution. I'd rather not add to your collection there." Crowe admitted honestly as the two of them danced, circling the room, squaring off against the other.
"Foolish lad." Arumat said as if Crowe were a novice threatening his master that he would beat him. Though he had to give a snide smile as it bought some good memories back into his mind of those days when he was young and had begun his own training.
"I'm the foolish one? I think that's you. Each time I come in here, you seem to be more worn out than the last. You really don't have to-" Crowe began but was met with the hard force of the scythe's blade against him pushing him back against the wall and cutting off the rest of his words.
"I don't want to hear it." Arumat glared, going back to his angry, dark thoughts. For once he thought he'd be able to forget about all those negative things, but they always returned to haunt him, disappearing only to give a moments peace. Damn that lad for his words, and now he would stop playing nice with him.
"Would you stop cutting off my words?" Crowe demanded as he charged forward, blades to the sides and ready to strike at him.
"Then stop talking and start fighting." Arumat replied as he deflected the blows, thought not as easily as before. He was a bit impressed, maybe the red-haired captain was truly holding back.
"If that's what you want, then I'll show you my real strength." Crowe replied, taking a moment to wipe sweat from his face and taking a deep breath, getting ready to go all out this time.
"If you're going to give your all, then do so. Don't hold anything back." Arumat replied deathly serious, his golden eyes flashing that subtle green shade that they would when he was especially excited.
"Because it's you... I may as well." Crowe responded and charged forward, his tactics going full offensive now.
XXX
"HAAAA!" Crowe cried out extremely vocal, which was strange for him as he was more the silent battle type, as he ran into the room. One weapon raised into an attack stance high above his head and the other waist high in defensive position.
Without really looking or watching what he was doing he furiously brought the blade down with all his strength upon the tall figure of the Eldarian who was standing before him, expecting a loud clank of his swords meeting against the blade of the man's scythe.
This is not what happened and Crowe recoiled back in horror as blood spattered and sparkled into the air in a swift arch, splashing against his own face and chest.
"Oh God, Arumat!" Crowe cried out, but it was almost too silent, to quiet of a scream to be called one. He immediately dropped his blades and they crashed to the ground as Crowe, in such a state of shock went up and shook the Eldarian by the shoulders, his eyes wide and unflinching. "What… how… you… WHY DID YOU LET ME DO THAT!"
"Hm…" Arumat mused for a moment, his fingers slowly tracing over that old scar on his face that had just become a new memory for him. He brought his fingers down to his mouth to lick at his own blood. "This one… I actually like." He continued, smiling a genuine smile for the very first time since Crowe had known him, and had not even minded that Crowe was trying to shake him, which wasn't working out to well being that Arumat was much like a herculean figure albeit with a frail and sickly looking frame which made this even more of and oddity.
"Don't give me that! I can't believe this! Why didn't you block? Why did you just stand there for! My God what is wrong with you, are you insane!" Crowe continued to scream and rant incoherent words and freaking out completely, the twig that was his sanity snapping in half. Maybe he should invest in those 'sanity sticks' that he saw the other day on ENII's shopping channel. Giving one to Arumat would be pretty amusing on its own.
"Oh? Is that why you always hold back so much?" Was all the Eldarian said as he stood there in amused silence listening to Crowe spouting a bunch of nonsense for well over ten minutes.
"You scared the hell out of me! Letting me scar you like that!" Crowe said accusingly as he pulled frantically at the bangs of his hair.
"You think I let you?" Arumat questioned softly and quietly, his face held a soft amused gentleness to it that was strangely uncommon, almost as if he were secretly crushing on the hot guy in school like a teenage girl would.
"OF COURSE!" Crowe screamed again heatedly and began pacing in circles.
"Crowe." Arumat said, grabbing at the man's arm, blood still running down his face from the heavy cut upon it that Crowe had unintentionally made. That old, ugly scar of his that had been there since the day he was seventeen. The day he had died. Leaving him as nothing more than an empty husk of the human he had once been. He would never consider himself as anything more than an empty shell, something not meant to feel emotion other than battle lust.
"I'm so sorry Arumat, I didn't expect that to happen." Crowe said, tears welling up in those grayish green orbs. He really hadn't mean for it to go this far, and while they had hurt each other plenty of times in the past, this was something far worse than any of that.
Bloodied pale lips met coral lip balm tinted ones, crushing and strong meeting gentle and trembling. Strong and pale hands pulled at the sides of red armor pulling the two closer. For several moments the only sounds were heavy breathing and the slight ruffling of hair being pulled.
"Lip balm does taste pretty good." Arumat teased as he licked his lips, tasting both blood and cherry flavored lip balm.
Crowe was left standing there so much like deer in headlights the whole concept of what just happened flying over his head and leaving him as blank as an empty chalkboard after a school day.
"You know I am not a man to talk about myself, but…" Arumat paused licking at his lips before continuing. "I admit that blood and death excite me in a deep way I don't think you could understand." The pale-haired man went on to say. Quietly, as if he were confessing to a hidden and secret crush, the kind best friends would share in those private conversational moments of a slumber party. "It is my prison and my release, yet that release never comes."
Crowe opened his mouth to say something but the shock was just too much it seemed and he turned and measurably walked out, mouth still hanging open.
- TBC in next chapter.