CHAMPION !

"I don't need your money." Raiden hisses. Thinking he was that desperate for cash was probably the biggest insult this guy had thrown at him yet.

It isn't a no, though, even though that's what he should say. There was nothing in it for him. He'd be giving the other man exactly what he wanted. It would be a fight like in his arena, a sterile show with both parties holding back just enough to-- wait.

He never did specify anything about needing to hold back this time, did he? Raiden's about to dismiss the idea of trying to kill a man for nothing other than being irritating, but he can't help the fact worming in his head that it wouldn't actually be killing anyone. If things went that far, it would just be an inconvenience for one of them at worst, right? But it would feel the same. The thought makes his artificial heart race.

"no hard feelin's." dar'khol repeats, hand detaching from the others as he grants him a few inches of space again. the grin worn only seems to spread as he straightens, fingers eagerly curling into an awaiting palm.

there's a quickening thrum within his breast; heart set on a quickening rhythm from the mere thought of what awaits him. a simple pleasure in finding what strengths sat out there, undiscovered. what might rival his own or overcome it entirely. victory or no -- he just wanted a chance. a moment to experience!

"i wanna see everythin' you've got!" final word is accompanied by dar'khol pulling back, a leg raised to snap his heel forward. kicking things off quite literally with a heel set for the other mans core. he seemed a sturdy sort, dar'khol wasn't expecting much. just a test, to see what came his way.

"What is it about Aurelius that brings forth such anger inside you?"

No one could blame War for not having the entire story. He had a tendency to not only mind his own business, but keep away from people for months at a time. It was simply in his nature to do so.

He offers Dar a bowl of some kind of meat soup as a courtesy. Who knows what's in it besides random meat though, but at least it's been boiled?

name alone was enough to darken the warrior's previously cheerful expression, brows knitting together while the corners of lips sank. an unfortunate curiosity for many to hold, given the angels variety of standings with so many. plenty were oblivious to the other side of him; to the atrocities that followed his name. there were also those that shared a distaste for him, for a handful of reasons.

even fewer, still, that would agree with dar'khol's volatile behavior towards him. that brought with it a new wave of frustration, one he opts to take out on the soup handed to him in the form of using his spoon to prod at it. lifting and dunking various chunks of meat as he stewed over an answer.

"where do ya even want me to start, red? 'cause i could be here all night with a question like that." another prodding of his soup, eventually taking to stirring it idly as a cheek comes to rest against his opposite hand.

🎮👾 Guy with cat ears that wasn't actually a cat. Each game world Kit had visited had been populated by an entirely different looking people, so she usually didn't think too much about it. But aside from her time with Farcade, she hadn't seen so many different people from so many worlds shoved together like this. It was kind of cool in a way.

"I mean I get the gist. We're kidnapped, nerfed down to our starting stats and equipment, gotta beat some challenges to get back up to full strength... but do you have any idea what their end goal is? I've never been in a world where I've had my stats reset like this! Usually I can just keep what I have on me."

there was almost something to relate with on that front, but he's not even sure if he should comment on it. at least not yet.

"ya hold an understandin' for all o' this a bit more than most would. one would think ya've been through this before." yet she's as fresh a face as any when it came down to it. ah, but -- right -- she had a question in the midst of all that.

"can't say much for what the bastards have planned for us at the end o' all this, we've just been left to live under their watchful eyes. they get a good laugh out of our misery, i know that much."

a pause, tail bouncing with idle curiosity.

“I don’t think I’ve been particularly pushy,” Aurelius points out. “Haven’t we kept our distance all these months?”

“If I knew a little gift of feathers was enough to send you running to my doorstep, I’d have gifted you a pillowcase’s worth.”

Still, a gift returned was one rejected. With a wave of his fingers, the golden feathers on the desk are lifted airborne before finding their places back on his wings. Aurelius himself rises to his feet, facing the hissing cat before him with a smile.

“But you are starting to know me despite all else? Then our connection wasn’t for naught.”

He leans forward—but it’s just to grab the miqo’te’s left wrist and pull it towards himself. Gloved fingers press in firmly to test the connections of bone and sinew beneath skin.

“I won’t break what Klaus healed,” Aurelius states. “All his gifts are precious, even when given to someone else. Still—”

There’s a flutter of feathers as his wings curve around them both, half enveloping the miqo’te and blocking the windows from his sight.

an entire island to soar over! yet, he chose to stick close to where he didn't belong, upset those that did not deserve it.

dar'khol made clear to steer away from this clinic for months, making sure to avoid any chance of crossing aurelius' path just for the sake of saving himself the fury that was sparked with that putrid smile of his.

'not particularly pushy' he claims, yet he's infested dar's space one time too many, by now. no matter how subtle. his nerves were worn thin.

"knowin' you wasn't a choice i made freely," dar'khol snarls, lingering rumble hitching into another low hiss once a hand meets his wrist.

having the angel pull him forward does little to lessen the tension between. it stokes the flames already burning within. memory allows these flames to spread, starting from the pressure of aurelius' touch and licking its way up passed dar'khol's elbow. what he can remember so, too, does his flesh -- how it was torn; peeled away.

he remembers, clearly, the sight of bone. it was agonizing.

fluttering feathers prove worthwhile in pulling dar'khol from his own mind, reality clawing its way back to the forefront. the sight of his arm still held and being slowly encased in gold is enough for his jaw to clench, teeth grinding. within aurelius' hold, dar's hand turns to return a similar grasp and pull back. leaning forward much as the other had, yet far quicker... and with his free arm pulled to his side.

"if you're only startin' to forget, allow me to help quicken the process!" without any remaining restraint, a fist flies forward. nails digging crescents into his palm, knuckles growing pale. if he could break that bastards jaw, shut him up for even a minute -- !!

he wanted him to stay? fine.

...

lev took a long pause before it spoke up again although with the difference of a slighter lower tone of voice and slow with it's enunciation of each word.

Because you pulled him into a dance number, Tenna.

"I LOVE that Lightner! Any friend of Aerith is a friend of mine! That settles it: we're gonna put some pen to paper and get things rolling! Pick a place, my friend--dinner's on me."

("Just don't break the bank, got it? Gotta use these Points on the contestants, too!")

...................

He's attracting about as much attention as one expects when he sits across from the other. It's hard not to; he's tall, gaudy, and his head is a television. Even the notebook and pen he brings out of his pocket are comically large.

after all, it's earned him a free meal! or, well, drink in this case. appreciated as the offer was he was more set on this business proposition than sitting down to eat over it. a sweet treat littered with kiwi jelly worked just fine in its place -- gained attention towards the big guy, aside.

"the first rule? can't recall one that goes against any o' this." might be a tad unfamiliar with the implied rule, but that wasn't what he was here for.

"well, it's less 'bout the club itself. more for its affiliated predecessor -- a place i call bravura ultima! more eyes on it would be ideal, aye, gettin' any and all interested in experiencin' it to see."

there's a quick pause to sip through his straw, giving the ice a shake once he pulls away.

"got the idea from back home. usin' a place like this as a means of entertainin'; bringin' people together, y'know? it's a show, in simple terms. though the fightin' involved lacks a pretendin' element.

“But I suppose it’s one of the many allowances I’ll have to make to garner your attention.”

The angel sits behind the desk of his private office, for once looking up at the furious eyes of his one and only cat. Not that Dar would ever accept such a label, of course, but Aurelius was content to keep it for himself to use as he used.

His eyes trailed down to the small collection of feathers on the table; then without fanfare, four brilliant golden wings unfurled into sight behind his back. It’s a rare sight to reveal them, but between them both Dar’khol has already seen more than anyone else on the island, Klaus excepted—this form of familiarity is less intimacy as it is par for their course.

he's had the choice of flight before -- countless times. had it beaten into him, even, to remember it existed, and yet...

"don't test me, aurelius." the name is practically spat, first syllable pushed through gritted teeth that wished to bite down on the very name. break it down and tear it from his vocabulary. "i've done us both a favor by ignorin' your uptight arse up until this point, yet you can't leave things well enough alone."

claiming this as nostalgic was certainly a way to put it. that delivery of his alone had memory revisiting that day at skullrender. staring down his own perturbed face as his back met the wall, office set aglow by those same wings as he fought back. or how they've graced his vision a time long after, both caught in a heated frenzy of conflict that set an unfortunate fire betwixt his ribcage.

even now, a ghosting pain lingered in his arm. causing fingers to curl against the wooden desk beneath them, nails threatening to gouge grooves into it.

"so, what, then? ya claim my arm a second time, rewrite what klaus' fixed? try and convince me i'm some sort of pet to you!?" the longer he had to look at that smug face, the quicker rational thought cowered away. he wanted it gone, that smile wiped clean off. he's barely aware of the shove forward he gives the desk, its scraping just barely catching in his ears.