~ Tнє Pαяα∂σχ Hσυѕє ~ now back to regularly scheduled chaos

Sal Fisher | Training Room | strider

Sal let himself be pulled back up, carefully balancing himself again, though he felt a little more unsteady than he had a moment ago. The swords still rested where he’d dropped them, but he didn’t move to pick them up just yet. Not that he wanted to stop training, he just…needed a second. It had all happened too fast. Whatever it was.
He knew he wasn’t straight. Even though the only person he’d ever had anything like feelings for had been a girl, it hadn’t been that hard for him to tell. Gender had never really factored into it, for him, the way he assumed it did for other people. He just liked some people.
Specific people, occasionally.
He blinked as Zuko met his eyes, noticing the glass one for the first time. They’d barely become friends, he reminded himself. He was probably just lonely or something. Liking someone didn’t always have to be a crush. There were plenty of reasons he wanted to spend time with Zuko. It didn’t need to be anything more than a platonic friendship good time.
It didn’t need to be, but it didn’t seem to mind that.
This was a good time to not think about it though, so Sal nodded a little, watching him retrieve the swords. “I’d like that. I mean, it’s been like seven years now, so I’m pretty used to it, but - “
Whatever he had been about to say was abruptly cut off as he was jerked backwards, stumbling and windmilling his arms as he tried to compensate, then letting them fly to his prosthetic instead, both to stop it from being torn away from him and to stop it from hurting him if it was.

Zuko was about to say something else, to demonstrate to Sal what he usually did to compensate for a lack of ideal vision in one eye when the other boy was pulled back, half flying across the room as… what was that thing? Zuko immediately dropped the practice swords, instead grabbing his own familiar set of blades. He didn’t know how it was managing to pull Sal backwards, but he needed to get in its way before it managed to kill Sal. What… what was pulling Sal backwards? In a flash, Zuko understood. Whatever it was, it was some sort of earthbender it seemed. Some sort of insane earthbender who could bend metal, but an earthbender nonetheless.
“Don’t move!” he shouted at Sal, launching himself forward and letting one of his blades near Sal’s face and catch on the metal buckle that was doing its best to slide along the strap and pull both Sal and the prosthetic towards… whatever it was. Figuring out exactly what he was going to be fighting wasn’t the top priority. Keeping Sal safe from it was. His blade easily caught the buckle, slicing through the material that was connected to it. The buckle shot towards the creature, leaving Zuko with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. That could have been Sal. Frankly, it could still be Zuko, given his swords, but maybe he would manage a few strikes before his opponent realized they could use Zuko’s own weapons against him.
“You better think twice before you mess with my friend!” Zuko shouted, eyes narrowing as he launched himself at the creature, blades flashing as he aimed them directly at the thing’s heart.

Sal Fisher | Training Room | strider

“No!” Sal’s cry was panicked, torn from him before he could even begin to swallow it. He didn’t know what was pulling him back, and he couldn’t turn to look - the buckle was behind him, which meant he was being yanked backwards - but he could tell what it was pulling on. His prosthetic seemed to come alive in his hands, seizing and bucking as it strained back, dragging him along with it.
And then there was Zuko, and Sal flinched from the blade as it swung at him, more out of reflex than genuine fear. It caught on the buckle - no no no - and then abruptly, he was no longer being pulled.
He didn’t let go of the prosthetic, though it could no longer hold itself up. Instead he turned, searching wildly for what had been dragging him.

The creature in question moved forward, catching the buckle as it whizzed towards it, no longer dragging anything else with it. The creature stopped as Zuko moved, lifting its head so the spikes in its eyes caught the light.
It didn’t bother raising a hand. It gave a hard Push to the swords instead, aiming to fling them from the boy’s grip.
Then it shifted to bring the mace it held up to the light, and began to walk towards him, faster than it should have been able to move.

Zuko cursed, eyes widening in frustration and disbelief as the blades were pushed hard against him, throwing him off balance and causing him to nearly whirl around in his efforts to keep hold of them. They were his main weapons. They were what he had first learned to fight with, and he needed to keep them if he wanted any sort of advantage in this battle… the thing in front of him was strong and it was fast, and Zuko didn’t have more than a second to decide to let the swords go before they flew behind him, thankfully landing far enough away from Sal that they weren’t likely to do him much damage. Fine. If he couldn’t have his swords, he would make his own weapon.
“Too much of a coward to face me in a real fight?” Zuko snarled, flames burning to life in his hands. His uncle had tried to teach him how to bend using methods used by all four nations, but he was only good at the Fire Nation techniques so far. The rest of it seemed… well, it seemed rather silly. You couldn’t be a powerful firebender by bending like a waterbender, it just… didn’t make sense. He may not have been as well rounded as he would one day be, but he was strong. He hurled himself forward, doing his best to direct his fire at the creature’s face.

Sal Fisher and the Inquisitor (not a band) | Training Room | strider

Sal flinched back as the swords flew, holding the prosthetic still with one hand and pushing himself to his feet with the other. Whatever that thing was, he could tell it was strong, and he could tell it could move…metal? Was it metal? It had to be.
He looked around, searching for everything metal. The room had a wide variety of things meant for training in it, but the main things he could see that were obviously metal were the swords.
He couldn’t fight. But maybe he could help anyway.
He darted forwards, grabbing both swords from where they’d fallen, then snatching up his own pair, too. Then he turned, thinking fast, and ducked behind a shelf, shoving them one by one into the floor. He didn’t know enough about what the thing could do to know if it would work, but it had to be better than nothing, didn’t it?

The Inquisitor smiled as the swords flew back, and it sped up, preparing to swing the mace at Zuko’s head. It would be a clean kill, with no wasted time to it. This would be a quick battle.
It was a little disappointed about that.
It moved, but Zuko moved first. It couldn’t see the flames, of course. There was metal in everything, but there was no metal in fire, and so it only realized what the boy was doing when he attacked.
It gave a furious, startled shriek as the flames rose in its face and moved back, away from the heat. It didn’t feel it, not exactly, but it avoided it anyway, instinct more than pain.
“You want a real fight?” It asked softly, and moved, aiming to snatch at his arm and swing its mace at once. “Careful what you wish for.”

Zuko wasn’t sure how the thing could see at all, given the giant metal spikes through its eyes, but it seemed to be able to see him well enough to target him. He cursed under his breath, then let his eyes widen as his fire made contact. Somehow, whatever allowed it to see couldn’t sense his fire. Which meant… as long as he didn’t make it obvious he was bending, he would be able to attack the creature unnoticed. It wouldn’t be able to avoid his fire while attacking if it couldn’t see it. It was, blessedly, the advantage he needed with the absence of his swords.
The realization had to be made in a split second before Zuko’s head returned only to the battle. He ducked, managing to avoid its grasp at his arm, but the mace scraped across his side as he failed to completely dodge it. Letting out a hiss of pain, Zuko leapt up, using the fire to propel him higher than should have been possible. He couldn’t use it like a rocket like he had seen other firebenders do on the solstice, but he could at least propel himself up a little bit so he was at eye level with the creature. He kicked out at it, fire bursting from his foot and directly into its face.
A fight, Zuko had learned, was rarely the place for clever quips. People thought they were cool when they made them, but all they managed to do was serve as a distraction. He wasn’t going to distract himself just so he could one up the creature in clever wordplay. Not that its words were all that clever to begin with.

The Inquisitor | Training Room | strider

The Inquisitor smiled as it made contact, though only barely. Zuko was faster than it had expected him to be, though it was an easy adjustment to make. It had dealt with faster and stronger people. Zuko would die eventually, even if he did hold out for a while first.
It twisted, following Zuko as he dodged and then leapt up, higher than should have been possible.
The heat again. It stumbled back, shaking its head angrily as the flames exploded over it, singing its flesh and turning the spikes a warm, faint orange.
It was a neat trick, it had to admit. But it seemed to be Zuko’s only one, and now it knew about it. Maybe it couldn’t see the flames.
But it could see Zuko.
It moved, dodging to the side and swinging the mace once, twice, three times. Keeping the enemy on the defensive was the key. Forcing him back, towards the corner, where he wouldn’t have any room for his fire.
Its hand shot out, aiming for his wrist. It didn’t care if it caught him. It only cared that it thought it either would, or he would be forced back to avoid it.

Zuko let out a harsh cry as he ducked, doing his best to avoid the mace. He managed to avoid the first several strikes, but the third hit him across the chest, picking him up and throwing him across the room. His eyes narrowed as he landed, rolling over his shoulder to avoid his head slamming down into the ground. He was back on his feet in a moment, adrenaline keeping him going. He was bleeding, but he was trying to ignore it. It didn’t matter. What mattered was keeping Sal safe. Zuko did his best to avoid looking back at the other boy, in case a stray glance was enough to remind the creature that there was more than one person in this room. The last thing he wanted was for Sal to become a second target. He pushed himself forward, Aiming to jump over the creature’s head and kick at the spikes with his fire. He had seen the way the one spike had glowed with the heat. He knew what metal did when superheated. He wasn’t sure he could get it to melt, but if he could get it hot enough that it would deform… would that be enough to defeat the creature? Surely having scalding hot metal in your eye socket, probably jutting all the way into your brain, was a one way ticket to the Spirit World.

Sal Fisher and the Inquisitor | Training Room | strider

Sal caught his breath, still watching the fight next to the swords. He felt like a coward, crouched there out of the way of it, as though Zuko was the only one who should be at risk. He knew he couldn’t fight, and he knew getting himself into trouble was a good way to make Zuko lose his concentration, but it still felt wrong, and he still felt like he could do something. He had to do something.
Then Zuko was hit, and he flinched, like the blow had hit him instead. He looked okay, still - he was on his feet in an instant, in an impressive roll Sal didn’t have time to fully appreciate now - but Sal could see the blood, and he could see the way the Inquisitor approached.
There was nothing there but him, the swords, and his prosthetic. Which meant there was only one thing that could be a distraction without being a weapon.
“Look out!” He yelled, and threw the prosthetic at the creature as hard as he could, aiming for its face. It didn’t expect it to do any damage, but maybe it would throw the thing off for even a moment.

The Inquisitor’s smile deepened as it hit him, and it strode forwards, attempting to catch up with him before he came out of the roll. It had thrown him too far to get there, though, and it watched as he rose, shaking off what had to be quite a bit of pain. He was injured, though. There was nothing bravado could do against blood loss.
It watched him approach, preparing to strike again. Did he believe he was faster then it? The attack would -
It stumbled a little in its haste to look up, keeping him in its sight as best it could. That was a mistake a second later as the fire shot down, though, and it screamed, nearly dropping its mace to shield the spikes from the heat.
It had merely been determined before.
Now, it was determined and angry.
It didn’t notice the prosthetic bounce off it. Instead it flew at Zuko, mace swinging in a deadly arc at his side.

Vince - Living Room - @/stri

Vince leaned back subtly at the reaction he got. He placed his hands in his pockets as he listened the Wylan talk, looking to the side as if he were deeply considering his words. He wasn’t, obviously, but he did find it fascinating how upset people could get by refusing to participate in their pleasantries.

“Hm,” he hummed lightly after a moment, shifting his weight to falsely ponder some more. Most rooms didn’t stick with him for long, besides the one that broke his neck…he supposed. But an enjoyable lasting impression? Hm. “Why do you ask?” He asked slyly, “would you like to do one?”

Kelsier | Power Swap Room | strider

Kelsier had never met anyone else with his view of the House, either, though to be fair, he’d probably met far less people than Nico had.
Still, though. He didn’t get the sense his opinion on it was too common. It didn’t really bother him, even if he was confident he was right.
If he’d heard Nico’s thoughts, he would have corrected them very slightly. He didn’t blame himself for most of the rooms going as they had - and he’d been in some truly terrible ones, in his time here - but there was one he did hold himself partially responsible for.
He’d done more than taunt Hades. He’d allowed his own pride to get in the way. He could have stopped Hades, he knew he could have. And instead, he’d put Nico directly in the line of fire, and then forced his hand.
He did regret that. The things he’d said to Hades were right, and they were things he’d wanted to say to him for a while now, but he never should have let his own pride and anger put Nico at risk. Him, or Sam.
The other rooms, though. Those rested firmly on the House’ shoulders. And even in that one, the blame was shared.
“Have you ever noticed the way it gives us all choices?” He replied, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. The sun was warm on his skin, a memories from a previous room. Odd, to talk about the House like this in the memory of that place…one of the best gifts Kelsier had been given by this place, even now.
But it didn’t undo everything else.
“It makes us feel responsible. As though it’s our own fault we can’t beat it. Take the museum room, for instance. It told us exactly what it wanted from us, didn’t it? And I think it would have let us all go, too, if we’d decided to sacrifice Quincy. So is it my fault things went wrong, because I didn’t?”
He shook his head. “Of course not. Maybe it’s Hange’s fault, a bit. But even they were trying to save a life more than take one, misguided though it was. The House set up the situation in the first place. It didn’t have to do that, but it did.”
There were hundreds of other examples. But that was the one that came to mind.
He gave a quiet laugh at the rude gesture, and dropped his mothering tone, sprawling back in the grass instead.
“Terrifying,” he told him. “I’m truly quivering in the presence of your cold, frightened aura.”
He grinned. He knew perfectly well how irritating he could be, and he didn’t bother to mask it now. Nico had it coming, anyway.
The grin faded into a genuine smile only an instant later, though, and he tilted his head to the side so he could Nico better. “Well, you did kill an inquisitor, unarmed and wounded,” he pointed out. “I’d have to be…well, perhaps not insane, but very stupid to think of trying to mother you after that.”

Wylan wasn’t sure what to make of Vincent. His brow furrowed as he looked up at him, lips pursing in thought. He seemed like he was listening to him and taking him seriously, but given how he had responded to Wylan’s initial attempt at conversation… it didn’t seem very likely that he was going to be very responsive to this next question. The first impression Wylan had of Vincent was that he was very good at avoiding questions. Or… if not good at it, at least very practiced at it.
“I… haven’t done many,” he admitted after a moment, reluctant to give up anything about himself when Vincent refused to share much about himself. “I… wouldn’t be opposed to doing one.”

Nico was content to just enjoy the dream, but he was happy to have a conversation with Kelsier as well. Even if it was about things he didn’t really want to think about, like how the House played with their heads. It could plant thoughts there on its own, but it did that very rarely. Somehow Nico doubted that the rarity of such an occurrence was because there was a limit on how often the House could do it. He suspected it was because it was much more amusing to get people to think what the House wanted them to think without directly placing the thought there. Why give them the impulse to kill each other directly when it could manipulate the situation to make them want to kill each other without the House even messing around in their heads. Wasn’t that what it had done the very first time Nico had met Kelsier? It was skilled at manipulation. It knew exactly how people thought and acted, and it knew how to pull out the worst in each person. Nico remembered the first arena room. He remembered how desperately he had wanted to get home and save his world. He remembered the way that desperation had turned into a desire to do whatever the House wanted. Attacking Noctin… that hadn’t been his plan, but he was glad he had done it. If he had attacked anyone else, they may not have been able to kill him. That had been a long time ago, but he couldn’t stop the memory of it from flooding through as Kelsier spoke.
“The House will make you blame yourself, even if you do what it wants,” Nico murmured, shaking his head a little. “You didn’t kill Quincy, even though that’s what it wanted you to do. So I died instead. It wouldn’t have happened if you had killed Quincy, so the House gets away with making you blame yourself. But there was a room a long time ago where it told us we had to kill everyone else in the room if we wanted to go home. And the first thing I did… I attacked a close friend of mine. I still blame myself for that. I didn’t try to see if there was a way around it. I didn’t listen to him when he tried to stop me. The House won. It made me fight someone I cared about, and it got away with placing the blame on my shoulders. There’s… there’s no way to win, with the House. Every path leads to blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong.” Nico knew it wasn’t that way for Kelsier, but it was how he experienced the House.
Nico shook the thought away, instead rolling his eyes at Kelsier. He was being irritating on purpose, which Nico felt no need to point out. Kelsier knew it perfectly well, and he would only get satisfaction out of Nico telling him.
“Don’t you pride yourself on being insane half the time?” Nico asked, brow quirking up as a small smile pulled at his lips. “Which just makes you more likely to try to mother me.”

Zuko swerved, eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what had pulled the creature away from him. It took him a few moments to realize where the swords were. It couldn’t get at the swords… was it trying to bring them closer to itself? Was that why it had been pulled towards Sal? Sal… Zuko’s eyes caught on his friend, expression shifting just a little bit at the sight of the other boy without the prosthetic. Zuko wasn’t sure what he felt burning in his chest, but it wasn’t what he would have expected. There was no pity. No disgust. No desire to look away. He knew that was what ran through people’s heads when they looked at him. People were burned often enough in training incidents in the Fire Nation, but rarely were people as disfigured as Zuko was because of it. He felt… a connection, almost, at the site of Sal’s scars. His heart pounding in his chest and reaching out towards the other boy, a screaming in his head that said I see you. We’re the same. He didn’t have more than a second to react before the creature pulled his attention back. He couldn’t afford to get distracted.
The mace caught the tips of his fingers as he wrenched his arm back, and he had to suppress a shriek of pain. If he had to guess, at least one of them was broken. He didn’t have time to worry about it.
Throwing caution to the wind, Zuko ran towards the creature, pushing off into a front handspring as he neared it and kicking fire directly into its eyes in as hot and directed a strike as he could manage.