golisolation | 💀 MoM IC INBOX 💀

[with her attention on the weapons, Lucina misses much of that affectionate look being cast her way -- but only for a bit, because his dig on her height has her shooting a pouty look his way.]

I'm not that short either, you know! [even as she protests, her face reddens and her heart jumps at the sight of his expression; it is absolutely ridiculous how quickly she can melt in the face of such a thing, dammit! before she can be utterly done for, she shakes her head and looks away, setting the dagger's sticky note back on the hilt(Small Vengeance of a Darkened Heart with a question mark at the end because honestly...Lucina's not sure if that was the full name or not).]

But yes. Very large bastard swords and the like -- they could cleave huge swaths in enemy armies with a swing!

Maybe I could find a way to replicate them in a way in the Danger Room...

Everyone's short to me, who's the shortest kinda gets a li'l muddy after a while. [He offers uselessly with a smirk.

His eyes eventually slip to the daggers and the other blades again, reading over the names with an amused huff. These names almost seem more like statements, titles, stories...almost. But maybe that's where the soul Owain spoke of comes from. He'd invent a story for them, give it life in that sense, and thus its soul.]

Bastard sword? Is that actually what they're called? I mean, if that's the kinda shit they could do, I can see why the name's apt, heh...sounds like my kinda weapon.

Don't got any here, I'm guessin'.

[He leans forward to look over some of the weapons, reaching out with his free hand to pick at some of the cloths covering the blades and what not.]

No, those are still back in storage. They were too big for the chest!

[she looks over and watches him peruse with a pleased look. it feels nice to share something so dear with someone so dear and have it received well.

when his hand hovers close to the hilt of a spatha:] That one might be easier to start with. A broad flat, stout handle...good for fast and decisive cuts in close quarters, but long enough to pick at someone shying too far from reach. I started Archie on something similar when he asked me to show him the basics.

Tch, Archie?

[He laughs for a second, glancing Lucina's way.]

Imaginin' him weilding a sword--

[He stops short, his amused expression falling almost immediately as his mind quickly reminds of that Archie indeed knows how to use a sword. Knows how well enough to have killed him with Aurora. His face pales for a moment, eyes flicking to the sword in question as the visions come back all too quickly. his throat's suddenly all too dry, and he's trying to collect himself.

Tearing his eyes from the sword, he looks off somewhere else, eyes focused on nothing particular. Even if he doesn't want to ruin the mood, he can't help that dreadful memory coming back--one he felt numb to at the time, but as he becomes more distant to that time without emotions, contrastly he becomes more emotionally affected by the whole thing.

He swallows thickly, before trying to continue:]

I bet, uh, that took...a, uh...a while to teach him. Dude's got no, uh, coordination, huh?

[it doesn't take much at all to notice that change of tone and posture, and it pulls Lucina's attention right away.

she frowns, trying to discern the problem for herself, but...]

...Hey. [she reaches over, putting a hand on his arm.] What's wrong? You look pale all of a sudden.

Hm?

[He tried to act surprised by her question, by her claim. Like nothing was wrong, but he was a poor actor. With a shrug and a shake of his head, he tried to downplay what he was feeling, even if he could hear his heart pounding in his ears.]

M'fine—[No, he knows he shouldn't lie, he just didn't want to delve more into this than what was necessary, but...]—I'll be fine.

[oh, no. she doesn't like that. right away, she feels the compulsion to insist, demand him explain himself, so she may understand and help and...fix...

her expression grows pained for a moment before she shakes her head. she squeezes his arm a little.]

Okay. [trust him, dammit. even if it doesn't feel great!] Just...tell me if I can help. Whenever. Not right now, if you don't want.

[red-faced, she withdraws her hand so she can finish arranging pieces on the floor and then, kneeling over the oak chest and withdrawing some hooks and pegs, about to say one thing when she realizes another.]

I...[wait.] Did I remember to bring a hammer?

[For as much as Guzma loves attention, this isn't something he greatly liked it in. It made him feel weak and vulnerable, and he didn't need that—even if Lucina's the best person to feel that way with. He trusts her, knows she won't strike him with his belly exposed, but he wants things to stay the light, warm mood it had been. Not this uncomfortable gloomy mess his emotions are trying to make it into.

To her offer, he merely nodded, not really finding his voice for the moment as he tries to push the thoughts and intrusive memories and emotions back down. Not the healthiest approach, but he'd rather it in the moment. With her hand removed from him, the spot feels dramatically cold bereft of the warmth her touch gave him.

Running his free hand through his hair, he took that second to collect himself—till her question hit his ears. He peers past his arm, hand stilled in his messy white hair as he stares at her like a Deerling in headlights.]

Uh—shit, I dunno. [He glances to Scizor.] But if ya didn't, Scizor can probably help.

[That gets a huff from the Mantis Pokémon who had been watching them through squinted eyes.]

[at that huff, Lucina looks over at the bug, smiling apologetically.]

If he wouldn't mind... Honestly, with all of your help, I can get these set up pretty quickly and be done with it.

[while twiddling a hook in-between her fingers, she looks back over with the same expression toward Guzma.]

What do you say? An hour or so of hanging up deadly weapons before deciding on dinner?

[Meeting Lucina's gaze for a long moment, Scizor then looked away with a stubborn stoicism, but he did nothing to deny the request. For Guzma, he brings that hand from his hair to push on his knee as he stands, nodding.]

Yeah, I'm down. Lets get this place lookin' dope, and then we can get some grub. Sounds like a plan.

[Looking down at Lucina, he forces a smile—though it's a lot easier to do when she's smiling at him like that. His gaze doesn't linger, however, because he's then looking to Masquerain who has...fallen asleep. He quirks an eyebrow.]

Uh...

[Well, there's the first roadblock, huh?]

Oh! Ha...

[she smirks at the sight of the sleeping bug. he really can nap at the drop of a hat, can't he?

with a tsk of her tongue, she crouches down and scoops Masquerain up, looking about thoughtfully before walking around and behind Guzma...and then out of the room, calling on her way out:]

I'm going to put him in your jacket! In the hood...

[Watching Lucina scoop Masquerain up like that honestly brings some much needed calm to him. Masquerain is always so damn cute, but Lucina gently handling him, carrying him almost like a baby, just really eases him, brings him back to the here and now, and he lets out a sigh of relief when she heads into the other room.]

That's fine, he likes it there, anyway.

[While she does that, Guzma puts the rapier down he's been holding this whole time, hoping it's in the right spot...it was an empty space, after all. When she returns, Guzma's over by one of the walls where they'll be hanging the swords, considering it, while looking back at the swords.]

So, you got a general idea of who you want this all arranged, or we just fuckin' winging it?

Ah, a...little bit of both?

[she shrugs, floating over a small cluster of sharp-pointies to his side honestly just leaving them all over the floor is kind of a safety hazard BUT IT'S FINE IT'S COOL SHE CAN FLY. drifting up a head higher than him, she taps the wall as she explains her thinking:]

Pegs to balance blades with cross-guards vertically, hooks to hold the rest up horizontally. There's more of the former than the latter, so they can just go across the length of the wall higher up...and the rest closer to the ground?

[she squints, looking across the room, trying to remember the look of Owain's old armory.] Yes, I...I think that'll work out.

[it'll be a lovely chamber of potential murder.]

[It's a good thing she's with Guzma, then, because he's so totally down with a chamber of potential murder, you have no idea!

As she explains, he listens, squinting at the wall as he follows along, trying to picture what she means. He can do it pretty easily, honestly. And by the time she's done, he nods and heads back over to the blades. Leaning down to pick up one of the sparkly daggers, fiddling with it a little absently as he looks back to the wall.]

Yeah, I can see it--it's gonna look so damn awesome once we're--

[And then he drops the dagger, jolting as he realizes and tries to catch it--he doesn't, at least not with his hands. Instead, it looks like it stabbed into his thigh, but there's no yell of pain or anything. Just a very distinct, high pitch hiss.

That's the spray can he put into his pocket earlier, and he's scrambling to get the dagger out of the can, while also covering the hole so it doesn't get paint everywhere.]

FUCK!

Edited (SELF WHAT???) 2020-04-02 05:53 (UTC)

GUZMA-?!

[the paint is far, far from her mind when she sees that blade in his leg. alarmed, she drops back on her feet and hurries over to grab his wrists.]

Gods, don't-! Don't do that! You'll bleed out!

What--?!

[There's too much happening at once, and her saying he'll bleed out makes his brain halt all at once. Maybe normally he'd correct her, but he's so caught up in the chaos of it all to properly think. Staring at her hands on his wrists, it takes him a second to catch up with what's even going on.

Scizor looks less than impressed with this situation, mainly because he's realized what did get stabbed, and they're both being a couple of idiots right now. If anything, he's watching to make sure no paint gets on anything it shouldn't. The paint that's starting to stain Guzma's pants pocket--the smell unmistakably not blood.]

Shit, Lu help me get to the garage, I ain't wantin' to get this all over the house.

Edited 2020-04-02 17:27 (UTC)

[horrified, cutting into his request:] WHY ARE YOU BLEEDING PURP-- [sniff.] Oh. Oh, what? Paint? Why--? [why does he have paint in his pocket?!]

A-anyway, let's--get you... [where? huh? what did he say? oh. right. garage. okay.] Right, uh, put an arm over me so I can better-- [better scoop him up bridal-style and head out the door, just narrowly missing bonking his head on the frame along the way as she floats up and over stairs and obstacles, kicking the garage door (off its hinges, oops) on their way in...

...forgetting to turn sideways to avoid smacking his head on the door frame.]

AHH! Sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry-!!

[Golisopod is treated to this circus show as Lucina whisks Guzma through the house to the garage. The poor bug is trying to meditate, but is entirely disturbed by their frantic journey and yelling. He doesn't move though, lifting his head to watch as they whizz by, trying to decide whether to follow or not--deciding to go with the latter. after all, he smells that paint, and figures it's something kinda dumb, anyway.

For guzma, however, it all happens so fast, so fast in fact he can't even move in time to dodge that second door, nor put up his carapace to handle the blow. Fortunately, he's hit his own head into harder surfaces with much more force, so while it hurts, and is a little disorienting, he's fine. enough.

Hell, if he hadn't been scooped up bridal style like that, maybe he'd have been able to keep his wits about him, but he was understandably distracted by keeping the knife steady in the can, keeping the can from leaking out onto the carpet, and maybe a little flustered by Lucina strongman-carrying him to the garage.]

It's fine--I've taken worse blows to the head.

[His voice sounds a little strained from the pain, though, but he's otherwise seeming fine. That is, until he realizes exactly what she did to the garage door, and he's left staring at it on the floor.]

Uh... Well, I think you can put me down now...

[Who wants to take a bet on when that door's gonna get fixed?]

[with an unhappy sound, Lucina tilts herself to let him settle on his own feet, shooting a look over at the door hanging by its bottom hinge.]

Gods...not even a day in and I've already broken something horribly! And you're leaking paint and--wait, why do you have paint in your pocket in the first place?!

[Now on his feet, he doesn't stare at the door for long, before looking at the more immediate problem. He's about to pull his pants off—deciding that's a smarter plan than pulling the knife out and wrestling with a geyser of paint from the punctured can, but he stops at her question. Visibly jolting at it, before looking at her a little sheepishly.

Silently, he holds up his arm that has yet to get re-painted, the purple skull emblem noticeably faded and cracked—peeling in some places.]

I was, uh, fixin' this before I found ya. I didn't wanna put the can down on the carpet or nothin', figured my pocket was good a place as any.

[Glancing at the door again, he shrugs lightly.]

We can fix the door.

Oh--goodness, alright, well-- [she grimaces, halted from poking the door. probably for the best; she's sure she'll just make it burst into splinters even tapping it.

she exhales, still frazzled, looking about.]

Let me--find a towel or, or rags or something, so we can soak up whatever's leaking out. I'll be right back...

[she squeaks past the door and back out into the kitchen area, where a bunch of assorted boxes of utilities and odds and ends are stacked up. she'll fish around for a while until finding a couple dish rags, floating back downstairs and offering them out.]

Will this help? Mind the blade, it's probably still...still pretty sharp...

[When she comes back, Guzma's taken his pants off, and considering he wasn't exactly expecting on going anywhere he was uh, free balling it. But his long ass muscle shirt practically covers him anyway. So, he's holding the jumbled up pair, the can and dagger in hand as he's trying to keep them in place so it doesn't start spraying even more than it is.]

Yeah, that should do it--here, take the handle of the dagger.

[He says that, releasing it himself so she can do that, and then swapping to take the dish rags so that he can cover the hole the moment she takes the dagger out.

If all goes well, the paint will be mostly contained. If all goes bad, Lucina might get sprayed with paint, NO BIGGIE.]

Edited 2020-04-02 23:08 (UTC)

[Lucina's not sure of much, but she's sure she wasn't expecting to see her man stripped down to his boxers upon return.

perhaps the least odd thing right now, honestly? but it gives her pause nonetheless -- but only briefly. she makes a soft, affirmative sound and moves to pull the dagger free.]

Well, as long as that's-- [YOINK.] YAH!!

[she hops back when she sees paint fly out and spatter all over her stockings, frozen in place for a beat with dagger raised.

she blinks.]

I mean...of, of all the things that could've been, paint isn't...the worst...

[Or lack there of, huh? Hard to tell when he wears shirts that reach almost mid-thigh. Either way, this situation is ridiculous, but that's just life when you live with Guzma. As for the can, Guzma tries to cover it as quickly as he can, but there's still a casualty despite his efforts.

How she's holding that dagger makes him freeze for a second, till his eyes flick down towards her stockings.]

—Shit, my bad. [Better paint than blood, huh?] If ya get those in the sink, we can probably get the paint outta 'em. As for these pants, though...

[He looks to the mess he's containing between his hands.]

They're a lost damn cause.

Oh, dear...

[rest in stained pieces, pants. Lucina frowns thoughtfully.]

You...already packed and brought the rest of your clothes over...right?

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