sticksandbones | Despite all my rage I'm something something rat

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Despite all my rage I'm something something rat

Who: Nicholas D. Wolfwood and YOU
What: Wolfwood had a fight with his ~~boyfriend~~ Vash and processing emotions is hard when you never learned how to
When: Backdated Dec 11th between weed log and that same evening
Where: Rage room in the Therapy Building
Warnings: cw: intentional physical self harm/blood, drug use, destruction of things, and also Wolfwood's potty mouth

[Do you ever just wake up one morning and say to yourself "What am I willing to put up with today?"

Yeah, well. That's been Wolfwood's entire day so far. He could make a fair argument for how he's felt since he's shown up in the Grove, but even he knows it wouldn't be fair to blame the other transplants for his misfortunes. They've all- largely- been his own fault. Whether it be through deliberate choice or accidental, it just comes with the territory of being the kind of person he is. And back when he and Vash clashed the last time, they didn't have space to cool off. Not when you're traveling together on an inhospitable planet, and breaking off simply isn't an option. The constant back-to-back disasters happening without a chance to breathe inbetween sort of got in the way too, and speedran any sort of actual meaningful conversations that could take place, much less closure.

Say you need therapy without saying you need therapy, etc.

Wolfwood, naturally, does not intend to partake in anything of the sort. If someone here asked him who he was and what he did for a living, he'd fall back on the usual: He is a Priest who travels a deserted planet spreading the good word to those who are left. An Undertaker, whose responsibility it is to do the work most are too squeamish to handle. None of this is entirely the truth, but it isn't exactly a total lie, either. Thus, the Therapy building is not someplace Wolfwood goes for any real help, but to just get away. The Inn is too crowded, the town a constant risk of running into someone he doesn't want to talk to. The woods...he can't go back in there, even if they'd be a perfect place to isolate.

Why not just stay in his room, then? He's self destructing, that's why-

The building, for a mercy, seems empty upon entry. He knows that probably isn't true, but if he can slip somewhere quiet unnoticed, all the better. The Punisher has been left behind in his room so it's just him as he pokes his head into the paint room, the library, the physical room...why does it feel like he's walked into a daycare.

But then he comes upon the "rage room". It isn't immediately clear what it's supposed to be at first, and because of that, he almost looks at it and then leaves like he did with the rest. It's weirdly pristine, yet makes no sense with the random assortment of furniture and breakable things laying about. He lingers in the doorway, trying to make sense of what he's seeing, until he spots a lone sledgehammer in the center of the room.

...and so he enters, closing the door behind him.

It doesn't take long for instinct and the desire to rip shit apart with his bare hands to take effect, as anyone entering the therapy building will soon find out. Someone is Very Much using that room right now, if the sound of shattering glass and things being beaten within an inch of their inanimate lives are anything to go by. Wolfwood has taken up that sledgehammer and is breaking apart everything in the room that isn't nailed down. But that isn't all he's doing. He will, at times, take up pieces of not-yet-broken ceramic, or even shards of glass that have already come off other things, and break them with his bare hands. Nothing is off limits, and nothing is too dangerous for him to handle.

It's why he's doing all of this with a strange vial clenched between his teeth, still sealed at the end. All of this has a purpose, so that if/when his injuries from what he's doing become actually severe, he hits the panic button and breaks the glass with his teeth. Otherwise, though? If all it amounts to are some surface level cuts and gashes...he probably won't actually use it at all.

Knowing him though, that's not going to be all it is.]

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[By the time Elsword makes it into the room, he'll come upon the sight of Wolfwood standing in the center of it, sledgehammer propped up on his shoulder as he ponders what he's going to bash next. It seems like he's been at it for a bit already, if the steady pitter-patter of blood onto the floor from his hands is anything to go by. Nothing else on him seems injured- at least not yet- and he's mostly able to ignore the cuts to his palms and fingers.

He works the vial around in his teeth like he might a lit cigarette as he hears Elsword's voice calling out, and he has to resist the urge to roll his eyes before he looks over his shoulder. This kid........reminds him way too much of a smaller Vash. Way too much.]

Kinda busy here.

[He rumbles, lowering the sledgehammer...but after he turns back around, he shrugs, realizing he doesn't have the wherewithal to yell at him to leave. Not when he has bigger fish to smash.]

There's other shit to break left. Knock yourself out.

[Elsword is a puppydog when it comes to people. He's got none emotions with left beef, but he will always pop up when someone's sad to be comforting. He hopes, anyway. It's literally all he has going for him at this point.

Maybe if he's distracted enough, things will feel less catastrophic for a moment.

He comes into the room with a full-ass sword on his back, one he normally carries everywhere with him, so there's no need to share the sledgehammer. Elsword reaches for it while he tries to think of how to ask Wolfwood why he's upset, when he spots the blood and frowns. His hands move away from the handle of his blade and instead, he reaches just slightly toward Wolfwood like he might be asking for a turn on said sledgehammer.

What happens instead is small, round, golden runes form in his hands and float gently toward Wolfwood's hands to close those wounds up. It takes a minute for the skin to stitch itself back together.]

There. Now you can keep breaking stuff.

[And then he turns toward what looks to be an old, wooden table, and pulls out a fucking sword like a normal, hinged 18-year-old.]

[Wolfwood...is still as of yet not super familiar with magic. You'd think he would be, considering he's met Heimr, and has been attacked by rose bushes that turned into dogs, and is here to begin with. Hell, there's a level of...pseudo magic that exists even in No Man's Land, though- from Wolfwood's perspective- it's more like advanced technology than things that can't be explained. Vash's situation, well....all of that is still beyond his pay grade. He tends to try not to think about it, if he can help it.

That said, he isn't at all prepared for Elsword to start glowing at him. Or, rather, glowing more. It causes him to flinch back, but there's not much he can do as the runes are already floating at him and healing his self-inflicted wounds. It's not unlike the way his drugs work, arguably faster too.

He flexes his now repaired hands, looking at Elsword like he's grown a second head.]

Hold on- hey-

[Quickly moving to get into Elboy's line of sight again, hold on.]

What did you just do? The hell was that?

[Elsword cocks his head.]

I healed you so you could keep breaking stuff.

[It's the most flat explanation known to man. He doesn't understand... has Wolfwood never seen healing magic before? It's pretty common on Elrios. Add has a version of it with drugs! That'll probably sound eerily familiar if it ever comes up.]

It's my magic. Part of it. It's not all that powerful, but I can take care of stuff like that.

[His power is mostly in making additional swords and blowing stuff up and protagonist things. But he has that little healing spell, at least.]

[Wolfwood also has a version with drugs!! But he wouldn't call that magic. That's science.

He flexes his hand a few times more, still stained with blood but no longer flayed open from the glass.]

I didn't ask for your help, you know.

[He was perfectly fine in here destroying shit as well as himself, thanks.]

[...]

No one asks for help. I just do it 'cause it's the right thing to do.

...you realize that you're lucky I stopped to wait and see what you did, right? If I were a little more trigger happy, I might have taken a swing and by then, well.

[He hefts the sledgehammer again, just to make his point clear.]

Would "doing the right thing" still be worth it then?

[There's no reaction to the threat. Whether it's because Elsword generally is a blank slate or because he's not intimidated or both... that's really up for Wolfwood to decide for himself.]

I would've been fine. [He holds up his own sword to demonstrate. The blade stays pointed at the ground, to show he's not trying to be threatening.] I've been trained in combat since I was... seven. Maybe eight.

[He remembered. That's impressive, considering the last 15 years of his life are just blurs of images behind a mosaic wall.]

[........

Wolfwood pivots on his heel, turning now to face Elsword instead of the wall.

Remember how I said this man was being self-destructive in here? Well...

He shifts the sledgehammer against his shoulder, tightening up the choke of his grip.]

Prove it. This place is made for breaking shit.

Let's go. Right here, you and me. I won't even go get my gun.

[Yeah well maybe Mizuki would eat you alive if you started shooting inside the therapy building]

Edited 2023-12-16 04:30 (UTC)

[Mizuki would eat Wolfwood alive for shooting Elsword you're insane.]

...you remind me a lot of my friends from back home. [Uh-oh now you're gonna be Hyung for real.] Sure. We can spar for a bit. It won't be fair if I use my magic, though, so I won't do that.

The first strike is yours.

Whatever you say, kid.

[Elsword is 18 years old

It does feel strange, not having the Punisher to swing around instead of this sledgehammer...but despite not being proficient in melee weapons per-say, Wolfwood thinks this will do the job just as well. And, like. He's not in the business of seriously injuring Elsword or anything like that.

It's why, when he comes at him with that sledgehammer, he turns it around and takes a heavy swing at Elsword's torso with the wooden handle, not the actual metal end. It's obvious by the way he holds himself that he's holding back.]

[Maybe it's the fact that Wolfwood is holding back — Raven and Ciel never do — that throws Elsword completely off. He's not expecting Wolfwood to be gentle, considering his Man Rage™, nor is he expecting him to take that swing with the handle.

Interesting. It's an observation he makes a second too late as that handle thunks into his side. He's unarmoured, wearing just his backless undershirt, so it'll leave a bruise if he doesn't heal it.]

I didn't think you were gonna go easy.

[It's not like Elsword isn't flipping his blade around in his hand, though, a one-handed grip on his claymore to minimize the damage Wolfwood is going to take when he spins it and slams that blunt edge into the man's side.]

[Before Wolfwood can make a smart remark back, Elsword takes a swing at him just in time for the Punisher to quickly skid backwards, just barely managing to avoid a full-on strike while still taking a graze from the blunt end. It doesn't feel nice being hit with a thick sheet of metal, but it's better than getting filleted by one.]

Tch. What, do you want to be brained by a sledgehammer?

[Because if Elsword is going to talk smack, Wolfwood will gladly dish out more. He's just...well aware of how upset he is right now, and how easily he could dip into "accidentally killing someone" territory, which would be bad for everyone involved.

But fine. Elsword will get treated to watching Wolfwood spin the sledgehammer around- you know, the same stupid way he spins the Punisher across his back before he shoots it- catching it as it comes back down so he can level a real, actual swing at Elsword with a barking shout, metal-end first.]

[Luckily Elsword's head is in the game now, and he blocks that blow with his claymore. It clinks loudly off the blade, and maybe up close Wolfwood can spot how scratched and worn out the metal is. The sledgehammer doesn't dent the material, but it leaves behind an uneven scratch on the surface as the two metal objects separate.

Elsword raises a leg up and tries to kick Wolfwood away from him, aiming for the stomach.]

Maybe I want to die. Maybe I don't care if I do.

[Okay buddy that's uh—]

But you're not gonna be the one to do it, because you're a good person. Even if you're mad, you're not evil enough to kill me.

[And if he did, maybe he'd be doing Elsword and the Grove as a whole a favour, considering the plant-parasite that has a hold on him.]

[It's not Elsword's fault, really. But the way he's talking, the things he's saying...they sound just like shit Vash would say, someone he is actively trying to avoid and push out of his mind right now. You know, his reason for coming to the rage room in the first place?

Well, all of that rage has come flooding back. He's shaking from it, as suddenly he throws the sledgehammer(???) to the ground, not actually holding it up as a weapon anymore.

Instead, he levels a cold-clock punch right at Elsword's jaw.]

Shut the fuck up! You don't know me! Don't act like you know me!

[A good punch to the face is maybe all Elsword needs to snap out of it, this depressive state he's gotten himself so thoroughly entrenched in. He's not fucking okay, and maybe he's never been okay in his life. But that punch snaps his head to the side, and even though he doesn't fall over like others might with a punch that hard... there's blood on his lips when his gaze snaps back to Wolfwood.

He throws his own punch back with the opposite hand, not letting go of his sword for a second. This one, he aims more at Wolfwood's ribs.]

I don't. But if you wanted me dead, you would've killed me. You wouldn't have started off using the opposite end of that sledgehammer. You wouldn't have dropped it just now to throw a punch.

[His face is already bruising, but he doesn't do a thing about it. All he does is spit blood onto the ground and regard Wolfwood with a cold, sharp stare. Then, he casts aside his sword, shoving the tip of it into the ground with a low shhhnk sound.]

Are we doing this with our fists, or our weapons?

[Two people this self-destructive should not be doing this, but here they are. One wants to be the bad guy; one wants to feel like he's in control of everything he isn't. At this stage, they might both fill those roles.]

[Well at least he was able to snap Elsword out of his depression spiral, even if it meant slugging him unfairly to do so. Wolfwood started this out as sparring, and now he's just going at him with his fists, like. Damn.

Wolfwood is lucky Elsword didn't decide to punch him in the nose in retaliation. Turnabout's fair play, and all that. Instead, he manages to strike him dead-on in the chest, which sends him stumbling back into the not-yet-broken table in the middle of the room. As he staggers back upright and fights to catch his breath, he watches Elsword throw his sword away, leaving them both without weapons.

He doesn't immediately go back in swinging this time, still panting. Instead, he raises both hands and gestured for Elsword to come at him. He's had that glass vial clenched in his teeth this whole time, somehow, and he intends to lean on it like a lifeline.]

Come at me, you little shit. I'll show you easy.

[Don't worry he'll go back into the depression spiral later. Wolfwood may not be able to kill Elsword for more than one reason. After all, he's a pawn of the Forest now. Either the El's Will stop him from dying, or the Forest will, and in either case Elsword is just someone else's plaything.

No more sad thoughts. Elsword takes that goading, noting the thing between Wolfwood's teeth and purposely not aiming there. It distantly reminds him of Add's Cure vials, so he probably shouldn't break it. Instead, he makes a show of cracking his knuckles, shakes out his hands...

Makes a fist. Slugs it right into Wolfwood's stomach, assuming the guy doesn't try to block in any way. He follows it up with a second punch from his right hand somewhere nebulously in the shoulder region, again trying not to go for the face.

They aren't nice, sparring punches. They're the punches of a boy who's got a lot wrong with him, too. A lot of pent-up anger he can't even feel thanks to the Illuminous Phenomenon, bubbling to the surface like oxygen under a pool of muck.]

[Wolfwood doesn't miss the way Elsword seems to deliberately be avoiding his face, even though he deserves nothing less than having that vial punched straight down his throat. But okay, okay. They're fistfighting now. Let's fucking go.

This time, he does manage to throw one of his arms up to block the gut punch, but it also means he isn't able to miss the strike to his shoulder...and since Elsword manages to get him good near where the scars from the rose hound bite still sit, he curses loudly with pain and staggers a second time, knocking a couple precariously stacked glasses onto the floor where they explode in a shower of tiny shards. It will be a miracle if he gets out of this without glass in his shoes.

He can feel throbbing lances of pain rushing through him, but it isn't enough to get him to stop. They're not sparring like two friendly people would, but with the intent to hurt and humiliate. You know, very well adjusted here. That's why Wolfwood comes rushing back at Elsword with another swing, a dirty left hook again aimed right for his head.]

[Fun facts about Elsword: for all he goes on about honour and doing the right thing, he is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a clean fighter. He's the sort of kid who will kick people in the face standing up if it means they'll go down. He'll throw mud in your eyes if he has to. That's simply how Elrians are.

There's no mud here to throw, luckily for Wolfwood and his sunglasses, but there is something he can toss. Something, namely Wolfwood himself, as Elsword dodges that hit with a clean duck and tries grab the man around the stomach before attempting to use his weight to his advantage, to toss him at that table.

Yeah, they're fighting to humiliate all right.]

[Okay, he's got to admit, he wasn't expecting Elsword to grab him. Given the fact he dodges out of the way when he ducks to wrap his arms around his torso, Wolfwood whiffs the punch entirely and feels himself suddenly leave the ground. Just, his feet get swept off the floor, his hands flying down to grab at the back of Elsword's clothing with an enraged snarl. It's no use though, he has no leverage when he's been scooped, and without preamble he feels his body being thrown hard onto that table, which is going to split straight down the middle when his spine hits it like they're having an action film brawl or something.

The only problem? ~~Because he nat20'd somehow~~, Wolfwood manages to keep hold of Elsword even as he's thrown. Through sheer force of rage, he keeps his claws dug in as he falls.

You're coming down with him, bitch.]

[Oh yeah he sure is coming with, he rolled a whole-ass 6. There's no saving that. Elsword is smaller and, while not exactly lightweight, gravity and raw strength is enough to throw him off his feet. They fall in a mix of limbs and flying wooden shards as that table snaps under their combined weight, the remaining objects on top of it clattering to the ground in a glorious display of chaos. There's a wooden shard embedded in his upper thigh that he's ignoring even as blood starts to soak into his pants, and he can feel stinging marks where Wolfwood's nails dug into the parts of his back which aren't covered by a shirt.

None of this deters him, as Elsword tries to wrestle for the high ground and, this time, attempts to slug Wolfwood directly in the jaw. So much for not aiming for the face, apparently he's given up on that.]

[Well. Wolfwood failed the roll to not have that vial shatter. Just barely. I was planning on having him use it anyway, but honestly having it go this way is far more poetic-

Elsword's punch hits its mark, and given how thin the glass in these vials are so he can break them open with minimal effort, it shatters pretty much instantly. His jaw snaps shut with a painful click of teeth as the glass breaks, the blue liquid cascading into his mouth and eyes. At least a little bit of it won't go to waste, and will probably heal whatever minor cuts and abrasions he's received thus far, but it's not much.

The drug stings when it gets into his eyes. It's meant to be ingested, not thrown into your face, so he lets out a strangled noise as he tries to kick Elsword off, clumsy and uncoordinated. He can taste blood in his mouth, shard of glass stuck to his face and lips.]

[—ah. The vial breaking and the noise of pain is enough to get Elsword distracted, and that kick nails him right in the ribs. Elsword makes a cut-off snarl as he's sent practically flying backwards, slamming up against the nearby wall. Having the wind knocked out of him doesn't necessarily deter him from continuing; it's that pained noise, that moment of "oh shit this went too far", that gets him to pause.

Maybe "went too far" is how this started, though. Elsword has a wooden shard embedded in his leg, a heavily bruised jaw, and he's hacking up small amounts of blood from earlier injuries plus getting tossed like that. Wolfwood's got glass in his face, blood in his mouth, and who knows how many other injuries hidden from view.

He smears the blood from his face and slouches against the wall. If there was any ire at all, it's faded away, leaving behind a hollow feeling of nothingness that he always carries with him.]

Did that get it out of your system, [he pants, running his fingers along the swollen line of his jaw,] or do you need another round?

[It's hubris at its finest. Wolfwood came in here all puffed up like an angry turkey to get his anger out, and that's exactly what he's done. Now? He's completely wasted one of his few lifelines. Some of the drugs are splattered on the floor around the broken table, even, while the rest drips off his face and chin.

He looks over at where Elsword ended up with something hard to discern in his eyes, pulling off his sunglasses so he can quickly (and carefully) wipe off his face with the sleeve of his blazer. There are shards of glass stuck in his face, but it's not life threatening. He just has to pluck them out, which he does in the same motion.

He doesn't get up, though. He remains sitting amongst the wooden rubble as he sits forward, dripping blood and medicinal fluids. It smells very chemically in here now, coupled with both their blood and sweat. It's a good thing this room will reset itself once they've vacated it.]

...yeah. Sure.

[He sure still SOUNDS like a pissy cat, but. At least he isn't getting up to try to claw Elsword's eyes out. Progress??]

Wolfwood is goin thru it dwbi-

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cw suicidal ideation, rip

im SO sorry

i'm not-

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