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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[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 he only has one eye left c'mon man let him have that much.

Elsword nods. Sure, they can continue beating each other up. Somehow they both need it, even if it's possibly the most destructive thing that they can do to each other. Elsword is fine being a punching bag if it helps Wolfwood feel better, and maybe Wolfwood's fine being a punching bag because he probably hates himself. He gets that impression about the man. Too much rage, no outlet, now we're beating each other up in the therapy office.

You know, as therapists intend (no).]

Okay. Give me a second.

["But for why", one may wonder, but the answer is quite obvious: Elsword has to pull this wooden chunk out of his leg first, because it's hindering his movements. He fell right onto one of the larger pieces left behind after they wrecked the table, but he's completely unafraid to just yank this thing out. It gushes blood in response, but he hardly makes a noise of pain, instead using his healing magic to slowly close the wound.

While they have a minute...]

I can heal you, too. If you want.

Forget it. It's fine.

[Elsword's magic would be wasted on injuries this minor. Besides, he wants to keep them this time. Maybe it's as silent punishment, or a reminder, or both in combination. Either way, he's not even sure if he's accomplished anything by doing this in the first place. Of course, he will reconcile with Vash later and things will feel less dire then...but still.

He huffs, smearing a fist across his face again as he looks across the room, eyes scanning the carnage of broken furniture and glass they left in their wake.]

I don't get why you're being so nice to me when I just punched your lights out.

I don't get why you want me to be mean to you.

[He counters that point easily. He came in here to see what was wrong, and to smash things himself before trying to talk. Elsword has never been good with words, but his original intention hadn't been to fight. Things spiralled, yeah, but that's how things seem to go with him. Just because he lost his emotions doesn't mean he entirely lost that haughty, fiery side of his.]

If you want someone to hate you, I'm not that guy. Not unless you do something I can't forgive you for.

[Like if he came after Add, or Mizuki, for example. Then it would be over for whatever semblance of friendship they could cobble together.]

I've had worse than someone punching me in the jaw and telling me to shut up.

[Wolfwood will get back to you when it makes sense to him, Elsword. He was forced to age 20+ years in the span of maybe 5, so it might be appropriate to say he's not had the opportunity to properly mature emotionally. To that end he scoffs, brushing over his chin to make sure little microglass pieces haven't gotten stuck in his stubble.]

You're just like him. [?] But at least you'll fight back.

[He's reasonably sure if he got into a fist-fight with Vash, he'd just stand there and take it. Maybe. He seems like the type to just let Wolfwood kill him, if that's what he wanted.]

[Elsword cocks his head like a confused dog. "Him"? But he doesn't ask, because he gets the impression Wolfwood doesn't want to tell him.]

...I like fighting. Not in a bad way, just in a... "it makes me feel like I'm alive" way. I don't have much left other than little things like that.

Besides, I had some stuff I needed to work out, too, heh. Fights are good for that.

[.........well that's depressing, but this is the same guy who just told him he wanted to die, so.]

I don't really get to fight like that.

[Usually, when he's fighting like that...he goes all out, and someone dies. The end.]

Guess it helped a bit.

I'll spar with you any time you want, heh. Maybe we can do it outside next time. Me and my friends back home used to do it all the time, and it's been a while since I got to have a good match.

[Chinhands. We are Friends now.]

[Stop staring at him with them big ol eyes]

I mean. If you really want your ass kicked again that badly.

[As if Wolfwood didn't get his ass EQUALLY kicked but, you know.]

You ain't bad, kid.

[👁👁]

You aren't either. Like I said, I've been doing this since I was really small.

[Child soldiers are normal on Elrios. So is human experimentation. These are the same canons but with less sand.]

[Stooooooooooop

Also cool, child soldiers and experiments, Wolfwood's least favorite thing in the world.]

Sound pretty casual to be sayin' something like that.

Maybe. I can't remember if it ever bothered me or not. I feel like it wouldn't. That's how things are on Elrios.

[Elsword has long since finished healing, but they're just talking now. It's probably for the best that they do. A real, genuine face-to-face conversation is needed after they beat the shit out of each other.]

It might also be the way I talk. I know I don't... [He gestures to his head, vaguely, fingers splayed,] emote well. I actually... can't. You didn't come here to hear it, though. It's just a "me" thing.

I prefer that anyway. People with runaway emotions are harder to deal with.

[He said while staring at himself in a mirror. He is very aware of the hypocrisy of his words, he's just not bringing light to it.]

Even if that goody-two-shoes schtick is going to get you into trouble one of these days, if it ain't already.

Despite all my rage I'm something something rat

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cw suicidal ideation, rip

im SO sorry

i'm not-

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cw: suicidal ideation mention

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