![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indifferentinfernoSetting is Pluviosa - Ripple and Warp part II
Flamebringer stumbles against the wall- these freakish, mirror walls. He shouldn't stop here, its dangerous, its wrong. He was practically a sitting fowl beast- worse, an injured one, limping along for whatever predator found him first.
By the furnace he was sick of feeling like prey.
But despite his own internal sense of urgency, his limbs weren't cooperating. His chest was heaving, and he couldn't lift his greatsword, only drag it along, and now lean on it like some deeply impractical cane.
He grunted, turning it into a growl as he slid against the wall and down to his knees.
CRAP He didn't have time for this. Those illusions from the mirrors could pop up at any moment and decide to end him in his bout of weakness. But he could practically feel his blood boiling at this point. He knew his skin would be hot to the touch, sweat had dripped into his eyes more times than he bothered to keep track of, blood ran down his arm from a nasty set of scratches from some beastly thing that only vaguely resembled him at all- and his limbs felt unsteady in a way they absolutely shouldn't.
CURSE It all.
He slammed his fist into the mirror-wall, even then holding back so as not to injure himself more, or waste his fleeting strength on a bout of frustration.
The flowers on his shoulder swayed gently in mocking contrast.
Ever since they'd sprouted on him, he hadn't returned to normal. He was slow. He was weak. He was tired.
All thinks he couldn't tolerate. All things he didn't have the luxury for.
He drops his head, letting out another low growl of frustration, clenching his fist so tight he felt his fingernails press harshly into his skin. His tail lashed lethargically.
He gathered himself, his anger, his exhaustion, all of it, and shoved it all down, forcing himself to try to move. He hissed against the pain- glaring down at another particularly inconvenient injury- that being the inner calf of his left leg, which had a nasty and long cut that started below his knee and ran to the rim of his boots. He chuckled darkly- maybe he should count himself lucky at least that no one was around. Infected as he was, it wouldn't bode well for anyone, especially Kisa, who would be likely to try to force herself upon him despite his complaints.
He starts to rise slightly, managing a little, but the precarious tip of his greatsword shifts against the smooth floor- abruptly causing him to shift, and he falls back down, crashing down with both his hands and knees on the metal flooring. He lets go of his greatsword- lest he hurt himself from giving it further direction and momentum- and it clatters loudly in the empty hall.
Curse this place and curse his luck- someone- or someTHING, absolutely would hear that. But his arms shook even as they were, he started trying to move again- he had to get out of here-!
By all accounts he should stop looking over his shoulder in paranoia- and yet new and unsettling things keep happening.
Flamebringer stumbles against the wall- these freakish, mirror walls. He shouldn't stop here, its dangerous, its wrong. He was practically a sitting fowl beast- worse, an injured one, limping along for whatever predator found him first.
By the furnace he was sick of feeling like prey.
But despite his own internal sense of urgency, his limbs weren't cooperating. His chest was heaving, and he couldn't lift his greatsword, only drag it along, and now lean on it like some deeply impractical cane.
He grunted, turning it into a growl as he slid against the wall and down to his knees.
CRAP He didn't have time for this. Those illusions from the mirrors could pop up at any moment and decide to end him in his bout of weakness. But he could practically feel his blood boiling at this point. He knew his skin would be hot to the touch, sweat had dripped into his eyes more times than he bothered to keep track of, blood ran down his arm from a nasty set of scratches from some beastly thing that only vaguely resembled him at all- and his limbs felt unsteady in a way they absolutely shouldn't.
CURSE It all.
He slammed his fist into the mirror-wall, even then holding back so as not to injure himself more, or waste his fleeting strength on a bout of frustration.
The flowers on his shoulder swayed gently in mocking contrast.
Ever since they'd sprouted on him, he hadn't returned to normal. He was slow. He was weak. He was tired.
All thinks he couldn't tolerate. All things he didn't have the luxury for.
He drops his head, letting out another low growl of frustration, clenching his fist so tight he felt his fingernails press harshly into his skin. His tail lashed lethargically.
He gathered himself, his anger, his exhaustion, all of it, and shoved it all down, forcing himself to try to move. He hissed against the pain- glaring down at another particularly inconvenient injury- that being the inner calf of his left leg, which had a nasty and long cut that started below his knee and ran to the rim of his boots. He chuckled darkly- maybe he should count himself lucky at least that no one was around. Infected as he was, it wouldn't bode well for anyone, especially Kisa, who would be likely to try to force herself upon him despite his complaints.
He starts to rise slightly, managing a little, but the precarious tip of his greatsword shifts against the smooth floor- abruptly causing him to shift, and he falls back down, crashing down with both his hands and knees on the metal flooring. He lets go of his greatsword- lest he hurt himself from giving it further direction and momentum- and it clatters loudly in the empty hall.
Curse this place and curse his luck- someone- or someTHING, absolutely would hear that. But his arms shook even as they were, he started trying to move again- he had to get out of here-!
A challenger (doctor) approaches!! Stares from under the dumb hat....
Date: 2025-05-05 08:23 am (UTC)He doesn't like this one bit. But he's alone here. And noise means a person...probably. His own reflections lurking in the uncovered mirrors around here aren't much for talking.
He tries to ignore how so many of them are dead-At the very least he can scout out a possible threat. He'll consider the possibility of allies once he sees them.
It's about a minute later when a man in a black zipped up coat rounds the corner, and stares down...huh.
"What's wrong with you?" he asks bluntly. A surgeon he may be, but he's not known for his bedside manner. Gold eyes linger on trails of dark blood, and flick to the...plants? In the man's shoulder? He blinks, curious for half a second before smoothing over. Must be a devil fruit of some sort. He's not sure about the theme though, with the horns and all...is this man an Oni? Here...?
This person looks to be in a bad way. And Law thought he had it bad.
He wants to get a closer look at that cut, first of all. It's bleeding too much, and the coloring looks...off. He can't really place why; and he's no expert on Oni biology. Still.
Still.
This man can be a threat. The sword looks like it fell out of reach. And Law could move it further away if it's a problem...but he's bound to have more weapons. Based on just a cursory glance, even in this bad state, the man knows how to use them.
The collar of Law's coat blocks his mouth from view, but he exhales slowly through his nose. "Whatever happened, you need treatment." He gestures to himself, Death on his hands. "I'm a doctor. I don't have all my supplies here, but I can take a look if you don't try stabbing me. That acceptable?"
Law's taking a casual posture, leaning on one leg, but he's tense, ready to move at a second's notice if this person turns hostile. His sword is in its sheathe, but he keeps Kikoku at his hip instead of balanced against his shoulder.
It all depends on the stranger what he does next.
Smash annoucer voice "TRAFALGAR LAW"-
Date: 2025-05-05 10:04 am (UTC)But he doesn't show any of that frustration on his face- Law will see his shoulders jump in surprise, but Flamebringer reigns in all his other emotions. He stills, unnaturally so, turning his head slowly to let one practically glowing orange eye flash between strands of hair.
The individual before him- Its no reflection. He saw no trace of himself in this person. And those phantoms weren't much for talking. But whoever this is, his eyes are on Flamebringer. The piercing gaze is picking him apart in some way, he can tell from years of similar looks.
The only think he couldn't piece together was why.
Slowly, he sits back up, pushing off his hands in a controlled manner, letting out a heavy exhale, his head turning steadily to face the stranger in front of him.
His bangs were a mess and hid parts of his face, but two fire-like pinpricks focused all their attention upon Law.
And then his body betrays him ever so slightly- Vertigo siezes him and he has to reach out his arm to steady himself against the mirror again- he doesn't entirely fall forward again, but its weakness he did not want to show this man.
He growls at himself internally, but outwardly his expression remains focused and cold.
What's wrong with him?
He finally processes the question, letting out a sarcastic snort. "Depends. Some people have interesting definitions of 'wrong'." There's a challenge in his expression, despite kneeling on the floor. His tail twitches slightly.
His possible opponent remains unflappable in his appearance. But Flamebringer can see the subtle posture of a fighter. Not a good sign. If this man wants pick a fight, he might actually be at a disadvantage.
Not might. Would. He'd deteriorated as much.
Flamebringer's ear twitches slightly and his head tilts, "Treatment? Do you have a death wish?" Its a challenge in two ways. He would be unsuprised if this man didn't know what he was asking to get himself into. The only person he'd met so far on this cursed ship who knew of Terra and Oripathy had been Angel face.
The other being whether or not this fool was willing to risk his neck approaching an individual giving all the danger signs of a wounded animal. Then again- Maybe Flamebringer would be the fool. His eyes narrow slightly, catching the victorian script on the man's knuckles.
"Maybe, explain first..." He has to pause to draw in a long breath of air, forcing himself to remain calm, in control, despite feeling how his hands were shaking and his chest struggled, "... Why is someone like you, so willing to approach someone like me, and act so graciously?"
If this man wasn't from Terra, he also wouldn't know the weight of him being a Sarkaz... all the same. A lack of cultural and racial biases didn't make him safe.
LMAOOO the way I heard it. BUSTED out laughing jhdfgjkd the pic is Law crouched like a goblin
Date: 2025-05-06 02:28 am (UTC)Meeting his eyes is like staring into a smouldering fire; sputtering and dying but refusing to go out, stoked with rage and spite.
He knows that look. He’s seen it staring back at him in the mirror on the Polar Tang. …it’s because of that he knows this man is dangerous. Law keeps his distance-
Until the stranger’s balance wavers just a little, and he finds himself taking an instinctual step forward. Law stops himself of course, and tries to play it off by crossing his arms across his chest, his sword tucked into the crook of his arm. He raises an eyebrow at the answer he gets.
“I dunno. I think most people would agree that blood is supposed to be inside the body. That it’s smeared all over the floor and currently leaking out of your leg would therefore probably be at least one thing wrong, I think,” he replies sardonically. He leans a little on the mirror next to him, to further show how unbothered he is. Even as his eyes keep being pulled toward the seeping blood….
If FLamebringer looks at the mirror, he would see a version of this man dressed in a white lab coat, his eyes much less shadowed, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands instead of a sword.
A death wish… Law’s face twists into something like a smirk; muted but amused. He raises his hand for the man to more easily see. “Not a wish for it necessarily. However I’m quite familiar with it.” So says the surgeon of death.
The man is clearly not comfortable. Smart. They’re strangers. However…familiar as he is with death, he…has the training to prevent it. He can take care of a little bleeding. Law hums nonchalantly. “Well, you;re the first real person I’ve seen here so far. I got the training to treat injured people.” And he’s alone. It would be good to have an ally of sorts. ….what he says instead is: “Maybe I’m just bored. Either way,” he tilts his head, shadows shifting over his face. “The way you look, I don’t think you have the luxury of being picky about what help is being offered to you, yeah?”
CACKLING its so fun to hear in my head. Thinking of him squatting in front of Flamebringer
Date: 2025-05-06 09:19 am (UTC)... or someone who does genuinely want to help.
If only those kinds of things were easier to tell, he thinks with bemusement.
He plays off the movement well. But Flamebringer is certain it wasn't some idle shuffling.
Flamebringer chuckles, the sound low, its interspersed slightly with coughing, but he doesn't acknowledge it, "Is that all then? Just the one?" Flamebringer watches his movement keenly, the way he relaxes. That's a big sword. And its owner is putting an awful lot of effort into minimizing its presence, and the way it contradicts his kindly offer.
He considers, straightening slightly, his grip against the wall relaxes slightly and his head raises minutely as well, it causes his hair to cover less of his expression as he looks the stranger over with an inscrutable, but less hostile expression. As if waiting for something. An answer of sorts.
He catches the reflection... but it doesn't give him any answers except that this man probably needs a nap. These twisted mirror versions... they brought many questions, and few answers. It might be a sign that the rather benign looking man in the mirror was the polar opposite of the man in front of him.
Or it could simply be another path. Another road. Or an impossibility.
His eyes flicker briefly to his own reflection, surrounded by a group of familiar faces.
... its not something worth wasting his time on.
"On that, we're similar." Flamebringer lets his voice growl slightly, and returns one smile for another, allowing a hint of his fangs to show.
"Ah, so you're new here. Welcome to the party." he says it with flat, drawling sarcasm. He held no ceremony on his dislike of this place. But then the stranger decides to refocus again on Flamebringer's... position.
He lowers his head again, posture coiled, his amusement blinks out like a blown out candle, "As long as I breathe I still have choices." his tone is still even, but the hand that was holding him upright slides down to his sheathed katana, he ignores the lack of stability- He's made do with worse before. Its an obvious warning mixed with a threat. Even if he can't win a fight in his state, he can make going out hurt.
"If you're so bored you can spend your charity on someone else." His voice hitches slightly from a pulse of pain- these cursed flowers, or his oripathy. Ever since they'd taken up residence he'd had more flares. He couldn't begin to understand exactly why- but they had some kind of feedback loop with each other.
His posture and demeanor is entirely unfriendly. Ready to pounce, or from the outside, maybe run- he was a fighter first, but he would try to escape first if he could. But an exit strategy in this maze... things didn't look too promising.
Your wish may be fulfilled… (cw for body horror and me pretending I know how Law’s power works)
Date: 2025-05-06 09:32 pm (UTC)Law catches the man’s gaze and looks over as well. His expression darkens while the version of himself smiles at a figure approaching from beyond the frame. Actually smiles, warm and welcoming. Eugh. At least this one isn’t dead. He wonders if this injured oni guy is looking away from his own mirror for similar reasons. There seem to be more like him in there, and…yeah. Not his business.
“Yeah. Thanks. Really feeling the warm welcome here.” He’d been on his way to Dressrosa on the Sunny, this was not part of the plan and it’s probably all going to crap while he’s lost in who knows where and Strawhat-ya on the loose and- whatever. Fine. One thing at a time.
Law watches and listens to the thinly veiled threat with feigned disinterest. He doesn’t doubt that this man can do some damage…but when he’s already in such a state? That’s just foolish.
…Pot, kettle.
At that last bit, Law huffs with dark amusement. “Yeah I suppose so.” He straightens up from his slouched position, only to crouch down where he stands a way off from this guy. “Not charity though. I do what I want. And right now I wanna take a look at that leg, so,” and with that, he holds up two fingers, determination flickering in gold eyes. “You’ll choose to let me do that, if you know what’s good for you.”
Room.
A field of energy bleeds out from Law’s position, and envelopes both him and the injured man. The air buzzes with energy, with potential, of things about to move. The leg…he doesn’t want to deal with the details of the knee, so he aims below it…it should still have the entirety of the cut…there.
Shambles.
It doesn’t hurt. Not more that Flamebringer will already be feeling. But it is likely to be unsettling as the sarkaz’s leg disappears in a snap of energy as Law cuts his fingers through the air like blades, twisting them to complete the process. The leg appears in front of him, minus the pant leg (it won’t help him here) and Flamebringer’s sword clatters down behind him; roughly where his leg was. He’s likely to lose balance for not expecting that. Oh well.
Law hums under his breath as he looks over the appendage, fingers prodding it the undamaged skin around it very lightly (which Flamebringer would be able to feel), trying to gauge how deep it is… “Nasty scratch you got here. If you don’t get it cleaned up soon it’ll get infected, just so you know.”
MORE BODY HORROR!! Sir this is not keeping your (unwilling) Patient calm at all-
Date: 2025-05-14 06:32 am (UTC)"Its part of the charm." He says dryly.
Flamebringer's eyes are bright and sharp, watching every move Law makes, openly. Its a warning. Don't test him. He's not here to play. He's at least smart enough not to move much closer, but he's stupid enough to keep thinking he can just make threats and get away with it. And he didn't like the look on his face-
Flamebringer's ears lower at the odd hand gesture, body coiled ready to go- but the motion- The stranger isn't close enough to do anything, nor was there anything in his hands. He opens his mouth to give one more warning, one last chance. For all his own posturing, he wasn't really in the mood to fight.
Not when he wasn't sure the effort would be worth it.
And maybe secretly as well, when he wasn't sure said effort wouldn't be his last.
His jaw snaps shut abruptly in a panicked grimace as he feels the air thrum with energy.
ARTS-
Desperately, sloppily, he starts trying to move- to cut down this stranger- turned foe. He couldn't risk it. His professed benevolence was at stark contrast with the power Flamebringer could feel, he must have been playing with him all along. Toying. Hoping that the sarkaz would be easy prey-
His eyes register another gesture- His fingers- Those would go first.
Before he can make any significant ground however- there's a different sensation, a shift to the energy. He can't place what it is, or what its purpose is. And it shouldn't matter.
That is until his injured leg gives out entirely beneath him.
With an involuntarily desperate sounding shout, he loses all his momentum and lands heavily on the ground on his left side. The impact knocks the wind out of him, causing him to break into a bout of choking coughs. His head rings and every part of him feels like its throbbing from the impact- By the furnace, he didn't even fall that far- What was wrong with him?!
He's blinking hard, trying to recover his bearings- CRAP! Every second he's down is another he could be ran through-
Maybe alarmingly fast for how hard he landed, he's pushing himself up with his hands curled into tight fists. His Left hand was empty, had he dropped his katakana?
He wrenches his head to look back up at his enemy- only to see.
Was that his leg?!
He stares. His opponent had completely amputated his leg. He feels his chest freeze with the realization. For a heartbeat he just remains frozen still, expression one of open shock, tinged with something that might read as hysteria.
He numbly watches Law prod at his injury- wait- he, he flinches from that. The pain clear as a thunderbolt through the sky- That hurt. No more then he was used too, but the cut was deep, he knew this. He shouldn't- He was pretty sure losing a limb didn't work like that.
Belatedly he notices too that its not bleeding. Or more- its not bleeding from the ends. The cut still bleeds freely, but the ends are clean, no blood pours out. Unnaturally so. And he neither sees nor, feels, any signs of cauterization or any other method that would prevent such things.
It looked unnaturally healthy for having visible bone, sinew, and muscle exposed to the air around them.
"What- What did you do?!" He demands. Tone strangled, desperate. He anger and heat he wishes to push into his tone falling short-
Sir keep calm I’m a doctor- sir stop screaming- sir…(cw body horror, medical nonsense)
Date: 2025-05-29 04:20 pm (UTC)He does note that the man tries to attack, and those reflexes are impressive. It’s clear the oni-man is no stranger to combat.
Still not fast enough to stop him. “Calm down. If you keep moving around you’re gonna-“ Annnd the man falls over in a heap. Oops. Oh well. The katana should have absorbed some of the impact, but looks like the fall took a lot out of him. Maybe he’ll stop trying stupidly to attack…?
But no. He’s struggling to get up soon after, clearly suffering pain that would knock a lesser man unconscious. Law is quietly developing a bit of respect for this foolish person. He’s interesting, at least. The man’s amber eyes land on his own detached leg, and understandably grows a bit…upset about it.
Law watches closely for the reaction to touching the leg, near the injury and- yeah. Okay. This wound may be already in the process of infection, the way the battle-hardened man flinches at the very light contact. With the Room still active, he investigates a little closer and…hm.
What is…?
He can sense the beginnings of an infection, sure, but there are foreign bodies in the blood that he’d not ever encountered before.
Fascinating.
The man demands answers, and Law has to force himself away from that discovery. He can inspect that later, when this guy isn’t in danger of bleeding out trying to bite his head off or something. He sounds…terrified. Also a normal reaction. Law holds up his hands, energy humming around them.
“Calm down, Horn-ya. I’ll put your leg back after cleaning it up a bit. It’s in bad shape, and this was an easier way to look it over.” Isolate the problem, cut out the damage, sew the patient back together. Typical plan of action for the Surgeon of Death. His lips thin out, disapproving. “Keep flailing around like that will make my job harder, and this will take longer. I’d stay still if I were you.”
Lies. He’d absolutely raise hell if he were in Flamebringer’s position. But that’s not the point here. The point is, even detached, the leg keeps trying to kick around, which is annoying…
He shambleses some surgical gloves onto his hands, which are straight from his emergency medical kit stashed in his coat. It’d help to stitch this up, but it’s easier to clean if it’s open…also whatever did this, might still be a threat nearby.
“What left such a mark? I didn’t see anything big enough around here.” He’s speaking conversationally, as if he’d not amputated the man’s leg with little to no warning. He holds the appendage down by the ankle, and raises his other hand to shrink down the Room, focusing it more around the leg, and what foreign bodies are inside. What’s causing the wound to be particularly hot to the touch? He’ll remove it, little at a time, since he doesn’t have a good supply of blood and skin to readily replace it with…
It’s a challenge, that’s for sure. This isn’t a bad thing.