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WHO: Cassian and Sanzo in one, Cassian and Amberdrake in another
WHAT: DINNER TIME and A brief material run
WHEN: Shortly after Christmas, before the shops in Fayren close.
WHERE: Everglade and Fayren
WARNINGS: Gore, violence, mentions of cannibalism

4 SANZO
He'd gone too long. He knew he'd over extended himself, the gift he got from Tannusen could only last so long. Wheezing, stiff, the faint sound of flutes beginning to sound in the back of his mind, tonight had to be the night. He wasn't going to risk it all again, he couldn't. He couldn't keep relying on someone else here to patch him up every time he fell into shit.

He was a grown man. He could take care of this.

As it had been for two thousand years, the hunt was on. As it had been for two thousand years, the iron dagger found its mark, the husk soulless yes, but oh how they screamed like any real living thing would. Once, perhaps, he would have shrunk away from the sound. A long time ago, he'd be frantic to silence them, clumsily slashing at vocal cords and sobbing in fear and horror-

He knew how to work now, and the screaming was quickly silenced to pathetic, wet gurgling as the cloaked man snapped ribs with ease, feeling the rippling sensation of that thing pulsing in the back of his head, feeding his meager strength. Peeling the membrane off the heart. Sinking his teeth in and silencing the husk forever.

Blood everywhere. It stank of it, but the pain in his body and his lungs faded with every bite, even if it couldn't fully sate the beast. Just another bandaid.

But for now, it would do.
4 Amberdrake

Of course, Everglade wouldn't have the materials he needed. No one would stock in the type of silver he required, and he didn't even ask any shops there. Seemed like a good way to get a lot of unwanted attention. So, wrapped up in fleece and wool, cranky and miserable and cold, headed for Fayren.

They'd have what he needed, or at least part of it. He could always return home and finish blessing it all later. He had some energy in his step now, so the little man was going to be quite the obnoxious terror in Fayren, picky and fussy with everything he picked up, viciously haggling every single object down.

"I'll only be takin' pure silver, and not anything else. I don't want any steel or nickle in any of this- What else is in this mirror? Oi! Tis a real question, does it look like I'm foolin' with ye?"

Yeah. Not a good day for Fayren.

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"Pull your trigger then." The knife was sheathed, the bloodstained priest facing him dead on, unflinching and hollow eyed.

"Pull it and put an end to me, t'would be the best thing ye can do for anyone else here, aye? I don't wear anything to protect meself from bullets." He thumped his thin chest firmly with two fingers, never once looking away.

"Flesh and blood and bone."

Sanzo didn't, he smelled a trap through the blood and whatever horrible aura that was that covered the area around the cannibal. Sometimes he did learn his lesson, as tempting as it was to use the sutra to deal with all this mess at once.

"Hn." Sanzo sneered. How goddamn pathetic.

"Too much of a coward to do it yourself, freak?"

Maybe that was correct. The gun was out, and the hideous presence starting to fade. Hastur was certain that this man posed no threat to the vessel. Ergo, this... sad little conversation could go on without his presence. It was like some massive, slimy mass retreating back into its hiding place, the departure of the Outer God.

Its many fingers pulling back, so that it could stare from behind the tired gray eyes. He wasn't wrong though. He didn't explain himself.

"If that's what pleases ye to accept, aye. A terrible, pitiable coward."

"What was that?" The eating hearts, the terribly presence, Cassian's self-pity? All of the above? Sanzo didn't give a shit about Cassian himself or his motivations, he was a potential threat. A threat that could make trouble for Sanzo sooner or later. Best not to wait until it got to that point.

The gun was tucked away into a sleeve and his arms disappeared into the sleeves as well. It would give him a regal look, with his white robes, arms crossed but hidden... if not for the ever-present scowl.

"What was what?" He stooped by the body again, but not to further desecrate it. The arms were crossed neatly over the open chest, the body arranged gently, carefully.

"Tis a lot of things in here, you'll have to be more specific, I suspect." Between mumbling in Latin over the corpse.

Soul or not, they deserved as much attention.

"Do you like to make a show before you cut someone open or are you more than 'flesh, blood, and bone'?"

He watched Cassian, eyes sharp and stern, as the bloody priest tended to the body. So he cared enough to tend to the body, but not enough to not make the body to begin with. It was one of the fake people that cluttered this world without all the thoughts and motivations of an aimless shikigami, so it was doubtful it did anything to warrant this aggression.

What did it matter, maybe the freak got off on this and felt bad for it later. Whatever the hell that presence was that made Sanzo's skin crawl was more important. A puppet, maybe?

"I what I have to, to make it till next week, lad." The body was finally left once he was sure he was finished, briefly crossing himself. Pointless, perhaps, but he found it necessary enough. "Never more, never less."

"'Fraid I don't know what ye mean by a show." Was he being purposefully obtuse?

"No point in draggin' it all out, for my sake and theirs."

"Don't be stupid." Sanzo had no patience for the purposefully obtuse. He had little patience at all and now was not the time for this shit.

"You weren't human when you butchered that thing." Human or not, it didn't really matter, why he bothered to hide it was the real concern. "So what are you, coward?"

"Nae, I wasn't. Still might not be, I don't know." He straightened himself, wiping dark blood from his chin, picking a clot from a lock of hair.

"I'm Cassian Ó Loinsigh, born 9 AD in the month of Julius. Bastard child of a witch and a monk. That's what I was, at least. Been too many years to know what I am anymore."

"I don't give a shit about who you are-" The less he knew, the less he had to care. "-what you are is my concern. And you don't even know."

Sanzo had a feeling he wasn't lying, he was free enough with how old he was and stupid things like his parentage. A bastard child himself, Sanzo really didn't give a shit. He wouldn't care regardless.

"Why the fake?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the body. He wasn't sure if he could put Cassian down permanently, maybe Koumyou could. If he was only a threat to the soulless natives, he wouldn't need to.

"Ye asked, ye stupid donkey, I gave ye the only answer I got." There you go some of the self pity was leaking away again. "I could lie to ye, what tell ye I'm a big nasty scary demon from hell lookin' for virgins to turn into maiden sandwiches, will that make ye less of a prat?"

Take a breath, Cass.

"Because ain't no one on heaven or in hell going to miss a soulless husk." The way he put it made it clear, it wasn't right. But there didn't seem to be a choice.

"I haven't met anyone who deserves such a vile end here, and I probably never will."

Sanzo's face twitched, either from anger or amusement. At least the creep stop whining, that was a plus. Sanzo had the least amount of patience for self-pitying fucks that wallowed in their sorrow like he was there to give a shit about how they felt.

To make the point of how little he cared for anything but the answer to his question, Sanzo took a while to reply as he was busy lighting a cigarette and took a drag on it before he even seemed to consider what Cassian had said.

"You don't look in the mirror often?" Completely deadpan, not a hint of humor in his voice.

Edited 2016-12-29 05:49 (UTC)

"Gee, was that an insult about me ghastly white ghoul face or a jab at not havin' a soul? Six of one half dozen of another, donkey."

Here we go.

His brow twitched as the other man lit up, and he picked up a sleeve to cover his mouth and nose, snorting.

"I'm gonna laugh meself sick when you keel over from lung cancer."

"You're pathetic and stupid." Sanzo wasn't going to explain himself, however. No that far beyond him.

"I don't give a shit what you're going to do, as long as you keep it to yourself." Sanzo glanced down at the body and back up to Cassian. Don't hurt real people you fuck. He blew out a small cloud of smoke, not necessarily at Cassian but he made no effort to make sure it didn't go in his face either.

"Pot kettle and black, stick it together."

There's an... uncomfortable wheeze as the smoke tickles his nose and throat, and an aggravated roll of his shoulder reveals a shot gun strapped to his back. He's not reaching for it.

But he sure doesn't look happy.

"I was doin' just fine for meself before ye went and stuck yer skinny rat arse in here. I don't need a hack punk with a bad attitude tellin' me how to carry on my business."

There was that twitch again, it was definitely anger this time. What right did this asshole have to be so uppity? Caught in the middle of eating someone's heart like that was just a normal thing. That wasn't an unusual thing to see for Sanzo at this point but still. Creep.

"You didn't even bother to hide, I'd say you need some sense. I'm not here to offer you advice. You can get that from the next person to find you shoving a heart down your throat." Sanzo was being reasonable, clearly. Again he didn't bother to direct smoke away from Cassian, he might get some amusement out of seeing the asshole choke on it.

"Lad. I am dead in the middle of the bloody feckin' woods on a moonless night in the dead of winter. Short of wearin' me invisibility pants out and about what do ye suggest I do to be more subtle? I'm all ears."

That second blast of smoke had him bristling like an angry dog, trying to side step the smoggy mess before it actually reached his pathetic, withered lungs.

"Ye do that one more time, ye filthy little rat, I'll shove that so far up yer arse ye'll be blowin' smoke out yer ears."

Oh well, that was a challenge now wasn't it? Sanzo already hated the man and the insults had him on edge, it was hard enough to keep the gun where it was. But that was just too tempted. He didn't bother to answer Cassian with words, just blew smoke directly at him instead. There. Fucker.

OKAY YOU KNOW WHAT.

And just like that, he's launched himself, all aboard space ship Cassian. All five foot five inches of him has hurled itself at Sanzo, trying to aim a sudden and vicious right hook to his nose.

Sanzo jerked back, a brief, cruel smile flashing across his face. So he could do more than spit venom! In that case- he was determined to keep a hand on his cigarette for as long as he could, just to draw out the annoyance. He'd fought with one hand before, he could handle this.

He lashed out with a kick at Cassian's side. Time to see if he could do jack shit without that shotgun!

Well he can but probably not in the way you'd think. Because the gun is out!

But he's gripped it by the barrel.

And the end gleams with the obvious shine of silver, the butt is solid metal.

And he swings it at Sanzo's chest like an all star home run slammer, spitting and cursing in Gaelic the entire time.

Sanzo was too off-balance to dodge that hit and grunted as the barrel smacked against the ceremonial breastplate. That would leave one hell of a bruise, that bit of bamboo wasn't much protection! He stumbled back, coughing, smugness shifted to real anger.

That bit of pain wasn't enough to knock any sense into him, getting torn up never had. He lunged right back at Cassian, fist aimed for his gut. In contrast to the other priest, he was silent, insults for when he wasn't trying to beat someone senseless.

Look, all that anger has to get out somewhere, and his fists aren't big enough for that.

He's not big enough or strong enough, especially with Hastur not giving a single shit if he gets his face punched off, so he can't afford to eat too many hits here. Fist to the gut was barely avoided, though the rattling scuff to his ribcage started up a series of barking coughs.

Don't worry though.

The immediate attempt to headbutt Sanzo in the face and break his nose makes up for the moment of weakness.

Inhuman speed saved Sanzo's nose, the monk jumped to the side and, with cigarette still in hand, drove his elbow down at Cassian's shoulder. Sanzo wasn't so out of practice that he couldn't still be vicious in a fistfight.

He's got sad little birdie bones, don't.

There's a crack, maybe a collar bone, but honestly other than hobbling an arm, it hasn't dampened his will to smash that face in.

The gun comes up and around again, aiming for his knee, and then upper thigh.