haveyoubeenuplatenights:

keepcalmandsingyourswansong:

tiktiktikboom:

haveyoubeenuplatenights:

The pain was intense, but Casimiro fought through it. Casimiro clawed at Tiben’s chest, claws tearing flesh and— And hitting something different. It wasn’t flesh; it was too hard and sturdy. It was curious and Casimiro pulled away for a split second, brows furrowing.

Now that had been too close for comfort. When Tiben’s chest had been hit, he reached new levels of rage. At Casimiro’s pause, he took the opportunity to force the vampire back, effectively pinning him to the floor and he began pressing down with the spoon again and, produced from his back trouser pocket, he brought down a silver knife into the vampire’s other shoulder. He knew it wouldn’t kill Casimiro, but he thought it might keep him still.

Don’t. Ever. Touch. Us.

Superficial damage had been done to the fake skin; it was torn, but did not bleed.

Seeing the knife sink into Casimiro’s shoulder was too much for the young swan maiden. Odette was very much a peaceful person by nature but that knife was too close. Someone she loved was in serious danger. All thoughts of the pain that even now wracked her body was thrown out the window as she ran at Ples, using all the force she could muster to try and ram him off of Casimiro. “Do. Not. Hurt. Casimiro.” she seethed half hisses and half speaking.

There was something there—the way that Tiben had responded to Casimiro hitting whatever he had made the vampire stumble upon a plan of action. Tearing the knife out of his shoulder to give himself more range, his hand dug into Tiben’s chest and tried to pull out anything he could. Odette made it slightly more difficult but if his hunch was right he would know immediately.

Tiben’s eyes went wide at the invasion of his chest. When Odette ran into him, he fell forward a bit, allowing Casimiro to get a better grip on the wheels and cogs in his chest. When the vampire retracted his hand, it was filled with miscellaneous clock parts. The expression on the formerly-ticking man’s face could best be described as “surprised.” His mouth fell open, loosing a small stream of blood and oil.

It was like some kind of internal light had gone out from Ples Tibenoch. He looked…desaturated. Whatever he believed about his state, insane, human, robot, or otherwise, he had been, absolutely without a doubt, ALIVE.

No longer. He fell forward; limbs limp and pliable. His eyes, dull, remained open wide.

It all happened in an instant. And whatever knowledge Tiben had of the impending disaster, and how to stop it, died with him.

haveyoubeenuplatenights:

keepcalmandsingyourswansong:

tiktiktikboom:

haveyoubeenuplatenights:

“Liar. You’re no friend of hers.” Casimiro slowly stalked forward, eyes trained on Tiben and nothing else. There was only hate and malice in his eyes, and though he could smell the harsh reel of motor oil Casimiro licked his lips as he approached. “And I’m going to kill you. I am going to fucking murder you.” And with that he pounced on the other man, hands tearing and clawing at whatever he could get his hands on.

Best friends. *grin*

Tiben simply raised an eyebrow. He didn’t see the point in speaking right now. But, armed to the hilt with Ples’ ridiculous, foppish silverware, he was eager. Casimiro’s lunge knocked him back and down, forcing air out of his lungs. The rug and hardwood floor caught several spills of blood and oil. The other man was pinned on his back, wrestling with the angry vampire. He tried to regain the upper hand by bringing a silver spoon to Casimiro’s neck and holding it there.

Odette was soon trailing after the two again, still yelling for them to just stop. Why were they even fighting? Odette didn’t understand, her thoughts were too jumbled. Casimiro said he would try and get along and even if the other Ples was violent Cas would easily be able to avoid him if her really wanted to. All he’d have to do is bat and fly up until other Ples was gone. And she could make him leave! She’d done that before. Yes, she decided as she finally caught up to the two men scrapping, that’s what she’d do. Casimiro only disliked the other Ples, right?

The pain was intense, but Casimiro fought through it. Casimiro clawed at Tiben’s chest, claws tearing flesh and— And hitting something different. It wasn’t flesh; it was too hard and sturdy. It was curious and Casimiro pulled away for a split second, brows furrowing.

Now that had been too close for comfort. When Tiben’s chest had been hit, he reached new levels of rage. At Casimiro’s pause, he took the opportunity to force the vampire back, effectively pinning him to the floor and he began pressing down with the spoon again and, produced from his back trouser pocket, he brought down a silver knife into the vampire’s other shoulder. He knew it wouldn’t kill Casimiro, but he thought it might keep him still.

Don’t. Ever. Touch. Us.

Superficial damage had been done to the fake skin; it was torn, but did not bleed.

haveyoubeenuplatenights:

keepcalmandsingyourswansong:

Odette let out a panicked honk and recoiled as Cas wretched his wrist away and growled. Casimiro growled at her. No, no, no that wasn’t right. Casimiro growled when he was annoyed or angry but not at her. She looked at him with large wide eyes, her expression looking as though she had been struck. Once he bounded off she did her best to follow after but she stumbled and had to pause frequently when the pain became overwhelming.

“Liar. You’re no friend of hers.” Casimiro slowly stalked forward, eyes trained on Tiben and nothing else. There was only hate and malice in his eyes, and though he could smell the harsh reel of motor oil Casimiro licked his lips as he approached. “And I’m going to kill you. I am going to fucking murder you.” And with that he pounced on the other man, hands tearing and clawing at whatever he could get his hands on.

Best friends. *grin*

Tiben simply raised an eyebrow. He didn’t see the point in speaking right now. But, armed to the hilt with Ples’ ridiculous, foppish silverware, he was eager. Casimiro’s lunge knocked him back and down, forcing air out of his lungs. The rug and hardwood floor caught several spills of blood and oil. The other man was pinned on his back, wrestling with the angry vampire. He tried to regain the upper hand by bringing a silver spoon to Casimiro’s neck and holding it there.

haveyoubeenuplatenights:

keepcalmandsingyourswansong:

No, no, no, no they needed to stop—there was blood, they needed to stop. Grabbing Ples wasn’t doing anything so she switched her targets. Casimiro, Casimiro would listen to her. “C-Casimiro!!! Casimiro stop!!!” She didn’t wait for him to try and run after Ples she grabbed Cas’ wrist and held as tight as she could

Casimiro turned and growled at the swan maiden, yanking his wrist free. It was all primal instincts now—the instincts to track and hunt and kill. Tiben was his prey and he would be damned if he was going to let anyone get in the middle of the hunt, not even Odette. He was doing this for her, so she could at least leave him be. As soon as his wrist was free he sprinted down the stairs, his heightened senses leading him statist to where Tiben had ran off to.

He threw open drawers and grabbed what he could; every movement desperate. Nothing lethal by ordinary standards - just stuff he had accumulated for dinner parties that he never hosted. Too bad, so sad. When Casimiro entered the room, he spoke slowly and deliberately.

Leave us alone. Odette gave him the feathers. Well, me, I suppose. He doesn’t know. She wants to help him; be his friend. Mine too.

haveyoubeenuplatenights:

keepcalmandsingyourswansong:

tiktiktikboom:

haveyoubeenuplatenights:

keepcalmandsingyourswansong:

Odette scrambled closer, the two men seemed preoccupied with eachother and not the stumbling swan maiden behind them. “Ples!! Casimiro!!” she tried to force her aching limbs to move faster but they wouldn’t and she continued to panic “Stop!! STOP!!” She was finally close and grabbed for the back of Tiben’s shirt, hoping that perhaps she could pull him away.

There was so much pain—it was almost blinding. The power of the shot knocked him off his feet and made his shoulder feel as though it were on fire, the throbbing and heat originating from underneath his skin. But no matter how bad it hurt, Casimiro didn’t have time to dig out the bullet. Odette’s voice made his head snap up, training on her. No no no no she shouldn’t be close to him. Why had she gotten up? “Odette! Get away from him!” Casimiro forced himself to his feet, teetering slightly. He held his shoulder as he shouted. “Odette!”

The other man didn’t even notice that his shirt had been gripped. He pulled away and came forward.

I only wish I had taped my hands!

Tiben pulled his fist back and threw a punch at Casimiro’s right eye.

The shirt slipped from Odette’s grip as Ples darted forward back into his fight with Casimiro. “NO!” Odette shrieked loudly, a shrill tone that would be difficult for any human to muster. She grabbed for Ples’ collar this time and yanked as hard as she could.

The punch sent him reeling for a second, the world an explosion of light and pain as Casimiro tried to settle back on the groud and stop wobbling. As soon as that happened, it was on. The rage had boiled over, all of his humanity gone as he swiped out for Ples. Grabbing him by the throat, Casimiro made sure that Tiben saw him before he swung down and slashed a clawed hand across his face. “Eye for an eye, bitch.”

Odette had got his attention, but did little to stop him from going forward.

Stand down, Odette.

“I’m doing this for you.” He didn’t say it, but there would be plenty of time to explain to her later. He gulped at the air when Casimiro grabbed his throat. Tiben gave an irritated grunt at the strike across his face; blood now running down and slightly obscuring his vision. He managed to shake off the vampire, though he hunched over and was coughing profusely. 

He needed more silver. If he could hold off until sunrise…

The other man brought a leg up, almost balletic in motion, and aimed for Casimiro’s mouth. There was something raspy in his voice this time.

And a tooth for a tooth.

He didn’t assess the damage, but ran to the dining room, where the good cutlery was kept.

haveyoubeenuplatenights:

keepcalmandsingyourswansong:

Odette scrambled closer, the two men seemed preoccupied with eachother and not the stumbling swan maiden behind them. “Ples!! Casimiro!!” she tried to force her aching limbs to move faster but they wouldn’t and she continued to panic “Stop!! STOP!!” She was finally close and grabbed for the back of Tiben’s shirt, hoping that perhaps she could pull him away.

There was so much pain—it was almost blinding. The power of the shot knocked him off his feet and made his shoulder feel as though it were on fire, the throbbing and heat originating from underneath his skin. But no matter how bad it hurt, Casimiro didn’t have time to dig out the bullet. Odette’s voice made his head snap up, training on her. No no no no she shouldn’t be close to him. Why had she gotten up? “Odette! Get away from him!” Casimiro forced himself to his feet, teetering slightly. He held his shoulder as he shouted. “Odette!”

The other man didn’t even notice that his shirt had been gripped. He pulled away and came forward.

I only wish I had taped my hands!

Tiben pulled his fist back and threw a punch at Casimiro’s right eye.

haveyoubeenuplatenights:

keepcalmandsingyourswansong:

tiktiktikboom:

haveyoubeenuplatenights:

Casimiro rushed to Odette’s side. She looked horrible, and it was easy to tell just how hurt she was. “Odette, I’ll fix it as soon as I can, okay?” The sight of her in so much pain was what sent him over the top, pivoting around to grab at Ples’ lapels and lift him into the air. “Where are they? She had them here last and I know you have them!” Casimiro snarled, his eyes going white as he started to lose his humanity already. He was in no mood to play games. Not when it came to her.

Ples was panicking; what was going on?

I-I-I don’t have them.

Metal bars came down around the doors and windows. No one was coming in, and no one was getting out.

However, I do.

The other man took out a small silver teaspoon from his vest and pressed it against Casimiro’s face.

Odette let out yet another distressed noise as the bars came down on the doors and windows with a clang. What was going on? Ples—There was something wrong—No, Ples was wrong. Not her Ples, the other Ples and the other Ples was too close to her Casimiro. “C-Casimiro!” she stumbled out of the chair, trying her best to ignore the pain that wracked her body as she tried to get closer to the two.

Casimiro let out a scream as he clawed at the silver on his face, effectively releasing the other man and dropping him to the ground. It was an action he would regret making, but instincts were taking over as he lost more and more of his humanity. As soon as the spoon was tossed away, his focus returned to Tiben. Claws were at the ready, and a sneer was plastered on his burned face. “Fucking bring it.”

The ticking man didn’t have far to fall. He immediately straightened himself up and whipped out his flintlock pistol. In his haste, his aim was a little off, but he managed a single hit to Casimiro’s shoulder.

Silver bullets, Mister Casimiro! Your face looks strange; you should check a mirror!

Tiben threw the revolver forward and rushed in to fight, cackling. He had no more bullets, per se, but silver? There was plenty of it. A gentleman wouldn’t settle for less.