smash_logs | Dorm Log The Sequel To End All Sequels

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She stops. He stops. It's an ever consistent cycle. He's used to tailing people. She's probably used to being tailed. And his stealth and cloaking and vanishing powder isn't exactly one hundred percent foolproof. The wrong motion, the wrong sound, even stepping incorrectly can give him away.

But Soryk has had years to perfect this. Would he say he's perfect? Yes. He's perfect until proven imperfect. It's a cheap way of addressing the situation.

The pause is long enough for him to flick up his wrist and the knife along with it. Just to get her attention. If she goes on the run perhaps he can chase her down, figure out what she's doing, figure out why Seth wants the ninja boy gone.]

[As soon as Sheik hears the projectile, she's off again, pinpointing the direction it came from and leaping from her vantage point in the tree.

She's been spotted--and though she doesn't know who it is or what they want, Sheik isn't going to stick around to find out.

If he wants a chase, he'll get a chase.]

[Pursuit. That's what it's to be. But is he quick enough to keep up? He doubts it. His expertise isn't in running or sprinting, it's in covert operation and poisons. Informant work. Assassination. He's not particularly strong, but he's fast and he's clever.

And he's not as fast as Sheik, but he'll do his best.

He breaks his stealth, exposes himself, because the man can't run otherwise. Like a wolf chasing its prey. And Soryk definitely views himself as the wolf.]

[Sheik has no delusions about who is predator and who is prey in this situation. She's the one who bolted, after all, and he's the one who's taken off in pursuit.

There's a modicum of relief in the fact that she still has the trees, while he seems to be staying firmly on the ground.

All she has to do now is stay just the slightest bit faster--and hope he doesn't have good aim.]

[His aim is better than his speed. His knives are well timed, and observance will pointedly state that they're intentionally meant to avoid her. He's trying to tire her out, to throw her off, because if she makes an error, it'll give him a chance to close the distance between them.

As much as it pains him to admit it, this is a test of endurance. One of them will hold out longer than the other. She has advantages over him. A few at least. Lady Luck is not on his side. But he's got some fight in him. And some skill.]

[With the telltale thunk of projectiles in the wood around her, Sheik knows that the worst possible thing she can do is stop. It's dark, she has the high ground, and she's a moving target--escape should be in the bag.

But Sheik can't run forever and eventually one of Soryk's knives grazes her shoulder, knocking her off-balance. Her arms aren't enough to counter the motion, and all she can manage to do is tuck and roll as she falls into the underbrush below with a crash.]

[Sweet success.

But it's not quite success yet and Soryk has counted his chickens before they've hatched previously. Doing so almost always results in something rather poor. He's not getting his hopes up too much just yet, but he is wearing a ridiculous grin, as if he's looking too forward to seeing what little animal he's caught in his trap. It's a little sinister.

He dashes, quick to close the distance between himself and her landing grounds.]

Appropriate. A shrubbery.

[The man laughs. A haughty laugh. And he's quick to reach forward with gloved hands with the intent to uncover his masked treasure.]

[Sheik curses herself for the slip, rather un-gracefully trying to right herself, head spinning from the spill. She hears him approach--and she recognizes the voice.

Soryk.

She has to correct herself--Sheik has never met this man before, and must act accordingly.

Just as he's about to reach for her, she springs from the bush, foot swung wide in a roundhouse kick.]

[She's quick. He? He. Seth has said the ninja is a boy. Not that Soryk can tell. It doesn't matter what Sheik is, aside from immensely fast.

Faster than him.

He almost loses his footing. Well, he does, actually, and it takes a very not graceful flailing of his arms to grab the closest thing to him. Simply branches of the shrubbery. The whole display is actually rather silly in his opinion and slings all kinds of mud at his pride for carrying himself as such an 'elegant' man.

His teeth grit. Before he tries to put his arrogant manners back together.]

I seem to have caught a fly in my web. I have been looking for you, boy.

[This is not the Soryk Zelda knows. The Soryk Zelda knows is polite, even charming, in a sort of aloof way. This Soryk is none of those things--dangerous, deadly serious.

What's even more surprising is that it seems he's been looking for her.

Sheik springs backward, out of his reach, knees bent and low to the ground in case she needs to strike again. She has no idea why Soryk would be seeking out Sheik.]

Dare I ask why?

[This is fantastic for him. The ninja he's been trying to find and only catching glimpses of is fully in his sights. And unsuspecting, at that.

Soryk takes the opportunity to eye her from head to toe. She's on guard, which is where she should be. His own hands rest on the handles of his daggers, still sheathed, but fully poised to strike or evade, whichever action needs to happen first.]

You appear to have displeased someone a great deal. The reason why is really none of my business. My only concern is to interfere with you, to keep you from interfering in things that do not involve you.

[He bestows upon her a grin.]

Shall we begin, my elusive assassin?

[The tips of her fingers brush her needles, more than ready to close down on the thin, sharp slivers of metal--Sheik certainly doesn't want to fight, but it seems as though Soryk isn't going to give her a choice.]

I don't want to fight you. This is your last chance.

[The words aren't ones he expects. Even briefly, surprise flashes across his expression.]

Then I doubt you will mind much if I have some questions for you.

[He's only been told to remove you from the picture, Sheik. To be frank, he doesn't really want to stain his clothes with your blood. He will if he has to, though.

His hands remain loosely draped over the handles of his daggers.]

We can save the physical fighting for another day, I suppose. If we must. I was looking forward to playing with you for a bit, however.

Dorm Log The Sequel To End All Sequels

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject