04-30-2018, 02:23 PM
Strazio Rockwell always had a tendency to show up at… interesting points.
The last time the sorcerer had crossed paths with the raven-haired warrior had been on the eve of Darkshire’s attack. Prior to that, there had been the incident at the fountain and the ‘festivities’ in Camelot during Shang’s short sojourn from the Moors.
“Die lately, Mr. Rockwell?” Shang inquired, stone-faced, as he angled his horse around to stare down at the pair of men seated in their strange little cycle. When no response came immediately, Shang furrowed his brow as he stared down his fellow Defender of Darkshire. With the overcast being extra thick above them, the sorcerer had failed to notice that Strazio’s cheeks were nearly the same hue as his hair. “Are… are you unwell?”
Teeth ground together in Strazio’s mouth as he tried to settle the churning acid in his stomach. Gamzee’s damned Faygo-fueled contraption had left him with more nausea than he’d find eating a few pounds of raw meat. “I’m fine,” he finally barked from his seat, eliciting a fleeting smirk from Shang’s visage. Strazio’s teeth went back to grinding in his mouth—he hated that fucking grin. That smug, aristocrat grin that barely concealed a mouth filled with the shark who smelled blood wherever he wanted. Shang could play bureaucrat all he wanted, but the mage knew it was an elegant façade.
“Gamzee, is it not?” Shang inquired with all the formality of a state dinner, which only served to make Strazio twitch more in his sidecar.
“Top of the morning, guv’nor,” the troll remarked as he tilted a nonexistence hat toward the horse-mounted politico. “Nice day for a tea party, init?”
“Aye,” Shang shot back with just a slight hint of an accent. “Did you get my copy of Fifty Shades Whiter? You were one of the people who received the print proofs, if I recall.”
Gamzee scowled. “No, I haven’t. Must have been lost in the mail.”
“What a fucking shame,” Strazio growled as he exited the sidecar of the bike and rose to his full height. “We know what you’re after, Sorcerer.”
“Obviously,” Shang replied. “Peace and prosperity for the Pale Moors. The p-squared.”
“The P-P,” Atelos echoed, which promptly caused the seated Gamzee to lose himself in a fit of chuckles. The Spartan scowled and turned to his companion, who had just barely managed to conceal a smile. “Is your angry friend’s companion broken?”
Shang shook his head. “He’s just a very affable individual, that’s all.”
Atelos nodded in return. “I understand. Where I’m from, the army often traveled with giggly, ‘affable’ men.” The remark was punctuated by the Spartan letting his wrist go limp, which only served to worsen Gamzee’s fit of laughter.
“We know you seek the Tarrasque,” Strazio spoke over his companion’s guffawing. “Your help isn’t required.”
“Too bad,” Shang smiled. “The way I see it, Mr. Rockwell, is that you need us. Hell, we probably need the two of you, and even then, I’m sure this will be truly awful.”
“We’ll be fine,” Strazio rebuked.
A freshly composed Gamzee raised a hand from his seat. “Hey spea—”
“We will be fine.” Strazio reiterated after flashing a withering glare to his companion.
Shang’s grin did not falter. “Mr. Rockwell, you couldn’t handle little ole me during our prior… scrimmages. How will you contend with a mountain-sized monster? We will likely need each other.”
Gamzee looked like he was about to start snickering when another sideways glance from Strazio caused him to quickly divert his attention to a container of Faygo in his cup holder.
“We shall see, Sorcerer.”
The last time the sorcerer had crossed paths with the raven-haired warrior had been on the eve of Darkshire’s attack. Prior to that, there had been the incident at the fountain and the ‘festivities’ in Camelot during Shang’s short sojourn from the Moors.
“Die lately, Mr. Rockwell?” Shang inquired, stone-faced, as he angled his horse around to stare down at the pair of men seated in their strange little cycle. When no response came immediately, Shang furrowed his brow as he stared down his fellow Defender of Darkshire. With the overcast being extra thick above them, the sorcerer had failed to notice that Strazio’s cheeks were nearly the same hue as his hair. “Are… are you unwell?”
Teeth ground together in Strazio’s mouth as he tried to settle the churning acid in his stomach. Gamzee’s damned Faygo-fueled contraption had left him with more nausea than he’d find eating a few pounds of raw meat. “I’m fine,” he finally barked from his seat, eliciting a fleeting smirk from Shang’s visage. Strazio’s teeth went back to grinding in his mouth—he hated that fucking grin. That smug, aristocrat grin that barely concealed a mouth filled with the shark who smelled blood wherever he wanted. Shang could play bureaucrat all he wanted, but the mage knew it was an elegant façade.
“Gamzee, is it not?” Shang inquired with all the formality of a state dinner, which only served to make Strazio twitch more in his sidecar.
“Top of the morning, guv’nor,” the troll remarked as he tilted a nonexistence hat toward the horse-mounted politico. “Nice day for a tea party, init?”
“Aye,” Shang shot back with just a slight hint of an accent. “Did you get my copy of Fifty Shades Whiter? You were one of the people who received the print proofs, if I recall.”
Gamzee scowled. “No, I haven’t. Must have been lost in the mail.”
“What a fucking shame,” Strazio growled as he exited the sidecar of the bike and rose to his full height. “We know what you’re after, Sorcerer.”
“Obviously,” Shang replied. “Peace and prosperity for the Pale Moors. The p-squared.”
“The P-P,” Atelos echoed, which promptly caused the seated Gamzee to lose himself in a fit of chuckles. The Spartan scowled and turned to his companion, who had just barely managed to conceal a smile. “Is your angry friend’s companion broken?”
Shang shook his head. “He’s just a very affable individual, that’s all.”
Atelos nodded in return. “I understand. Where I’m from, the army often traveled with giggly, ‘affable’ men.” The remark was punctuated by the Spartan letting his wrist go limp, which only served to worsen Gamzee’s fit of laughter.
“We know you seek the Tarrasque,” Strazio spoke over his companion’s guffawing. “Your help isn’t required.”
“Too bad,” Shang smiled. “The way I see it, Mr. Rockwell, is that you need us. Hell, we probably need the two of you, and even then, I’m sure this will be truly awful.”
“We’ll be fine,” Strazio rebuked.
A freshly composed Gamzee raised a hand from his seat. “Hey spea—”
“We will be fine.” Strazio reiterated after flashing a withering glare to his companion.
Shang’s grin did not falter. “Mr. Rockwell, you couldn’t handle little ole me during our prior… scrimmages. How will you contend with a mountain-sized monster? We will likely need each other.”
Gamzee looked like he was about to start snickering when another sideways glance from Strazio caused him to quickly divert his attention to a container of Faygo in his cup holder.
“We shall see, Sorcerer.”