➥ I. Despite All My Rage I'm Still Just a Sin in a Cage: Arrival
[It should have been nothing.]
[That's how it was supposed to be, anyway. At the end of it all, his one and only lie told, and that should have been it. Ash, oblivion, then nothing, nothing at all. He'd known that the moment he made his choice. And he had done it in the same way as always: with a sickle-sliver smile and a defiance all his own. Because everything has a price, everything has a cost, and his? It had been his all. His entire stack of metaphorical chips piled high and thrown on the gamble that maybe, just maybe, it would be humans and humans alone to bring the whole thing down.]
[But he's said it before, hasn't he?]
[There's no such thing as no such thing.]
[Greed slowly maps out his teeth with his tongue. The smell of metal (carbon, iron, and the wetness of both) is a little ironic. He can almost taste the cage as he comes to; its rusted dust and flecking paint like copper at the back of his throat. Yet while most men would (probably) be yelping for a hand, the homunculus simply laughs. It comes out of him as booming as a thunderclap: how it pounds the slats of the cage, how it seems to shake from the deepest part of his chest and rattle his bones with a demand, a want, as commanding as his namesake. Greed rakes his fingers through his hair and as he feels the cool touch of metal press against the base of his neck, his lips stretch across his face. His grin, a Cheshire's best, hinting only bad, bad things.]
[The horrible screech of steel meeting steel is a familiar one. And maybe it's just in his nature, but as soon as he realizes where he is (in a cage, flimsy, hanging, and swaying haphazardly from a high-foot drop), the Sin does as he always does: he acts. With sharp-hooked claws and a slurred hum lodged in his throat, he swipes along the iron, making the slats bend, buckle, and hiss under a flurry of angry, biting sparks. Three or four pieces break free and as he presses his heel against them, he sends what little remains tumbling to the ground - their freefall drumming off with an echoing, bell-toll clang.]
[Dnk, dnk, dnk, dnk.]
Yeah, sorry. That's not gunna work. [Greed puckers his mouth, wrapping one hand around the outside of the cage as it teeters like an old swing door with his weight. If self-preservation's a thing he should know, he certainly doesn't show it. Instead, he hooks the edge of his boot into the lip of the wrought-iron floor, dragging himself out onto the edge as the whole thing gently groans in a swaying, pendulum motion. He takes a quick look up, catching light on his sunglasses, before turning his head back down again. And in that moment, he flashes a smile; one tight, sharp, and oh-so wicked.]
[The homunculus whistles up at the chain holding the cage in place.] Oh ho - ! I don't know who you are, but you really outdid yourselves, didn't you?
➥ II. Reflections in Avarice: Funhouse
[Reflect. That's a mirror's job, after all. To reflect and show what's there, what's solid, what's available to take and have. And at first, that's exactly what the funhouse does. Sure, it's a little disorienting (not that he'd complain about view, mind), but for the most part, things seem normal. And while the Sin makes his way through the winding halls and tight corners, he takes it at a daunting pace. As if he's counting the steps and adding them up for all their worth.]
[Because he's always been a creature made for more. More money, more power, more status, more everything. Dying didn't change that.]
[Maybe that's why he forgot all about the note. Crime and its punishment have never been something he's thought about before. It's never been a thing he's had to think about. But as he feels it (the ping of static flitting in his skull, the twinge of bitterness in the back of his throat like crossed wires), Greed carefully taps his teeth together.]
[The mirrors change, bleeding into moments far, far away from here, and the Sin slows to a stop. It causes the clcks and clacks of his heels to cut short; their last snap, like hot brass tumbling down, down, down. The homunculus shifts his head over his shoulder. Yeah, he hasn't forgotten. And really, how could he? The moment when everything came crashing together, when his memories came flooding back, and oh, had the cost been in blood.]
"That .. wasn't my friend -"
[It's his voice, but it's not his body. No, that's the body he borrowed. The one that was given to him, the one that took him on willingly, the man who took him on willingly. The Sin watches, eyes narrowing behind his shades. He's seen this story already. He knows how it plays out. And as the image continues (him, Ling, them) bent over in the bowels of a city that had no idea just what lurked beneath it, his expression shifts. Where he had been all smiles before, he's distant now; the look on his face cool, biting, and entirely vacant.]
Oi, oi, oi. [He hisses as he shifts his foot, grinding his heel into the funhouse floor. Wherever he's ended up, it's dark. And as a touch of shadow licks his face, it's his eyes that answer. They pulse behind his sunglasses eerie and vague; like a pair of sunken goals, low, fuming, and pricked in a terrible, terrible red.]
[Greed touches his thighs with his fingers and something slick (slick like oil, slick like tar) slowly begins to crawl up his hands, turning his nails crooked and sharp.] I already know how this goes. You're wasting your time.
➥ III. The Cardinal Vice of Grabby: Pumpkins
[Ok, sure. He's seen a pumpkin before. He knows what it is. But that's the thing with avarice: it's not exactly picky when it comes to want.]
[Greed wraps his hand around the pumpkin, tipping it one way, then the other. The thought of a prize had been enough to catch his attention. So, to say he's sorely disappointed would be an understatement. Especially given what's been written on it:]
["Eat something that doesn’t look like food."]
Ehh, knew a guy once who'd probably take you up on the offer. [The Sin shrugs his shoulders, making the fur of his vest graze his ears. He flips the gourd over again and its carved-out smile immediately switches to a frown. But instead of getting rid of it, he simply tosses it into the air, letting it twist and spin as he readies his fingers out to catch it again.]
➥ IV. Wildcard
[Don't see anything ya like? FEEL FREE to run into him anywhere. I can roll with anything! THE WORLD'S YOUR OYSTER ...]
[ that smile reminds him of something. like a moon that someone has taken a knife to, bleeding black clouds and promising things that he has seen time and time before this, in a world far from here. it's the sort of smile that razes mountains to the ground, rendering through flesh and earth alike without a care (he has seen it in the blades that circled the sky, catching the light of the fire and gleaming like so many teeth).
vash trusts his gut feeling entirely too much; that's what lands him in trouble most of the time, practically vaulting over the line much less dip his toe over it.
so it wouldn't entirely surprise anyone much less himself when he breaks out into a run, the bright red coat flapping out behind him, and waves the curious onlookers who's stopped to look at the madman (that's all they think, some spectacle and not a spectre) to step aside. ]
--Uh.
[ now that he's got here, skidding to an unsteady stop just beneath the other, he seems to falter and grow into himself, giving greed a returning smile that's just as weak and awkward as his is bright. ]
Are ... you okay? Can I help you?
COMES IN SO LATE ... with a tray of wobbly starbucks
[It almost takes him a second to realize. The flash of red, the blonde, the mad dash and skirt of light off steel: it's someone else that comes to mind first. Someone he knows, someone he knows well, but as soon as Vash gets closer, all the differences become as clear as day.]
[No, as much as there are similarities to Edward Elric, this one? He's someone new.]
[Greed rocks back on one of his heels, sending the tip of it pointing sky high. Poised as he is (with his nails sunk into the upper lip of the cage and his shoulders bent), he takes on the look of a vulture. A vulture with a smile, with a glint in its eye, and a hunger nipping on the sharps of its teeth.]
Ah - ? [The question is more a noise than an actual question, and the homunculus lazily shifts his weight, making the body of the cage tilt dangerously forward.] Ha - ! Could ask you the same thing there, friend. Looks like you got here in a bit of a hurry. [If he cares about an audience, he certainly doesn't show it. No, despite the fact that he's hanging within an inch of his life (with curious onlookers below and a few of the cage's bars now bent and broken just inches from his skin), the Sin's nothing but confident. Confident and sure, as if he has not a single care or fear in the world.]
[Greed lulls his head into his shoulder as he idly presses the toe of his boot into another piece of loose iron, causing it to scream back. Shrrrrrrrck.] As much as I appreciate the offer, I wouldn't worry about it, hmn? Built a bit tougher than I look.
Ehh - [He tilts his chin, showing off his throat as he tries to map out an escape plan.] - though you might wanna tell those people to move. Don't want to make a mess of things if I can help it.
[ unfortunately, it's not the person that greed is expecting ... but we must all get used to life's disappointments, don't we? just like vash would in a minute when he realises this guy isn't much better closer up than when he saw that knife-sharp smile glinting in the dark - maybe he should really think about these things before he start running, next time.
vash's eyes dart from the smile, to the way the old rusted iron of the cage flecks from the pressure of those grip, the way the chains catch and creak one against another with the motion of the slow lumbering swing. it doesn't sound as though it will last much longer, even without greed trying to rip his way through it recklessly as he is now. ]
Come on! [ instead of answering him back, vash decides to turn his attentions to the onlookers - stepping forward to shield them from any mishaps were the cage decided to give way right at that moment. ] Go on! Nothing to see here! Please leave!
[ some of them would clearly rather stay and watch what would unfold for a bit of spooky carnival entertainment ... but vash can be rather insistent when he wants to be, despite coming across as so timid and spineless most of the time - so after a bit (a lot?) of pleading and jostling, the crowd thins out. hope greed is patiently waiting the whole while ...
even with all the trouble that he's already caused, vash still tries to maintain a polite level of smile as he turns back to the other, craning his neck upwards and squinting his eyes to see the figure hanging like some condemned corpse from the cage. ]
Ah ... Thank you for that! You're pretty considerate, huh?
Um, why don't you - uh - come down now? It must be pretty cold up there right? No? We could go get some warm drink? Mulled wine? Cider??
[But just because it isn't the person he's expecting, that doesn't mean his intrigue is any less. And it shows on his face as subtly as a viper; the way his lips squeeze together, hinting his teeth. How his eyes fishtail behind his sunglasses with a soft, cold-blooded tick. Greed distractedly leans his weight forward and as the crowd reluctantly thins, the chain holding the cage twitches above him; its iron links clapping together in a heavy, pounding rhythm.]
[Chng, chng, chng.]
[The Sin raises one of his eyebrows as he slowly crouches between the tangle of gnarled bars. He pins his elbow into the top of his thigh, letting his claws dangle between his knees.] Considerate, huh? Ha - ! Wouldn't say that, friend. Just would rather keep things peaceful if I can help it. Like I said before, would be a shame to make things messier than they have to be, hmn?
[A thickness plays in his tone, singsong and sure. Greed rolls his shoulder and as the bones in his neck crack, the cool-carbon coating on his hand slowly drops. It slips away, slick and smooth; like an oil-topped tide receding back, back, back. He flits his fingers twice.] Doesn't matter. You, on the other hand - [The homunculus snaps his tongue behind his teeth.] - now, who are you, exactly?
[Standing up, however, proves to be a bit more precarious. Because as soon as he does, the cage begins to move again. Greed briskly clicks his teeth, sinking his heel between the slots of the cage as an anchor.] Tch. Hold that thought for a second. [He barks mindlessly. Because his eyes are wandering. Wandering and searching and oh, oh, oh, what do they see? Well, if that growing smile of his is anything to go by - ]
[One second is all it takes, and the Sin pushes himself out of the cage feet first. It isn't a far enough jump that it'll cause too much damage, but it isn't so short either. Not that it matters. Not that it ever matters. Because that's the thing with creatures like them, isn't it? They'll always come back one way or another. And despite what should have been his final curtain call, that phrase of his? It still rings true:]
["There's no such thing as no such thing.".]
[Greed hits the ground and a skitter of dust and gravel scampers out from under his boots.] Ah - [Groaning, he settles his hand on the back of his head, giving his neck a light press.] - not exactly what I had in mind, but I suppose that's just the way it is. [He drops his arm as he eases his ear into his shoulder, causing the fur along his vest to fan against his cheek.]
[The Sin purses his lips, satisfied.] Not too worried about the cold either. But we were in the middle of something, weren't we? [His throat exposed, he chances a look at Vash and something (something red, something wicked) briefly shines behind his sunglasses. Yet, as soon as it comes, it's gone again; like the backside of a car passing on by.] First thing's first, though.
[He draws his fingers across his collarbone.] The name's Greed. It's a pleasure.
to be honest, vash has heard that word many times over the years - some affable and pleasant, and some not so much - and there is definitely a quiet undercurrent of the latter in the way this person intones, serrated smile and all. that in itself should be a sign enough of danger - it speaks less of a calm disposition but more of a spring coiling itself before the burst, the split second before striker hits the bullet - but let's be real, vash has never been very good at self preservation. the important thing is that whoever this person is, he's currently paying attention to him over the others now walking away from the scene in search of other entertainment to occupy them.
the dirt scrapes under the soles of his boots as vash shifts his weight, relaxing his posture enough to tip himself on one foot as he raises a hand over his brows, shielding his eyes (even with the shades!!!) to look up at the other shadowed against the lamplights. his voice is light, lilting, just on this side of careless; ] Messy, haha, you got that right! Why don't we figure out a way for you to come down, before you make a --
[ further mess, he wants to go on and say, eyeing the littered bits of rusty metal pieces on the ground out the corner of his eyes, but it seems like this person has other ideas in terms of devising a shortcut way out of so-called confinement.
the impact is enough to shake the ground nearby, carrying over the few metres away where vash is standing - and he slowly lowers the gloved hand back to his side, being careful to keep his shoulders from tensing up. it doesn't look like he has any weapons on hand - which is one good thing out of this situation, to be honest - but then again, that wasn't a guarantee on anything.
well, he did say he wants to keep things peaceful, so there's still hope? maybe?
with that, a usual degree of familiar, friendly smile snaps back onto his face automatically, as he watches the other man reassess and straighten himself out. ]
Nice to meet you, Greed! Now, just because you aren't worried about it doesn't mean a good warm drink won't help, no?
[ it's an odd name, but vash is the last person to judge someone else for their name. ]
[Now empty, the cage up above lilts from its chains, its body mangled and broken. It's solemn in a weird kind of way; like something forgotten, left to rot itself away under the lamp's milky-white hum. Greed takes another step forward, shooing away a twisted, metal bar with the side of his boot. It skips across the ground once before settling itself into a divot. Its finalizing moment as sharp and twangy as a well-thrown horseshoe.]
[Tnk.]
[The Sin tests his lip with his tongue. Being alive a third time (without a stolen body on top of it all) is new and for a second, he takes it all in: the feel of his fingers as cool-hard carbon slips down his skin, the tips of his teeth and how they settle like familiar company in the strong of his jaw. None of this, by any means, should be possible. And yet, here he is, in a place he knows nothing about, face to face with a man who's only a mystery.]
[Because the closer he gets, the more clear it becomes. This isn't Edward Elric, not by a long shot. Where there would be bitterness, contempt, and more than a fair share of attitude, only sincerity remains. In the beam of a smile and a tone that's almost, almost, honest. The Sin thoughtfully hums to himself and as he begins to slowly close the space between them, he pins a rock under the cut of his heel, making it grind harsh into the ground below.]
Vash. Did I get that right? [He drawls, his voice deep and slurry. The tone of it seems to fester in his ribs. Like a billows, churning out soot. Greed sways and as he finds his sides, he languidly begins to wrap his hands around his hips. He takes his time with it. Each tap of his nails, deaf and biting.] Nice to meet me, huh? That's not usually the reaction I get. Ha - ! You're a pretty excitable one, aren't you.
[It isn't a question. No, that kind of energy - it could be anything. Genuine curiosity, fear, a way to smooth out a potentially hostile situation. The Sin lazily tilts over, shooting a glance up to effectively capture Vash in his shades.] Not about to deny you there, friend. It's been a while since I had a drink, after all. But -
[His words trail off with a trill. The people around them, the crowd from before: they're an afterthought in the moment. Avarice, after all, has a keen eye and as his attention wanders over every inch of him, the Sin squeezes his lips together. His expression as sly as a well-worn alley cat.] - nothing's free. Not here, not before. I might not know where we are exactly, but I know that much.
[Another pebble hurries out from under his boot, and the Sin precariously leans forward. Any personal space is forfeit, any breathing room is gone, leaving him and him alone a hair's breath away. Greed idly taps his thigh with his finger.]
Why don't we get right to it then? [He rolls his tongue against his gums, prodding his cheek.] See, I might not be good, but I'm not bad either. And I like to think I'm pretty fair. So, let's get that drink of yours. And in exchange?
[The Sin pivots his heel, slapping the toe of his boot against the ground.] Well, I suppose it matters what you want, doesn't it.
[ overprouncing the p until it pops with a click of his jaws, vash matches the undercurrent of the drawl with a bright, countering beam of his own, almost as though he has no care in the world and meeting a stranger who casually falls from a height that would break most people's bones is in any way normal.
... maybe it wasn't too good an idea to divulge information like that so freely, but 1. vash has never cared about self preservation (especially if it was at the expense of other's), and 2. after months of being here, he isn't too worried about people recognising the name, or even him by sight (not that vash has ever liked the photo they used for his wanted posters; man, talk about police bias!).
and technically there's also a third reason, that being that everyone's here accused of some kind of crime - so effectively it's as though they're all starting from the same square of the board, no?
(not that his crime in itself is anything to write about ... he knows that it could have been much, much worse; at least the illusion of the intentionally vague wording keeps him from facing the reality) ]
Well- Hahaha, I think it's always exciting to meet new, uh, people-
[ the smile doesn't slip - not one bit, not even when the pebble that rolls out from under greed's foot pings off the steel-cap of his own, not even when the other leans in close enough that vash could catch the whiff of rust on his hands, the warm animal smell of the fur around his collar. ]
You wouldn't consider this a special circumstance, would you? A one time only deal! Completely free!
[The Sin's mouth shrinks, causing the upper half of his lip to peel off his teeth. There's something charming about that kind of enthusiasm. That kind of bold, innocent, bright-eyed enthusiasm which challenges and disarms without a single hint of a threat. And sure, it could all be bullshit at the end of the day. A means of keeping the peace. Yet something about that smile - ]
[Greed lifts his shoulders and as he waltzes along Vash's side, he lazily swings his arm wide. With a snap of his wrist, he spreads two of his fingers; the motion quick and dismissive.] Now, I wouldn't say that, exactly. I'm not really a person. Least, not in the way that you think. [He leaves it vague. Special circumstances aside, there's still value in information. It's something he's always had currency in: the whispers on the street, the rumors hushed and traded behind back alleyways in return for discreet, slipped-silent cash. No, in his world? Everything has a price. Everything has a cost. And information? Ah, is it worth its weight.]
[But then, Vash continues and the homunculus visibly pauses. He lowers his chin to sink into his shoulders and a huff of a laugh slides through the cracks of his teeth.] A one time only deal, huh? [Greed repeats, his tone rolling thick in the back of his throat.] Fine, suit yourself. We'll just say I owe you the next time.
[Distractedly, he fishes through his vest. When he pulls his hand out again, a folded document waits pinched between his knuckles. From the looks of it, he'd simply shoved it into his pocket once he arrived. Something forgotten, least until now. Greed shakes it open, causing the crinkled paper to unfurl like a crushed, dying flower. Yet, oddly enough, it rights itself pretty quickly. It's as if the paper has a mind of its own, and no amount of carelessness will ever, ever, leave a scratch.]
[But it's not its durability that gets the Sin's attention. It's the one word. The one word scribbled on the dotted line, bold and scathing:]
["BETRAYAL".]
[Greed pinches the paper closed with his thumb.] Get right to the point, don't they? [There's nothing nice about that smile. Nothing sincere. Instead, it's rebellious. Daring. As if he doesn't care what he's been accused of. Crime is nothing new to him. Theft, bribery, smuggling: he's done it all before. This, though, is something different, isn't it? Something beyond laws, something personal, and as he folds the document over again, Greed numbly sucks at the inside of his cheek.]
[No, if given the choice? He'd gladly turn his back on his would-be kin a third time no matter the consequences.]
[The Sin sways and with a practiced play of his fingers, he tucks the note into the back pocket of his pants, leaving the corner of it poking from the leather. He turns on his heel and as a cough of dry dirt scuffs his boot, the homunculus glances over his shoulder; the look on his face, an eel's slippery charm.] Why don't you go ahead and take the lead, hmn? Since you know where you're going and all.
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expiationlogs2024-10-14 08:59 am
Greed | Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood | TDM
[It should have been nothing.]
[That's how it was supposed to be, anyway. At the end of it all, his one and only lie told, and that should have been it. Ash, oblivion, then nothing, nothing at all. He'd known that the moment he made his choice. And he had done it in the same way as always: with a sickle-sliver smile and a defiance all his own. Because everything has a price, everything has a cost, and his? It had been his all. His entire stack of metaphorical chips piled high and thrown on the gamble that maybe, just maybe, it would be humans and humans alone to bring the whole thing down.]
[But he's said it before, hasn't he?]
[There's no such thing as no such thing.]
[Greed slowly maps out his teeth with his tongue. The smell of metal (carbon, iron, and the wetness of both) is a little ironic. He can almost taste the cage as he comes to; its rusted dust and flecking paint like copper at the back of his throat. Yet while most men would (probably) be yelping for a hand, the homunculus simply laughs. It comes out of him as booming as a thunderclap: how it pounds the slats of the cage, how it seems to shake from the deepest part of his chest and rattle his bones with a demand, a want, as commanding as his namesake. Greed rakes his fingers through his hair and as he feels the cool touch of metal press against the base of his neck, his lips stretch across his face. His grin, a Cheshire's best, hinting only bad, bad things.]
[The horrible screech of steel meeting steel is a familiar one. And maybe it's just in his nature, but as soon as he realizes where he is (in a cage, flimsy, hanging, and swaying haphazardly from a high-foot drop), the Sin does as he always does: he acts. With sharp-hooked claws and a slurred hum lodged in his throat, he swipes along the iron, making the slats bend, buckle, and hiss under a flurry of angry, biting sparks. Three or four pieces break free and as he presses his heel against them, he sends what little remains tumbling to the ground - their freefall drumming off with an echoing, bell-toll clang.]
[Dnk, dnk, dnk, dnk.]
Yeah, sorry. That's not gunna work. [Greed puckers his mouth, wrapping one hand around the outside of the cage as it teeters like an old swing door with his weight. If self-preservation's a thing he should know, he certainly doesn't show it. Instead, he hooks the edge of his boot into the lip of the wrought-iron floor, dragging himself out onto the edge as the whole thing gently groans in a swaying, pendulum motion. He takes a quick look up, catching light on his sunglasses, before turning his head back down again. And in that moment, he flashes a smile; one tight, sharp, and oh-so wicked.]
[The homunculus whistles up at the chain holding the cage in place.] Oh ho - ! I don't know who you are, but you really outdid yourselves, didn't you?
➥ II. Reflections in Avarice: Funhouse
[Reflect. That's a mirror's job, after all. To reflect and show what's there, what's solid, what's available to take and have. And at first, that's exactly what the funhouse does. Sure, it's a little disorienting (not that he'd complain about view, mind), but for the most part, things seem normal. And while the Sin makes his way through the winding halls and tight corners, he takes it at a daunting pace. As if he's counting the steps and adding them up for all their worth.]
[Because he's always been a creature made for more. More money, more power, more status, more everything. Dying didn't change that.]
[Maybe that's why he forgot all about the note. Crime and its punishment have never been something he's thought about before. It's never been a thing he's had to think about. But as he feels it (the ping of static flitting in his skull, the twinge of bitterness in the back of his throat like crossed wires), Greed carefully taps his teeth together.]
[The mirrors change, bleeding into moments far, far away from here, and the Sin slows to a stop. It causes the clcks and clacks of his heels to cut short; their last snap, like hot brass tumbling down, down, down. The homunculus shifts his head over his shoulder. Yeah, he hasn't forgotten. And really, how could he? The moment when everything came crashing together, when his memories came flooding back, and oh, had the cost been in blood.]
"That .. wasn't my friend -"
[It's his voice, but it's not his body. No, that's the body he borrowed. The one that was given to him, the one that took him on willingly, the man who took him on willingly. The Sin watches, eyes narrowing behind his shades. He's seen this story already. He knows how it plays out. And as the image continues (him, Ling, them) bent over in the bowels of a city that had no idea just what lurked beneath it, his expression shifts. Where he had been all smiles before, he's distant now; the look on his face cool, biting, and entirely vacant.]
Oi, oi, oi. [He hisses as he shifts his foot, grinding his heel into the funhouse floor. Wherever he's ended up, it's dark. And as a touch of shadow licks his face, it's his eyes that answer. They pulse behind his sunglasses eerie and vague; like a pair of sunken goals, low, fuming, and pricked in a terrible, terrible red.]
[Greed touches his thighs with his fingers and something slick (slick like oil, slick like tar) slowly begins to crawl up his hands, turning his nails crooked and sharp.] I already know how this goes. You're wasting your time.
➥ III. The Cardinal Vice of Grabby: Pumpkins
[Ok, sure. He's seen a pumpkin before. He knows what it is. But that's the thing with avarice: it's not exactly picky when it comes to want.]
[Greed wraps his hand around the pumpkin, tipping it one way, then the other. The thought of a prize had been enough to catch his attention. So, to say he's sorely disappointed would be an understatement. Especially given what's been written on it:]
["Eat something that doesn’t look like food."]
Ehh, knew a guy once who'd probably take you up on the offer. [The Sin shrugs his shoulders, making the fur of his vest graze his ears. He flips the gourd over again and its carved-out smile immediately switches to a frown. But instead of getting rid of it, he simply tosses it into the air, letting it twist and spin as he readies his fingers out to catch it again.]
➥ IV. Wildcard
[Don't see anything ya like? FEEL FREE to run into him anywhere. I can roll with anything! THE WORLD'S YOUR OYSTER ...]
arrival!!!!!
vash trusts his gut feeling entirely too much; that's what lands him in trouble most of the time, practically vaulting over the line much less dip his toe over it.
so it wouldn't entirely surprise anyone much less himself when he breaks out into a run, the bright red coat flapping out behind him, and waves the curious onlookers who's stopped to look at the madman (that's all they think, some spectacle and not a spectre) to step aside. ]
--Uh.
[ now that he's got here, skidding to an unsteady stop just beneath the other, he seems to falter and grow into himself, giving greed a returning smile that's just as weak and awkward as his is bright. ]
Are ... you okay? Can I help you?
COMES IN SO LATE ... with a tray of wobbly starbucks
[No, as much as there are similarities to Edward Elric, this one? He's someone new.]
[Greed rocks back on one of his heels, sending the tip of it pointing sky high. Poised as he is (with his nails sunk into the upper lip of the cage and his shoulders bent), he takes on the look of a vulture. A vulture with a smile, with a glint in its eye, and a hunger nipping on the sharps of its teeth.]
Ah - ? [The question is more a noise than an actual question, and the homunculus lazily shifts his weight, making the body of the cage tilt dangerously forward.] Ha - ! Could ask you the same thing there, friend. Looks like you got here in a bit of a hurry. [If he cares about an audience, he certainly doesn't show it. No, despite the fact that he's hanging within an inch of his life (with curious onlookers below and a few of the cage's bars now bent and broken just inches from his skin), the Sin's nothing but confident. Confident and sure, as if he has not a single care or fear in the world.]
[Greed lulls his head into his shoulder as he idly presses the toe of his boot into another piece of loose iron, causing it to scream back. Shrrrrrrrck.] As much as I appreciate the offer, I wouldn't worry about it, hmn? Built a bit tougher than I look.
Ehh - [He tilts his chin, showing off his throat as he tries to map out an escape plan.] - though you might wanna tell those people to move. Don't want to make a mess of things if I can help it.
SLAPS IT OUT OF YOUR HAND im even later
vash's eyes dart from the smile, to the way the old rusted iron of the cage flecks from the pressure of those grip, the way the chains catch and creak one against another with the motion of the slow lumbering swing. it doesn't sound as though it will last much longer, even without greed trying to rip his way through it recklessly as he is now. ]
Come on! [ instead of answering him back, vash decides to turn his attentions to the onlookers - stepping forward to shield them from any mishaps were the cage decided to give way right at that moment. ] Go on! Nothing to see here! Please leave!
[ some of them would clearly rather stay and watch what would unfold for a bit of spooky carnival entertainment ... but vash can be rather insistent when he wants to be, despite coming across as so timid and spineless most of the time - so after a bit (a lot?) of pleading and jostling, the crowd thins out. hope greed is patiently waiting the whole while ...
even with all the trouble that he's already caused, vash still tries to maintain a polite level of smile as he turns back to the other, craning his neck upwards and squinting his eyes to see the figure hanging like some condemned corpse from the cage. ]
Ah ... Thank you for that! You're pretty considerate, huh?
Um, why don't you - uh - come down now? It must be pretty cold up there right? No? We could go get some warm drink? Mulled wine? Cider??
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[Chng, chng, chng.]
[The Sin raises one of his eyebrows as he slowly crouches between the tangle of gnarled bars. He pins his elbow into the top of his thigh, letting his claws dangle between his knees.] Considerate, huh? Ha - ! Wouldn't say that, friend. Just would rather keep things peaceful if I can help it. Like I said before, would be a shame to make things messier than they have to be, hmn?
[A thickness plays in his tone, singsong and sure. Greed rolls his shoulder and as the bones in his neck crack, the cool-carbon coating on his hand slowly drops. It slips away, slick and smooth; like an oil-topped tide receding back, back, back. He flits his fingers twice.] Doesn't matter. You, on the other hand - [The homunculus snaps his tongue behind his teeth.] - now, who are you, exactly?
[Standing up, however, proves to be a bit more precarious. Because as soon as he does, the cage begins to move again. Greed briskly clicks his teeth, sinking his heel between the slots of the cage as an anchor.] Tch. Hold that thought for a second. [He barks mindlessly. Because his eyes are wandering. Wandering and searching and oh, oh, oh, what do they see? Well, if that growing smile of his is anything to go by - ]
[One second is all it takes, and the Sin pushes himself out of the cage feet first. It isn't a far enough jump that it'll cause too much damage, but it isn't so short either. Not that it matters. Not that it ever matters. Because that's the thing with creatures like them, isn't it? They'll always come back one way or another. And despite what should have been his final curtain call, that phrase of his? It still rings true:]
["There's no such thing as no such thing.".]
[Greed hits the ground and a skitter of dust and gravel scampers out from under his boots.] Ah - [Groaning, he settles his hand on the back of his head, giving his neck a light press.] - not exactly what I had in mind, but I suppose that's just the way it is. [He drops his arm as he eases his ear into his shoulder, causing the fur along his vest to fan against his cheek.]
[The Sin purses his lips, satisfied.] Not too worried about the cold either. But we were in the middle of something, weren't we? [His throat exposed, he chances a look at Vash and something (something red, something wicked) briefly shines behind his sunglasses. Yet, as soon as it comes, it's gone again; like the backside of a car passing on by.] First thing's first, though.
[He draws his fingers across his collarbone.] The name's Greed. It's a pleasure.
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to be honest, vash has heard that word many times over the years - some affable and pleasant, and some not so much - and there is definitely a quiet undercurrent of the latter in the way this person intones, serrated smile and all. that in itself should be a sign enough of danger - it speaks less of a calm disposition but more of a spring coiling itself before the burst, the split second before striker hits the bullet - but let's be real, vash has never been very good at self preservation. the important thing is that whoever this person is, he's currently paying attention to him over the others now walking away from the scene in search of other entertainment to occupy them.
the dirt scrapes under the soles of his boots as vash shifts his weight, relaxing his posture enough to tip himself on one foot as he raises a hand over his brows, shielding his eyes (even with the shades!!!) to look up at the other shadowed against the lamplights. his voice is light, lilting, just on this side of careless; ] Messy, haha, you got that right! Why don't we figure out a way for you to come down, before you make a --
[ further mess, he wants to go on and say, eyeing the littered bits of rusty metal pieces on the ground out the corner of his eyes, but it seems like this person has other ideas in terms of devising a shortcut way out of so-called confinement.
the impact is enough to shake the ground nearby, carrying over the few metres away where vash is standing - and he slowly lowers the gloved hand back to his side, being careful to keep his shoulders from tensing up. it doesn't look like he has any weapons on hand - which is one good thing out of this situation, to be honest - but then again, that wasn't a guarantee on anything.
well, he did say he wants to keep things peaceful, so there's still hope? maybe?
with that, a usual degree of familiar, friendly smile snaps back onto his face automatically, as he watches the other man reassess and straighten himself out. ]
Nice to meet you, Greed! Now, just because you aren't worried about it doesn't mean a good warm drink won't help, no?
[ it's an odd name, but vash is the last person to judge someone else for their name. ]
I'm Vash!
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[Tnk.]
[The Sin tests his lip with his tongue. Being alive a third time (without a stolen body on top of it all) is new and for a second, he takes it all in: the feel of his fingers as cool-hard carbon slips down his skin, the tips of his teeth and how they settle like familiar company in the strong of his jaw. None of this, by any means, should be possible. And yet, here he is, in a place he knows nothing about, face to face with a man who's only a mystery.]
[Because the closer he gets, the more clear it becomes. This isn't Edward Elric, not by a long shot. Where there would be bitterness, contempt, and more than a fair share of attitude, only sincerity remains. In the beam of a smile and a tone that's almost, almost, honest. The Sin thoughtfully hums to himself and as he begins to slowly close the space between them, he pins a rock under the cut of his heel, making it grind harsh into the ground below.]
Vash. Did I get that right? [He drawls, his voice deep and slurry. The tone of it seems to fester in his ribs. Like a billows, churning out soot. Greed sways and as he finds his sides, he languidly begins to wrap his hands around his hips. He takes his time with it. Each tap of his nails, deaf and biting.] Nice to meet me, huh? That's not usually the reaction I get. Ha - ! You're a pretty excitable one, aren't you.
[It isn't a question. No, that kind of energy - it could be anything. Genuine curiosity, fear, a way to smooth out a potentially hostile situation. The Sin lazily tilts over, shooting a glance up to effectively capture Vash in his shades.] Not about to deny you there, friend. It's been a while since I had a drink, after all. But -
[His words trail off with a trill. The people around them, the crowd from before: they're an afterthought in the moment. Avarice, after all, has a keen eye and as his attention wanders over every inch of him, the Sin squeezes his lips together. His expression as sly as a well-worn alley cat.] - nothing's free. Not here, not before. I might not know where we are exactly, but I know that much.
[Another pebble hurries out from under his boot, and the Sin precariously leans forward. Any personal space is forfeit, any breathing room is gone, leaving him and him alone a hair's breath away. Greed idly taps his thigh with his finger.]
Why don't we get right to it then? [He rolls his tongue against his gums, prodding his cheek.] See, I might not be good, but I'm not bad either. And I like to think I'm pretty fair. So, let's get that drink of yours. And in exchange?
[The Sin pivots his heel, slapping the toe of his boot against the ground.] Well, I suppose it matters what you want, doesn't it.
happy new year, im sorry im slow!
[ overprouncing the p until it pops with a click of his jaws, vash matches the undercurrent of the drawl with a bright, countering beam of his own, almost as though he has no care in the world and meeting a stranger who casually falls from a height that would break most people's bones is in any way normal.
... maybe it wasn't too good an idea to divulge information like that so freely, but 1. vash has never cared about self preservation (especially if it was at the expense of other's), and 2. after months of being here, he isn't too worried about people recognising the name, or even him by sight (not that vash has ever liked the photo they used for his wanted posters; man, talk about police bias!).
and technically there's also a third reason, that being that everyone's here accused of some kind of crime - so effectively it's as though they're all starting from the same square of the board, no?
(not that his crime in itself is anything to write about ... he knows that it could have been much, much worse; at least the illusion of the intentionally vague wording keeps him from facing the reality) ]
Well- Hahaha, I think it's always exciting to meet new, uh, people-
[ the smile doesn't slip - not one bit, not even when the pebble that rolls out from under greed's foot pings off the steel-cap of his own, not even when the other leans in close enough that vash could catch the whiff of rust on his hands, the warm animal smell of the fur around his collar. ]
You wouldn't consider this a special circumstance, would you? A one time only deal! Completely free!
I LOST THIS ... I'm so sorry
[Greed lifts his shoulders and as he waltzes along Vash's side, he lazily swings his arm wide. With a snap of his wrist, he spreads two of his fingers; the motion quick and dismissive.] Now, I wouldn't say that, exactly. I'm not really a person. Least, not in the way that you think. [He leaves it vague. Special circumstances aside, there's still value in information. It's something he's always had currency in: the whispers on the street, the rumors hushed and traded behind back alleyways in return for discreet, slipped-silent cash. No, in his world? Everything has a price. Everything has a cost. And information? Ah, is it worth its weight.]
[But then, Vash continues and the homunculus visibly pauses. He lowers his chin to sink into his shoulders and a huff of a laugh slides through the cracks of his teeth.] A one time only deal, huh? [Greed repeats, his tone rolling thick in the back of his throat.] Fine, suit yourself. We'll just say I owe you the next time.
[Distractedly, he fishes through his vest. When he pulls his hand out again, a folded document waits pinched between his knuckles. From the looks of it, he'd simply shoved it into his pocket once he arrived. Something forgotten, least until now. Greed shakes it open, causing the crinkled paper to unfurl like a crushed, dying flower. Yet, oddly enough, it rights itself pretty quickly. It's as if the paper has a mind of its own, and no amount of carelessness will ever, ever, leave a scratch.]
[But it's not its durability that gets the Sin's attention. It's the one word. The one word scribbled on the dotted line, bold and scathing:]
["BETRAYAL".]
[Greed pinches the paper closed with his thumb.] Get right to the point, don't they? [There's nothing nice about that smile. Nothing sincere. Instead, it's rebellious. Daring. As if he doesn't care what he's been accused of. Crime is nothing new to him. Theft, bribery, smuggling: he's done it all before. This, though, is something different, isn't it? Something beyond laws, something personal, and as he folds the document over again, Greed numbly sucks at the inside of his cheek.]
[No, if given the choice? He'd gladly turn his back on his would-be kin a third time no matter the consequences.]
[The Sin sways and with a practiced play of his fingers, he tucks the note into the back pocket of his pants, leaving the corner of it poking from the leather. He turns on his heel and as a cough of dry dirt scuffs his boot, the homunculus glances over his shoulder; the look on his face, an eel's slippery charm.] Why don't you go ahead and take the lead, hmn? Since you know where you're going and all.