asgardmeridiem | [OPEN DARKNESS EVENT LOG][DAY/NIGHT 130]

[He fights the good fight for a few more seconds, before he spies her with the grenade and the chimney, and takes appropriate cover. A brick narrowly misses beaning him in the head, which is nice to avoid, and he ducks back over in time to hear her request.]

Yes?

I need you to lift me up. On your shoulders. And - [ She runs a hand through her hair and sucks in a deep mouthful of air (she's breathless but the timing makes it seem more like she's requesting something dire and grave). ] And I need you to be a spotlight. Use whatever you want, just- keep the light on them so we can keep them away from us. You're going to be causing a lot more damage than me but - together it'll go faster.

[He's a little confused, but -- ]

All right.

[No arguments here. He flips the bands around his arms to as bright as they go, and then goes over to her, extending his arms so she can get on. He'll turn on his other light sources--and possibly borrow some of hers--afterwards.]

What does "CONS FWS" mean, by the way?

[ It's a shame he can't see her grinning when there's been so little of it this night (albeit for good reason). She braces hands on his shoulders and tries not to giggle because it's really very anticlimactic so she has to make it good. For one suspenseful second she winds a single arm around his neck and whispers as darkly as possible while still smiling somewhat: ]

Consumer Fireworks.

[...

Oh.]

...

Oh.

[Man, that is exactly what he would do. He likes this girl.

All right, hoisting her up -- and then lighting his torch to the maximum level, throwing on his fire magic, turning on his own bright LED flashlight, and looking at her backpack -- he'll save that for later if necessary.]

Right. Where to?

[ She looks up, scanning the wide, dark expanse of city sky and squints until it seems she's at last found what she's looking for. This time proximity is no issue: they'll see their targets coming in advance with no problem and, on a less critical but much more gratifying note, he'll hear the smirk in her voice just fine. ]

Well... in about five seconds, you'll know where. [ This, too, in his ear as she's bent at the waist and releasing one of the pistols from its holster. ] Trust me.

[... A guy could learn to like that about you, Rapunzel, he has to think, as he readies himself for whatever it is is going on.]

I will.

[--he has time to say, in those last five seconds, as he braces himself, gets a solid hold on her, and prepares for whatever it is to come. That smirk bespeaks confidence. And she hasn't been wrong yet about that.]

[ Wrong? No. Rash? Just a bit. The oncoming shapeless mass at the farthest edges of her vision, flying in with more purpose and direction than before, is twice the size of the last flock, probably comprised of lucky ravens who managed to escape before and their back up.

She adjusts her grip and straightens, secretly asking a certain someone for forgiveness for doing exactly the opposite of what she was taught about how to shoot in the first place.

She can't find it in herself to be sorry for pissing off the ravens, though. ]

[He spots the flock. Spotlight is what she wants... then he'll try to do exactly that. He thrusts out his torch, channeling his fire magic into it to make it burn as brightly as he can, and tugs out some glowsticks from her backpack. They're probably nonflammable, but he cracks them open and drops them in a ring around them.

What he really needs to be a spotlight is a laser pointer and a lens. He hadn't had time to get one of those, but it's next up. In the meantime, maybe he can improvise with the LED flashlights. He directs them at either side of the massing flock, trying to herd them into a narrow band covered by his torch. Here goes...]

[ It's a spectacular sight, really, and were it not the only thing between them and a lethal confrontation, she might be able to appreciate it. But she has no center mass to aim at, no solid target large enough to focus on, unlike the Taken. And as they're both aware, she hasn't half the knowledge or experience of someone actually qualified for this.

But none of that matters. Not when it's something they have to do. And if the idea weren't threat enough, the flapping of wings and incessant cawing is, alone, enough to make up for what certainty she lacks.

So she's prepared for the first round of shots, surprising even herself with how well she handles the kickback on his shoulders. It can't be terribly comfortable for him, all the movement and bracing and the noise. But four out of seven actually hit. The other three...go sailing off somewhere. Still. She's got ten more so that's fiiiine. ]

[Indeed, the first shot takes some doing to recover from -- he almost stumbles, and only a quick rather gymnastic contortion keeps his array of lights shining brightly in the general direction of the swarming, circling ravens. The next few shots are easier once he's prepared for the feel of the recoil.

A thin stream of them are barreling down through the narrow pipe of darkness between the flashlights, towards the torch. He glances back quickly and pulls a Roman candle from her belt, flinging it up through the flame of the torch. Hopefully that'll help stem the ones that are charging at them while Rapunzel gets a clearer aim at shots.

This is going well so far. He pivots around just to make sure that that thought isn't ignoring anything crucial. No, no ravens massing behind them just yet -- only a few isolated ones who escaped their light show.]

[ She watches his light with satisfaction in the devastation of this flock's numbers. But the surreal light trails left behind by the birds as they dive, swoop, and fall back is damn near hypnotizing, and Rapunzel goes through the entirety of her magazine before she's realized it.

Okay. Fine! That's fine. Reload. No problem. She has another cartridge tucked between the belt and her waist. But just as it's loaded into the chamber, she feels a tug from somewhere to her left, and looking up is horrified to find a long rope of hair has come loose at the pulling insistence of two ravens. ]

Uh, Partner? [ her voice is panicked and rising ] Kinda need that flashlight over here! [ The next bullets land - barely - but the result is further loss of balance and she can feel herself listing precariously while trying to get off more rounds. ]

[He glances out of the corner of his eye and silently swears. Of course one or two were probably bound to make it through, but he should've watched.

He drops the torch entirely -- can't swing that around -- and grabs onto her side with his now-free arm, trying to get her stabilized on his shoulders again.

Meanwhile he turns the other hand, with the flashlight, to light up those ravens, which shrivel and flinch away with it. But he knows it's leaving him too open-- despite how nicely that firework explosion had decimated the population -- on the other side, and a sharp beak stabs into his back as it happens. His hand can only let go of her again, grab onto it and struggle with it as he wildly spins the flashlight around him, stumbling a bit. This is precarious--as this situation perhaps was bound to be-- but not quite disaster yet. Maybe if he can get to one of those tricks she's got...

Hm. His hand slips to his knife. Grunting a little fiercely, he stabs backwards at the thing, while tugging at her strap for another glowstick. The brief reprieve from a well-placed stab allows him to cut open the glowstick and coat his knife with its luminescent fluid. Now this knife is much more in the game, and he can turn his attention back to her for at least a second.]

All right?

[ The question leaves her in a state of shock she doesn't have time for, but there's a moment where she does falter, exacerbating a situation undoubtedly created by the same thing. She'd been successful, cocky, and distracted in that order, and while her ability to feel pride has survived the past three days so far, Rapunzel can't be sure she wants it to last the rest if it's such a danger to them.

Reluctant no longer, she forces herself to sit up straight, feeling muscles protesting and shivers racing as her teeth grind. It's time to give up the standard two-hand grip on this thing. So despite demanding a greater degree of strength, holding the pistol with one hand allows her freedom with the other. And it's a freedom she takes advantage of - bending at the waist again to better stabilize herself before the next series of shots - to run fingers through his hair in a moment she knows is selfish.

Still. He was hurt because of her. ]

Are you?

[He almost doesn't notice her change in posture, in fact, until she does happen to run her hand through his hair. ~~that bishie hair which he spent so much time on, gosh...~~ He's not sure what it is -- if it's comfort, or if it's a message, or if it's some instinct with her that has to do with the hair thing, or if it's something else that he really can't afford to think about right now -- so he just lets it pass. It's not like it-- feels bad or anything.]

I am.

[He stretches out a bit, experimentally, to test that little injury. It's not too bad. The raven took a nice hard peck and it'll probably leave a bruise, but it's not too bad.

He gazes ruefully at his torch sputtering on the ground. That's probably the loss here at the moment-- but no time to think about it, there's another bunch of ravens swooping down at them; he hasn't maintained his light corral on them as well as before, and while he scatters them with the aid of the flashlight before putting it back to use with the larger bulk, enough are still coming at them to pose a problem. He readies himself with the knife while waiting to see what she'll do.]

[ The one thing she isn't going to do is take chances. Not this time. There's no warning, and it might not even be seen, the second she loads her other "gun" with a flare: there's only a soft grunt and then a bang and then light. Red sparks and smoke. The distance affords them the advantage they hadn't been lucky to steal before.

And it'll be worth it if - no, when they rid themselves of this last group.

[He puts together what she's done a second or two after it goes off, and he nods to himself. But now this last group -- what to do...

Fine -- if he can't get his own larger torch back, he'll borrow one of hers. He tucks his knife away, then pulls on the strap and catches one (feeling cool), and then lets it blaze at those of the flapping ones which gambol anywhere within reach.

The circles in which he's spinning the flashlight are circumscribing the rather culled-flock still, and he thinks he has them almost herded. One good shot and she should be able to settle their hash, he hopes...]

[ One last rotation and her earlier prophecy comes true: the sting of her error isn't gone, but she's laughing anyway, loud and primarily uninhibited beneath earsplitting punctuations of gunfire and screeching birds, a thrilled sort of laugh that echoes their own one-on-one battle. There's nothing fun in this situation. There's nothing good about this invasion or the blood running down her cheek or that feeling of reverse momentum every time she squeezes the trigger, and there's nothing good about being here, knowing she's watched five friends die over the course of three days. It's the heaviest she's ever felt.

And it's sloppy, the way she clears out what's left of the shooting gallery, and it's not the work of a practiced professional by any stretch of the imagination.. At the end, something nicks her uninjured hand and she realizes it's the slide pinching her skin. She's run out of ammunition.

But it's done. And despite this being literally the worst week of her life, she's alive and now is when she's most aware of that, with adrenaline and exhaustion and fear coming to a head with surprise and relief. So she laughs because it's the lightest she's ever felt. ]

[He wonders as he listens to this laughing again--familiar as it is, though different as it is also, from before--exactly what kind of creature she is, so to speak. He just hangs on, watching her shoot with some kind of hunting, some kind of primal urge -- the birds are mostly gone, by his observation, but she's still firing, it seems, until she's finally out, and with the last dink and splat and caw, a smoky, still-smoldering smell settles softly on the scene.

He gently starts to swing her off his shoulders, putting an arm around her waist and the other under her shoulders, lifting her, hopefully with her cooperation, down, in what's somewhat a hug and somewhat just a functional movement -- his own muted celebration of surviving that nerve-wracking situation, which might well be replaced in a moment by hers. And then just a deep breath. Whew.]

[ If she manipulates the movement until the gesture more closely resembles a hug then she isn't going to admit to it for however long this clarity lasts. Letting go, she's content to leave just an arm around around him as she mimics the heavy sigh and tries pushing the fringe out of her eyes with the hand still holding her gun. She leaves her palm pressed there throughout a survey of the damage. ]

What was that you said about aerial ambushes again?

[He chuckles at that himself -- sounding a little forced, not because of a lack of amusement, but more because it sounds like it hurts a little.]

They'd be hard to do if we were able to pay attention.

[Which isn't what you can do on a windowsill, and whose fault is that anyway, huh Rapunzel?

Anyway, as long as no one's bringing up what this is, he's happy to stay there, one arm of his still around her, too, for the moment. This darkness and continued stress takes a certain toll -- albeit one not as bad as the worst of Closed Space, yet. But he doesn't think "yet" is it by any means.

He picks up his torch again and extinguishes it, and tucks the remaining unused devices into his pockets, or the loops of his outfit.]

[ Rapunzel meanwhile is trying to remember exactly how much of what they've used. Considering it was "just" Ravens... ]

Do you think we'll be okay? With... just this? With what we have? [ For anyone else it would be more than enough, but she can't help biting her lip as she tucks that rouge bit of hair back into it's tie. ] I mean - we'll be fine. Won't we?

[He refrains from pointing out -- unsubtly, anyway -- that he was getting by on significantly less a little while ago.]

Absolutely. Although avoiding further aerial attacks would be best. But we've surely cleared out a large chunk of the population from right here.

[Quiet confidence is written on his face, though. He knows how little, relatively, she must be used to combat; and he, who has experience of a very specific variety, is getting better, too.]

As long as we stick together, I think I can promise you that we'll be all right. [He pauses briefly.] Though we have probably lost sight of our original target by now.

If we do start running low, we'd best head for someplace where we can get shelter for the rest of the night.

[ Likewise, she chooses not to mentioning how poorly she's been getting along with sleep as of late. ]

Maybe we should climb down then. We'll be less likely to attract attention on the ground won't we? Plus there's a greater chance of us being able to find cover in case of another ambush. Having a whole obstacle course of things to use is better than improvising with a chimney. Mostly.

[ Saying it aloud, however, she wonders why, in retrospect, she'd ever thought the rooftops were a good idea. Although it wasn't so much their position as it was their noise level that proved dangerous in the end.

Taking another deep breath and plastering on a smile, Rapunzel nudges him with a hip and cranes her neck enough to look him properly in the eye. ] Sound okay to you?

[He gives her a bit of a smile, and adds:]

Personally, I think your chimney improvisations were quite brilliant.

[With that arm around her, he gives her a little squeeze. Whether it's to lift her spirits, or his, or his via hers, he's not even sure. Whether she needs her spirits lifted -- well, he kind of thinks she does. Whether he does -- well, of course he doesn't, he's Itsuki goddam Koizumi. The most confident phony Holden Caulfield ever saw...]

In any case, I agree; we should go down. If we're not pursuing anything anymore, it shouldn't make a difference.

<3

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