[He feels the give, just slightly. He needs to take a chance.
Perhaps Fandaniel is too distracted to see exactly where the iridescent weapon in Solomon's hand materializes from, a blade made of something akin to roughly hewn diamond. But the dagger swings out sharply at an upwards angle, tight in Solomon's wrist, intending to slash at Fandaniel's arm and free himself.]
[ He lets out a snarl, more enraged than it is pained, and immediately releases the hair as he jerks back a step. It took cutting into him to get him to let go, the diamond blade cleanly slicing through his shirt sleeve and flesh both on the arc upward. That same sluggish blood mars the shine of the diamond and drips fatly on the floor, only...
That doesn't seem to be all. There's something more.
It flutters from the wound, though that itself is hidden under the cut cloth of the shirt. A dark rose petal, much like the few he'd had in his pocket during the trial earlier. It falls, one, then another, drifting to the floor to join the droplets of blood there. ]
How dare you?!
[ He won't give Solomon much time to process that, lunging after him with his scalpel, swinging out to strike at the man, though wildly, so wildly it isn't particularly well targeted. ]
[The dagger dematerializes almost as fast as it appeared, the pen in Solomon's hand tucked in tight against his wrist as he shoves his weight back against the piano to dodge the blade, the rattling of wires and wood and tones all mismatched as the instrument jostles from the effort.
With a grunt and a shove of his foot, Solomon upends the piano bench in Fandaniel's direction, aiming to trip him up long enough to give Solomon time to get to the door. His back is turned, yes, but only for a moment, surely only for a moment. He can't kill here, he has to desescalate this somehow---]
[ A swing and a miss, and then the bench is crashing into his legs. He spits and curses like an angry cat, scrambling to recover his balance and whip around after the man. He lunges as Solomon passes, jabbing the scalpel forward in a sharp motion towards his receding back.
It's a desperate move as he'll be hitting the floor after such a leap, but it offers him a chance to put it into him and slice, if only for a second. ]
[The blade lands with a burst of hot pain, and as Solomon jerks with a yell, the blade digs in and slices out, tearing a hole through his jacket and coming back brilliantly red right at the back of his ribs.
He buckles and crashes to the side with his shoulder against the door, his hand clenched against the wound, trying to right himself, trying to reach for the scalpel before Fandaniel can get back on his feet.]
Edited (Gotta use his good christian name) 2025-08-31 05:21 (UTC)
[ It's a scramble for the scalpel, then. Despite everything, Fandaniel is, in fact, still housed in the body of a former swordsman. A soldier, even. He gets his feet under him again and launches for the little knife, shedding a few more petals, a little more blood, from the gash in his arm as he grapples with Solomon for it.
And he just... starts laughing, all over again. This may as well look like a slap fight between two literally bloody idiots over a scrap of metal, but it'll be Fandaniel that gets the handle in the end, and with that in hand, he lashes out again, meaning to slice at Solomon's hand or arm to get him to back off. ]
[The grapple is blind and desperate, and more than once he hopes against hope he has Fandaniel's weapon removed from the situation. But too quickly does Fandaniel's hand wrap against metal, and the blade is immediately turned on Solomon's outstretched arm. The line of red knicks his palm to travel an angry path up the side and back of one of his forearms before it finally gives way with a splatter of red against the walls.
It's far more disabling than the first blow had been, and Solomon stays buckled over against the floor as red starts to drip in earnest to join the black. He won't advance any further.]
[ There's an urge to go in and finish him off. It's there. Fandaniel can feel it, the need to make this permanent, to ensure Solomon never speaks to Nishi — or anyone, for that matter — ever again, but no. The laughter tapers off, and he withdraws, climbing back to his feet and cradling his damaged arm against his chest. ]
Ah, this got messier than I had been planning for. You know, all you had to do was say you would leave him alone. That is all I wanted.
[ He won't go as far as go tsk and say 'look at what you made me do', because had he? Really? All it took was Solomon to draw first blood, and he didn't even hesitate. He'll loom over the sorcerer a second, two, before crouching down over him, boldly close to a man he knows is now wielding a peculiar little blade.
Scalpel palmed, he'll reach out and pat Solomon on a cheek, smearing his own blood across his skin as it drips down from the vicious little blade above. ]
I do believe I've gotten my message across now, hmm?
It doesn't take much effort to raise his good arm - the one that still houses the pen - and for the dagger to immediately materialize, the point of the blade meeting the flesh of Fandaniel's abdomen and shoving. It doesn't have the power it could, but it will make him bleed, and it will make him hurt, and maybe it would remind him of his place--]
Have I? [A choking laugh of a response, utterly humorless.]
Be glad th... this wasn't meant for you. If you threaten any of them again, I will change my mind.
[And with that, the blade dematerializes once more, leaving only the wound behind.]
[ Fandaniel gives a sharp hiss, a gasp as pain cuts through his middle and radiates out from there. Right, the pen, the damn pen, which isn't a pen at all! He lurches away once he feels it vanish again, staggering back a step as blood begins to stain his shirt is in a second place now.
He looks down, staring at it as the stain grows...
If there are rose petals mixed in there as well, Solomon will never know, as his shirt is tucked primly into his work pants, and they will no doubt catch against the fabric. Still, he stares, having the audacity to look surprised for that barest of moments. ]
...I see.
[ He should kill him. He should kill him. He should kill him, and the thought is clear as his fingers clench around the scalpel again, for one second, two, and then he forces a breath out and merely steps forth for the door. ]
Leave Nishi alone, Solomon. I will not ask again.
[ As ever, he can only focus on that. It is single-minded. Then he forces the door open, even if he has to scrape Solomon aside to do so, as he plans to lurch away and lick his own wounds elsewhere. Let Solomon bleed out and die, or not. That is no longer up to Fandaniel. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cw: tbh i should have slapped suicidal ideation on this from the get go
He wouldn't. He wouldn't! He has no right to kill himself before he kills me! Do not lie to me, you miserable, little cur!
cw: suicidal ideation yeah lets just keep that up here just in case
Perhaps Fandaniel is too distracted to see exactly where the iridescent weapon in Solomon's hand materializes from, a blade made of something akin to roughly hewn diamond. But the dagger swings out sharply at an upwards angle, tight in Solomon's wrist, intending to slash at Fandaniel's arm and free himself.]
no subject
That doesn't seem to be all. There's something more.
It flutters from the wound, though that itself is hidden under the cut cloth of the shirt. A dark rose petal, much like the few he'd had in his pocket during the trial earlier. It falls, one, then another, drifting to the floor to join the droplets of blood there. ]
How dare you?!
[ He won't give Solomon much time to process that, lunging after him with his scalpel, swinging out to strike at the man, though wildly, so wildly it isn't particularly well targeted. ]
no subject
With a grunt and a shove of his foot, Solomon upends the piano bench in Fandaniel's direction, aiming to trip him up long enough to give Solomon time to get to the door. His back is turned, yes, but only for a moment, surely only for a moment. He can't kill here, he has to desescalate this somehow---]
no subject
It's a desperate move as he'll be hitting the floor after such a leap, but it offers him a chance to put it into him and slice, if only for a second. ]
no subject
He buckles and crashes to the side with his shoulder against the door, his hand clenched against the wound, trying to right himself, trying to reach for the scalpel before Fandaniel can get back on his feet.]
no subject
And he just... starts laughing, all over again. This may as well look like a slap fight between two literally bloody idiots over a scrap of metal, but it'll be Fandaniel that gets the handle in the end, and with that in hand, he lashes out again, meaning to slice at Solomon's hand or arm to get him to back off. ]
no subject
It's far more disabling than the first blow had been, and Solomon stays buckled over against the floor as red starts to drip in earnest to join the black. He won't advance any further.]
no subject
Ah, this got messier than I had been planning for. You know, all you had to do was say you would leave him alone. That is all I wanted.
[ He won't go as far as go tsk and say 'look at what you made me do', because had he? Really? All it took was Solomon to draw first blood, and he didn't even hesitate. He'll loom over the sorcerer a second, two, before crouching down over him, boldly close to a man he knows is now wielding a peculiar little blade.
Scalpel palmed, he'll reach out and pat Solomon on a cheek, smearing his own blood across his skin as it drips down from the vicious little blade above. ]
I do believe I've gotten my message across now, hmm?
no subject
It doesn't take much effort to raise his good arm - the one that still houses the pen - and for the dagger to immediately materialize, the point of the blade meeting the flesh of Fandaniel's abdomen and shoving. It doesn't have the power it could, but it will make him bleed, and it will make him hurt, and maybe it would remind him of his place--]
Have I? [A choking laugh of a response, utterly humorless.]
Be glad th... this wasn't meant for you. If you threaten any of them again, I will change my mind.
[And with that, the blade dematerializes once more, leaving only the wound behind.]
no subject
He looks down, staring at it as the stain grows...
If there are rose petals mixed in there as well, Solomon will never know, as his shirt is tucked primly into his work pants, and they will no doubt catch against the fabric. Still, he stares, having the audacity to look surprised for that barest of moments. ]
...I see.
[ He should kill him. He should kill him. He should kill him, and the thought is clear as his fingers clench around the scalpel again, for one second, two, and then he forces a breath out and merely steps forth for the door. ]
Leave Nishi alone, Solomon. I will not ask again.
[ As ever, he can only focus on that. It is single-minded. Then he forces the door open, even if he has to scrape Solomon aside to do so, as he plans to lurch away and lick his own wounds elsewhere. Let Solomon bleed out and die, or not. That is no longer up to Fandaniel. ]