[ 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. ]
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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. ]