You won against the above OC in a battle!

Valentina stands at the feet of the unconscious traveller, bleeding from a few small wounds inflicted by his butterflies, and quickly gets to work - taking a look at his fingers, rummaging in his pockets... nothing? Val's horse, El Paso, stands beside him and snorts impatiently.

"Fucking tourists!" The curly haired snail proclaims, used to finding a ring or a wallet in his searches. "It's.... some fucking old man, I don't know, babygirl," he addresses his steed, brushing claws through his fountain of curly hair. Free of any valuable possessions for Valentina to take... bullshit.

"Look, if Adelaide or, I don't know, some other fuck from the brothel finds him, I'm fucked. I'm barely allowed in here as it is," he sighs, sitting down next to the canine-looking traveller, definitely not native to Valkyrie... from his fur it looks like the asshole could of been from The Ave or some other hoity-toity city in Bhujiva.

"Well... girl, you know how to get someone to wake up?"

Calling this a battle definitely was a stretch, given that... It was more of an encounter starting off in the most awkward way possible than the man actually doing anything that could even be considered as "putting up a fight."

Fitzgerald, frankly, still had no idea how he even stunned the horse into a daze. All he remembered was running into the mare at an obnoxiously fast speed, not bothering to take into account the details. You know, like the fact that the horse was departing from his hometown, or the fact that he was really, really careless as to where he was going.

Either way, it was surprising that the youth didn't just knock himself out into unconsciousness, as he looked over at the creature. To say that the horse's very existence baffled the youth was an understatement; he had never seen an equine in general, regardless of whether it was on fire, emitted electricity, or was just a normal old horse. The sight genuinely stunned him for a few seconds, both from surprise and because he had bumped into a creature at least as tall as him.

After rubbing his forehead and spitting out several curses in pain, Fitzgerald rubbed his eyes as he looked over at the horse and grunted, "So that was what I bumped into? Huh." He seemed more curious than truly contemptuous as he took a step forward and reached a hand out to her - ever so gently. "I'm sorry," he muttered belatedly while shuffling his feet, "I... I didn't mean to, actually. I was just- You know... Rushing to get from place to place..." And the brat meant it for once! It was late, but... It's the thought that counts?

Even then, however, he did hope that the mare's owner wasn't nearby - just so he wouldn't get his ass kicked into the sun for having the precious horse stunned like that.

"I don't think I have anything that horses can eat," he stated to her with a raised brow, as he picked up his bag and started to go through his items. Wait... Did the young man even know what horses ate? Whatever. He started looking for whatever could be considered edible, but alas... The only item he really thought of as food was a chocolate chip cookie that he had bought just a few hours ago. And he wanted that cookie for himself, damn it! So now he was stuck in a moral dilemma... Give the horse a cookie, or keep the dessert for himself.

After an obnoxiously long period of deliberation, Fitzgerald took his hands out of the bag, but not before he raised them up into the air and insisted quite hastily, "If you need anything, just... Signal to me... Because other than that, I'll give you some space. Again, I'm really sorry that I did that; I-" He coughed, then ran his fingers through his wavy locks. "I should've been able to provide something as compensation, but... Damn, I think the only thing I have in abundance is money..." Wow. Real unfortunate there, sir.

this is.... strangely wholesome, and I really like that tbh. Fitz doesn't deserve Julius's kindness at all. :")))

time for a follow-up!! Fitzgerald acts like a spoiler brat AND a sore loser. good fucking times.

"You poor thing." Iulius kneels down beside the young man, frowning. He feels such guilt, looking at the hurt human, but he had no choice. This man is so reckless, so loud and argumentative...he's bound to have made himself some enemies, and if Iulius had to knock some sense into him in order to make him listen, then so be it. He couldn't stand to see a human get hurt needlessly, he also couldn't stand the fact that this one was causing trouble for others as well. What an unusual person he's found...and how unfortunate things had to end up this way...He just wanted to help him, guide his life back to where it should be, and then, this.

"I didn't want to have to hurt you," He starts, he can feel the guilt building further when he sees bruises starting to bloom. "You just wouldn't listen to me. It's my job to look after your kind--trust me, I know what's best." He sighs, placing down his staff so he can start to pick up the young man as gently as he can. "You'll be alright, I'll be sure of it. I'm so sorry I did this to you..." His voice is calming, if a bit shaky at times. "You'll understand, surely...but for now, just rest."

"Oh, dear," Kalypso hums, and though the press of her heeled foot isn't too hard on Lulius' chest, it is firm, making it clear that, at any moment, she could press plenty harder. "You know, it really isn't my job to handle fallen angels like you, typically we leave that to Wrath, but...you just had to meddle, did you? You're like a guardian angel only somehow even more annoying and even more of an eyesore for me to regard," she sneers then, glaring down at the fallen angel with a lash of her tail.

"Have you ever possibly considered the thought that humans do not want your help? That their paths are to be traversed on their own accord?" Kalypso leans forward a bit further, snickering. "After all, darling, I wouldn't have my job if it weren't for some humans being selfish, terrible people, a couple of beatings with a staff is not going to save them from a fate like that. You can advise, but some people just won't ever listen to reason. Believe me, I'd know," she grits her teeth for a brief moment, remembering, for the briefest of moments, flames licking her face, searing and scorching her skin. "But, then again, you would too, wouldn't you? Since you seem to be that same kind of person, considering not even Heaven kicking you out seems to have given you the face full of reality you so desperately need," she finishes cruelly, finally stepping off the battered man and turning to head away.

"If you need to resort to violence just to get people to do what you want for the "betterment" of their lives, either consider finding guidance for your own self or, even, if that doesn't interest you, I'm sure you'd make a wonderful cult leader. Try it out sometime," she snickers sarcastically, before promptly snapping her fingers and vanishing in a plume of flame.

C"oh no, no don't worry about it madam, "he told Kalypso. There was something strange about this blond lady. But the gut-wrenching feeling of despair, death and the other side, never stopped Xander in his polite endeavors. " I think you did..great, pretty great, " he complimented his competition carefully. Eyeing her almost shyly. "It's just, the high notes. Sometimes you..your voice stays to low, " Xander continued. A singing competition! While that made any sense why Xander won a battle. They were in a very small bar, a very small audience to entertain and after five beers Xander had accepted her challenge. He was beyond happy that Kalypso had dropped the seductive act around him, or at least played out with lower afford as they both knew it would work on him. In hidesight, she was pretty..decent, friendly even! And even though he had beaten her in a singing competition in some lonely forgotten pub, he'd had to admire her strong voice. Rough maybe. But it had his charms. Xander smiled bigger now, taking a careful sips of his sixt beer. Trying to give his throat some rest. "You're pretty good at singing though and while liking certain voices above the other is fully based on preferences and opinions, I would say you'd had beat me if the crowd was bigger." He said with a smile. "If you want another drink, I can pay, " he said. "For the good battle, you have given me, " he said with a smile.

--

Gave him a good practice? Xander started to softly laugh while sitting next to Levi. "Well sir that's a great honor hearing from you, " he said. Rubbing his sour back with his sour arms. He wasn't really a fighter, had seen people pratcing it ya! Xander had seen some stage-fights but those were orchestrated and every step was drilled and planned out. A real fight? Xander's gaze dropped to his wepon with a frown. "You're fighting skills are remarkable, " he told Levi with a smile. "Fluent, like in...poetry and music, very inspirational!" 

Dolores glanced down at the cup of coffee she had made, then at... The cup of tea the other party had made? In a way, she... Kind of won by default, given that the main goal of this "battle" was to make some coffee, then do a blind taste test to determine the winner- But since the only "judge" was a dog, and coffee wasn't exactly the healthiest dog treat out there...

The woman just opened a cupboard to add some creamer into her coffee, before sighing, "You know, this idea of a contest didn't really appeal to me in the first place." Immediately, she felt nothing but guilt for saying that; it sounded more standoffish than she intended, which made her grimace ever so slightly as she glanced off to the side and just... Sighed under her breath. "I'm not a very competitive person, but... The idea of you making tea when the objective was to make coffee is a little concerning." And it was at that moment when she conveniently took a sip of her coffee, before puckering her lips slightly at the lingering bitterness of the coffee grounds.

"I get that you don't like coffee," the elder opined with a sigh, "but just because you don't like it doesn't mean you can just defy it. Sometimes you just have to comply with it, like a necessary evil." Oh? Oh. After a period of just looking into the cup, she set it aside in favor of giving the other party a small frown.

"It seems counter-intuitive, but I mean well with this. I know; it's difficult for one to trust authority, especially when the power often gets abused, but... Sometimes, the power is unstable, and it's just better to lay low until natural processes take over." Not that she knew anything about what said processes were, as the older woman's eyes drifted over to the cup - as well as the creamer that swirled within it. She missed drinking tea already. Maybe she should've just made some tea and called it day, no contest needed.

Then she remembered why she proposed the competition in the first place: to open the younger fellow's mind, ever so slightly. Dolores sure hoped she accomplished her goal as she took her cup of coffee and gave it another uneasy sip, though by this time the drink was quite tepid and a little more watery than before. Ew.

But still, it gnawed at her - oh-so terribly - as Dolores finished up her cup before humming, "But at least you like the tea you brewed, right?", in an attempt to change the subject. With a chuckle, she then set the mug in the sink before pre-washing it with some water. "I'm sorry the tea selection up here in the mountains isn't very wide. It's very expensive transporting tea from the mainlands to here, and obviously, you can't exactly grow tea up on these rocky soils. The only good tea around here is the instant ones, but I've carried up some fresher ones from the mainland before," she added with a raised brow, "Now... Do you want something to eat with that, or is that tea good enough for you?"

thank you vape for the necromancy, but.... oh god rip Dolores fdgvdrfgvdfrvfdv- here is. a follow-up for thou:

"Have you ever played billiards before?"

The question was, of course, asked with an air of superiority, the tone patronizing. Otto stood over the table, a cue stick gripped in his hands, his mouth nursing on a chocolate-flavored cigar. Eugh, that sounds disgusting.

"I'm not saying you're a terrible opponent, however. Trust me when I say that I've played with others who were a bit more... erratic, I suppose might be the word. Age makes you patient, you know." he rambled on, "I taught both of my sons to play, and believe me when I say that they're worse than you. They focus too much on winning, and not on improving themselves." That especially could be said about his oldest!

"It might also be the noise." He then remarked, glancing up towards the ceiling. He could hear footsteps above them on the second floor of the residence. It was something that worried him from time to time. The walls themselves seemed paper thin at times.

He stepped closer to the pool table, easing the older woman out of the way. He lined his stick up with the cue ball, aiming carefully for the lingering eight-ball. He darted the tip outwards, and with a satisfying clack, the eight-ball sank into the pocket, and with that, all balls were cleared from the table.

And I, Vapor123, need to say that I can't take any of these words seriously because I'm secretly twelve and I hate pool.

He eased himself away from the table, sighing and nodding to himself. Someone should wipe that smug look off his face, but that very likely was not going to be Dolores. And he knew this, and it only made the confidence brimming in his chest pour out like an overflowing fountain. It was the continuous racket upstairs, however, that caught his attention again and distracted him from his victory.

"I wonder what they're doing up there." he commented, "I don't suppose you know what other maids do in their free time, Dolores? Other than losing at cue sports, perhaps..."

OUGHHHH here's a follow-up post.

Tahlia opens her door and looks at the smoldering pile on her doorstep. "I wonder what his deal was?". She looks out over her garden. None of her flowers were touched. only the bouquet next to the door has a little burnmark. Tahlia sighs. She did miscalibrate the flamethrowers. she knew she had and yet, she did not fix them. She grabs the flowers and throws them in the trashbin next to the door. "Now see what you did. you destroyed my flowers!" she looks disappointed at the pile of ashes. "What did I even do to you? you just turn up ready to beat me up with a bat? why?" Tahlia leans against the doorframe, puzzled, looking at the pile. Then she turns around to drink her morning tea. "Maid, clean this up will you?"

-------

Tahlia gets up and looks at her dress. it is all dirty now from dropping to the ground. She has a headache. is it from hitting the pavement? or maybe it's because my aura failed me? Who is this man? and why didn't I see him coming? The future doesn't seem to have changed that much. So what to do now? Fighting him without knowing what he will do seems unwise. Give him what he wants, maybe? what if that is does not work? Tahlia shakes her head and straightens herself. If that does not work, she can worry about that later. it seems like the best option now.

"I cannot argue with your victory. you are quite the fighter. I hope you can spare me and some of my more important possessions. I am sure you will not be disappointed with what I offer"

She waves her tail to reveal a chest filled with gems that was hidden behind it. then she steps aside and motions for him to take it

"I hope this will satisfy your desire. If you ever feel like gazing upon my flower garden again, or you just have a desire to return. you are always welcome in my humble estate"

This shouldn't be possible. A simple mortal, winning from a celestial. Not a celestial, one of the strongest. Roswell held his Kram lightly between his fingers. His breath was ragged and quick. Roswell wasn't even a real good fighter to begin with. With he feet his held Tahlia on the ground and he knelt to level their eye heights. Maybe, he thought, she couldn't see his future. Being from another plane, another world, one we're the Void ruled and not her species. Or maybe. She let him win. 'Cause she knew she had nothing to fear. 

"Gran' so, just 'an' me yisser wallet wud yer?" Roswell said. Holding up his empty hand for her. When Tahlia suggested that he maybe had to stop his life of crime, Roswell barked out a crowing laughter. A sharp unpleasant sound. "isten, " he said. "Oi git dat yer try ter enlight me. Save me from this 'idieous life of pety thievery. But spare yerself." Roswell smiled. Now assured that Thalia at least couldn't see his future. "'tis not gonna work. Oi'm not gonna give me empire away cos av yer an' yisser, love ter admit, lovely flower garden." He said. Allowing himself to quickly look around the garden for pinning his gaze back at Tahlia. His muscles tense and the kram still in his hands. Ready to strike if he really, really, have to. "We both 'now that I wouln't slit yer throat, " he assured her with a grin that was too sly for his own good. "But oi won, fair and square, so give me yer money."

2 loud bangs & John is the only man left armed. The room looked as if a storm passed through & the only thing one's senses could pick up was the smell of gunpowder. The whole in the wall aloud for strangers & traitors alike to onlook, blocking either men's escape. Roswell beckoned John. "Too week are we?" Roswell chuckled, mocking the barrel of the gun. They don't break eye contact; the tension in the are too thick for words. "That's a lot of talk for the man on the other end" John's voice was raspier than usual after spending the day in non-stop action & dust in his lungs. "You think I'd waist another bullet on you? For a crime lord your bounty ain't s***" he winks & backs away preparing to make a new doorway on the opposite side of the room. "Your lucky I don't have morals or I'd be leaving with one less bullet"

(Oof, wait technically it's Roswell's win cuz he paid off John with info on others cuz John is a bounty hunter with 0 morals & will go after the largest bounty he can find. Roswell successfully talked him out of killing him & to target one of his rivals. Or at least, that's what I had in mind)

"Uno—Gah, do you really have to say that? Your human traditions are weird. I...like them." Clyde stared at the cards and blinked slowly. Though this was a simple game, Clyde's interest has definitely been piqued. He watched John play a card. Clyde's lips curled into a smile, hidden underneath his mask. His eyelashes fluttered as he placed down another card.

"Cero. Wait, you're not supposed to say that?" Clyde glanced down at the tabletop and blinked slowly.

"Why do you say uno, but not dos or cero? I think it's a bit more satisfying." Clyde tilted his head again, his lips curling into a bigger smile.

"You humans are silly. I kinda admire that. Mmh, let's do this again."

The most that M. Pourife could do in response to his "victory" is... Twitch his mustache. But it wasn't even like the methodical twirling of his mustache that some cartoon villain would do when coming up with an evil plan, or just acting like a villain in general. (And that assumed the scientist could be called a villain in the first place.) It was more like the twitching of a cat's whiskers - a reflex to the environment around him, and that environment just so happened to include a fallen cat.

"Is... Everything okay?" the middle-aged man asked with slightly parted lips. Hoo boy, that was awkward. As far as he knew, the cat had been a bit too careless with his steps and walked right into M. Pourife's bulky figure, the thud made from such an impact apparently being enough to stun the other party for - hopefully - just a few moments. Though, just to make sure, M. Pourife waved his hand in front of the cat's eyes before repeating, "Is everything okay there, sir?"

It was for the best, given that M. Pourife was pretty shitty at fights. This was literally the only conceivable way he could "win."

He sighed, then took a step back - for his mind still hadn't completely wrapped itself around everything. This was... Surreal, to say the least, and it wasn't even in the satisfying way. It was bizarre, perhaps unsettling. Regret started to stir in his stomach, as he had caused harm to someone - even if it was momentary, even if it wasn't intentional. M. Pourife could've easily shrugged it off as either of those, yet here he was, fretting too much. It almost reminded him of his days as a younger - though he'd likely word it as more "helpless' - man.

But the scientist reminded himself to stay calm, as he held his hands up and stated, "Listen, I did not mean to hurt you like that, but...", with the slightest quaver in his voice. What though? The man grimaced before rubbing his nape. "... You really should be more careful next time." The slightest patronizing note sneaked its way into his voice, but did the scientist care? Not in the moment.

He did it mean it though! The fact, however, remained that the fellow wasn't going to be using this so-called success as an intimidation tactic anytime soon. He was honestly more concerned about whether the other party was hurt that badly by the fall, or if he wanted to kick the man's ass over an admittedly trivial incident.

The ball was now in the cat's court in that regard.

THIS IS SO WHOLESOME AND I LOVE IT. here’s a follow-up for these dorks….