★ Of Love and Combat ★ [w/ Esper]

At first, his brainchild seemed to be one of the better things he'd thought of and accomplished in a long while. He'd been spending so much time as a serious assassin that Iris just wanted to let loose, go back to his old hobbies, let off some steam. Clients for Hidden Blades were so...anal. And not even in the fun way! When jobs came through, they almost always had strict rules for how the task must be done, what it must look like, what the aftermath should be. No mistakes. No deviations for the deviant. Very few of those dossiers he took allowed room for any eye reaping. So many nice ones he'd lamented, wasted because it would give away his identity perhaps, or would alert the wrong people that it wasn't an accident...even worse was that no one ever saw him in all his beautiful glory. Or in these cases, her glory. The only time Esper could take any enjoyment in touching a mark for her own devices was if she needed to fool them or lure them, and even then it was in disguise, letting someone else's beauty to the work. Feh! Only on the bodies that had to be completely gotten rid of by any means necessary could the eyes actually be snatched from, and those were few and far between.

In short, his day job was: No beauty, no fun, and no eyes. But hey, lots of vice money!

The cosmic being's compulsion to acquire new pairs of eyes had reached a fever pitch in the past few weeks. Even a walk to the bar had him nearly dragging people into alleys to relieve them of their sight. What stopped him? Honestly, habit. Even when he wasn't in Hidden Blades and was simply Iris Esperanza, he still thought like he was Esper. Despite all the personalities he could easily switch between with a change of the eyes, it was the hardest for him to separate and change between his two lives. It was only after he realized he wasn't the masked and anonymous Esper that should draw no attention that he wanted to go for it, but by then the target was gone and the mood was ruined.

The day before, Iris found himself nearly running out of Errings Rising's castle foaming at the mouth, nearly going mad to satisfy his hunger. The space dust was generally a masochist, but when it came to this obsession, he was steeped in dark sadism. His ears ached for the screams of surprised victims. His hands trembled in anticipation over what magical secrets might be locked within, what colors he'd add to his rainbow assorted rows. Clutching his eye scooper with obvious intent, he pondered where to go. Since he had only a few moments to steal away this week, he needed to make his new additions count. Clover Town might be full of retirees, but they were powerful ones. Generally, Iris had a distaste for the geriatric since aging eyes tended to attract nasty ailments and milkiness, but it had come to his attention that there were quite a few that weren't as old as one might expect. Instead, they were just worn out, either crippled in battle or their bodies failed early from the abuse of their power. Those would be his targets. The ones with crisp, clear vision trapped in now inadequate bodies, but still possessing all the potential they'd had in their younger years for him to harvest. Getting these would soothe him. They'd also make him stronger, which would, in turn, one day translate to his razing of the magic council and the reclaiming of his own stolen eyes.

No, the irony that one of the things he now enjoyed most was the very thing done to him that ruined his life did not fail him. He just didn't care.

His first trip was solo. It was a wild and ravenous romp, using his newly acquired stealth skills to break into houses and snoop for the right people. Some he passed over, not out of the goodness of his heart, but because they weren't worth it. Missing eyes. Ruined eyes. Disgusting! He had half a mind to burn their houses down, but he risked missing out on the ones he really wanted if he attempted to cleanse the blemish from the population now. In and out of houses he snuck, and the ones with the prizes within went off without a hitch. A little rope, a firm grip, professional wrist twist and POP! he had his new pretties and plopped them into his jars, snuggling them away into his dimension of goodies. One perk of the aging population was their hard of hearing since those he did enucleate screamed such horrific symphonies that he thought he might not be able to contain his euphoria. After he was finished, he had some places to go and people to meet to make the best of the high and his descent from it.

However, like the draw to the drugs he took to keep unwanted thoughts away, the success of his haul the night before lured him out again Clover Town. The first night only whet his appetite. He'd get them all this time, but there was a slight hiccup. The members of his real identity's guild were drawn to chaos like moths to a flame. His thirst was so palpable that they followed him in droves as if he was the captain of their destructive platoon if they actually listened to rules and authority which they decidedly did not. Still, Iris was a chaotic being himself, so he could use the cover of their general attack on Clover Town to get the rest of the peepers. Maybe the commotion would draw even more victims for him. Good thing he was flexible~

Indeed, it did draw out fresh blood. Rune Knight blood. While he was all for having his real face and name be infamous throughout the land, he wasn't sure he wanted the police to know it so well. And while he knew he should use the battle between them and his insane posse to leave without a trace...he just couldn't. He'd been having a lovely night and an even lovelier morning until the trash showed up. Few things enraged the easy-going Iris more than the lapdogs for the Magic Council. Decades if not centuries ago he'd been among their ranks. He'd been a good soul that wanted to help humanity, keep it beautiful and thriving. He'd seen the best in all of them and swore to protect and love them. But they betrayed him in the most intimate ways, twisting and changing him forever. The more trash he could set on fire, the better.

Finding dark humor in his choice to stay, he chuckled at his cleverness. Yes, he'd wear his old Rune Knight armor for this fight. Black water bubbled from his pores, coating him and hardening into his black knight's armor. Would anyone recognize this once heroic form? Was the painting of him still in the hall of legends? Tapping into his old strategic knowledge from being a general in the old days, he waited across the bridge for the general of this pod. If they were still trained like they used to be, it wouldn't take them long to locate him and the degenerate group that had joined him. Water formed a matching spear in his right hand. Iris was ready for a fight. All the blood he'd spared earlier would now be spilled in a gorgeous display if he had his way about it. As a glow came streaking into view slightly overhead, he grinned beneath his helmet and raised his weapon. When the feathered being was in range, he launched the spear at her with impressive strength and speed, then finished up by forming a water lance in his hand for the ensuing battle.


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Feathers.

He wasn't sure why, but even in this moment of rage and bloodlust, the sight of the wings and feathers sparked some sort of memory. He stood frozen in his attack position. For once, the vain being was grateful for the dark helmet he'd donned, so his expression would remain mysterious and dangerous to his angelic foe despite his face showing that he'd been distracted. A few blurred memories of a drunken night, some kisses, lots of chocolate, a fight in the street? He'd been with someone then, someone with wings. They'd been forced apart by a crowd and that was all he barely remembered. Just wisps of a day filled with happiness and contentment. The letter 'B'. Waking with a single black feather in his hand, which he still carried around like Cinderella's glass slipper.

But this couldn't be the B with the inky black wings. This was a she, bathed in gold. Quickly, he buried the memories and thoughts and returned to his unapologetic attempt to murder an entire squad of Rune Knights, starting with their general. "General Phacelia~ of the Rune Knights?" he called back, voice tinny from inside the watermade metal. A deep, dangerous giggle followed. With a sweep of his black armored hand, he motioned to her as if to dramatically present her to his unruly band of dark mages. "So the rule makers have sent a beautiful top dog~. Aren't we special~?" his voice lilted to them tauntingly, bringing up a roar of cackles and hungry threats of violence. "Darlings, how do we feel about the Magic Council and their laws for the land? Anyone up for being arrested~? Bound in chains~?" he flirtily inquired next, rallying his own troops, which were actually more like feral dogs. They growled and howled, all protesting the system and proudly professing their rejections of such notions in monologues no one listened to. "Well, what does Errings Rising do to people like General Phacelia and the Rune Knights?"

That was all it took to whip the rest of his guild members into a frothy frenzy. Some blasted past her back over the bridge and some swam over the stream to aid in the fight with the other Rune Knights. Some stayed behind to directly go for the angel that directly threatened them, though Iris had little doubt they'd fall quickly. Some of this lot were strong, but none were particularly disciplined. ER was a chaotic place that had become a haven for insane and twisted mages. He knew full well a lot of the ones who came today were fodder. Not many cooperated with each other or even seemed to pause for strategy. They flew by the seat of their pants, thinking that simply having deadly spells was enough to kill their foes. Iris couldn't fix stupid, nor did he care enough to try. It was enough effort to keep the Combat Department's members trained and in proper shape for Hidden Blades.

Once enough of his comrades had fallen and blood perfumed the air, Iris finally dashed into the fray. Hopefully his attack from earlier had damaged her enough to make this fight interesting. It'd been a long time since he'd fought someone this way. Combat for the space dust these days was much more sneaky and straight for the kill. Efficiency and secrecy were top priorities. But here, he could play. Let loose. Be a little sloppy. Yes, he intended to kill her, but he hoped General Phacelia would be able to hurt him. Iris wanted to enjoy himself, wanted the pleasure from taking blows meant to kill and basking in the quivers through his body that his alien brain registered as reason to release the chemicals that made him feel oh-so-good. For someone like Iris, a super masochist, pain was very thrilling. Intoxicating. He licked his lips with anticipation. The Black Knight drew in close to the angel, lance jabbing outright for her chest while the fluid plumage of his helmet revealed its watery second nature. It'd try to wrap around any part of her it could get, acting like a whip. In this case, it sought not to hurt, but to keep her on a leash. Keep her close, perhaps. Force the two to fight in close quarters, where the attacks would be hard and fast and relentless...and deliciously torturous. "Please, stay close, little birdy. You're too pretty to admire from afar~"

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Iris was delighted that his helmet's plume had managed to snag the pretty birdy to keep her from flying away. How could he possibly draw more of that pretty red blood from her if she kept trying to take off? Though he hadn't foreseen her smashing into the bridge as she had, the winged being seemed to be alright. Being tethered, however, caused a more instantaneous change to adapt, a change that the space dust found very interesting indeed. All that shimmery gold and skin disappeared and suddenly there was a man in its place. "Oh~! That's a fun trick!" the knight nearly giggled, of course drawing parallels between them. It wasn't often if ever that he'd come across someone who could shift their human body and gender as he could. Was the General not of this planet as well, or was this a common trait of a more divine being? Either way, a shiver went down his spine, and unlike the angel, Iris would embrace the lust he felt for his enemy. Perhaps it'd even fuel him on. More blood. More pain. If this now handsome man could get through his armor, perhaps he'd earn the chance at something a little less protected.

When the rugged man lunged forward in a somewhat primal attack, glee echoed from within the helmet. Iris was sorry his armor endured the angels punch, only rewarding him with a metallic ringing sound inside and none of the pain he craved. "Actually, you could be so much closer~" countered the suggestive male inside, the percussion of tiny wing bones on the black metal serving as a soundtrack. As hands came to grip his helmet in an effort to wrench it off, the dark mage admired the pulsing biceps and triceps for a few fleeting moments before reaching a free arm up to smack them away. "Not yet, my lovely. You've got a lot more work to do before being rewarded with my beautiful face," the man taunted, taking a step back. Remaining close like this was no time for a long, cumbersome lance. It turned back into crystal clear water, circling around him as if awaiting his command.

It'd been a long time since he'd used this magic. After the loss of his original eyes, he'd lost access to it due to memory degradation. Despite being alien, he'd been on Earthland for a very long time; centuries, in fact. When he and some of his kind first came to this rock, they'd encountered a people with a water affinity and made their home among them. They shared knowledge and integrated. Iris had befriended a dragon of the sea that was kind enough to condense some of her magic into a lacrima so he could protect these people from a growing threat to the East. In the end, it had hardly done much good, but he had cherished this magic. Some soul searching he'd done recently in attempts to find his arch-enemy had reminded him. While using the armor he'd used in his legal days was familiar, it came with its perils. The bad memories almost made him want to lock it all back up, but perhaps a little rage would come in handy here.

"You will have to come at me much harder than that, Rune Knight," the Atlantean scoffed, all but spitting out the last of it, "It's a bit too quiet for my liking. Maybe our screams will compliment each other, should you be up to the task." With that, the water formed about six thin needles and flew at the angel, the Black Knight following close behind with metal fists flying.


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As his needles hit and froze and his prey cracked into a bench from the momentum wrought by his fist, a wave of giddiness washed through Iris. He wasn't usually sadistic, preferring masochism hands over fists more, but the capability was still there for moments when it was needed. Riding the high of what seemed to be a battle going in his favor, he did indeed chase after his winged foe in hopes of tormenting a little more before he ended his pathetic Rune Knight life.

Perhaps he was a little too focused on what he'd do to the man when he caught him because he hardly noticed when, once recovered and airborne, that the wind was slowing him. He also didn't notice when the damaged bench came loose, so it smacked him right in the chest, and then it was his turn to fly back across the bridge and into a tree on the other side. Most would at least groan in pain, but the sounds coming from within the armor were far from displeased. Still, despite the pleasure he got from the attack, choosing to stay in human form meant he was injured like any other human would be. His blood started to pool under the skin at the back and front of his torso. Perhaps something was poking something else internally because a spasm of his sore ribs brought a little bit of his Milky Way colored blood to his lips where it leaked out. "Mmmmm~ Do that a few more times and you just might get me going~" he said suggestively, getting back to his feet, though he did stagger a little. Maybe he hit a little harder than he thought. Iris might enjoy pain, but that didn't mean his body didn't react in more or less the normal way someone experiencing injuries would. The weakness that came with it was much more fun during naughty times.

Okay, so if he couldn't move as well right now, then he'd have to improvise. Of course, now that he was feeling it, he wanted more pain brought on him instead of the other way around, so he'd lost a little of his will to fight. Still, if he was to get what he wanted, he'd have to agitate it. Armor clanking and whining from being bent, the dark mage started to surge forward again to meet his legal counterpart, a bit slower but still determined. The water had formed a sword for closer ranged combat, since now Iris was intent on staying up close and personal. "Let's dance, feather boy~. I've got all day!"


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Even if Iris had really been pressed to stop from running into the bladed staff, his wounds and his momentum driven by crazed desire would have kept him from being able to stop in time. Just when he thought he had that disgusting Rune Knight's life in his grasp, ripe for the culling, the unpredictable weapon appeared and he impaled himself on it. It didn't give an inch either, braced against the stone of the bridge. Black metal screeched against the metal of the blade as it gave way to the sharp point, giving it entry to the fleshy torso beneath. It sunk deep into Iris's chest with a hollow thump, drawing out another sound of pleasure. However, unlike the previous ones that were more ambiguous, this was a very distinct and drawn out moan. "Hnnnnnnnnggg~!!" Iris's voice rang loud and clear from deep in his throat, the echo effects of the armor doing nothing to mask what should have been a very familiar noise. The pain was utterly delicious. He could hardly keep his body from slipping over the edge of his lust.

Once the moan quieted, the dark mage fell silent, trying to adjust himself on the blade. This pulled a clear grunt of pain from within the dark helmet this time, still tinted with a twisted enjoyment, but a little uncomfortable. The grunt was followed by a thick chuckle. His cosmic blood was building in his throat even as it poured from his wound and out the hole in his armor, staining the blade. "Hnng...right there's the spot~" he teased suggestively, though the raspy inhale and the panting indicated the angel's victory. A shaky hand reached out to grip the staff behind the blade, trying in vain to push himself off of it. Victory or defeat didn't matter to Iris, but he absolutely didn't want to be captured. While someone of Iris's caliber could make any situation enjoyable besides solitary abstinence confinement (which was basically impossible given his composition and tendencies to escape), but it would be a bit of a bother if he got a warrant or bounty or something. Well, actually it'd probably be pretty fun, but with his work in Hidden Blades, his more public persona being hunted would make it hard to have time for his expected duties, right?

His strength was pretty spent, leaving him to hang weakly on the staff. A terrible cough sounded from within his helmet, leaking his ichor out of it and onto the bridge. If he'd been a normal human, this would be it for him. He'd die from this wound. However, Iris was not human, and thus this was just an inconvenience for his human form. He could turn into his galactic dust and free himself to go heal the damage, but this was much more fun for the moment. What would this little goody-goody do? "Heh heh...you win~...now what, angel?"

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For a change, it was Iris's turn to be surprised. Though his hair still looked impeccable considering he'd just been wearing a helmet and impaled, his face lost a little of the twisted aroused smirk and took on one of baffled wonder. His lavender hues were staring into the one, single pair of baby blues he'd searched so intently for but could never quite find again. "Thi....Beaux?" he asked, suddenly aware of the name other than his old stripper moniker that belonged to the angel boy. How he knew it was fuzzy, but that didn't matter right now. His breath caught in his chest and all the malice and darkness left his features. It was him, at last. He reached an armored hand up to carefully touch the man's cheek, as if to prove to himself that this was real and not a daydream.

Whether Beaux realized it or not, at some point in their past tristes, the lusty extraterrestrial had fallen in love with him. That was a big deal for Iris, since he'd only ever loved one other person and they had betrayed him at his most vulnerable. And love for Iris was different than for humans. While he didn't understand how love and lust linked, since he could feel lust for any number of people but love only one, his affections went deeper than most human attachments once he formed them. He'd be disgusted to learn that was essentially monogamy, since he was under a different impression of what that meant.

"Beaux~!" he grinned, as if he didn't have galaxy blood leaking everywhere from the weapon lodged in his body. He pulled his hand back and gave it a rough shake to rid it of the black gauntlet, merely so he could wipe the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He had to look his best for Beaux! "I can't believe it. How lucky am I~" he gleamed, forgetting all the pent up rage he'd been trying to unleash on the one thing he hated more than most. Beaux was a Rune Knight, but he completely forgot about that. It didn't matter what he was. None of this mattered anymore. He didn't even consider that he'd just tried to kill the man earlier, or that he'd hurt him. All of it had faded into a haze of pure joy.

Well, mostly pure joy. Every time he moved, there was a twinge of pleasure and pain that was a little distracting. He'd actually like to get off the blade now so he could greet his lover properly. First the armor disappeared, and without the resistance of metal he managed to weakly back himself off the blade, though he made a variety of noises as he did so. Though his clothes were slicked down the front and back by his strange blood, he didn't seem to care too much. He very much wanted to throw his arms around and hug his one-time foe, but he was smart enough to take it a little slow. This was probably quite a shock. Still, as he stood more properly before Beaux, sweating a little and panting from his injury, Iris looked like there was no other place he'd rather be right now. For just this moment, everything was right in the world, and all the swirling negativity that he drank away was quiet. "I finally found you~...or rather, you found me?" he asked, grinning.

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