In Reverse [Open]

[X2]

Deception throw the bag of herbs he had negotiated with some alley tom with. He hated the locals, especially pushy ones that wanted more nip then what was originally bargained for. He wasn't called cold for nothing. He had allowed the tom to take more then what they agreed on. Luckily for Dece, he had poisoned the batch believing the deal would go south. It wasn't anything new for an alley cat, in the bad part of town, to turn up dead the next morning. So, Deception had left the filth where he lay, took back the poisoned batch of nip. (No need to waste such a good weapon) And then headed back to the Warehouse. On his way there he slipped the nip into a hole on the construction site and buried it, then wandered into the main hall and to the healers room. Grateful that he didn't have to run into the Jellicle on loan, he left the batch of medicinal herbs in the room for Jellylorum to sort through and put away. With his errand done, an assignment he had done himself; for his own reasons, he left out the back. The cool night air hit him in the face, as he let his feet wander back out onto the construction site.

[Open. For Anyone.]

[petserpit]

((Do you mind if I join with Serpit?))

[X2]

((I don't mind at all. Haven't been having much luck with Deception sadly. So Serpit might help me flesh out Deccie's personality.))

[petserpit]

((Thank you. I hope I won't disappoint .))

Serpit lay inert, his coat stained red with dust, atop a stout heap of bricks at the edge of the construction site. After having been dragged into conciousness for, he though the third time by the savage bite of the harsh night air, he had begrudgingly given up on sleep. As often was the case in his drowsy states, he
had unconsciously fallen into the unflattering and kittenish habit of gnawing at any part of himself that had not become instilled with the taste of mud or
infection. As he stared, unblinking into the dark, he chewed and suckled rather loudly in the silence of the night, on the bland and tender flesh at the base of his claws. Even the shock of blood on his tongue, as his fang snagged the balding area and a sour bead dribbled into the pulsating crease, would not oblige him
to cease the action. His body was already weak and filthy, what were a few sore fingertips, he supposed. This kitten like behaviour, though nothing more than a weary habit of stimulation, to the onlooker would appear to be a momentary wavering of sanity.

Serpit had been vaguely aware for a while, of the smell of catnip in the short, sharp gusts chilling air. It was only as he recognised the towering outline of Deception as he entered the site, that a connection was made. Removing his paw from his groping mouth with a slick sound, he discarded the damp, bleeding appendage in favour of offering an empty smile to the approaching stimulus. He was certain that Deception would catch sight of it in the darkness, if not smell him first. He sat up, not wishing to appear vulnerable by laying down in front of the significantly stronger tom like a submissive mate. He allowed his expression of hollow graciousness serve as a greeting, as the scent of his blood, bubbling from the self inflicted wound, curled into the air.

((I hope this is OK))

[X2]

Deception walked more naturally through the area, however the scent in the air caused his nose to wrinkle up. He tilted his head, and his eyes surveyed the site with studious concentration. He blinked and then continued on his way. He should have sensed it was Serpit right off the bat. Not just because the tom omitted a foul stench or had a memorable coat pattern. There was just an aura about the sleek and thin tom. The higher ranking henches saw the potential in him, and the lower henchcats shrank in fear. Some sneered in disgust at him, while the rest dutifully ignored him. Deception did't count himself as being properly labeled under any of those reactions. His standards were always quite high and Serpit just never measured up. Deccie really didn't like the tom, it was just his gut reaction and he always, always followed his gut.

He continued to walk, as if he hadn't noticed Serpit nearby, until he was close enough to stomp down onto the tip of the toms tail. He gave the tom a sidelong stare. "Well gee, pet. I just didn't sense you here. This bit of land was empty when I came by a few minutes ago." He did glance at the toms opened and bleeding appendage. Quirking an eyebrow at it, he spoke. "Shouldn't you find a hole to bleed out in. Or go see our new "on loan" jellicle healer?"

((So I'm not godmodding, it's up to you if Dece did or didn't step on Serpit's tail.))

[petserpit]

Serpit thrust his bloody fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue to prevent a pained whine from escaping. A low gurgle sounded from his throat as the trapped noise protested. For a moment he sat frozen, his mind swelling with memories of crumpling beneath the bruising touches of vehement strays, as he desperately clutched a rodent corpse to his caving belly. His fingers would push the writhing muscle into the back of his throat, making him retch, thick bile spurting through his teeth, spattering his attackers and angering them further. The memories left as quickly as they came, leaving him momentarily a shuddering husk. Slowly, swallowing the hot trickles flowing from his fingertips, he met Deception's eye. Deception was strong. Another hench that Serpit had merely made up his mind, was everything that aroused disgust in him. He had put it all down to strength. Strength that opened and sealed every deal where he had come out unscathed. Strength that attracted every queen in heat to his den in search of carnal activity. Strength that would grind him into the ground, down to heavyside hades and intimidate any hench into turning a blind eye. At that moment, for the first time in years, Serpit knew hate. At that moment, he wanted to find a place in this somewhat unfamiliar tom that was as tender and susceptible as his own body. He forced another smile, though this one was different. It quivered as it split across his face, widening like an incision, stretched around his fingers. Subtly crazed.

"If you thought this area empty, Deception," His voice crept out, a gentle purr, though slightly muffled by his impairing fingers. "Then you are certainly every bit as blind as my own affected cousin."

He changed his mind quite suddenly, shifting his position so he lay on his back before the larger tom. His taut stomach uncurled, exposed, as if daring him to cast a blow. Seemingly with difficulty, he tugged his fingers from his lips. The wounds were clean, now only tiny, wet slits, but his flesh was coated with a mingle of blood and saliva. Training his eyes on the substance, he continued; "Am I to take it, that you are referring to Miss Jellylorum? If so, I must enquire as to your meaning." On impulse, as he lowered his paw, he flicked his fingers towards the tom, dotting his feet with a few warm droplets.

((Sorry, it's kinda long and rambling. Like before, you can decide if the drops land on Deception.))

[X2]

Deception crossed his arms at his chest as his eyes narrowed into studious slits. His first impression of Serpit had been a bad one, and Deception had never seen anything of Serpit to make him change his mind. Still, his personal opinions of the tom in front of him, Deccie still didn't know what to make of him. He shrugged his shoulders. "Wasn't anything worth looking at." Came his immediate quip. And he had meant it. He did give the tom a smirk. "Young Serpie has family? Thought you came out of some weed's ass." His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

He did shift his weight, debating how long to torture himself with Serpit's presence before finding some much needed peace elsewhere. But who was he kidding? Deception was a social tom, not the nicest, but he hated being alone for too long. If he had to choose spending an hour alone or being repulsed by Serpit for an hour, he'd choose this. Just as he was about to reply about Jelly giving him some sort of salve for those irritations on his body, Serpit had flicked his paw at him. He grimaced and looked down at his foot in disgust. He raised his foot to shake the droplets off, kicking his leg and foot out and in Serpit's direction.

((And because I sometimes read these things wrong, but he flicked blood drops onto Deccie's foot, yeah?))

[petserpit]

Serpit's lips puckered slightly, not so much at Deception's rather vulgar stab at his parental origins, but at the foul words he had used in doing so. The pucker softened though, into a subtle smirk as his companion's face contorted in disgust at his spittle on his skin. He slid neatly onto his hip, showing Deception the dark, waspish plane of his back. He pushed his tongue through his lips as he did so, as if moving to wet them, though he had tried to suppress his feminine laughter. As he lay, eyes averted from his stimulation, he felt a tickle of excitement. Insomnia had frayed his restraint somewhat, and the idea of stroking the tom's nerves a little briskly suddenly seemed appealing. A memory surfaced as abruptly as the anticipation, and while Serpit supposed the mention of this forgotten rumour a risk to himself, his sudden playfulness cemented a decision. Without turning to face Deception, he said, barely above a whisper;

"Yes, it would seem that I have family. That which I know of, a great, sightless tom of a queen. I take it from the reference to frail vegetation, that you think me frail to...well you needn't think, it is plain to see that I am indeed..." He paused, curling protectively over his tender stomach, curving his thin back before the other tom's gaze. "It would seem," He continued. "That my family is cursed with impairment. Though, worry not, I often comfort myself with the knowledge that impairment exists somewhere within every family. If some of the things I have heard are anything to go by, I am certain that Miss Jellylorum has been busying herself with psychological study. Trying to convince some troubled toms, that a queen cannot conceive after rigor mortis has set in." His voice trailed, almost to inaudibility, his eyes closed in feigned weariness as he waited for response.

((Hey, sorry I took so long to reply. I wasn't sure if any of the henches knew about Ragnvald, so I kept it as a rumour. Let me know if you don't think I was wrong in mentioning it, and I could post differently.))

[X2]

((Well, Deception rarely talks about anything concerning Ragnvald. He's a face from the past and Deception is the type to move on, without looking back. I have no doubt most of the henches know he has a twin brother. However, Deception doesn't even know of Rage's one time experiment with necrophilia. So that tidbit wouldn't be known, and would be a really clever and interesting rumor that I can't picture any of the hench cats thinking up. I don't mind any other type of rumors going around about Ragnvald. Typical rumors that hench cats would think up.))

[petserpit]

((Okay, I couldn't think of a decent rumour about Ragnvald, so I have turned the insult onto Deception. Let me know if it is too much.))

Though Serpit could feel the lukewarm bile well at the base of his tongue at Deception's vile language, it did not distract him from the glee he felt at the tom's open display of disgust. For a moment, his body seemed possessed by a great bout of merriment. As he surveyed the grimacing face of Deception, he could do little other that giggle through his teeth as his damp fingers poked and tugged at his lower lip in a creepily kittenish manner. This state of surreal immaturity seemed to fade more slowly than it had emerged, his giggles becoming muted and fragmented, ebbing out like the heat from the ashes, cooling in a grate. His smile, however, remained unwavering as he let the silence hang, his flickering gaze trained on the towering tom. He sat, unaware of his previous demeanour, as one is unconscious of having dreamt seconds after waking. Deceptions words pulsed, fresh in his mind and as his latent insomnia gnawed at his restraint, he felt compelled to respond with equal force. Discover how vigorously he could stroke the tom's nerves before they quivered.

"Your words are quite vulgar, Deception." His voice was ever light, as his eyes made slow sweeps over the tom's form, dimmed by the night. "However, upon being in your presence, I consider myself infinitely fortunate to have been regurgitated by the parasitic earth.” He sat up suddenly and leaned towards Deception. Soft clicks sounded from beneath his skin, as his his dried spine protested at the action. The smalls sounds continued as he stretched out his neck, staring into his companion's eyes as if he suspected the the tiny, reflected glimmers were a foreign civilisation within his skull. His nose twitched with a few short, sharp sniffs. He licked his lips.

“I can smell that you came from flesh. Well worn flesh. Tell me Deception, how many toms could you potentially have wept forth from, into that red, raw harlot?”

[X2]

((I am sorry for the wait, yet again. *bows apologetically* I am also sorry it is rather short.))

Deception continued to stare at Serpit with a less then stellar expression. The tom was obviously deranged and insane, and he often wondered how Macavity had even come to cross paths with Serpit, let alone how he managed to find the tom remotely sane enough to be useful to the tribe. He'd have bet good nip that Rumpus had something to do with it. But as he hadn't really taken an interest in Serpit and now face to face with the maniacal giggles, he was more convinced of his first judgement upon the tom. There was no way Deccie wanted to know the tom anymore then what he was faced with. He rolled his eyes heavenward. "Vulgar..? Just the sight of you is vulgar, tainted beast." He did look upon the tom with disdain.


"Fine, be grateful. Certainly didn't do you any favors." His eyes did narrow as the toms bones clacked, and the slime in between the clumps of ungroomed fur got closer to him. He did move backwards when he heard the toms words. "Oh...Were you insulting my breeding or my mother? She you can insult to your hearts desire." His voice had come out in a sneer. The queen had kicked him and his twin onto the streets when they were really young because she couldn't take care of them. No matter how you sliced the bread, she had abandoned them. He held nothing in regards to her.

[petserpit]

((I really sorry that I'm so late with this reply.))

"Tainted beast."

Serpit's pupils shrank, sucking in on themselves like blots of ink on a surface of steel. They seemed to pulse within the centres of his pale orbs, figures in a gypsy's crystals, as he contemplated the title. Tainted? He silently wondered whether Deception had declared thus of his physical or spiritual state. He was dirty, he stank. He knew that. If, however, the foul mouthed tom had called Serpit's own self, his very soul, tainted. Muddied by selfish choice and impure action. Well then, Deception was surely a hypocrite.
Perhaps this was the flaming core of Serpit's inner assurance and open display of superiority in comparison to almost every Hench in his acquaintance. This underlying hypocrisy to every name they called him, every question they raised in light of his actions. Not only to him but to each other. Spitting each self centred, cruel, lustful and identical action into one another's faces. At that moment, with trace of bitterness on his tongue, Serpit recalled that the only Hench who had never done as such to him, was Rumpus. In a swiftly forgotten emergence of his own hypocrisy, Serpit cursed the dark tom for this freshly discovered virtue.

"So untainted." The words were mangled in a strained whisper.

The unblinking tom's thoughts were sent into sudden disarray at Deception's sour words towards his mother. His eyes widened, before slackening, beginning to flicker again as he studied his companion's expression with the ease of simple deduction. Abuse of some kind. Corporal punishment? venomous words? Neglect? Unconsciously, Serpit reached down to trace the span between his glaring hipbones. When one loses all respect for one's self, one cares not for the way they appear in the eyes of others. So dirty. Deception was a careless tom, without remorse for any commitment of violence or bout of carnal desire. Serpit fancied that the tom would have shed a tear or two of regret, proceeding a play fight that had drawn blood on the face of his kittenhood friend. Only one or two. Perhaps the red raw harlot had nurtured him towards his state of complete guiltlessness. Pathetic, dirty, hypocritical creatures. All of us.

"Dece, you will agree that I rarely speak untruthfully." It was not with any feeling of pity or affection that Serpit used the nickname with which his companion was often addressed. More a kind of patronization that stemmed from the idea of Deception in his kitten years.

[X2]

((I apologize in advance for my short reply, but it's better then no reply, ja?))

Deception chose not to hear Serpit's whispered words. Out of context, and with his own defenses up, it meant nothing to the white and brown tabby. Plus, considering how offended he felt with the mere presence of Serpit, not to mention the insults they were trading back and forth, Deception wasn't thinking too clearly. It was easier to feign indifference. Lean against the nearest post and keep his narrowed eyes glancing in the other tom's direction. At Serpit's last words, Deception scoffed. He was too taken back and unguarded by the pet name Serpit had called him by. So much so, that he couldn't help but to respond honestly, before he had a chance to think about it. "I can't agree with you." It was not out of spite, or another dig at the tom, but he wouldn't have cared if Serpit took it that way. "I don't know you enough to make that judgement." And how could he possibly? He knew Serpit by looks primarily. Deception and Serpit had rarely spent more then unpleasant exchanges, or a professionalism if they were both called into Macavity's office for an assignment. Since he didn't know Serpit, he couldn't attest to his 'honesty'.

[petserpit]

Proceeding Deception's seemingly careless words, Serpit was aware of a ghostly feeling of exposure. The sort of feeling one might have after prematurely peeling a scab, and watching powerlessly, as the wound reopens and weeps.

"I don't know you well enough to make that judgement."

As he regarded Deception's response, he felt certain that there had been no trace of a threat. No, it had been too swift, unfiltered. A wholly honest response without the accompaniment of malicious humour to cement the illusion of an iron will. Somehow, this was just it....The complete absence of threat or illusion in his words, was the cause of a feeling of unease in Serpit that was unfamiliar. Serpit had always felt embarrassment at the concept of delusion. He felt certain that if ever he should delude himself to the point of reckless, misguided action, he would become sick for shame. Even the consideration that he had done as much in the past inflicted frequent pains, low in his belly. Beneath Deception's muted words, lay a statement that rang loud in his head.

"Look, here is my honesty, where is yours." The implication; "You are a lier, Serpit. You say nothing without first applying poetic rearrangement, filtering away your shame. Show me you can do without it....Show me."

The lank tom's eyes flickered to his lap, and he noticed the quivering, turquoise slivers of his veins, swelling beneath the taut skin and shining through the thin fur. He realised that he had no idea how long he had sat in silence, and he suspected that a minute longer would show Deception that a simple, unspoken pursuit of weakness had broken him. He knew that further, syrupy politeness would be a cowardly skirt around the posed challenge, yet complete, sickened honestly would be defeat. Without casting his companion a glance, he stood up upon the heap of brick, and dropped soundlessly to the ground. He wandered forward to Deception's feet, almost toe to toe, his scabbed fingers interlaced and hanging between his sheer hips. An organic being under the inspection of a marble Ares. He looked up, his immense, colourless orbs slightly sickened, yet positively determined. Unsmiling, he said;

"Do you hope to know me, Deception." His irises pulsed as he stared up into Deception's face. Shuddering slightly. like faults on an aged film reel. "If so, I expect I shall know you also."

[X2]

Deception felt out of place standing there staring at a tom who simply sat there looking away from him and getting nothing but silence. It would be the perfect cliche if the crickets started chirping just then. The silence was beginning to deafen his ears, and he didn't know if he was wracked with more anticipation to hear the tom speak or the silent chirping noises of the crickets. It did finally occur to him the error he had made, the slip in his words. An honest answer.

He tended to stay away from those unless it benefited him in some way. He was just about to turn on his heel and stalk away, when Serpit had suddenly stood up and moved towards him. Deception still had a bit of a scowl on his face, but he was more focused on trying to prepare himself for any reaction Serpit might have or throw at him. His words sunk into his mind and he found his bracing for something pointless.

Granted he hadn't been prepared for that, but it was s bit of a let down to what he had been expecting. Having no real answer ready for the shorter tom, and seeing it too much like a come on, he quipped. "You're not going to hug me now, are you?"

...Please for the love of whatever god is out there, he better punch me and walk away. There will be NO hugging.