She goes, not exactly like a ragdoll but a lot more easily than she'd
bargained for when getting into this. Her back hits the wall, knocking the
breath out of her with a grunt. Practically on auto-pilot, she goes to slam
her palm against Callisto's nose- nothing like a little gusher to knock you
off-course.
It's a square shot, because Callisto follows and stays close in her space when she's stopped by the wall. On a mortal opponent, she'd have just bought herself an opening to get out if not completely away.
On a god - or, honestly, Callisto in general; she'd have at least bled before, but she's taken enough beatings in her life not to let it stop her - it's more like smacking a horse on the nose and Callisto makes a sharp sound of surprise and then backhands her in return for her trouble, hard.
Always a fan of death, BJ manages to sit up straighter, eager to see it upfront on this ship. He admires the technique, even takes a piece of paper and a pen from his pockets to write 10 on it and hold it up.
Talk about an escalation. Being from a world where everyone is a baseline human, she has no reason to expect a move like that. Before she knows it she can feel Callisto's fingers digging into her flesh, her windpipe, her carotid arteries.
It's messy, and painful, and excruciatingly slow on her own end. While Elizabeth's blood covers Callisto's skin she can practically feel the life draining from her, as she stops being able to breathe, as the blood loos starts to knock her out.
She falls to her knees, iron grip on her throat or not, and bleeds out right there. Not quite the principle she thought she would die for, but die she does.
In sharp contrast, Callisto is used to much harsher brutality, from a world where men and women die slowly from sword wounds and broken bones all the time. She grins at the warmth spilling out over her hands. She digs in again and again because for a few moments anyway she feels better.
When Elizabeth slumps down, Callisto lets her go, flicking blood off her fingertips. Then she turns, unfazed, back to Betelgeuse.
"Now, where were we?" she asks conversationally. The sign means nothing to her.
In another setting the look would bother her. In truth though, the only point in her life where she's ever been the subject of admiration was the battlefield, and now she spreads her arms with a knife slice of a smile.
"It's nice to have fans," she acknowledges, then reaches down to fist a hand in his clothing to haul him up the stairs with her. "Come along."
It's not much later that she's depositing him unceremoniously in the level seven hallway, the door to the stairwell closing behind them with a firm click.
She crouches to squeeze his chin between her fingers, bringing them eye to eye although she's studying his face like someone else might a particularly difficult to identify plant.
"If you want a say in whether or not there's a repeat, you'll do just fine, I suspect."
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She goes, not exactly like a ragdoll but a lot more easily than she'd bargained for when getting into this. Her back hits the wall, knocking the breath out of her with a grunt. Practically on auto-pilot, she goes to slam her palm against Callisto's nose- nothing like a little gusher to knock you off-course.
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On a god - or, honestly, Callisto in general; she'd have at least bled before, but she's taken enough beatings in her life not to let it stop her - it's more like smacking a horse on the nose and Callisto makes a sharp sound of surprise and then backhands her in return for her trouble, hard.
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Honestly, BJ's cheers are lost in the rush in her ears. Getting slapped feels very strange, especially with such force.
She brings her knee into it, hoping to get Callisto just as out of breath as she still is.
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"You should have kept walking," she chides, and hooks her hand up into the woman's throat and jaw, twisting and squeezing.
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cw: gore
It's messy, and painful, and excruciatingly slow on her own end. While Elizabeth's blood covers Callisto's skin she can practically feel the life draining from her, as she stops being able to breathe, as the blood loos starts to knock her out.
She falls to her knees, iron grip on her throat or not, and bleeds out right there. Not quite the principle she thought she would die for, but die she does.
Re: cw: gore
When Elizabeth slumps down, Callisto lets her go, flicking blood off her fingertips. Then she turns, unfazed, back to Betelgeuse.
"Now, where were we?" she asks conversationally. The sign means nothing to her.
Re: cw: gore
"Now that's what I call a murder!"
Re: cw: gore
"It's nice to have fans," she acknowledges, then reaches down to fist a hand in his clothing to haul him up the stairs with her. "Come along."
Re: cw: gore
"Where are we going?"
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"You're going to help me with a little project. You don't mind, do you?" This is facetious. She does not care if he minds.
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"All you do is tell anyone who asks what happened."
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She crouches to squeeze his chin between her fingers, bringing them eye to eye although she's studying his face like someone else might a particularly difficult to identify plant.
"If you want a say in whether or not there's a repeat, you'll do just fine, I suspect."
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Betelgeuse blinks doe-eyed at Callisto in order to appear gullible and innocent.
"Can there be? I'm not going to lie, I am afraid for my life and loving it."
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"Do your part," she orders, coldly. Then she lets go with a small shove, and pushes back up to her feet to go.
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"Not now, boner." He scolds, watching Callisto walk off.