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"Jus'…don' move." Lynette murmurs through gritted teeth. Her hands are both out stretched, flexed, digits wide, and the entire slip of her body is tense. Slit pupils stare out toward the beastial figure of Victor Creed, and he can feel himself starting to move? From pens, to books, to another mutant almost twice her size, the mambo was trying to dead-lift with her abilities and so far, it wasn't going too well. A shudder ripples up her back as she pushes harder, only starting to lift the ends of his massive pelt jacket, and the ending sweeps of his hair float upward.
*
"Gotcha…not movin' darlin'" the man says with a shrug…and immediately proceeds to sip the drink in his hand. To be fair, he wasn't really moving, but the effects on the jacket and the light tug at his hair? Well it was a start right. "Y'know, there's probably people out there vain enough that this would stop 'em." Yep, Victor's got jokes.
*
"Don'…don' make m'laugh." She begs after having scoffed a bit at his idea that was, well, probably true. Her feet plant and push further down into the snowy drifts of the park, so much so that her boots had met ground, and were starting to scrape up grass and mud. Finally, finally, Creed starts to move up, half an inch, before dropping back down with a heavy 'thump'. Staggering, the girl's arms fall against her sides lifelessly as she pants, and gives a soft 'woo' for her victory. "Jesus, chere. W'd' made of?"
*
Landing like that would make most people lose their balance a little. Victor? He doesn't even spill his drink! Finishing that mouthful he shrugs his shoulders. "Snips, snails and puppy dog tails?" he smirks lightly, finally stepping towards the Mambo and reaching out his free hand to pat her shoulder. "People have enough of a hard time throwin' me around without it bein' all brain-muscle. You'll get there Darlin', just keep at it."
*
"Y'seen de world lately, Vic? S'mess, n'I need t'get stronga." She huffs, her breath catching the air and fluttering away in a white wisp. Working her fingers, they curl and relax before she moves from her dug-in spot on the small hill and hugs around Creed's arm. Then, they begin to walk down a partially lit path through the park. "How y'doin', by de way?"
*
"Won't do you any good to have your brain dribblin' out from behind those pretty eyes because you didn't pace yourself. Hard to fight with a busted melon for most people." Her hug around his arm is shifted a little, drawing her in so his hand could rest lightly but no less possessively on her hip while they walked. Her question? It earned a shrug of his shoulders. "Still here, still kickin' How'd that…party thing go?" If she'd even considered inviting him, Victor had simply been MIA at the time. Probably for the best, taking a suit and comb to Victor might be up there with the trials of hercules.
*
"Eh…not good. S'lil tense n'I t'ink I pissed m'date off. Left alone n'pouty. Y'know, girl stuff." Lynette shrugs, pressing up all the more gainst the man's side to take as much of his warmth as she possibly could. "M'glad y'still 'round. Y'know, been t'inkin' 'bout intr'ducin' y'to de othas. T'ink y'could help us, but suppose dat depends on how y'like groups n' teams. We tryin' t'fight f'mutant equality. Y't'ink y'might like s'mt'ing like dat, or y'more 'lone wolf'?"
*
"Groups?" Victor repeats before chuckling a little and looking down at the woman. "Darlin', I was there when we stormed the beaches on Normandy, fought beside plenty of people in my time. Most of them? They're the ones that have a problem with me. Caught more then one bullet in my back in my time…" He pauses, his own slightly slitted irises meeting hers. "But those were humans…mostly. If y'think that your friends want my help? I've fought for less before. 'Be good to have a reason to scrap."
*
Lynette chuckles, a smirk pressing a dimple into her cheek. "Look a y'. Y'don' need much reason, I don' t'ink." A shiver and tremble, she keeps to their path that will eventually lead them away from the park. "I talk wit'm den. Have y'meet'm n'see what y't'ink." A pause, her grip tightens before she looks back up toward Victor's face, her eyes shifting to their 'normal' state. "M'doin' m'first summonin' soon. Wish me luck?"
*
"Summonin'?" Victor repeats before shrugging and grunting something that's probably akin to 'good luck' before he leans down, pressing his lips to hers in a lazy kiss. For luck, right? "Don't pretend to know anythin' about magic an' crap like that. But y'do your thing and look out for yourself Lyn'"
*
Surprised, perhaps, at the lightness and apathy behind the smooch, she blinks and looks back up his way. A sheepish smile later, she nods to his advice and then moves around to stand infront of him. Playfully, she brushes down the folds of his jacket and rests her head back to get a better vantage point of Creed. "Y'call dat a kiss?"
*
A chuckle, Victor shakes his head. "Call it a 'taste test'," he smirks, then his hands go to her waist properly, lifting her like she weighed very little and pressing his lips to hers with much more vigor. Hands shift, inevitably, to grasp her rear in support, but he seems to have no visible trouble keeping them upright.
*
"Well…isn't that cute.""Cute? I think it's fucking disgusting." Two voices comment to one another as they walk up along the path. Lynette breaks from the kiss and turns her head, brushing Creed's cheek with her curls as she tries to point out where the conversation is coming from. "Well?" A man questions, coming into view of the pair, followed closely behind by another man. "How's your nigger taste, big boy? She worth it?"
*
A slowww lowering of Lynette to the ground, Victor turns slowly towards the men, easing his hands off the woman and looking towards the two men. "Good…better then your heart will, when I rip it out your chest and eat it in front of you if you call her that again." Victor Creed, a man not known for his 'chill'. Standing his full height, he sniffs the air lightly. "Y'got about 10 seconds to get your stink away from me, or we'll find out."
*
"Oh…a tough guy, too." One of the men mutters as the pair stare down Sabretooth. Victor can feel a soft grip against the back of his jacket, before it rolls downward; Lynette is now down on her knees. Her hands grip at her throat, clawing at something invisible, eyes wide as her heart starts to thunder and her breathing has ceased. Something slick starts to roll from one of the men's arms. Vibrant in hue, it oozes down and starts to creating an almost web like substance that tendrils and weaves across the ground, melting the snow instantly with a popping hiss, tendrils of steam rise and twist up into the chilly night air.
*
Victor is a big guy, and in most cases bigger tends to mean slower…such is not the case for the mutant. One moment he's there, beside Lynette as she claws at her throat, then he's flying through the air, claws and fangs bared with a roar that would make a pissed off tiger sound like a mildly annoyed kitten. Tendrils and webs? Victor doesn't really care, instead he hurtles at the men fully, seeking to rip and tear. He actually aims for the man with less visible effects. He'd -just- been working with a telekinetic, so the man doing 'nothing' is taken for the culprit of Lynette's pain.
*
Frozen mid-leap, Victor hovers in the air just inches away from his target. The tendrils slither and curl around his limbs, burning through his clothing, eating away at its fabric before it meets his flesh and begins to do the same. It's a cold burn, painful and frozen as it attempts to rid him of his limbs, only to be slowed by Creed's natural healing abilities.
Lynette starts to crawl foward, dragging herself along the snow as her mouth gapes and the whites of her eyes start to color with bursting crimson threads. She took note of his original target, suspecting the same as the clamping sensation around her neck tightens. Digging for her knife, she fumbles before setting the blade and slamming into the top of the man's foot. With a surprised yelp, the 'hold' on both the girl, and the beast, drops. The animal is now off his invisible leash.
*
The tendrils are painful, but that only really serves to make the man angrier. Angrier is not a good thing. Held frozen in the air and snarling with a beserk rage at having the threat just out of his reach. He was beyond verbal threats, but those fangs and claws were threat enough…then the invisible grip is dropped and Victor lands in a crouch, but this time the threat becomes a promise quickly paid. Ignoring the agony of those biting, burning tendrils, Victor's claws tear into the man he'd been aiming for. The sound of ripping flesh and spattering blood seems louder then it should be, but the claws fall again and again in blinding speed until the man's upper body is more meat and blood then anything else. Then he turns, eyes practically glowing with rage, and looks at the second mutant.
*
The girl is left on the ground, coughing and gasping, urgently drinking in as much air as she can. The sounds of a man becoming mush muffle in her ears as her brain pulses with the heightened heart-rate. What was once white is a mixture of scarlet and black, and after his friend is well and truly gone, the second mutant goon glares at Creed, his own eyes glowing neon as his arms move and whip around him with the same acidic binds. Burning flesh sizzles around his wrists and legs, but the straight of trying to stop a rage-train forces the mutant back, creating trails with his shoes as they drag along the ground.
*
Victor's flesh burns and bubbles, but still he steps forwards, straining strength and stubborness enhanced by his healing factor as he tries to step closer and closer to the hostile mutant with unfathomable hostility of his own. It becomes a contest of who is going to give out first, Victor or the man with the acid bonds. Already Victor's hands twitch in anticipation of pulling the man's heart from his chest, just as he promised.
*
It continues to sink in, digging through his flesh, tendons, muscles, and eventually it starts to dig at the bone. More ropes latch around Victor's body, still trying to battle against the will to kill with the will to live. One of them, eventually, was going to fail. Then it all gives and with a jerking 'shlip', Victor's body is sent forward since the binds that were holding him back have passed through completely. Without feet, or hands, the massive man's body slams on the other mutant's own, sending him crashing to the ground and sinking back into a drift of powder.
*
No hands or feet should mean that Victor is less dangerous, right?…No, not at all. With the pair of them down on the ground and Victor's healing factor already working on the comparitively slower task of regenerating the lost apendages, Sabertooth doesn't seem to be slowed in the slightest. Instead he props himself up on the stump that was his left arm and lunges forwards on the man pinned partially beneath his weight, seeking those enlarged fangs into the mutant's throat with a snarl and wet sounds of ripping flesh.
*
When it's over, it's over. The wet crush of a caved in and punctured trachea followed by the grinding dig of teeth against bone. Hot vitae shoots out like a spring, coating Creed and his face librally; the acid was gone, and all that was left in the man's wake is death and gore. Standing behind them is the lithe figure of Lynette. A trembling breath rolls from her lips, and without a second thought she turns to run. But the man was without the ends of his limbs…he healed, she knew, but, from that? "V-Vict'r?" Her voice eeps out meekly as she starts to circle, giving him a wide enough berth.
*
ROLL: Victor +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 12
*
A snarl, the man's eyes seem to show no recognition as they look at Lynette…that's probably not all that good. He snarls again, stumbling a little on his lack of intact limbs but not quite really able to get out of the mess of blood and gore he'd created, slipping and landing with a wet thud and then baring his fangs in feral frustration. In that moment, she might truely believe he'd attack her in his blind rage…if he could really move.
*
He needed help. He couldn't move, but that look gives the girl pause. Slumping, slipping forward, closer, Lynette takes a step back, and then another. "Hey…s'me, Vic. Look…" She coos gently, trying to sooth the beast with her voice, and were she closer, a caress down his back. Granted, she wasn't risking that just yet. Shaking in her boots, she moves back but keeps her dark eyes on his features. "Vict'r, y'in dere? S'me. Lynette. S'ova."
*
ROLL: Victor +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 36
*
Maybe…MAYBE there's a momentary flicker of recognition, a decrease in snarling, but he still snaps at her a little. This is still a dangerous maybe. Already the bleeding from his severed limbs had stopped, flesh and bone reknitting into the beginings of a disturbing regrowth of what he'd lost.
*
ROLL: Victor +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 62
*
Things were changing, thankfully, and after noticing this, the girl finally stops her retreat, and begins moving forward. Slushing, her boots meet the ground that is soaked in blood, and without hesitation, she squats down and offers her hand out, palm up, as one might a scared mutt. "S'me, Vic…Ok? S'ok, chere. S'ova." She promises once more, even as her body shakes and her muscles ache from the tension building, ready to spring away like a rabbit if need be.
*
"I swear Darlin," Victor grumbles, blood still thick in his beard as comprehension seems to return to his gaze, although there's a hint of that 'feral' tone in his voice beneath amusement that otherwise wouldn't suit a man who just gutted two people. "Goin' out with you is costin' me an arm and a leg tonight…" Yep, Victor still has jokes. The large (but currently shorter) man tries again to move, slipping a little more on the stumps before giving a frustrated sigh. "Might need to tuck me in an alley tonight for a few hours."
*
"We goin' out?" Lyn muses with a smirk, her body relaxing visibly once his voice answers her, and not the gnashing of teeth. "Didn' know. When y'plannin' on tellin' me?" Slinking forward, she doesn't seem to mind the blood, her arms hugging around him to pull him out of the muck with as much strength as she could. It wasn't much, but now, perhaps, it was time for her practice to kick in. With arms, and mind, she starts to focus and pulling him up and off the ground. Hunching forward, she starts to walk ever so slowly. "Nah. Ain' doin' dat. C'mon, I take y's'mwhere safe."