savetheearth | PLOT: Refined Shell battle!

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PLOT: Refined Shell battle!

Who: Open!
What: Crustacean commotion. CRAB BATTLE.
When: 26th September, daytime
Where: Las Vegas, flooded area and surroundings
Warnings: Violence. If your thread requires more warnings, please note them in your comment header!

[ At eleven AM, a pulsing shockwave resonates throughout Las Vegas. Seemingly coming from somewhere deep underground, the ripple of force doesn't last long - but that doesn't mean that it isn't strong enough to make any nearby reincarnates stumble or fall.

The quake that happens soon afterwards is much stronger. Unlike the last, it seems to rumble on and on... until it reaches its crescendo with the emergence of a monstrous pink crabster from beneath the recently-flooded area of the city. A miniature tsunami accompanies the 300-foot behemoth, further damaging the surroundings not already levelled by the flooding and the quakes.

It doesn't take long for Refined Shell to get its bearings and begin its rampage. Everything within range can expect to be swiped at, stamped on or crushed between its pincers in its mindless rage.

You might say it seems to be feeling a touch... crabby. ]

((Helpful links - Refined Shell information! Last minute plotting roll call! Inspirational visual aid!))

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Lyall's one of the ones recognized, after his publicity stunt the month before, and he finally settles off to one side once he's told for the third time to get his hands off the locals, despite the good he was actually doing. He's really too tired to head back to the hotel immediately, and he's starting to get a bit down about it all, so he doesn't go far out of the way... Just beyond where the paramedics and police are gathering at the edge of the destruction, sitting on some rubble with his ruined suit, torn and muddy and bloodied here and there, with a scarf still tied about his neck in the absence of the actual cravat he wishes he had.

The rain doesn't help the state of his suit any, just making him look more bedraggled.

Nick should probably be at least a little worried about being recognized. He'd thought to disguise himself, but considering he'd left for Vegas pretty much as soon as he'd heard what was happening, he'd only had time to grab a black Halloween mask from his closet. It covers his eyes and nose, but it's not exactly a complete disguise.

At the moment, though, he's not at all concerned with that. Not since he'd been trying to sneak past the paramedics and police, and spotted his boyfriend sitting in the rubble.

Pretty much everything else had been forgotten, as he'd all but run over. He'd vaguely planned on making some kind of comment about how they had to stop meeting after disasters like this, but, well. All he'd ended up doing was tugging Lyall in by his scarf to kiss him.

Not expecting to be grabbed-- and sense of smell dampened a little by the rain and generally being worn out-- Lyall starts to protest, very nearly shoves the interloper back, half-expecting to be hauled away by another of the idiots who thinks him dangerous or in the way or something. But then Nick's right in his face, and he can't help but miss the smell, and who else would be kissing him in the middle of the remnants of a war-zone anyway?

He even kisses back, for a breath, until his hands find Nick's arms and he has a sudden flash of things breaking. Coffee mugs, maybe, or rocks, or bones under his grip. He breaks away and pushes at Nick's chest with a panicked expression-- a hell of a lot harder than he used to be able to push, but not enough to actually break Nick's grip if he's holding on tight. "Stop, stop, something happened, I don't want-- I don't want to hurt you!"

Nick had been very purposefully not holding on tight, as much as he might want to - still not used to one of his more recent pulses. Even after the push, his first instinct is to reach out to Lyall again, but he restrains himself. If whatever this is has got Lyall freaked out enough to push him away, he doubts trying to hold him again will help.

"What it is, what happened?"

Shit, please don't say he pulsed back toxic lips or skin or something.

"I-- the same thing you did. Not the dying part," he corrects hurriedly, because he knows where his mind would go at a statement like that, "the-- the breaking things part. I'm stronger, now, I was lifting people right out of rubble instead of just lending a hand." He closes one hand into a fists then releases it, looking at it with some mixture of amazement and wariness, like he's still not quite sure it belongs to him anymore.

"I'm not sure just-- how strong yet, but I can't-- I couldn't bear it if I hurt you." His voice is a little shaky. Hell, so is the rest of him, now that he's standing up. It's been a long day and night.

Yeah, that is exactly where his mind had gone to at that. The quick correction - coupled with the fact that it was strength he was worried about - means Nick's reaction to that is relief. Hey, when he'd first thought toxic skin, and when that could have been a very real possibility, he can handle something like extra strength.

He wants to kiss him again, now that Nico's not worried, but he knows Lyall still is. So instead, he very gently takes his hands. "You're not going to hurt me. Let's sit down a minute, okay?"

"Sitting down sounds like a very good idea," Lyall agrees. The energy that he'd spent trying to push Nick back from him, just in case, is pretty much gone now, and he's perfectly happy to sag back onto the rubble he'd been using as a chair. At least he lets Nick keep his hands, though he's very careful not to pull or hold too tight. "It has been a terribly long day. I can say with tolerable certainty, though, that I don't think I got that job."

Because that's the least of everyone's worries, at this point, he's sure, but it's also the only thing that's easy to talk about. He hadn't really wanted to work in Vegas, after all.

Nick laughs at that before he can help himself, a startled, soft sound of amusement. He'd forgotten about the interview that was the reason Lyall was here in the first place, with everything that'd happened.

He lifts one of Lyall's hands, turns it around slightly to press a kiss to his palm. "We didn't want to live in Las Vegas anyway."

"Quite right. It would've been entirely unpleasant." The kiss teases a little smile out of him, despite it all, and he slips his hand up to Nick's cheek afterwards. He's pretty sure he's not going to try squeezing there and hurting anything. "Are you all right? Were you helping with the rescue, or the... whatever it was? The excitable giant crustacean?"

Nick smiles, leaning in a little to Lyall's touch. "Both. Turns out super strength plus medieval weapons is actually a pretty good combination when trying to crack open a giant crab, but after that, there were a lot more people better equipped to take it down. What about you?"

"Mostly pulling people out of crevices or scenting out people under collapsed buildings. Apparently crustaceans make as much of a mess as snakes, when that size and color." He shakes his head a little, thumb moving just a bit over Nick's cheekbone, restless despite his exhaustion. "The strength didn't show up until sunset, and by then things were a bit calmer. If slightly less wet."

"At least this time, you didn't have to wear the vest," he teases, almost absently. Now that he knows both Lyall and Anthony are okay, the adrenaline that's been keeping him going is starting to fade a little. "We'll work on the strength thing, okay? We can train together."

"At least." The wry amusement doesn't last long. He sighs at the promise, and leans over to lean his forehead on Nick's. They're uneven enough on the rubble that he can do that without having to stretch, or bend down to his shoulder. "Good. I like that idea. Doing it together, I mean."

Nick's eyes slide shut, leaning into Lyall. If he wasn't acutely aware of where they were, he'd be pretty close to falling asleep right there. "Me, too. Just another way we're in this together, you know?"

Lyall's fingers tighten a little on the side and back of Nick's neck before he catches himself, and he lifts his head back up again, nervous. "We should go... or I should. I'm not welcome here, now that the actual authorities have arrived. And I feel disgusting." He's wet and muddy and his nice suit is torn, dammit. And the glares they're getting now are getting worse.

He tries for a smile. "Besides, you look ridiculous in that mask. I'd rather take it off you."

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PLOT: Refined Shell battle!

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