[ evan if you hear a distant and frustrated "oh my god" just ignore it ]
Oh so all them times you wanna throw your weight around and make demands and ultimatums but get pissy when someone gives you half that attitude back, that's all made up then is it?
[ "you sound like my parents" is right there, he types it out without thinking, but thankfully he's an elder millennial and occasionally looks at his messages before he sends them. (but only occasionally.) ]
And you're one of them, yeah? Just because you say so?
[ he can see a silhouette in the trees. he pockets the phone and moves toward it, slowly, almost like he's actually hunting instead of just tracking. ]
[ he assumes the lack of a response is because evan had one of his famous rage fits, so after some silence david shoves his phone back in his pocket. pauses for a moment, looks around in confusion because he shouldn't be this close to the macmillan estate? did he get rerouted here literally just because he was talking to evan? god he hates the fog. ]
[ he ignores the message, thinking david's somewhere else, and as he gets close enough to see the silhouette look around he reaches out to clamp his hand over their shoulder and drag them around. not strike first. not kill immediately. for once. or maybe twice.
but it's david he pulls around, and the surprise is clear in how still he goes as soon as he realizes who's there.
some part of him thinks a particularly nasty thought at the entity, who must be watching. ]
[ the hand on his shoulder is a surprise, which of course means it's something david responds to violently. he moves with the pull, letting it give him the added momentum to wheel around, fist raised and ready to make whoever the fuck thought they were gonna sneak up on him regret it. ]
[ he registers the stillness before who it is, just barely managing to stop himself before the hit connects because why would someone go still there unless they knew him? when he processes the mask and his face goes on a journey: surprised, annoyed, confused, annoyed again, and then finally he puffs out a tired, unamused breath of a laugh. ]
[ he drops his arm, still on alert but not about to start anything for the minute. settling back into annoyed, a brief, involuntary glance skyward along with a sigh to indicate who and what it is david's annoyed at right now. ]
[ evan glances up as well, and then around. in his experience, getting lost isn't that easy. there's always something listening. sometimes, not to whoever thinks they're lost.
people end up where they should be, even if that's not what they want. ]
Sure you weren't. Just having a conversation and end up right where I am. Just bad luck.
[ he looks back at evan-- well, more of a glare, because of course it looks like he wanted to be here on some level and it's important that evan doesn't get that idea. ]
In't exactly looking to see your smug mug tonight but here I am.
[ evan glowers at him, then pulls the phone back out to see that last text, sent before he thought he was about to kill (or at least terrify) some unwary trespasser. it makes him scowl under the mask.
he drops the phone back into a pocket and fixes david in his sights again. he didn't bring his machete with hiim - doesn't always need it, especially on his own property - but now he's almost wishing he did. ]
[ as much as he throws out incendiary statements, david isn't bad at choosing his words. it's a learned skill, always dancing on the line of utter destruction, trying to decide when to placate somebody's ego versus when to provoke their temper. placation fell by the wayside over the years, but he can diffuse a situation. has done, or tried, with evan a few times now. ]
[ unfortunately he himself also grew into a temperamental bastard. it's not even really evan that's pissed him off, but he is and evan's right here in front of him being an asshole and biting his tongue is always so much harder in person. ]
[ look around, huh? david does, unimpressed. ]
Caretaker of a big, empty old estate that's constantly falling apart, congratulations.
[ actually , you know what? he's sick of this. sick of evan constantly acting like he's above everyone else because, what? he's got some land? didn't he try to destroy this fucking place? mockingly, he bows, though he never takes his attention off evan. he knows he's poking a bear here. ]
[ it's not the insult to his property that gets him, for once. or the reference, which goes right over his head. it's the bow. david's tone of voice combined with the mocking little bow, simultaneously suggesting something like aristocracy (who never lifted a finger to earn what they had) and making fun of what was always beaten into his skull, sometimes literally, sometimes just with deed and word.
the rage surges up in a matter of seconds, and he lashes out. no cleaver means only his fists, but that's fine - that's what he was raised to use. there's no uncertainty or discomfort.
there's just david, who deserves to be beaten into a pulp. killing him isn't even really the idea. just shutting him up, shutting him down, making him regret, making him learn. ]
[ he's done his best to avoid starting fights with evan, (and sometimes he gets the feeling the reverse is also true,) and they've been successful for a while. it's not that he hasn't wanted to, but it's seemed counterproductive. on multiple fronts. ]
[ and as much as he's wanted to fight this man, david hasn't wanted to kill him, and there's a deep awareness that if he starts something he has to be willing to finish it. ]
[ that's far from his mind right now though. there's a brief tick of a smirk on his face as he ducks back from that initial swing, a spark of something happy in his expression for a split second. finally. ]
[ david launches himself forward, banking on the fact that he's faster on his feet than evan to help him get around those initial swings to try and get his own hits in first. ]
[ it's probably for the best that he misses that split second of joy, because it would drive him even further over the edge. being happy about pissing him off. he knows they all are, but having it right in his face is what gets people beaten to death in trials.
david ducks under the first hit and goes for his own, moving faster, getting around hits. evan knows that's how he has to fight against someone bigger than him. it's half of how he fought his battles until he got older, bigger, stronger. the punches land more than they don't. david's not the one blinded by anger, here.
but he has to keep getting lucky, while evan only has to get lucky once, and they're in his forest, where there's traps, and darkness, and places he knows. he tries to drive david back with hits of his own, even if they don't land. keep him backing up. keep him moving where he can't see. ]
[ in the mines, in the boxy buildings of the estate, it's easy to get pushed into a corner — literally or otherwise. it's happened to david more than once; pinned, goaded into traps, trying to avoid traps and closing the distance sooner than he was ready for. ]
[ out here there's more room to manoeuvre, to push back. he tucks his head into a block when those fists come too close, keeps himself moving. when he feels like he's been backed up too much david does what he can to pivot, to turn them around so they stay in the same area instead of letting evan back him into the woods. trying to stay unpredictable in which way he moves because he knows evan's gonna key into a pattern if he lets one emerge. ]
Need your traps to do me, ey? Can't do it with your hands?
[ and for good measure: keep mouthing off. evan's already at a boil, not that it's hard to get him there, the hard part is making him so angry it makes him stupid. he lives in that rage, david's learned it also makes him better at thinking through it than one might expect. ]
[ at the end of the day, he's a hunter. that's why he got the name here. trapper. however angry he gets, however reckless, the traps are always there, planned and primed minutes, hours, days ahead of time. ready to catch someone when they think they've won.
but even if he hasn't learned where every trap might be, david has learned how to hit every metaphorical open wound in evan's brain, and even if evan's gotten better at figuring out how to let those slide just long enough to land the killing blow he's still too easy to bait into a fury. the insult is aimed at his killing prowess, his strength - his manhood.
he doesn't lunge or go for a tackle, but he does rush to close what little distance there is and try to get david in a grab. he doesn't need the traps. he needs to break him. and if he's pinned, even slightly, david's at a disadvantage. ]
[ the size difference between them isn't big enough for david to be as slippery as he'd want to be in this situation. it means when evan rushes him, he can't dodge it — not without putting himself at a much bigger disadvantage anyway — so he takes it. braces himself to endure the hits and plants himself to try and stop evan pushing him around too much. ]
[ david's good at taking a beating at least. grits his teeth and waits until he can get an opening, or make one himself. he can't let evan maintain an advantage like this or he's done, he knows that. it's happened too many fucking times. ]
[ he hates being stuck reacting, but it's the only thing he can do right now. wait and see what evan's gonna do and try and make sure it doesn't fucking kill him. ]
[ they get close, the brace keeps him from knocking david over - but it doesn't stop him from grabbing. he tries to get a hand on david's throat, instead of his arm or shoulder, somewhere to stop the attack, because the blows are hard but they aren't debilitating. yet.
the mask protects his face and the ruin of his own skin protects the rest of him to some degree. eventually david'll wear him down, especially if the mask comes off, or he aims for the places it doesn't protect. but in the short term, he's durable.
if he can get a hand on david's throat he'll aim for a series of blows to the face with the other hand; if not, it's to the front of his shirt or a wrist or forearm, to try and jerk him off balance, to drag him down into a fist that's coming up. anything to stop him talking. anything to teach him a lesson. ]
[ the turnaround from seeming fine to looking a complete fucking mess is ridiculously fast. the punches rain down and david's glowering at evan through a bloody nose and busted lip, one hand wrapped around the wrist at his throat. ]
[ he waits, pulls back a little on the spot like he's trying to get out of evan's grip, but it's so he can get a little space. just enough to swing upwards and punch evan full force right in the armpit. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ this blatant lie aside, he doesn't contest being a pain. ]
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Oh so all them times you wanna throw your weight around and make demands and ultimatums but get pissy when someone gives you half that attitude back, that's all made up then is it?
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that's me being better than the rest of you. same thing that started this whole conversation.
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And you're one of them, yeah? Just because you say so?
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[ he can see a silhouette in the trees. he pockets the phone and moves toward it, slowly, almost like he's actually hunting instead of just tracking. ]
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[ alexa play famous last words ]
[ he assumes the lack of a response is because evan had one of his famous rage fits, so after some silence david shoves his phone back in his pocket. pauses for a moment, looks around in confusion because he shouldn't be this close to the macmillan estate? did he get rerouted here literally just because he was talking to evan? god he hates the fog. ]
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but it's david he pulls around, and the surprise is clear in how still he goes as soon as he realizes who's there.
some part of him thinks a particularly nasty thought at the entity, who must be watching. ]
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[ he registers the stillness before who it is, just barely managing to stop himself before the hit connects because why would someone go still there unless they knew him? when he processes the mask and his face goes on a journey: surprised, annoyed, confused, annoyed again, and then finally he puffs out a tired, unamused breath of a laugh. ]
Of fuckin' course.
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it must be a deliberate trespass, evan thinks, but the accusation doesn't rise as easily as it might have before. ]
Had to come ask me to my face, did you.
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[ he drops his arm, still on alert but not about to start anything for the minute. settling back into annoyed, a brief, involuntary glance skyward along with a sigh to indicate who and what it is david's annoyed at right now. ]
Must've got turned around.
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people end up where they should be, even if that's not what they want. ]
Sure you weren't. Just having a conversation and end up right where I am. Just bad luck.
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[ he looks back at evan-- well, more of a glare, because of course it looks like he wanted to be here on some level and it's important that evan doesn't get that idea. ]
In't exactly looking to see your smug mug tonight but here I am.
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he drops the phone back into a pocket and fixes david in his sights again. he didn't bring his machete with hiim - doesn't always need it, especially on his own property - but now he's almost wishing he did. ]
You want proof I'm better? Look around.
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[ unfortunately he himself also grew into a temperamental bastard. it's not even really evan that's pissed him off, but he is and evan's right here in front of him being an asshole and biting his tongue is always so much harder in person. ]
[ look around, huh? david does, unimpressed. ]
Caretaker of a big, empty old estate that's constantly falling apart, congratulations.
[ actually , you know what? he's sick of this. sick of evan constantly acting like he's above everyone else because, what? he's got some land? didn't he try to destroy this fucking place? mockingly, he bows, though he never takes his attention off evan. he knows he's poking a bear here. ]
Miss fucking Havisham of the fog, what an honour.
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the rage surges up in a matter of seconds, and he lashes out. no cleaver means only his fists, but that's fine - that's what he was raised to use. there's no uncertainty or discomfort.
there's just david, who deserves to be beaten into a pulp. killing him isn't even really the idea. just shutting him up, shutting him down, making him regret, making him learn. ]
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[ and as much as he's wanted to fight this man, david hasn't wanted to kill him, and there's a deep awareness that if he starts something he has to be willing to finish it. ]
[ that's far from his mind right now though. there's a brief tick of a smirk on his face as he ducks back from that initial swing, a spark of something happy in his expression for a split second. finally. ]
[ david launches himself forward, banking on the fact that he's faster on his feet than evan to help him get around those initial swings to try and get his own hits in first. ]
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david ducks under the first hit and goes for his own, moving faster, getting around hits. evan knows that's how he has to fight against someone bigger than him. it's half of how he fought his battles until he got older, bigger, stronger. the punches land more than they don't. david's not the one blinded by anger, here.
but he has to keep getting lucky, while evan only has to get lucky once, and they're in his forest, where there's traps, and darkness, and places he knows. he tries to drive david back with hits of his own, even if they don't land. keep him backing up. keep him moving where he can't see. ]
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[ out here there's more room to manoeuvre, to push back. he tucks his head into a block when those fists come too close, keeps himself moving. when he feels like he's been backed up too much david does what he can to pivot, to turn them around so they stay in the same area instead of letting evan back him into the woods. trying to stay unpredictable in which way he moves because he knows evan's gonna key into a pattern if he lets one emerge. ]
Need your traps to do me, ey? Can't do it with your hands?
[ and for good measure: keep mouthing off. evan's already at a boil, not that it's hard to get him there, the hard part is making him so angry it makes him stupid. he lives in that rage, david's learned it also makes him better at thinking through it than one might expect. ]
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but even if he hasn't learned where every trap might be, david has learned how to hit every metaphorical open wound in evan's brain, and even if evan's gotten better at figuring out how to let those slide just long enough to land the killing blow he's still too easy to bait into a fury. the insult is aimed at his killing prowess, his strength - his manhood.
he doesn't lunge or go for a tackle, but he does rush to close what little distance there is and try to get david in a grab. he doesn't need the traps. he needs to break him. and if he's pinned, even slightly, david's at a disadvantage. ]
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[ david's good at taking a beating at least. grits his teeth and waits until he can get an opening, or make one himself. he can't let evan maintain an advantage like this or he's done, he knows that. it's happened too many fucking times. ]
[ he hates being stuck reacting, but it's the only thing he can do right now. wait and see what evan's gonna do and try and make sure it doesn't fucking kill him. ]
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the mask protects his face and the ruin of his own skin protects the rest of him to some degree. eventually david'll wear him down, especially if the mask comes off, or he aims for the places it doesn't protect. but in the short term, he's durable.
if he can get a hand on david's throat he'll aim for a series of blows to the face with the other hand; if not, it's to the front of his shirt or a wrist or forearm, to try and jerk him off balance, to drag him down into a fist that's coming up. anything to stop him talking. anything to teach him a lesson. ]
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[ he waits, pulls back a little on the spot like he's trying to get out of evan's grip, but it's so he can get a little space. just enough to swing upwards and punch evan full force right in the armpit. ]
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