[ 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. ]
[ the hit lands, and unexpected as it is, strange a place to aim as it is, there's less burns and damage there to defend him - and it's right at a joint.
it sends a shockwave through his arm. his grip on david's throat weakens - doesn't drop completely, but his fingers lose their strength abruptly, making it easy to escape. he grunts (even while david doesn't, while he weathers the blows better than most people ever could) with the sharp pain of it, but it doesn't take long for him to get his focus back.
the punches keep going. or at least he tries to. leaning a little to defend his side and armpit, they aren't landing where they should be now. ]
[ the second he feels evan's grip lax, david jerks backwards out of it, already trying to think on how to press this advantage, slight as it is. a good hit there can hurt for weeks, but that's in the real world against a normal person, david doesn't doubt evan could recover from it within the next few minutes. enough to act like it's not a problem at the very least. ]
[ the smart thing to do is go for the glaring weak points sticking out of evan's body, he knows that, but for some reason it's something david is hesitant to do unless he really needs to. probably ego. he can beat him without it. that's all. ]
[ evan's still hitting him and even off-kilter as he is it fucking hurts, but he can handle pain. he can handle bruised ribs and ringing in his ears and a nose stuffed up with blood. opts for a risky play; feints a punch to evan's throat and drops, shoulder to his gut, arms around his thighs, surging forward to try and get him off his feet and slam him to the ground. ]
[ he falls for the feint and realizes it immediately when there's no fist flying just past his face. it's too late to do anything about it; david's down already, shoulder at his gut, grabbing him, trying to drop him.
evan braces himself even knowing he won't manage to stay up. he can still manage to keep some control here. he has to. the pain of the hit cleared some of the rage, and he realizes, again, how easily david's able to bait him into a fight.
that doesn't help the anger any.
he snatches at david's hair and shirt as he stumbles back and falls; he can't keep himself standing, especially not in the leaves around the trees, and when he goes down, he goes down hard. metal stabs further into him where it's poking out, and it's only by sheer force of effort that he manages to land more heavy on his left shoulder than his right. but the pain still rips through him, as effective a distraction as anything.
he manages to keep his grip on david, though. keeping him in place, unable to get up and start attacking his face and chest. but his arms are still free, because evan can't quite get a grip on those. ]
[ david falls with him, doesn't exactly have a choice, all he can do is do his best to stay tucked against evan so he lands on him instead of next to him. not that it does a great deal with the hands gripping him, the one in his hair that makes him hiss and snarl in complaint as he tries to right himself. ]
[ it's an awkward position, david struggling to get his legs right, moving to straddle evan and reach out to do something. anything. a hand at his throat — more for stability than anything, he doesn't expect it to do anything — and the other he uses to try and push evan's mask off his face. at the very least david refuses to be the only one with a busted nose here. ]
[ now it's a brawl, them fighting in the dirt. how often has he done this? not often here, in the darkness of the fog, but before - not something he wants to think about. not right now.
david's trying to get further up on him. evan jerks his head aside as hard as he can, fingers twisted in his hair, and tries to roll them even as there's hands at his throat and mask. he tries to lever another punch but the echoes of pain are keeping him from using his full strength, especially since seeing is becoming a problem as those hands drag his mask around and block his vision. but hell, he can feel him. he'll land a hit somewhere. ]
[ he tries to plant his weight to stop evan rolling them over, but it's difficult to do, not with the way he fell, not with the hand in his hair or a hit that unsteadies him even if it doesn't hurt as much as david thinks it should. ]
[ evan's going to get him on his back, it's a fact david has to accept, but he's single-minded about getting that mask off his face. that stupid fucking smiling mask, he hates it so goddamn much. he adjusts his grip when evan jerks his head, keeps pushing at it. if he can get this guy in the face at least once before his world gets tumbled, well. it'll be something. ]
[ to get them turned, he has to drop the defense. it means that as he hooks his hand into david's arm and jerks his head by the hair and throws them both, david's own hands tear the mask off his face, the straps cutting into his scalp as it goes. again with this. again it's off. it's infuriating, and he doesn't get why david's so insistent on getting it off him.
but that's an argument for later. he manages to get david on his back and lets go of his hair once he does, because that won't help as much in keeping him pinned down. he's going to take hits here. he already has. the fist in his face puts his already-broken nose in a bad state, making him snarl and try to get david's wrists in a hard grab. ]
[ david grunts as he's rolled, wincing at a couple of rocks that press into his back, but that's really the least of his concerns. the pissed off monster of a man who has his wrists pinned demands a lot more of his attention. ]
[ his instinct is to thrash, to try and push him off that way, but it won't do anything. he wraps his legs around evan, locks his ankles behind his back to maintain at least a little control here, though he can't do anything with it just yet. staring daggers up at evan, waiting for his face to get close enough david can throw his head forward in a headbutt. ]
[ evan tries not to get in range of a headbutt, but it's hard when he's this pissed off. without the mask, the first crack against his forehead is almost enough to get him to let go; it's been a while since he's had to deal with that. but he stays focused. at least, partly focused.
he's almost got david pinned. there's pressure at his back, where david's probably going to try and squeeze the life out of him, and if he gets any closer again it's probably his nose that's due to break against the bastard's forehead, but he's got a very slight advantage. of course, he also can't use his hands if he wants to keep david in place. it's a dilemma. again.
he tries to put a damper on the rage. key word being 'tries'. ]
[ they've been here before. the realisation they're at an impasse triggers the memory of evan pinned under him in the mine, the awareness that using his hands to pin his wrists meant there was no move he could make that wasn't a risk. it's kind of funny to see evan in that same position now. ]
[ he's trying to think of how to get his hands free, highly doubtful he could just push against evan's weight to get loose that way, and the question surprises him when it cuts through. he'd almost forgotten that was what sparked this. ]
You don't wanna know what I think.
[ both a callback to evan's insistence david never says anything worth hearing, and a note that his opinion's probably just gonna piss evan off all over again. ]
[ there's ways to fight back now. ways to kill, now. if he squeezes hard enough, twists viciously enough, he could break david's wrists. or if he can manage to get both in one hand, he'll have an opportunity. he could bite, even if that would be sinking beneath his own standards. there's options.
but for the moment, he doesn't take any. david's comment makes him sneer, blood following the split across his mouth to drip off his chin. ]
You wanna know why I keep saying you have a death wish?
[ probably some shit about starting fights he can't win or whatever, like this is over and done with. he stares up at evan, watches the blood travel down his face, considering his options. not that he really has any but waiting right now. ]
[ they've had this discussion, he's sure. david won't learn. david doesn't understand. but evan keeps trying to hammer it into his skull. why? he's not sure. pride, maybe. his own stupid pride, trying to prove that he's right and david needs to recognize it. ]
You knew saying that shit would set me off. You know starting a fight ain't gonna end in your favor most of the time.
[ he hates that he has to add that qualifier, now. ]
This ain't a trial. You ain't got anyone's life to save but yours. But you keep doing it. To me, that looks like you wanna die.
Woulda started shit way before now if you were right.
[ it makes sense to him at least, because if anything his nonviolent conflict resolution skills have really gotten a workout ovee this past... however long they've been fucking for at least. ]
Been on my best fuckin' behaviour for ages now. Not my fault you decide you wanna fight this time.
[ makes perfect sense to him. how is it a death wish just because evan decides today he's gonna fight about it? david rolls his eyes, tugs at the grip on his wrists in wordless frustration. ]
[ he winces at the way evan's grip tightens, but he doesn't retaliate. or try to. he's stuck here, waiting for what evan's going to do. eventually he'll get pissed or impatient enough to try and kill him, david's sure. ]
You can't handle normal fuckin' conversations and that's my fault?
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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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it sends a shockwave through his arm. his grip on david's throat weakens - doesn't drop completely, but his fingers lose their strength abruptly, making it easy to escape. he grunts (even while david doesn't, while he weathers the blows better than most people ever could) with the sharp pain of it, but it doesn't take long for him to get his focus back.
the punches keep going. or at least he tries to. leaning a little to defend his side and armpit, they aren't landing where they should be now. ]
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[ the smart thing to do is go for the glaring weak points sticking out of evan's body, he knows that, but for some reason it's something david is hesitant to do unless he really needs to. probably ego. he can beat him without it. that's all. ]
[ evan's still hitting him and even off-kilter as he is it fucking hurts, but he can handle pain. he can handle bruised ribs and ringing in his ears and a nose stuffed up with blood. opts for a risky play; feints a punch to evan's throat and drops, shoulder to his gut, arms around his thighs, surging forward to try and get him off his feet and slam him to the ground. ]
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evan braces himself even knowing he won't manage to stay up. he can still manage to keep some control here. he has to. the pain of the hit cleared some of the rage, and he realizes, again, how easily david's able to bait him into a fight.
that doesn't help the anger any.
he snatches at david's hair and shirt as he stumbles back and falls; he can't keep himself standing, especially not in the leaves around the trees, and when he goes down, he goes down hard. metal stabs further into him where it's poking out, and it's only by sheer force of effort that he manages to land more heavy on his left shoulder than his right. but the pain still rips through him, as effective a distraction as anything.
he manages to keep his grip on david, though. keeping him in place, unable to get up and start attacking his face and chest. but his arms are still free, because evan can't quite get a grip on those. ]
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[ it's an awkward position, david struggling to get his legs right, moving to straddle evan and reach out to do something. anything. a hand at his throat — more for stability than anything, he doesn't expect it to do anything — and the other he uses to try and push evan's mask off his face. at the very least david refuses to be the only one with a busted nose here. ]
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david's trying to get further up on him. evan jerks his head aside as hard as he can, fingers twisted in his hair, and tries to roll them even as there's hands at his throat and mask. he tries to lever another punch but the echoes of pain are keeping him from using his full strength, especially since seeing is becoming a problem as those hands drag his mask around and block his vision. but hell, he can feel him. he'll land a hit somewhere. ]
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[ evan's going to get him on his back, it's a fact david has to accept, but he's single-minded about getting that mask off his face. that stupid fucking smiling mask, he hates it so goddamn much. he adjusts his grip when evan jerks his head, keeps pushing at it. if he can get this guy in the face at least once before his world gets tumbled, well. it'll be something. ]
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but that's an argument for later. he manages to get david on his back and lets go of his hair once he does, because that won't help as much in keeping him pinned down. he's going to take hits here. he already has. the fist in his face puts his already-broken nose in a bad state, making him snarl and try to get david's wrists in a hard grab. ]
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[ his instinct is to thrash, to try and push him off that way, but it won't do anything. he wraps his legs around evan, locks his ankles behind his back to maintain at least a little control here, though he can't do anything with it just yet. staring daggers up at evan, waiting for his face to get close enough david can throw his head forward in a headbutt. ]
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he's almost got david pinned. there's pressure at his back, where david's probably going to try and squeeze the life out of him, and if he gets any closer again it's probably his nose that's due to break against the bastard's forehead, but he's got a very slight advantage. of course, he also can't use his hands if he wants to keep david in place. it's a dilemma. again.
he tries to put a damper on the rage. key word being 'tries'. ]
You think owning land ain't worth anything?
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[ he's trying to think of how to get his hands free, highly doubtful he could just push against evan's weight to get loose that way, and the question surprises him when it cuts through. he'd almost forgotten that was what sparked this. ]
You don't wanna know what I think.
[ both a callback to evan's insistence david never says anything worth hearing, and a note that his opinion's probably just gonna piss evan off all over again. ]
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but for the moment, he doesn't take any. david's comment makes him sneer, blood following the split across his mouth to drip off his chin. ]
You wanna know why I keep saying you have a death wish?
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Not really.
[ probably some shit about starting fights he can't win or whatever, like this is over and done with. he stares up at evan, watches the blood travel down his face, considering his options. not that he really has any but waiting right now. ]
Gonna tell me though, ain't you?
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You knew saying that shit would set me off. You know starting a fight ain't gonna end in your favor most of the time.
[ he hates that he has to add that qualifier, now. ]
This ain't a trial. You ain't got anyone's life to save but yours. But you keep doing it. To me, that looks like you wanna die.
[ david wouldn't be the first by a long shot. ]
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[ it makes sense to him at least, because if anything his nonviolent conflict resolution skills have really gotten a workout ovee this past... however long they've been fucking for at least. ]
Been on my best fuckin' behaviour for ages now. Not my fault you decide you wanna fight this time.
[ makes perfect sense to him. how is it a death wish just because evan decides today he's gonna fight about it? david rolls his eyes, tugs at the grip on his wrists in wordless frustration. ]
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[ best behavior? evan doesn't smile at that, but he almost laughs, in an unamused sort of way. ]
You started just as many fights. Besides, it's easy to play nice behind a goddamned screen.
[ his grip tightens, not entirely of his own volition. ]
Every time you get me to smash somethin' while you're not here, that'd be asking for a broken neck if we were face to face.
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You can't handle normal fuckin' conversations and that's my fault?
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