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Damn the civilians.
Damn every last one of them.
Those are the only thoughts running through Artful's head as he drags his feet across the grass, letting out occasional breathy, pained wheezes. Some parts of his vest and clothing were torn, his tophat was tipping off his head as if it would fall off at any second, and his face was decorated with bruises.
Just another day of being taunted, shot at, and punched relentlessly.
Artful usually did a decent job at killing as many civilians as he could, inciting a satisfying spark of excitement within him as he did so, but for some reason, he was particularly slacking today.
He wasn't able to properly focus on summoning his walls at the right spot, or he'd accidentally place them at the completely wrong angle. It was also rough having to strategize where to place his music boxes, because for whatever god forsaken reason, he just wasn't able to think straight today. It was like the world and his body were working against him, and he had no idea why.
And that was an open invitation for the particularly annoying civilians to shit on him.
The moment he gets too cocky or turns a corner, he gets a knuckle sandwich to the face. When he lowers his guard and gets too close to a civilian, he gets taunted by all hell. His worst mistake was mindlessly running in a straight line towards one of them, giving them easy access to put a bullet through his vest and slow him down.
It wouldn't have been that much of a big deal if he hadn't committed that same mistake two other separate times like some damn idiot. He had some resistance to the bullets compared to the average person, but it still hurt like a bitch.
And of course, he kept losing civilians in chases, kept giving them too much time to be able to heal each other or give each other boosts. The best he managed was getting a few critical hits with his wand on some of them.
That wasn't enough for Artful, though. It was never enough.
He wanted those nuisances on their knees, collapsing and gurgling on their own spit and blood. Nothing could defeat the spike of pure adrenaline running through his veins as he watched the painful death of a civilian, caused by his own hands.
But he couldn't even get one kill in.
Artful didn't care for the pain in his ribs, the dull aching throughout his face and body. It hurt like hell, but he learned to tune out the pain long ago since he started killing, as if it was any other average trick he had to pretend for. He was fuming.
The only thing he could do was pout and sulk like an angry child, watching as his fellow killer turned invisible to go stalk and find the rest of the survivors.
Right. Today he's killing with Pursuer.
Pursuer was the only one actually doing anything, managing to finish off any civilians that Artful accidentally let get away, and it just frustrated Artful more. Those kills should've been his, and he shouldn't be struggling as much as he is right now.
It just brought him back to that same burning, humiliating feeling when being boo'ed off the stage, to the rage he felt afterwards. He should know better; he is better. He'll show everyone that he is, and they'll regret ever embarrassing him.
But he couldn't. No matter how hard Artful tries to numb out the pain in his body, he can't bring himself to pick himself back up to find the civilians and show them a piece of his mind. So he just decides to give up.
Whatever, he's sure Pursuer can handle them.
Despite its attempt to be a reassuring thought, it just irritated him further.
Alas, he can only set himself down on the grass and take a seat, listening to the screams and bloodshed in the distance. An indicator that the weird, stalking animal is doing more than him.
Artful decides to waste time by pondering on his relationship with it.
It? Him? Does that thing even have a gender? Whatever.
He's still not entirely sure what its deal is, but he doesn't have the desire to know, either. A part of him is intrigued by Pursuer, wanting to get closer, but another part of him is afraid and unsure. He's seen how brutal it gets when it's particularly agitated.
The only thing separating Artful from an average civilian is his magician status and his knowledge of casting magic, after all. He's still human.
It was easy to get used to being around freakish entities such as Pursuer and literal robots and constructs, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel slightly uneasy around them at times, not just with Pursuer.
It's not like they're all buddy-buddy. Mildly tolerant of each other at best, considering how they've run into each other a few times and all have similar goals.
Hell, Artful isn't too sure how he's lasted this long with these freaks roaming around.
He's certain he's agitated them all a number of times when encountering each other — whether intentionally or unintentionally — but the worst he's gotten is hostile behavior or almost getting his finger bitten off in response.
Harken is a wild card; Artful had to adjust his behavior accordingly to not immediately piss her off. Killdroid is a mild threat that he's somewhat on edge around, but he's at least in the clear for now. And Badware's stupid Morse code made them hard to understand, but compared to the others, they're probably the friendliest.
Pursuer was just... a strange creature. Artful didn't like nor hate it. Sometimes they interacted, sometimes they didn't.
But clearly, even though Pursuer seemed like a mindless killing machine who acted purely on instinct, it still seemed to have some semblance of a personality.
That was obvious enough when Artful would miss his swings and Pursuer stared at him through the corner of its eye, as if it was silently judging him. Or when he would get taunted for the 5th time, and Pursuer would let out a loud huff that Artful couldn't decipher the emotion of.
Or when he would complain about losing a civilian in a chase again, and Pursuer would roll its eyes and show visible attitude before going to hunt them down and finish them off.
It's both amusing and infuriating to him that the only time it seems to express emotion is when Artful is making an absolute fool out of himself.
Maybe the thing just likes to see him suffer.
Better than annoying it enough into becoming its next meal, Artful supposes. It still bothered him, though.
Realizing he's spaced out enough already, he brings himself back into reality, wondering if Pursuer's done with his massacre yet. He quickly regrets it when he sees wide, green eyes with dilated pupils staring right into his soul.
The magician lets out a high-pitched yelp, quickly backing away in surprise. He stares back for a moment in pure bewilderment, Pursuer slowly blinking at him with that usual blank expression and slight grin on its face, showing off teeth as green as its eyes.
"...Ah, Pursuer!" Artful quickly hisses out, forcing a strained grin on his face while clutching his injured side dramatically. "What might you need? Have you gotten rid of all the civilians in the area yet?"
The creature tilts its head to the side as if to inspect him. Slowly, it nods in response. Artful grows nervous under Pursuer's intense staring, wondering what was even going through its head.
"Great!" Artful exclaims, looking down at his clothes and dusting them off in an exaggerated, theatrical motion.
"Mon mon, those pests sure did a number on me," he states, letting out a nervous laugh before reaching a hand out. "You wouldn't mind being a dear and helping a fella up, would you?"
Pursuer seems to tense and lean away in response, its grin dropping a bit.
Well, that's a new one.
Artful isn't sure whether to feel proud or scared for his life.
Nonetheless, he keeps his hand in its place, having blind hope that Pursuer won't try to bite his entire arm off. He just wants to go back home, patch himself up, and forget this humiliating moment ever happened. The mere thought of him getting revenge and bashing the civilians' heads in the next time he decides to go out is his main motivation to walk all the way back.
After a moment of awkward silence, Pursuer leans back in. A good sign, he hopes.
Then, it sniffs his hand.
Artful blinks.
He can only watch, unsure of what he should make of the action. The behavior reminds him of a cat, oddly enough.
After a moment of getting a good smell of Artful's hand, Pursuer plops down and sits right in front of him.
The magician can only stare, slowly bringing his hand back down to his side in confusion. He quirks up a brow, grinning nervously despite the irritation in him that was slightly building up.
Artful wasn't really expecting Pursuer to actually help him. Maybe smack his hand away without a thought before walking off, but he also wasn't expecting... whatever this is.
What was it even doing? Inspecting him? Mocking him?
The longer Pursuer kept up their staring match, the more he started to think it was the latter. It made him grow more annoyed and uncomfortable than before.
If Pursuer looked down on him that much, then fine.
(For some reason, that thought bothers him more than it would've with anybody else.)
"Alright," Artful finally spoke, straining out a forced laugh as he put his hands on the grass, in the middle of lifting himself back up to his feet. "I'll take that as a no. You really should've just said as much, y'know-"
In an instant, he's dragged back down, nearly stealing the breath out of him at how rough and sudden the action was.
Pursuer lets out a low growl, his claws digging into Artful's sleeve. Taking the hint, Artful decides to stay seated, frowning slightly as he takes his arm back despite Pursuer's strong grip.
Artful huffs, tilting his head to the side.
"...You're a real confusing one, you know."
Pursuer stares blankly. As it always does.
What use would it be to talk to it anyway? It probably can barely understand him enough as is.
The magician sighs in agitation. Well, it wouldn't hurt to try.
"Ah, excuse my rambling. I believe I should be headed back by now, but if you insist on staying..."
Artful crosses his arms, his gaze fixed on Pursuer. The creature remains seated, staring intensely as usual. It's always quiet — hell, Artful doesn't think he remembers Pursuer ever uttering a word since their first meeting — but its silence now made the air between them more tense than before, as if Pursuer was watching every small move he made.
It made him feel small and helpless, but he was too prideful to show a semblance of vulnerability to this thing. He tapped his finger against his arm out of nervous habit.
Maybe if he pushes its buttons enough, he might gain the control he desires over the situation. Or he'd be asking for a death wish. Who knows. But what's a magician if he doesn't take a few risks for a trick?
"Well," Artful starts, resting his elbows on his crossed legs with his hands on his cheeks, looking up at Pursuer with a slight smile.
"Had enough of admiring me yet? Or did you want to converse about something?"
Pursuer's face doesn't falter, not even a twitch. However, its grin drops, its mouth forming into a thin line.
Finally, it does something to break their intense staring match.
It moves towards Artful.
At first, he's expecting to be clawed, punched in the face, or literally anything that would give him a new injury. He's honestly surprised it didn't take long to piss Pursuer off for a moment.
But the thought immediately vanishes from his head when he notices Pursuer's slow movements as it crawls on his lap.
"Uh-" Artful stammers out, sitting up straight as he simply watches, frozen in shock.
Paying no mind to Artful's behavior, Pursuer presses its full weight against him. It rests its cheek on his shoulder in an oddly affectionate gesture.
...He has to be having a nightmare.
"H-Hey, what the hell are you?-"
Artful's interrupted when he feels vibrations against him, a low sound emitting from the thing on his lap. It... kind of sounds like purring.
Is that actually fucking coming from Pursuer???
Whatever words Artful had to say next immediately caught in his throat, stunning him to silence as he stared, wide-eyed like an idiot. Pursuer is unfazed, as if its behavior was a normal, everyday thing.
"Huh..."
He's not entirely sure what to feel.
Terrified? Amused? He still can hardly process what just happened.
"...I didn't know you were a cuddler." Artful teases after a moment of silence, instantly feeling Pursuer's glare at the side of his head in response, making him carelessly slip out a laugh. He's already forgotten that this creature can casually rip him to shreds in seconds if it really wanted to.
"I'm just joking!" Artful raises his hands in mock surrender, sweating slightly. "But seriously, what is this for?"
Pursuer drops its glare, staring quietly before a scowl formed on its face, its green fang slightly peeking from the corner of its mouth. It moves slightly, its chin now resting on Artful's shoulder with its face out of view, as if purposefully trying to avoid his gaze. Meanwhile, its purring seems to grow in volume.
Artful quirks up a brow in confusion. "It's hard to ignore me when you're cuddled up to me, dear Pursuer."
He feels a grumble on his shoulder, the creature insisting on staying in its position. Artful huffs in amusement.
"A stubborn one, aren't you?"
...He can't even be weirded out anymore, nor nervous. The purring is weirdly making his head feel fuzzier and calmer, the agitation and pain in his body subtly fading away like a faint breeze.
It feels nice, as weird as it is to admit. He's forgotten why he was so angry in the first place.
Hm.
He still has no clue what Pursuer thinks of him. Even less of an idea now that they're doing this.
But maybe the creature isn't all that bad if they're trying to help him. Or at least that's what it looks like to him. In a way, he finds the attempt somewhat cute. They're like a weird pet cat.
Artful lets out a dramatic sigh, and before he can help it, he raises a hand to pet the back of Pursuer's head. "Ah, well! Surely you won't mind if I help myself then-"
Pursuer snaps their head towards his hand, immediately chomping down on it.
"Ow!-" Artful grunts, immediately taking his hand back and holding it as he frowns.
Pursuer sends him a brief glare before going back into their previous position, their purring now becoming slightly quieter. Their rough body feels more tense against him, a clear sign of irritation and wanting to be left alone.
"...Okay," the magician huffs, rubbing his aching hand. He's fortunate that they didn't put much of their jaw power into the bite.
"Touching is off limits, then. Understood."