{Got a war going on in my head [OPEN]

[deadlycurves]

WHO: Shadow!Diego and YOU!
WHERE: Various, noted where necessary
WHEN: Oct 23-26
WHAT: Shadow plot shenanigans~
WARNINGS: Language/violence

Starters in comment headers, one each for Shadow!Diego and Real!Diego, and one for the destruction of the shadow. Pick your poison!

Comments

[numberthree]

Diego's never been funny, at least not to anyone who wasn't Diego, but even so, the sound of that laugh is strange. Stranger than the incredibly familiar arrogant half-laugh that he usually rolls with. Still, Allison rolls with easy grace, not lost in the last ten years in the slightest, to her feet, with a hand out to pivot and help him up. They are easy shoes to slip right back into. The give and take of one of these rooms, of these rounds.

There's a vague shrug of her shoulders, even if her skin is prickling a little too much at the spotlight.

This place. New day, same song.

[deadlycurves]

"You sure that's it?" He arches a brow at her, letting his eyes sweep over her, as if assessing her mental state by looking at her unflappable outer self. Allison had always been good at covering any turmoil under the surface, but it's even easier now, with that Porter-given power of eternal perfection.

He takes a ready stance again, ready to go another round and makes a slight wave with his fingers. "Because that was definitely a level above on the ruthless scale, sis."

[numberthree]

Allison backed up, weight shifting, even as something about having to put anything into words made it more grating. It wasn't something she wanted to talk about. It wasn't something she wanted to have words about. It was almost breathless clear enough to be zoned when she had to thnk of only her body. She hated that this place thought it was allowed to keep using all she had left in the deepest, dark boxes of herself.

She brought her arms up, weight and tension shifting as she watched his own posture and postion, for the faintest hint of pre-movement. It all has to go somewhere eventually, doesn't it.

[deadlycurves]

"Guess so." Diego's okay with not having words-- this is a language they all learned to speak from as soon as they were steady enough on their feet and had enough sense of self to listen to directives. One might say that it was their first one.

He shifts his weight and circles slowly, watching her just as much as she is him, waiting for that micromovement to signal what she might do. Except Diego is impatient, he moves first, taking a jab toward her.