Speech is Silver; Silence is Golden [ Abel ]

[Berwald Oxenstierna]

Ingen minns någon som aldrig försökte.                                            

How long had he been here again?

The Swede was laying on one of the bed that the cell provided, turquoise eyes looking up on the ceiling, as if he was expecting it to throw out an answer for him. It was hard to keep up with years here, even days where harder to know which one is was. Maybe it was Monday but it could be Friday as well, it wasn't like someone walked around with a calendar, even if they did, it would be no good, as one would forget the days anyway. It wasn't like the weekend where special, or the weekdays where any different, it was all the same, annoying, long and caged.

He was bored.

Whom wasn't? Mutants getting restless down here in the cells, so little to do, so much free time on top of that. Berwald was always restless, especially when he was well-rested and had a full 24 hours to kill on something to do, when he wasn't sleeping, as it was impossible.

Of course he had heard that there was some new people down here, or rather people he had yet to meet. He didn't know if they where new for the moment, or new to him, how could one keep track on when they arrived or left when they didn't get to know anything anymore? They where really treated like dogs down here, and Berwald detested it.

He had been moved to a normal cell, for once, as he had behaved really good lately, so he had no need to be put in his special made cell, with a heavy door and no corners where he could get to the door in case he got angry and wanted to get out. These bars could he easily bend if he so just wanted, yet he restrained himself, because he would rather stay inside than facing the punishment the government had put up to them in case they where disobedient. 

And a new, normal cell, meant that he would get a cellmate, a temporary one, of course, as it was rare for mutants to stay together for a longer while, and was constantly rotated. Why was something Berwald did not know, maybe so they wouldn't be able to plot something up together, and get some ideas how to overthrow this stupid and sick society they where living in. Or maybe they wanted to show that they had control, which they showed in any other way so he didn't know why they needed to do it even more.

Slowly sitting up in the bed he was currently resting in, as he heard footsteps from at least three different people wander in the halls. That many people meant that a mutant was being moved, or else the guards would never be more than two that walked outside. His curiosity peeked, wondering if it might be his new one. Moving so his legs where over the bed, feet touching the cold floor as he was prepared for what kind of insane person, or afraid one that might be let inside here.

Fixing his glasses, they where coming closer.

[Deleted]

Abel wasn't sure if being moved from his private cell to a common one was a good thing or not. On one hand he could appreciate the small amount of freedom it brought him, but on the other, the change meant that his personal space would not be guaranteed anymore; he'd have to share a cell with someone else, after all, much to dismay. To him, his private cell never had managed to make him really miss someone else's company or feel secluded. He had no interest in interacting with the mutants around him in the first place - much the same way he hadn't really cared for the company of other street kids and beggars when young - so even prolonged isolation did little to him. The one person he wanted to see, to touch, to talk to, wasn't here anyway. She never would be, and he'd accepted that long ago. But that was alright. That didn't mean he'd given up - he'd escape and find her eventually. He wasn't here to stay, and so building relationships with the mutants here was little more than useless to him.

He could only hope his future inmate shared at least part of that view; he didn't believe he could get along with someone that was needlessly talkative, and punching them would probably lead to bad reputation among the guards - not that he didn't already have one. He wouldn't be in a private cell otherwise.

Regardless, as Abel walked out of the private cell area, he couldn't help but wonder why was he being moved in the first place. He figured it was to either test him or to reward or punish him, but that was all just speculation on his part. All options sounded plausible (even if the rewarding one less so than the other two) but the Dutch man didn't really care to dig deeper than that. Judging by the way the mutant-handlers and guards talked to each other and went through papers as they walked though, Abel figured they were planning at least something. Something that would benefit them, like always. That's the whole reason he and his fellow mutants were kept alive in the first place; for the humans' benefit. Everything they did, from feeding them to rewarding them was for that simple, single purpose.

Just thinking about it made Abel's muscles tense and his frown deepen, to the point that the two guards guiding his handcuffed walk shot him suspicious glares and gripped their guns tighter as if ready to counter whatever he attempted to do. They were afraid. How funny, considering that his power was neither the most lethal one nor the one that'd provide him the fastest kill. Surely, they would see if he attempted to turn something, and could react with bullets or tazers before being impaled. And yet, they feared. They must've had a field day handling some of the more dangerous mutants around.

The thought amused him. Anything that brought trouble to his captors did, he'd found.

Just then, the man leading the two others piped up in Russian, nodding towards one of the closest cells to the company's right. Oh? Was that to be his new home, then? Abel stretched his neck a tad to see better as they approached, and much to his dismay, the Dutch mutant soon realized the cell wasn't unoccupied; at the far back, sitting on one of the two beds was a man almost as tall as he was, looking on with an equally scornful expression. Well then, at least he didn't get anyone hyperactive or seemingly touchy-feely - not that many mutants could retain personality traits like those down here for long, anyway.

The cell opened and after having his handcuffs removed, Abel walked inside without much of a hassle. He knew there were guns pointed at his back and most likely at the other mutant to make sure they didn't attempt escape, and he wasn't about to be shot just yet, not over something like this. While he wasn't ready to kiss ass or break, he was aware that he needed to act the part of a (at least somewhat) obedient mutant in order to gain more freedoms and more chances to make a run for it. Rebelling over a room change would be foolish and pointless.

As the cell closed with a decisive clang and the sound of booted footsteps signaled the guards' departure, Abel rubbed his wrists and glanced briefly at his new inmate, sizing him up with his eyes. He wasn't aware what the other's power was, but he looked physically strong, at least. A brawl, should one break out, would most likely be a bloody one.

Not that he minded.

"Abel van Hoff," the man mumbled with indifference as if in greeting, before turning his sights to the general layout of the cell instead, ignoring the other man for now. He wanted to see what his new, surprisingly spacy cell offered him.

[Berwald Oxenstierna]

Tillsätt något väldigt poetiskt här                                     

Listening to the footsteps getting closer, his senses where perked. Berwald even tried to fix his glasses properly on his nose, as his attention was partly on the door, and partly on the worn-out bed underneath him. Not too enthusiastic about a new cellmate, his lat two had been very annoying and very talkative, almost driving the normally quiet and calm Swede over the edges. One had been fairly okay, the other had Berwald almost wanted to tie up in the door with the bars from the celldoor.

Eyes going up when he heard the celldoor being opened, and he was suddenly looking up at a tall, muscular man. He was probably around his own height, similar body mass as well. He looked firm, one that probably wasn't out to fool around and be annoying and hyperactive 24/7. If he was, Berwald was surely gonna have a mental breakdown here and try to hang himself with a wire of metal sooner or later.

He seemed calm enough thou, not making such a big deal out of the guards and being handled like the most of them had been done. Slightly curious now, yet he kept himself at bay, and was still tense, in case he was a troublemaker and wanted to get into a fight with Berwald.

Blinking a couple of times as he spoke, Berwald almost missed it, but he guessed that the other had introduced himself. Taken aback, it wasn't any questions or that involved, just plain, formal and straight to the point.

Berwald had a feeling he would like this one.

"Berwald Oxenstierna." Introducing himself just as formal and straight as the other had done. Even if most people would find it rude that he just threw his name out and wandered off, Berwald was strangely relieved with that. Even if he still didn't trust the male, why should a mutant trust another mutant when they where forced to fight and beat each other bloody and unconsciously all the time, and their bloodlust was supposed to be high?

Legs going back into the bed, and the Swede yet again laid down on his back, observing the roof that was in a serious need of some paint job.. Like that would happen in this lifetime. A lot of things needed to be changed or renewed here, but complaints went to deaf ears.

Looking at Abel at the corner of his eyes, body still prepared in case he deemed the cell as boring and wanted a fight, and Berwald didn't want to be in a position where he was at a disadvantage. Yet he tried to come off as harmless.

OOC; I am so sorry for the crappy post ;__;

[Deleted]

Although Abel did listen to every move the other man made rather intently, he made no attempt to turn around to face the other mutant, not even when he heard the creak of the bed underneath the man's shifting weight, nor when the other offered him his name. All the man's movements were sluggish and relaxed enough to not warrant any concern of an upcoming strike, and his voice had been calm and void of ill intent as well, as far as Abel could tell. It was as if the man didn't really care about his presence one way or another - which, truth be told, suited the Dutch mutant perfectly. The last thing he needed was someone interrogating him about his origins and powers the second he stepped in the cell.

At the same time, Abel did have to wonder why the man wasn't curious enough to ask him a thing, or even try to find things out in a more roundabout manner. He did have to admit that he wasn't accustomed to sharing a cell and hence didn't know much of the usual way inmates interacted if at all, but he would have assumed everyone would at the very least want to know what kind of powers to expect from someone they were forced to be stuck in a small room with. If not for curiosity's sake, then at the very least, for basic self-preservation. Or, what, was the guy really confident enough to think he didn't need the information? Even Abel admitted that the other sparked his curiosity a little; not as a potential acquaintance or a friend, but as a possible future matchup in the ring. Information was precious. It was valuable - he knew, he sold it whenever he believed offering up diamonds would be too suspicious or overdone.

Honestly, you'd think everyone would want to prepare themselves for the arena in every way they could. But not this man. Not Berwald Oxenstierna - a name Abel didn't believe he could pronounce half of, by the way. Why? Was he that strong? He wanted to know. It had been a while since he had faced a worthy opponent in the ring, and while it might have sounded crazy to those that were unfamiliar with the inner workings of his mind, he kind of missed a good, bloody challenge. He missed his adrenaline rushes. In the absence of tobacco and drugs, it was his only way to fulfill his escapist desires. The only thing he could feel addicted to. And he hardly could consider kicking away weaklings as anything particularly rush-worthy.

Fine, then. He'd find out the man's power and then return back to his own solitary existence within the cell. His bed was on the other side of the room, comfortably far away to not create any necessity for small talk before sleep. He wouldn't need to engage the man in conversation ever again afterwards. So then, how would he find out the information he needed?

Why, the Dutch way of course - by being blunt and just asking. Trying dirty tricks would only land him in a spot of mistrust, and while he didn't particularly care otherwise, it would make any further attempts at gathering information more difficult. Besides, if the man really thought of himself as so very strong, he likely wouldn't see a reason to hide his skills. The strong boasted their power to gain respect and rank, the weak hid them and lied to avoid being walked over. Such was this place's cruel law on hierarchy.

So, now, the question was, which group did Berwald belong in?

"So," Abel stated in a casual if firm tone, curiosity absent from the syllable. He was inspecting his own bed with his back turned as he continued in a similarly monotone manner: "What are you in for?"

-----------------

ooc: Hee, insert something poetic. I am proud of my Swedish skillz. Sorry for this post too fsst.

[Berwald Oxenstierna]

 1 gång är ingen gång 2 = 0.          

To say that Berwald wasn't the slightly curious at all towards the new mutant that had currently invaded his cell would be a blatant lie; despite his stern looks, Berwald was a true softie underneath those scary expressions. Curiosity was just one of his hidden traits, but the Swede didn't want to be too pushy and seem like a threat to the new one. Humans he could annoy if he felt like it, those couldn't really say against him like the way a mutant could.

Stretching out, bones popping in the process as he looked over at the new mutant to observe him, trying to get some information out on the way he was acting and moving instead of talking. People usually had a bad habit of talking too much instead of showing what they where made of, and Berwald quite disliked those talkers. But the more he liked to make sure they got stuck into something and had to get proper help to get away from whichever place Berwald might have gotten them stuck in. One time during school, he 'accidentally' tied a chair around their waist. Not his fault the kid had been a damn brat.

The other felt.. He felt a bit like Berwald himself, quiet, observant, not a man of too many words, yet there was probably more hidden underneath his quiet behaviour and manners, and that made Berwald quite interested. Yet he seemed to have a softer face, probably not having the same problems as the Swede had during most of his year in his life.

Looking up, attention caught as the other began to speak again, quite impressed that he wanted to take up contact and talk. But of course the topic was about powers, why wasn't he surprised? Everyone wanted the upperhand in combat, when the element of surprise was quite good as well. Maybe being obvious also helped you sometimes, less things to worry about when you finally entered the arena and fought someone you had no idea how to fight, and figure it out instead, even if Berwalds powers where pretty useless sometimes.

"Being a mutant." It wasn't often he was sarcastic or trying to pull a joke, but his choice of words left him with no choice, it was a habit most of the Swedish people had, and it was something Berwald had a hard time getting rid of, and a visible smirk was playing on his lips as the sharp eyes looked at Abel, as to see through him and read his reaction in that way.

"Strength that no one has tried really how far it reaches, and better endurance than a cockroach." Sounded more fancy than 'strong as hell and barely feel pain, hunger nor tiredness'. Not trying to scare or impress, just choosing his words wisely. "What about you, Abel, what made sure that you got everything taken from you?" 

OOC; Son, I am amazed by your skills as well, good work, want a treat now!??

[Deleted]

At first, Abel's brows cocked at the other's surprisingly snarky response, not that the other mutant probably noticed the motion; the Dutch had yet to bother to turn around, after all. Now that was a tone he had not expected to hear from the man, and it left him rather conflicted on what to think. On one hand, it proved that at least the serious-faced hulk he was stuck with had some sort of a sense of humour, but on the other, it could very well mean he would not find out the information he was after now, if Berwald decided to turn his question into a joke.

Luckily enough, that fear was dispelled rather fast, when Abel suddenly heard the other man's voice rumble behind him once more.

The man explained, even if it was in slightly indirect words, that he was inhumanely strong and possessed an endurance to match, each and every word carrying with it a sense of pride, whether it was on purpose or not. The man sounded confident, just like Abel had predicted and certainly, his powers made him sound like a force to be reckoned with.

And yet, even when faced with such boastful words, Abel's first instinct wasn't to slink back in his side of the cell and hope to keep a distance - no, on the contrary, it was to try and conjure up multiple scenarios in which he could slay the man if need be - or at least, attempt to do so. The other was durable, it's what he'd said - but how far so? Would a diamond, the hardest material known, be still enough to pierce the man's heart? Would a diamond shield drawn to protect him stop the man's fist from reaching his skin? Would it crack, or would the man's knuckles bleed crimson? What about the eyes, were they as vulnerable as they were on everyone? Berwald had said that none had tested his strength before - and that alone made part of Abel itch to be the first one to find out his cellmate's limits. Push him until he could not be pushed anymore, and beyond.

Abel wanted to defeat him, and his fingers twitched on cue as if to tell they wished for a fight as well. His muscles had already tensed to assume a better fighting form, and his feet were ready to push him into a turn to attack - but none of it happened, because sense washed over Abel before his incoming adrenaline rush could.

As much as he'd wanted to spice up a boring day of cell shuffle, this was neither the time nor place and it was the realization of that, that made Abel relax again and allowed the excitement that had built up to subside. It wouldn't do to start a fight inside a cell, not when he would have plenty of time for that later. The cell was too cramped to be facing a juggernaut like the other and ideally, he'd have liked to see Berwald use his powers at least once to see if he really told the truth or not before getting into a brawl with him. False information could very well be his downfall if he wasn't careful. It wouldn't be the first time someone had lied about what they could.

"What about you, Abel, what made sure that you got everything taken from you?"

Perhaps it was the seriousness of the question wrapped under such bitterly light-hearted guise, or just the tone the other spoke in, but something in that question drew a really brief, dry smile to brush past Abel's lips. Indeed, appearances, personalities and powers aside, having been stripped bare of everything important they ever had was a thing they all had in common.

"There's a whole story behind that," he answered curtly, his voice steady and serious - yet, somehow, on some level, containing equal amounts of bitter, black humour as the other man's words had. Guess it was just a thing between old men like them. "But to spare you the details..."

He pushed one hand on his bed, testing the mattress underneath the weight of his arm before allowing himself to turn around and sit down on the dirty sheets underneath. The bed made a sad creaking sound at the weight that shifted on it, and Abe's face finally turned to Berwald's direction, eyes once again traveling up the man's form to his eyes. The Dutch cocked his head, his words following after a brief exhale."I'm a bit too valuable for my own good."

His eyes met the man's and he added, his words vague on purpose to not reveal too much and also to also gauge how well the other could deduce things for himself: "A diamond in the rough."

------------------------------

ooc: yes plz

[Berwald Oxenstierna]

 Forever starts today       

He didn't like the fact that the man spoke to him, yet refused to face him. He might be a mutant, but he had been deemed as a human once too, and he had been taught manners. From a country who valued it, even if it was maybe not always displayed to strangers, or perhaps a bit too much. But what Berwald knew, was that you always faced the one you spoke to. It settled him off a bit; the other thought he was better than him.

No one here was better than the other, they where all below the rats here.

And yet Berwald could not help but sit up a bit in the bed as he was reading the body that stood before him. Abel was tensing up, he could see how the exposed muscles where flexing, and the fists almost drawing together, prepared for a punch, in his mind? Those small things were hard to pass by the silent observer, he, if anyone, could read body-language better than anyone.

And he did not like that.

He was a fighter, Berwald assumed, and by exploiting his own traits, the other had an advantage, and yet he didn't, he just knew his mutation, not his style. Even if he had strength or stamina, did he have something else to add? Or was he a master of something else?

And yet when the other spoke, and finally faced him, Abel was met with a stone-hard face, showing no traces of emotions or any humour at all. The Swede was far from happy with his treatment, and how the other had, or maybe still is? Prepared for a fight.

It was a man to be cautious of, someone that would probably not back off in the arena, and would fight until he couldn't stand.

Strangely enough, that made his body tingle with excitement, maybe he could give him a proper fight, make him feel the pain, make him feel something at least.

Valuable.. A diamond in the rough. He slowly sat up, turning his body around so his feet were on the floor, as he stared back at the other man. He was, or used to be, very clever, nowadays he felt like something else that had been locked away for too long down here, what could be considered clever anymore?

"Figures." That's why he had his head above everyone else and acted like he was mighty. He had diamond powers, and he did a rough guess that it had to do with his skin, as even if mutation powers where strange, they somewhat made sense too. 

Was diamonds too hard, or if he put enough strength to it, would it break too? Snap like bones, crush like glass, or tear like paper? Yet his thoughts didn't show, his body relaxed, even if his eyes were as intense as always, that was a part he couldn't change, which he absolutely hated.

"A fighter, or a defender?" So he knew if there would be brawls in the cell, or if it might play on the cool side. Of course there had been a reason why he was moved from his own, special-made cell to this normal one. Berwald wasn't put in one of these for nothing, considering that he could bend the metal bars easily with his hands, but if he had a cellmate who could try to put him in place, or be interesting enough... Not that he broke rules, he was obedient, most of the time.

A small smirk played on his lips, as it was his turn to stand up, and slowly walk his way over to the door. Hands properly behind his back, walking like a gentleman up to the door. Looking out of it, to see if anyone was around, they where not, so no guards. "Let me guess, a fighter, you will fight until you can't stand, you think the battles is fun, you yearn for them, and you would enjoy doing them now as well, if it weren't for the guards, and the fact that you somewhat have some discipline." Oh yes, Berwald loved to read people, their traits, movements, and little habits made things more clear than words. There was only one organ that lied, and that was the tongue.

OOC; You'll get Marabou, free choice of which flavour!