Hello, everyone! after dealing with real life and the other nonsense of living, panny and i have decided to bring back war of change. give a round of applause. we’ve worked through all of the information and hopefully improved coherency and cohesion; however, tell us if we missed something. eventually, we’ll announce an event to celebrate the re-opening, so look out for information on that. -RAIDNE, THE HEAD ADMIN
From the moonless night, screams of terror and fear resound, spreading across the world and infecting the masses; however, those sleepless nights occurred years ago. A new era began with the fires of war, and with no end in sight, the residents of Selene Isle trudge through life, basking in the momentary peace. Despite their prayers for continued monotony and peace, a storm brews, stirred to life by the continued presence of Rapture and Wraith. And as we set our sights on the seemingly peace laden isle, we must ask: how shall this tale end?
As the years passed, the number of true pairs increased; however, they continued to live in the shadows, catering to the whims of the mundane. Seven Moons kept watch over them all, instructing them and assisting them, but for many, the attitudes and ideals of the organization were smoldering, suffocating. With Seven Moons and the mundanes, they could not grasp the freedom, the power dangling before their eyes. In the beginning, rebellion was a dream, a fantasy, a figment—developed by the repressed and carried forward due to the nature of humanity. No one expected the call to sound, and no one expected the call to be answered. However, it happened.
There's so many dreams & secret I'm in all of them, which one do you like? Try and choose, I’ll take the handle away I'll grab your steering wheel and drive away
"Wargh!" One of the men screamed as he flailed backwards and dropped to the ground. He groaned in pain as he held his stomach gushing with fresh red crimson blood from one long deep cut. Another man initiated an attack by swinging a rod, aiming for her head. The rod was swung and it was about to hit her in few inches more when she spin her sword high and block the rod. One hand was not strong enough to completely set off the attack, she knew that. So she simply let her sheathed sword landed on the rod's face and brought herself to face the other side, to face the direction where the rod was swung from. With her shoulder and side body now facing the man, She used her elbow to continue blocking the rod, held the scabbard and pulled her sword. Tainted with blood, partial of the sword's surface dimmed in redness while some shined as bright as the moon tonight. She pulled the sword full length out and spin it so the tip faced behind. The man groaned. He realized she had locked him from continue swinging the rod. "Damn it!" He cursed. Silvery eyes glared at him.
"Disgusting." She growled the word and immediately jabbed her sword into the man from under his rib cage upwards. Painful sound of flesh and skin tear due to the sharp edge cutting inside him out rang in the air of silence of the night. Blood splattered out from his mouth as he coughed and gasped for air. She could feel his shallow breath on her neck skin, tinkling her inner twisted desire to see him die in the worse way possible. Still, she can't simply end him, no. There was a reason why she let this unsettled at once. She twist the hilt and pushed the sword deeper inside him, forcing him to groan and lost his strength to hold the rod. "Two days ago, man named Albert was attacked by four men on his way to Nightshade. He was killed, and a package he was supposed to bring was stolen. Do you know about this?" She asked with her eyes looking straight at his. It was a rare situation when she had to unsheathe her sword. There was once when she killed few Rave for their mischievousness which she found intolerable, when Eira pissed her off and when she was sparring. Usually, the woman kept her head cool the whole time and avoided any possible reason to let one sees the true form of her sword. The blade shined as it reflected the light of the moon from his back as it had pierced out.
The man shook his head slowly and growled. He was struggling to keep his conscious on and with the amount of throbbing pain he was feeling, he substantially used his strength to stay alive. The blue eyes began to fade as if the soul resided in the body was beginning to slip away. "I have... no idea... what..." He denied he has any knowledge of what she was talking about. The masked woman's eyes flinch irritated. She spin herself so she could face him with her hand remain holding the hilt. Another hand reached out for the man's collar and with a twist of the hilt, she pushed the sword deeper inside causing the man to cough blood and the waist soaked with deep red moist. She brought her face close to him and hissed, "Fine, you ask for it." She pulled the sword out and twirl the hilt between her fingers. The holder landed back into her palm with the edge facing front and in a swift move, the sword ran across the man's neck and had cut it open before he fell to the ground, dead. The rest of the men were unconscious and well she was not in the mood to kill all of them. One was enough to be sent as a warning. She whipped the Japanese sword as hard and fast as she can, splattering spots and stains of semi-dried blood on to the ground and the wall. The scenery was too dark for one's eyes to see but even so, she could tell it was not pretty.
Taking a drastic measure like this was never Rapture's forte. However, in a situation where violence was necessary, they will not hesitate to bare their fangs for the sake of their belief on the group. Like Haine, she preferred to negotiate things if possible. She wanted to prevent any bloodshed is she could, but alas, people prefer something more tragic and sinister. She put the sword back into its sheathe. The grinning fox mask was looking right at the bodies, almost as if it was the wearer, who was mocking at the stupidity of each of them to try and win against her. They should feel lucky she let the rest of them still breathing. The order was not to kill, but to retrieve information and so she spared them but only one, who dared to bare his fang at her and lied.
Setting the sheathed sword back to its original place, behind her back with its hilt inclining to the left, she started walking along the alley quietly, like a passing by shadow. She felt someone was following her but she was not sure who and she was not in the right mood to play nice. Finding the documents was the tasks's main priority. After few steps, she started to feel annoyed by this. She stopped. Her voice sounded deep and husky due to the mask walling the air from moving freely.
"Mind of telling why are you following me?" She asked, turning her head to face aside and her eyes glanced over her shoulder slightly to the back. A companion was not exactly what she needed, but a witness was even worse.
✧ It had been sundown when Marcela had set out from her apartment. Usually this departure marked the beginning of one of her more unscrupulous business ventures-- the kind where someone, usually a grungy thug, ended up full of bullets, but tonight was different. Tonight she was feeling the emptiness in her stomach and made up her mind to swipe some sucker's wallet and purchase the greasiest burger she could find. Child's play; literally, since she'd been doing this sort of thing when she could still count her age out on her fingers. And the operation itself had gone smoothly: she'd lifted some scrawny student's wallet, pressed a few blocks into the city, and bought two huge burgers to go.
One of these dripping sandwiches she unwrapped and began to eat as she walked, taking in the soft glow of the city neon. Weaving through a few back alleys, Marcela began to recognize the signs of a deteriorating district. Large cracks in the asphalt, crooked and overflowing dumpsters, and businesses who's signs had flickered out or fallen down long ago. Marcela grinned, her mouth full of low grade beef, and inhaled. This was her type of neighborhood. Though, there were very few shady characters around-- odd considering they were the signature feature of these kinds of places. Her eyes wandered to doorways and upwards to empty window frames but there was no one to be seen.
Suddenly, a sharp cry of pain echoed down a narrow alleyway and Marcela paused, squinting into the darkness. She chewed slowly, ears pricking for the sounds of the inevitable scuffle occurring just out of sight. Something stirred in Marcela. She hadn't seen blood in awhile; hadn't killed anyone in at least a month-- the promise of violence was too beautiful to shrug off. Swallowing, she started down the alley at a leisurely pace. When her eyes adjusted to the light, Marcela found that she was standing in the center of a few collapsed men. The blood suggested that at least one of them was dead, but she didn't care enough to confirm this. All of them were dressed for business, so it was unlikely they'd have cash on them and their weapons were too short ranged to be of any use to her. Crumpling the burger's wrapper, she tossed it over her shoulder and stepped over the closest body.
There was a trail of bloody footprints leading away from the bodies and she was too deep in the event to distance herself now. Quickly, quietly she jogged after the trail, blinking to keep her eyes used to dark. A minute later, she saw the figure of the killer disappear around another corner and followed suit. As she rounded into this diverging alley, though, a voice stopped her dead.
"Mind of telling why are you following me?"
Her heart leapt into her throat, something fast and dangerous swimming through her blood like a deadly and wonderful poison. Smile widening, she said,
"Wanted to letcha know you've got something on your shoe," a beat as she looked the masked figure up and down, "Wouldn't wanna ruin that get up."
She began to peel back the wrapper of the second burger. The killer was slightly smaller than her, presumably female, but the mask made it hard to tell. A large sword, the weapon, but it was sheathed at the moment.
"Must be a bitch of a thing to clean off the clothes and the mask."
There's so many dreams & secret I'm in all of them, which one do you like? Try and choose, I’ll take the handle away I'll grab your steering wheel and drive away
A witness? No. Hardly.
The vulpine tilted her head lazily along with one of her shoulders facing back towards the woman. This was the first time someone was able to try and have a chat with her while she has her Rapture mask on, aside from her fellow brethren in Rapture of course. Silvery eyes glowed dimly through the eye holes of the black fox mask. Haine stood straight but with both shoulders dropped in relax posture. She was actually not in the mood to reply but her curiosity was just too overwhelming. The woman- she came through the alley where she had killed a man and wounded the rest of his companions, right? Her eyes twitched and she finally decided to face her full body. "Neo..." She addressed her as an impolite 'you' in her monther-tongue. The woman seemed to be older than her and her dialect seemed... a little bit off or unusually heard. Being an Asian, Haine was very comfortable with Asian languages, primarily Japanese and Korean.
"Wanted to letcha know you've got something on your shoe," "Wouldn't wanna ruin that get up."
Such an advice but the Rapture did not move her eyes away from her. She figured the blood from the man she stabbed her sword at must have spit over her. Her sleeves, her coat and her pants; even in the dark she could tell they were stained with red smelly spots. The mask remained untainted and it was placed safely over her face. Bells tied on her sword jingled as she shifted her body weight on to one leg and placed her hand on her hip. The conversation continued with her cussing, if she was not mistaken, about washing the blood off but the female simply shrugged the boring talk and jumped straight to the topic that has been her wondering in her mind.
"It's none of your concern, whether the blood is on my shoe or on my clothes." She said, sounding rather calm than annoyed like the tone in her sentence. That calm way of talking, that laid back attitude; how can she act as if nothing happened? She even spoke about the blood like it was not a big deal. Not to mention she was eating a burger while talking to her. "You knew what happened back then and yet you are still following me without a slight sense of fear." She said, pretty much trying to figure out who the woman was but she doubted she could. Could she be from the opposing group? Great, if she was, she might have to kill her too.
Again, she doubted she could- or it was unnecessary to do so, unless she has come out with a conclusion of who she was.
It was as though she was used to this situation, which Haine thought was not normal for others. If it was just an ordinary passer-by, she would hear her screaming like a hysterical woman and started shouting to alert people the murderer's here. Haine hated noises, really. Wearing the mask made her felt like she was being possessed by something, that altered her to be cold-hearted and merciless when it comes to the missions. She placed one foot front and stealthily placed one hand on her sword's hilt.
"Who are you?"
“
Who are you?
”
TAGS: @feral OOC: how cOULD she continue to nom on burgers lmao XDD
✧ Though the mask kept the murderer's expressions hidden, Marcela could tell this stranger was trying to size her up. The tilted head, the blunt questions, and then the hand on the hilt of the sword.
"You're askin' a lot of things for someone who just decimated that groupa flunks back there?"
Jerking her free hand's thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the bodies, Marcela glanced up at the dark windows of the buildings, hoping to gauge whether or not this person had nearby associates. Not that Marcela'd come prepared for a brawl, one-on-one or otherwise, but she felt safer knowing that this individual was alone. As if on a delayed queue, she suddenly remembered why the mask was semi-familiar to her: the killer was a member of one of the crime rings in the city, a handful of rebellion groups who'd turned to internal affairs and petty shit after the war. Marcela'd been propositioned by a lower member of Synister once who'd needed some one silenced without the groups actual influence, but, otherwise, these groups seemed competent enough to handle there own business. She'd been warned by a few of her less glamorous employers to be wary of them, though, considering the bad blood ran deep between their members.
"Sorry," she said, shrugging and waving the burger animatedly in front of her face, "Just remembered who you maskies are. Rupture, right? No wait, Rapture-- you must be one of them."
Her eyes fell back on the sword and, with a side, she wrapped the sandwich back up, slipping it into her small purse. If she needed to fight or run, she'd need both hands. Casually, she took a step towards the Rapture member, now with her hands up in comical surrender, and said,
"Dun worry, I don't have beef with you," a laugh, "Just in thoseburgers I stashed in my stomach and bag. I just was dynin' to know what all the howling was for and then keen to find the beastie behind it all."
Somewhere in the distance a dog howled, long and low. The sound of tires squealing and a horn blaring followed shortly after the ominous noise died into the rest of the city's late-night ambience. It felt peaceful to stand here in the low light and relative silence of the alley, perhaps minutes and inches away from death, with food in her stomach and violence on her mind. She extended her right hand, with pointed carelessness, towards the fox,
"I'm Marcela. Not a member of any a your big name gangs, just a freelance cleaner a sorts," she laughed again at her own whimsy, "And you are? I mean, if I'm allowed to get a name behind that fox-face a yours?"
There's so many dreams & secret I'm in all of them, which one do you like? Try and choose, I’ll take the handle away I'll grab your steering wheel and drive away
The female vulpine simply tilted her head from one side to side, trying to shrug off the irritation that slowly built inside her. Imagine she was a real animal; she acted as though she could not understand a thing she said. Among all Regalia, Haine was the most vain, arrogant and tactless one. Without the mask, she was no different than other Asian girls. She can be approached and has a conversation with, even to a point she was mistaken to be someone they knew for a very long time. She was not friendly, but it was her dominant aura that made people awe of her presence. She could reach out for one's desire to be freed and manipulate it into believing she was their savior. She does that, but only for good sake. She was not as twisted as those in the opposing groups.
Involving and using civilians like they were some kind of tools.
Haine lowered her head aside little bit when the woman pronounced Rapture's name wrong. Was she trying to test her patience? She hoped not. Fingers firmly wrapped around the hilt of her sword in response. When she corrected the name, the Regalia changed her standing posture from ready to strike to relaxed but in alert. She dropped her hand by her side, away from her sword that is, and so her other hand. Strange how she did not react negatively when being referred to as 'beastie'. No, she actually has no idea what it meant since the slang used by the woman was not something she accustomed to. She knew basic English words and she had a feeling the word's so called base form was beast. So, was she referring her as some kind of a beast?
Her ears perked up when a faint howl heard. Her head instantly raised up being alerted by it. She gritted her teeth behind the mask. During succession ceremony, a person will be given a mask equipped with micro-telecommunication device. There will be an earphone and a small microphone for an easy communication among members when they are on mission. Some situations required them to use secret code, like howling, growling and other animal sounds. Apparently, the howling resembled to a dog was not a good sign. It was long, like a fire siren. She was distracted the call from her brethren that she did not notice the female had approached her. She looked back at her and flinched backward. Instantly, her body posture changed to offensive with one hand on the sword's hilt.
Marcela was her name, huh? Ears twitched lightly as her mind began to move around and about from one memory slot to another. A light snort escaped from her but it was little too small for the woman to hear thanks to the mask. So she was the rumored mercenary. "I have heard about you, Marcela," she stated, pausing momentarily with long hums before she continued, "nothing pleasant, though." She was referring to her popularity and dedication in the field. The eyes moved down on to the extended hand. If she was a real fox, her nozzle would probably be sniffing out the palm surface curiously. That was exactly how and what Haine was feeling of doing, except the sniffing part. Now, what makes she think she could idly consider of shaking hand with her? The female proudly introduced her rank in place of her name the woman asked. Consider it as a fair exchange since she did answer her question about who she was.
"Regalia's Vulpes." She said, simply before her eyes glanced behind the woman. The iris noticed something was moving behind in the dark and slowly, she took few steps back ready to escape. Her voice heard accompanied like irritating hissing, "Sorry but I'm kinda busy." A voice of a man heard from where they came in. "There they are!"
Great. She clicked her tongue and growled, like literally growled, under her throat.
“
LET'S SEE IF THIS WORKS
”
TAGS: @feral OOC: She is, but I guess it's good cuz it's time to warm up! XDD
Marcela was surprised the masked stranger had given her a name. Moments before they'd seemed closed to any interaction beyond stiffly interrogating her, tensing at even the suggestion of a handshake, but the name provided a flash of mutual-- well, she couldn't place the thinking behind it. Certainly not trust. "Vulpes" was clearly an alias, one Marcela's have to do a fact check on as soon as she got back to her apartment, but it was the gesture that mattered. Besides, whatever lies this Rapture told her, she was just pleased that her name was already making waves in shadows.
"Heard a lil ol me? So you know that--"
She paused as the stranger looked beyond her, towards the sounds of someone moving through the alleys behind them. The Rapture's hand darted to the sword again, mask-made voice grunting,
"Sorry but I'm kinda busy."
And before Marcela could respond a man's voice echoed down the passage,
"There they are!"
Marcela glanced down at her feet, noticing the dark substance that she'd tracked behind her as well.
"Shit, these were 23 bucks-- Wait, did you just growl?"
There was a sharp hiss, the sound of a silenced gun, and a bullet tore past Marcela's right ear. Dropping to her knee, she lunged behind a nearby pair of trash cans, hand plunging instinctively into her purse only to close around the limp beef sandwich. She peeked out from behind the makeshift cover, muttering,
"Fuck shoulda brought a gun, should brought a god damn gun."
The assailants were a pair of pale men, dressed in loose fitting clothing and toting what looked like a silenced Glock 42 and a fistful of throwing knives. Long rangers. She was screwed for sure without a weapon for sure and she wasn't certain how the Rapture would fair either, considering the limitations of a sword. One thing was certain, though, she'd have to move quickly unless she wanted a face full of metal. Marcela kicked the lighter aluminum bin, sending the already dented cylinder bouncing and spinning towards the legs of the man leading with the gun. As he fell, she leapt to her feet and tore down the alley, her eyes scanning for a fire escape and an open second story window. If she could only get up high, she could switchback on the rooftops and shake the duo altogether.
There's so many dreams & secret I'm in all of them, which one do you like? Try and choose, I’ll take the handle away I'll grab your steering wheel and drive away
It caught both of them off guard, the gunshot that is. While Haine had already realized their presence, she did not aware that they were carrying firearms and deadly ones too. Equipped with suppressor, a bullet was shot out of the blue and had bruised Marcela's ear. Haine moved her head away from the bullet just in time and the two immediately took cover. Haine had leaped to the side on one foot, turned and hid behind a wall nearby. It seemed like she was dancing at that moment but she was not. Her reflex was neither too slow nor too fast that made it as if she had controlled over the time and her body muscle that made her looked like she was performing an acrobatic move. Vulpes was more than a just a name or a rank. Being Min-Yung and Jung-Ho daughter, she has grown to embrace the meaning fully. Cunning, sly and quick, like a fox.
She did not catch a glance of the attackers, or how many of them. But to use a cowardly tactic as this- it was a humiliation. Her eyes watched the other woman for the corner of the fox mask's eyes, wondered if she was all right. She may not be part of her family, but she was still a civilian. Even if she was no ordinary resident in this island, being a mercenary that is, Marcela was not supposed to get involved in this mess. She was prepared to deal with these thugs, since she was used to being alone, with wordspells but it would not end well.The impact from the spells may damaged the building and caused mild explosion that in the silent night like this was good enough to wake half population on the street.
"Hmm?" She noticed something was moving from her side. She was a few seconds away from realizing a dustbin had flown to their direction. She widened her eyes as she witnessed such event had taken place. Was it the woman's doing? Groan heard from one of the men whose leg was hit by the aluminium bin and was bending down in pain. The woman made her moves, unpredictable ones if she could say, and headed towards the alley. Haine spent few second trying to lay out at least a rough idea on what she was up to, but nothing came into her mind except she wanted to escape. The vulpine remained quiet, since she felt it was the right thing to do anyway.
She showed up herself from behind the wall and stood within the men's sights. She twirled her unsheathed sword, threw it a little bit into the air and off her grip and grabbed a hold on the scabbard. Her left hand crossed over to the other side and she held the hilt. Guns in their hands clicked and aimed for her head. She bent down little bit and in a split second, the spot was left with clouds of dust. The Regalia sprinted towards them and as soon as they started shooting, she began to run from one side to another, dodging the bullets. Her agility was beyond their speed to catch up that they lost the rhythm of her run. With an opening, the female unsheathed her sword, leaped between them and used her sword to block one man's gun to aim up and away, while another man's gun to point behind and other side. The three began to pick up pace of one another, blocking, dodging and trying to pierce a bullet through her skull if they could.
Whatever Marcela planned to do, she was free to do it. At least now she has the men occupied handling her.
Another round of bullets before Marcela managed to duck around a corner. She'd escaped the fray unscathed, but, considering the last volley of shots hadn't been aimed towards her, she figured the Rapture had taken the opposite approach to the scenario: plunging headlong into the barrels of their guns.
"Shit. No way Foxy's dumb a'nuff to--"
She poked her head from behind the masonry, squinting to make out anything in the murk of the alley. Sure enough, though, she caught the flash of the mask in the darkness and heard the faint sounds of bells. A bullet tore through the edge of the corner, sending a violent spray of mortar and brick into the air, and Marcela took cover again.
"Crazy lil shit," she muttered, doing a quick inventory of her face and arms to see if any shrapnel had nicked her, "Gonna get floored in a sec with that approach."
Still, the heat in Marcela's blood bucked and she found that she was grinning. Reaching into her purse, she retrieved a vial of discount vitamin orange lipstick and ran the paste across her lower lip, then the upper, and smacked them together with a little pop. She turned, spotting a protruding window ledge, and pulled herself onto it, taking a deep breath before she jumped up and pulled herself on its second story counter part. From there it was a matter of locating the right room to invade.
She darted from ledge to ledge, peering into the shadowy rooms and scanning them for occupants. Three tries in she'd caught two pale men casually screwing, an old man who looked like he'd been dead for a week, and a gigantic nest of silvery rats; nothing unexpected for this district. The fourth window offered a deserted room, derelict beyond the rest of the building, and stacked full of empty paint cans. Marcela smashed the filthy glass with her purse and climbed inside. Taking two of the paint cans in hand, she exited the room, which, thankfully, had no door and followed the slightly muffled sounds of the fight below until she found the door nearest to it.
The handle rattled but held: it was a well liked living space, locked and well kept. Marcela swore and took a few steps back before hurtling herself, shoulder first, at the area just above the handle. There was a small cracking sound and she felt something small and jagged stab into her arm, but, stepping back once again, she found the door had busted inward, the lock split to uselessness.
"Hell yea," she rolled her shoulder, catching the thin trails of blood inching down her arm, "Foxy, here come the motherfucking reinforcements."
She dashed through the room, ignoring whatever occupants it harbored, and made short work of the window above the Rapture and her assailants. Then with a war-whoop the envy of a thousand school boys, she launched herself from the second story, paint cans swinging, and descended on the unsuspecting men below.
The one with the knives cushioned her fall, but she slammed her makeshift weapons into his skull for good measure alone, and lobbed the other paint can at the man with the glock. The bucket collided with the back of his head, but failed to ground him.
"All you, Foxy," she managed, her ankles throbbing from her recklessness, "Slash 'em up neat or somethin."
She dodged the gun as the man fired it and with a turn, she leaned her sword against her back and blocked the man's arm from swinging towards her. She spin aside and placed the sharp edge of the sword on his shoulder and dragged it down along his body. The slash was not as deep as one would imagine but the sting was painful enough to make the man moaned in agony. He forced himself to retreat and let his partner assaulted her. Gun shot after another heard blasting in the air aiming for the female's chest but she blocked it. The man clicked his tongue and then realized she focused a lot on defending her left side that often her other side of body parts were unguarded. With a precision aim, he shot a bullet for her right leg and, his assumption was right. The bullet penetrated through her defense easily and hit her below her knee. She groaned and jumped backward slightly. Her eyes narrowed at the figure as he chuckled in victory. "So, you are actually a left-handed, huh?" he stated proudly. The smug on his look made the vulpine growled. So he noticed. Yes, Haine was a left-handed and she was not fond of using her right hand to swing her sword around. Her right side alignment was not as good as her left, which made Haine vulnerable from the right side.
Blood trickled from the shot wound and she staggered. Did it pierce through her bone, or just through her flesh? she can't tell the difference as all she felt were excruciating pain and a great amount of numbness. Her eyes withdrew from the man to the surrounding without her head turned to follow. She needed to distract them. She hardly can stand any longer how that they hit the area she highly depended on to move and to sprint. The shooter helped his friend who stood beside him, leaning his palm against the building wall for support. His eyes flickered angrily at Haine with a pleasured and insane grin on his lips. "What's wrong now? Can't dance to your tone anymore?" He asked sarcastically. Haine raised an eyebrow at him, a bit surprised by the amount of confidence he suddenly flashed in front of her. While they have made her retreat, she was not fully giving up. Her tongue drummed like a growl lightly and she responded, "You both are horrible dance partners, my sword cries at the stupidity you two display in your moves." She flashed her sword and stood up. Her face screwed in agony which she tried to suppress. The men grunted and ready for the second round when noises heard from one of the rooms above them.
The entrance made by the female mercenary was...superb, she won't try to deny it. It made the female vulpine laughed a little under her breathe as she watched her took them down, or at least disturbed their focus.
"... Foxy," "Slash 'em up neat or somethin."
Her voice rang like a command, but it was not a command that made her ticked. It was more like a tag request to take over her place to finish them. The vulpine, with a grin on her lips unseen due to the mask covering her face, scoffed as she brought her sword to her front. "My pleasure," she said. For some reasons, she thought her strengths have vanished due to the pain but just because of her words, she gained support to work her knee to sprint. She spin her sword and immediately cast multiple slashes on them. Blood splattered side ways as her blade ran deep into the skin and flesh, creating fatal wounds on them and they both dropped to the ground. She turned for them both and staggered backward when the sharp pain from the bullet stung her. "Ouch!" She whined, subsequently sat herself onto the ground. She might needed to call backup for this, since she can't see any possibility of walking thanks to the shot.
"I thought you have run away by now." She said, laughing little bit since she can't forget how she appeared from the top floor down onto the men.
✄- - The second Sylvain had peered into his fridge, he knew he'd have to go grocery shopping. It was empty, save for a few pouches of multi-mineral and carbohydrate gel drinks, and had been for at least a week or so. Despite the fact he could probably continue surviving off his ramen and jelly drinks, there was no way the blond was going to drink another one of those things and he was starting to get a little sick of instant ramen. He wanted real food, fast.
Since eating at a restaurant was deemed to be far too expensive, and because fast food was probably the worst type of cooked food in the history of life, the Italian decided to just buy ingredients and make his own meal. It wasn't like he didn't know how to cook, after all: he'd had to learn long before he had arrived on the island he was living on now.
Getting to the local grocery store hadn't been a cinch. If anything, the day (or well night) seemed to get even better, for when he got to the store, he managed to buy all the necessary vegetables and ingredients on sale. (Yes, before you say it, money was very important to the relatively poor college student.) That was something almost amazing to the blond, to be able to save so much money, and he left when he left the store, paper bag in his arms, he felt much brighter than he had in a while.
Ever since he had come to Selene Isle, Sylvain had felt that there was something heavy sitting on his chest, making it somewhat hard for him to breathe. The cigarettes that'd come as a result of this unknown stress hadn't made things any better. Though the man himself didn't have any clue as to why he could be feeling so much pressure, if he had to put it in words, it felt like he was missing something, something important. Too important.
But what exactly could it be?
It was the sound of gunshots that finally snapped Sylvain out of his reverie, and when he peered around himself, he found that he wasn't anywhere near home. Somehow, he'd ended up in an alley in the Crescent Moon District, which obviously wasn't the best of ideas when the sun was down. Sure, he'd basically lived in the district for quite a while, but that didn't mean he wanted to keep wandering around the place when it got dark out.
Gunshots were obviously not a good sign. Not good at all. For a second, the blond considered just ignoring them and getting the heck out of there, but it seemed it was too late for that when a masked woman stumbled into the corner of his vision and landed hard on the ground. A quick glance told him that she was pretty severely wounded, but she still laughed, and the words he caught from her said that she was enjoying herself.
...A masochist?
Not that that was important, what mattered was the sharp pull in his chest, foreign and painful and so out of place because it wasn't love—he didn't really believe in any form of it, at least not yet—and yet there was almost no other reason why the weight on his chest could've suddenly gotten ten times heavier.
Too late to run, too late to hide. He was "normal" now, so all he could do was stand in place like a deer in headlights.
So much for a good night.
tag: Hae-Sun 'Haine' Mirae + @feral ▪ words: 591 ▪ ooc: *jumps thread just because* Sorry for crappy post :c
Her right ankle felt stiff and hot as Marcela took a step backwards from the masked swordsman and the two stunned attackers. And she'd hardly given herself enough distance, let alone managed to lean against the filthy alley wall for support, by the time the Rapture had finished off both of the men. Victory, at least for a few moments. The strength of the shoddy brick behind her was exactly what she needed to quiet the pain in her ankle and she closed her eyes, inhaling with contentment. When the fox-masked stranger cried out in pain though, the mercenary cracked open an eye,
"Ah shit, you got pegged," she took another second of rest and then pushed off from the wall, regretting her choice of heels, "Lemme scope it, fox-face, I got some skill in fishin' out lead."
"I thought you have run away by now."
Marcela snorted and continued her slow approach. There still wasn't much trust between the two of them and she figured that honing in too quickly on the stranger's wound would get her a sword to chest. And she quite liked her chest: a gaping hole would take a great deal away from her swelling breasts and muscled shoulders.
"Nah, nah," she paused, the sounds of someone moving nearby putting her on edge again, "Too interesting a thing to bail on this early in game."
Footsteps, uncertain and wary. She was certain of another presence. With a soft, taxing sigh she knelt and scooped up one of the freshly fallen men's glock and turned the deadly end towards the origin of the sounds. Then she saw him. Unassuming enough, though he didn't look innocent in the traditional sense, and staring at the scene with the appropriate cocktail of confusion and curiosity.
"Yo, hair-gel, you got something to contribute or ya gonna keep fish mouthing this shit?"
She gestured with her unarmed hand towards the scene behind her: the wounded Rapture, the fresh blood pooling between the scattered bits of trash, and the two dead men supplying the dark, sticky humor.
"Or, if you're keen to join in, just give me a sign an' I'll be sure to shatter your stringy lil spine witha first shot."
tags: Hae-Sun 'Haine' Mirae & @fernweh01 ooc: no worries, maaaaan, what're open rps for?
"I would appreciate if you don't shoot a civilian, Marcela"
Thrill. Adrenaline rush night like this was something she has always looked forward to- a foolish act of daring death in its own game. She was ready to laugh some more as her mind kept repeating the few series of seconds when the mercenary woman dropped down from the window and hit the men with paint cans. It was funny, though if she was to laugh about this she was pretty sure people thought her insane. She held her laugh into a form of snickers and giggles, shaking her shoulders along in amusement.
Only in time like this she found herself accepting people, for she deemed the thrill was the right key to open the door of acceptance in her. Yes, she liked this woman very much now. Maybe not as much as she loved herself, but she seemed to be the type that can go along with the crazy ride of night. Yes, she was awesome, all right.
The fox chuckled as her head shook casually. "Nah, I'm cool. It hurts, but it's a proof I'm alive," she said raising her hand idly the same level as her shoulder. There was no need to worry about this injury, or at least she considered she has no need to. Her eyes flickered aside when her sharp sense picked up an alerted presence- a new presence, in fact. Another round? Hardly. She would have to rely on the mercenary to take the new comer down, although she strongly refused to rely on anyone in her life. She turned her eyes on to the direction, her muscle tensed out of sudden.
Who?
Wind blew cold and chilly breeze through the alley, making the female fox shuddered. There was something about this that made the fox frozen on her spot. It could be the night temperature was too low and she bleeding, or it could be the aura he brought in to the scene. Something about him made the Rapture shut in silence. Her eyes glared from the man to the female. Oh, she didn't like this...
She didn't like this man for some reasons.
Haine struggled to push herself up, stubbornly not to request a hand from any of them, if that man planned to help that is, and leaned herself against the wall. Blood trailed behind as she moved and forced her joints to contract at her wish.
"This is nothing, " she spoke, sighing slightly. "I would appreciate it if you don't shoot a civilian, Marcela," she continued and pushed herself away from the wall. She stood as straight as she could, with silvery eyes observing the man. What should she do now? He's a civilian, isn't he?
✄- - Though it took a moment, it wasn't long before the coppery scent of blood reached Sylvain's nose. He almost sighed at the familiar tang, before closing his eyes to gather his thoughts. They ran thick with tangled emotions, and before he did anything stupid, like get himself killed by a certain brunette, he'd have to work out exactly what he was feeling at the moment.
First and foremost was excitement. It had been a long, long time since the Italian was anywhere near and fight, and it had been far too long since he'd heard himself be called by his nicknames. Just the very sight of dark, oily red was enough to make him remember the time he'd spent fighting, wild and exhilarated. Alive, he'd remembered feeling alive at times like those, and for a short moment, he thought he could sympathize with the injured raven's uncontrollable laughter.
Second was anger. Or well, it was less anger and more of a peeved sort of feeling. This was caused mostly by the nickname Barbarian (yes, he knew it was childish, but he was going to retaliate in kind, if only in his mind), the coffee-haired woman had called him. The blond certainly did not use hair gel, thank you very much, and though he usually didn't quite care about his messy hair, he did take pride in the fact that it still looked fairly nice in its natural state.
The third was exasperation, though that pretty much went hand in hand with the second one. Somehow, he had managed to earn the hostility of two dangerous and beautiful women. Not one, but two, and though one looked somewhat reluctant due to his status as "normal", the other one looked about ready to put enough holes in him that'd by the end of it, he'd make even a wedge of swiss cheese jealous. Had he not been in obvious danger, the Italian would have had the gall to roll his eyes up at the heavens, because thank you, God, this was exactly what he was looking for when he went shopping for ingredients for life.
Last of all, was a sense of loss. With Foxxy's words, he realized that for once in his life, he was finally normal. He had, in a sense, finally escaped his previous titles, and he had finally become just another nobody: a civilian who didn't know of anything other than what was on the surface. In a way, Sylvain was fine with that; he felt like a war hero who was ready to retire. That didn't mean he didn't feel any sort of regret though, and it sat, a rock in his chest that he'd have to lug with him for probably the rest of his life. The blond figured this was why he'd been feeling so weighed down in the past few days. Yes, that was it. Throughout all this emotion sorting, Sylvain managed to keep his face neutral so that the women wouldn't have any hint as to what he was feeling.
"Um," he finally spoke up, not keen on having his fate decided for him, "I think I'd appreciate that too." Well, that was probably the deciding factor in whether he'd live or not, and he had a feeling it was the latter. Might as well just plow on. "I mean, if you were in my shoes, I don't think you'd appreciate it if someone made a few holes in you, would you?" It was a totally lame response, but at this point, Sylvain was beyond caring. He would probably end up dead meat regardless of what he did, so he might as well just say his last words and brace himself for the future.
tag: Hae-Sun 'Haine' Mirae + @feral ▪ words: 588 ▪ ooc: welp. let's home no one shoots him.
The Rapture was flippant and dismissive, as Marcela had come to expect and the woman laughed softly to herself. And yet, despite her lack of hesitation in dealing deadly blows to her assailants, she seemed genuine regarding the safety of the new arrival. Marcela would have never considered herself bloodthirsty for the sake of being so, but she also had seen too many corpses, a fair share of them "innocents", to be fussed by needless violence.
Witnesses were acceptable as long as they wound up being steadfast silenced or future employees, but the mercenary was, by no means, keen on incarceration. The fox-masked swordsman had peeked Marcela's interest, but she also had no control of the woman's volatile whims. She was curious as to how the Rapture would react if she did end the blond's hapless life right then and there. Finger tightening around the trigger, she ignored the pain in her ankle and was about to fire when the man spoke.
"Um, I think I'd appreciate that too. I mean, if you were in my shoes, I don't think you'd appreciate it if someone made a few holes in you, would you?"
She tilted the barrel down lightly so that she was aiming for his left knee and laughed. The sound echoed through the maze of cinderblocks and dumpsters eventually blending into the the other ominous ambiences of the city. Then with an eyebrow cocked to match her weapon, she smirked and said,
"Ya really gonna use the empathy approach here?" she punctuated the question with another condescending giggle and threw an amused look towards the Rapture, "Like, seriously. Idanno what bleeding heart pop-punk bullshit you come from, but the golden rule don't apply much in the real world. Kinda adorable, actually. "
She grin, slowly assessing the man's figure as if she was calculating the worth of a good cut of meat. He was younger than her, though the hair didn't do much for her. Not that she considered him a contender for any of her services; despite his location there was nothing about him that seemed clouded or underhanded. Though, she would have to consider the possibility that the messiah-love-thy-neighbor-as-thy-self was his clever facade. Which wouldn't have bothered her on a normal outing, but something about his stereotypical angelic-mug and childish platitudes pissed her off.
Tipping the gun a few inches lower, she fired twice at the pavement a few inches from his feet, before tucking the still smoking weapon into the front of her shirt. Hands free, she rifled through her purse, fishing out a half-empty carton of cigarettes and a lighter printed with slack-jawed cartoon bear who's paws were a little too close to his crotch for comfort. She lit up and took a casual drag of nicotine, exhaling the smoke slowly through her teeth.
" 's the danger a invoking morality, gelly," she bit into the filter, enjoying how it gave under the weight of her teeth, "Dun know who's got that golden ticket n who doesn't."
"or are you telling me you don't have standards in life?"
This was the reason why she hated dealing with others who were not from Rapture. They were violent, repulsive and annoying living beings who simply wanted to chew on other people and to step on others. How low has the world sunk? Her eyes fixed on the woman and the gun in her hand. People like her was a living proof the world has corrupted. Her interest on the female instantly vanished, scrapped off like dirt kicked from her boots as she took her stand away from the wall. She disregarded the pain and gushing blood from the hole on her knee. Believe me when I say she would not let a split second waste to stand between the bullet and the man. Her eyes glared at the woman.
"Mind your language, insolent woman. I will not take you lightly even if you had stopped those men," she warned, despising how her incredible amount of stupidity and vain she displayed in her speech. Human without morality was no different than an animal worth to be slaughtered. Her eyes then lingered on the man. So much to be a typical civilian, he did not even show a sign of terrified when the woman pointed the gun at him. He even said something the vulpine deemed as unnecessary to say and foolish. Why can't there be a real innocent civilian in this city? She remarked herself, "A human without morality is no better than an animal- or are you telling me you don't have standards in life?"
"Pity, I guess there's only that pretty face," she scoffed. She was pretty pissed about this. If she was a little second late, her pride would have been scarred by this mercenary. And that man- Hae-Sun hung her head up little bit she she could see him clearly through her mask. She sighed lightly and spoke, "This is depressing. Excuse me," she turned herself and started walking, dragging her shot leg more like it.
Ignoring them seemed to be the right thing to do now. None of them seemed to perk her interest now. Since she had kept the dangerous weapon, the Regalia believed she would not try to harm the man. If she was, then goodbye for him then. Goodbye, huh? Her heart itched in unpleasant by the thought of she was being cared less about him.
@feral & @fernweh01 OOC: Hahaha she's pissed at Marc. and she's ignoring Sylvain
