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She is not One of Us (Open)

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She is not One of Us (Open)

Post by Moebius on Wed May 02, 2018 10:57 pm

The Garganta opened in the South Rukongai, a black tear in reality. However, it was not some wicked beast that emerged into the alley but a young Angel woman. She had pale skin, wearing an onyx and crimson dress of unusual style. Its sleeves covered her arms but were tightest around the elbow and flared outwards around the shoulders and wrists, and it was exposed in the center, covering only her sides, back and breasts. She wore a neckerchief that covered her chest, and a black thong covered her lower parts. Red and black ribbon floated over her hips and thighs in a three-sided mobius strip, the pattern the same as a scar upon her forehead. Two black insect-like wing casings emerged from her back, though they were thin and angular. A black crown hovered her spiky white hair. The woman's red baby doll heels clicked on the stone pathway as she walked, matching the rhythm of a sword hanging on her right hip.

Though she appeared like any other Angel, albeit one who deigned to walk among the 'lesser lifeforms' of Rukongai, those who could sense Spiritual Energy could not mistake the feeling of a Hollow that clung to the woman like smoke. 

As she stepped out into the street, her eyes brightened to see all the different shopping stalls and stores lined among the street, and she excitedly ran over to the nearest booth, picking up objects at random and marveling at their craftsmanship and the strangeness of technology from so many eras merged together.
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Re: She is not One of Us (Open)

Post by Cat on Wed Jun 13, 2018 10:00 pm

Elsewhere in more secluded surroundings, a similar series of events was taking place. The atmosphere within a particular alley appeared to thicken and acquire an oppressive air--an effect which was later ruined by a clatter of discarded objects and a string of muttered expletives that followed soon after. It would be a considerable while longer before the flow of curses subsided into recognizable speech

"Who even puts a damn portal in a rubbish dump anyway? Ow."

Alleyway shadows parted to reveal an outlandish figure garbed head to toe in a voluminous black cloak which had seen better days. Its edges were frayed and there were several rips in the garment, which was nonetheless large enough to shroud its wearer completely. Not a trace of skin showed from underneath its folds. Clearly an item intended for a much larger person, it lent a comical effect to its current wearer; making them appear like a child playing dress-up in adult clothes. The voice that drifted from the space within its hood sounded young too, if one ignored the bitter edge coating each and every one of its words.

"So THIS is where Lady Big-shot goes when nobody's watching?" Another clatter as an unseen foot kicked a broken bucket contemptuously out of the way. "Quaint."

Nonetheless for all their eccentricities the stranger drew surprisingly little attention on emerging further into the street. This was the Rukon's trading hub after all; where cloaks were a dime a dozen and new faces ten times that. As long as you kept the peace and didn't cause too great a scene it would appear that no one gave a fig about what you looked like. The mask however--which it wore INSIDE its hood--did draw its share of curious glances and giggles. But that was all. Nothing too much out of the ordinary, especially in places where incognito nobles prided themselves on not being seen.

'Just some stupid noble's brat again...' the crowd's meaningful looks and quirked eyebrows seemed to be saying. 'Yet another rich idiot with no day job who thinks walking about in a black bedsheet actually makes them LESS conspicuous'

And they would be right about the first, if not the second.

Cat cursed to herself again as she navigated the thoroughfares--an activity made harder than usual due to unfamiliarity at it all. The air here seemed...different somehow. Not unpleasant, yet hard to breathe all the same. As did the Chains, which for some reason seemed to weigh more in this strange, other world. The underlying thread of connection linking her to her acquaintance (she pointedly refused to use that individual's given title in the privacy of her own thoughts) continued to persist, tugging her in a particular direction. But she ignored that tugging for now, more interested in what kind of distractions this brave new world had to offer.

There had to be something drawing the Mother of War to this dismal squalid hole of peasants. Something the Mother obviously didn't want anyone to learn about, or she wouldn't have made such a secret out of it. The only question was...what?

Power? Forbidden objects? Secret allies? Was that loony Morrigan right after all; in making all those bizarre claims about the Mother forging ties with some army or other to wage war on Hell?

She didn't know, but damn if she wasn't going to find out. The marketplace seemed as good a location to start making discreet inquiries as any. A flash of color in that general direction caught her eye, eventually resolving into a pale figure in robes nearly as outlandish as Cat's own. It was the crown, however, that caught her eye as she watched the lady flit from booth to booth examining various wares. Crown = important, an association already established since her living years.

This lady must be important. Some sort of princess or queen of this strange place, maybe? Could it be one of those 'She-knee-commie' things that Morrigan kept blabbing about?

Well. She either was, or was not. Having little to do with the affairs of soul reapers herself, that was not something that concerned Cat much. Potential allies on the other hand...were a different matter entirely. She was good at making friends; friends who would jump to fulfill the slightest whim in return for little more than insincere thanks and an indulgent smile. Had been good at it, at least, in the time Before. Still, there was no reason not to try again. Like riding a bicycle or playing a zither, some things you just didn't forget.

With that she sidled up just behind the crown wearing lady, within bumping distance--a range the other could not help but jostle accidentally on turning to move down to the next stall.
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Re: She is not One of Us (Open)

Post by Moebius on Sat Jun 16, 2018 11:33 am

Moebius spent a moment looking at curiosities and knickknacks. Standing, she felt herself collide with someone smaller than herself. She turned, putting a hand up instinctively. Her human thoughts told her it was the thing to do, to offer support when you bump somebody. "Moebius is sorry, Moebius did not see you!" she apologized, helping the cloaked little one if she needed it.

Her Zanpakuto at her hip thunked against her side, and her Shinigami mind told her to hold it still. Weapons can't be allowed to be loose, and she tightened the straps that held the weapon in place.

"Can Moebius do anything for you? There are many pretty and shiny things here, Moebius saw."
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Re: She is not One of Us (Open)

Post by Cat on Wed Jun 20, 2018 7:48 am

"No, no, my fault. How terribly clumsy of me! Please let me make it up to you, Moebius...hime?" Cat allowed the crowned individual to help her up. "You seem like someone who...appreciates the finer things in life. Do any of these...wares catch your fancy? Might I offer one as a gift in apology?"

Fortunately, the mask she wore hid the contemptuous wrinkle of a nose as the Togabito gestured to the stall offerings around them. Wares indeed! Old Shingen had possessed treasures far more breathtaking, in far greater quantity!

The way she phrased the offer made it plain that it was in earnest; unwilling to accept no for an answer. She had no money of course--because either burning hell money for dead ancestors was a myth and a total waste of time, or her good-for-nothing family hadn't seen the need to squander some on her behalf. Not that it mattered anyhow, because it was highly unlikely for any form of currency she was familiar with to continue being legal tender in this strange new world.

In short, she was; without the slightest hint of a doubt, flat broke: penniless save for the clothes on her back and the mask hiding her features. War-mother be damned if she intended to let minor inconveniences such as that stop her from carrying out the next phase in the plan, however.

Their hands touched as she accepted the other's support, pondering idly on the notion of scratching Moebius in the process and triggering Forget into the bargain. A simple enough maneuver; albeit one which was a waste of time regardless: Moebius had seen nothing; encountered nothing that was in Cat's best interests left forgotten. Essentially strangers; the very same strangers they would be were she to tap into the Power. Waste of time; and even more waste of effort.

They might not remain strangers for long, though--assuming she had her way. And the Other had made an offer after all...

"There might be something, Moebius-hime. I've...never really met a princess like you before. Would you humor me enough to let this talented street-artist paint a portrait of us together?" Saying thus, the girl gestured at a nearby booth whose proprietor offered 10-minute drawings of market-goers for varying amounts of coin. "I can't wait to see the look on my brother's face when I show him our portrait. Here, let me get you one of these trinkets in return for your time?"

She continued to shoot yearning looks at both Moebius and the street artist in the manner of a child hoping an adult might say 'yes'.
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Re: She is not One of Us (Open)

Post by Moebius on Wed Jun 20, 2018 11:58 pm

Moebius' face split in a great grin as she laughed, nodding and saying a portrait would be lovely. "Moebius has never been painted before, this shall be quite fun she thinks. Moebius hopes she has enough Kan to give the painter a lovely tip~" the Angel woman said in a sing-song voice. She smiled, motioning the girl to follow her to the sitting area where the painter could do his work.

As the Angel made herself comfortable on a stool, her bizarre clothing being fiddled with to make herself look nice. She recalled sitting for pictures, back before cameras were popular, in her youth while living as a young boy in England, well before the War. She also recalled how much easier the taking pictures, selfies, were on her cellphone. She recalled often taking those pictures, among others, before putting on her skirts and going to the office in Washington.

As the Angel sorted through her mix-and-matched memories, a dark feeling seeped from her being. It was similar to that of a Kushinada, but also strongly like that of a Hollow. The observant may have noticed her face, for just a split second, became a skull mask with a terrible three segmented jaw.

But then she was herself again, smiling at the child as if nothing changed. "Moebius is no princess, little one, she's just Moebius and Moebius is all that she is, hehe~"
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Re: She is not One of Us (Open)

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