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» The Arrival of an American Shinigami. (Open)
Sat Jun 16, 2018 1:16 pm by Grym Balthorn

» She is not One of Us (Open)
Sat Jun 16, 2018 11:33 am by Moebius

» Desolation (Hollow Thread)
Thu Jun 14, 2018 10:07 pm by Human Hollow

» The New Lieutenant (Open)
Wed Jun 13, 2018 11:40 pm by Hanzō Judai

» The Empress and the End (Open)
Tue Jun 12, 2018 9:33 pm by Grym Balthorn

» Intense Training
Tue Jun 12, 2018 9:01 pm by Hanzō Judai

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Sun May 27, 2018 10:46 pm by Sithis Monomyth

» The Ties That Bind
Fri May 25, 2018 6:51 am by Cat

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)

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