iron mask.

 “Than you would be happy, that Lord Krisna has been defeated.    I had felt it, in the sea of souls his own defeat. And this time there    is no mother goddess to revive him.”

 “You deny the Salvation of Lord Krisna with all your strength, and while   not at the same level as your fellows such as Dagna God slayer or    Flynn himself. Your resolve is noted.” He praises. “Were we not enemies    and perhaps, in another cycle your soul would surely enter Vahalla.”

A shame that Krisna suggestion eliminated the option. 

  “but for now, no matter how hate is left, becoming enemies   as of the current moment would only waste each other time.”

“Again, I believe in Flynn and that is where I shall stand till the day I die.”

“….YHVH? He and his followers are sure one pain in the ass…”

 “And I have seen many generations of hopeful dreamers,    those who have accomplish what they had sought, fall    into despair as the hearts of men continue to excite the greed   within. How long will your -dream- last is the question.    There is no question of your strength. But it is the heart of     men that is put into question.”

 “An agreement that both sides agree on. excellent.     But what will you do now Samurai, still the peace    Keeper of fruitlessness.”

churitsusei started following you

 “Ah, a familiar face. Though unwelcomed.”

    He just wants to mourn, all right. Let him live. The worst thing to do is get in a guy’s way as he lets out his feelings – god knows he barely ever gets the chance. One day outta the whole year he decides to vent it out to thin air, and this is what he gets? Maybe he better cut it down to zero.

“Hey, cut me a break,” he addressed them bluntly, each word slower than the last. “If I swear in Polish, no one will understand me…probably. You would get that if you knew it…you…you blin.”

“That’s Russian, actually. For pancake.     Just let me squat here, okay. It’s all I can do anymore.”

“What is a pancake?” She is not helping her own case by asking such an obvious thing.

“I mean, Burroughs told me what were you saying.” It goes without a doubt that swearing in the streets isn’t okay and she has manners to keep. For now, she will motion a hand toward her gauntlet and reaffirm the culprit behind this.

「 My translator is 99.9% effective and more reliable than the one within the net. I would kindly suggest avoiding G**gle. 」

To: All Contacts From: Raikou

[Text]: Please look at this photo of my son in his Halloween costume! [Text]: [VIEW ATTACHMENT] [Text]: He worked very hard on it, and I’m very proud of him. [Text]: If you see him out and about, will you please tell him what a great job he did? [Text]: Also, tell him his mother said he needs to be back by 2 AM. [Text]: Thank you!

Oh, the pride in this mother could be felt from text alone. Isabeau was a tad touched once Burroughs read the message aloud -- 

To: Miss Raikou From: Isabeau

    The night streets after Halloween are surprisingly destitute. After a failure of a prank – of which he was the punch line – he was outside, alone, having needed some air after what a mess that was. He was, to his dismay, smoking. It’s just one. Just the one. His doctor wouldn’t notice.

    He’s not quite cold, though he wasn’t sure if that was thanks to the track suit he was currently wearing, the cigarette, or the vodka he had chugged. He felt like he could drink an ocean down right now. Tonight had not been a good night this year. Nor the last. And that was, frankly, depressing.     Drinking straight from a pitcher of kompot he had made in preparation for tonight, he fingered around for the jar of kvass as he felt tears welling up at the sides of his eyes, thinking about a head of blond hair he hadn’t seen in exactly a year. Maybe he was just letting the drunkenness get to him, but he stomached the pain in his throat, and tossed the jar across the road, shouting as it flew through the air.

“Kurwa mać!”

She is not one to be nosy.

It’s a distasteful act to pry into what does not concern her, fearing to worsen what aches deep in a stranger’s heart. Isabeau tries but isn’t known for her tactfulness. So she moves nearby him, concerned by the fact he is alone. It’s dangerous and that should be a reason enough to intrude.

“I understand cursing aloud can ease the soul but I hope this is not something you do often. It can be risky, specially now.”

The rising smoke of a cigarette simply incites a cough when she walks by, the muffled voice of Burroughs requesting her Master to wear a scarf -- the weather was cooling down regardless of external havoc. Demons unknown to her festering above and below, everything still new to the samurai.

okay this is more of a plotting check, i guess. 

i’m interested in letting isabeau make bonds with samurai and those similar -- she’s not the typical samurai but i think it’d be good if she learned more about Japan and its roots. so anyone with these characteristics that is interested to befriend (or become enemies, whatever you prefer) with this small manga-loving samurai is welcome to like this ad! i mean, this is mostly a personal interest but anyone who wants to plot is welcome too. the more, the merrier.