逃げしません

“ Excuse me! I think I left a book down there, could you just.. toss it up to me, please? “ 

At the oddly named lolly pop library, Morgan had managed to find a way to climb to the top of the book shelves thanks to the staircases lined all around to reach the higher floors. With this method, he was capable of getting to the higher up books without other people’s help! In his haste in his perched book nest, he had left a tome down below, hoping that the stranger that had walked in could toss him the book. He could ask one of the sheep but.

“What the fuck…”

Yeah. Kamanosukewouldn’t say that he was the best witha lot of things, but? From his understanding, there was only a very slim number of people in this world thatcould control the elements. He himself beingone of them. He was a bandit and a tricky one, but? That wasn’t his main skill-His main ability came in the fact that he could wield the wind and command it.It was his number-one trick, his main source of strength-

Rose…still was’t sure how to feel about Remorse anymore. It was a weapon of war, she didn’t need to use it anymore and yet here she was, in the afterlife with her sword positioned once again by her side, the Grimoire in hand. If anything, this was much like how she was back in her world, when she was the Crimson Queen.

He’s momentarily startled by the activity of the raven; but he’s certainly been face to face with things worse than a bird. It’s interesting though, how it responds to commands before the words have even been spoken. “Ah--. No, I apologise for surprising her.” he offers his words with a small bow, and then proceeds along as the woman had agreed to hear him out on his inquiry.

Taking the other’s comment to mind, “Interesting, yes.” The girl stated. “While you might think it might be in certain situations that it is firmly tied into the reasons. My reason for wearing a mask, I think it’s silly, others might say it’s interesting. It’s not anything to the one wearing the mask, but maybe it just spurs a spark for said feelings to others, curiosity, interest, fear, albeit rare, but even envy, wrath, and many more in the cycle of emotions. Wouldn’t you say, that if you weren’t wearing a mask and some other was, wouldn’t you be at least tiny bit interested?” The current event of the other even admitting it was idle curiosity was the very reason she brought this up.

“Aha, that is very true.” he responds, “regardless of your reason it was curiosity and interest that spontaneously encouraged me to ask.” As his chuckles subside, the eldarian focuses once again on what else was said. Despite the conversation surrounding her and masks in general, there were many things he could point to himself. His own mask... just what had it inspired in others. Those who stood before him were not afraid, but they certainly didn’t harbour interest--why would they? At that point he was twisted, unrecognisable, and in complete opposition to the point of crossing weapons with them. Perhaps her mention of wrath was closer to the point.

“I can see well how our fighting styles will vary but I guess learning some things from a foreign sword art will improve on my style quite well.” He looked smug and confident. Back in the Citadel he was a captain, the first sword of the saniwa. He took pride of being able to fight and lead even if it was something he rarely talks about.

“If you wanna work on your footwork you better keep up with me. Magic? Not really something I believe in coming from the Bakumatsu period. You gotta let the blade talk for you~ If you’re learning to improve I’ll help but I gotta see what I’m working with.”  His feet brush to the side. It wasn’t normal for Kashuu to be the one to strike first, but he edges in gracefully and strikes.

“Very well. My blade shall do the work, and magic cast aside for the duration of this duel.” It does limit his options, and does detract from Faize’s skill and style--generally using a combination of both to win in the average battle--but he learned from a close friend to deal with a relentless assault that would give him very little time to cast regardless. It wasn’t impossible to handle. “Then, I will show you all have; I look forward to learning through this experience.” He draws the rapier from his waist and holds the point out towards the other, preparing for their approach--keeping light on his feet. 

“Ah no worries! No worries! I like it when people watch me~” He seemed to be humming proudly. “Well of course, one of the best ways to learn is by watching someone.” He swung his blade lightly, away from the newcomer of course. “Do a faint, then strike. No use rushing things.”

“My form is something I am proud of.” He flipped his hair. “As of my appearance of course.”

He paused from his rambling and had a different tone to his smile now.

This question again? She had to admit it was getting more frequent at most, though whether the answers given were twisted was nothing out of her comfort zone, in fact, it made things easier for her. Soon, it wasn’t difficult to answer, it seemed to be an monotonous sound coming from her mouth, but for unknown reasons, the words handed before were lost. However, she was getting fed up with a boring book, so this might be interesting, maybe humiliating. But an answer is an answer.

Faize grows curious at the cryptic answer he receives, but realises from it that it’s unlikely he will gain a solid, definitive, answer on the woman’s reasoning. But, he supposes that is all right--it was a sudden and ill-propositioned question in a momentary lapse of thought on his part. She makes a valid point, much like one of the reasons are her own--one of those applied to him, too. No, did apply to him--once upon a time. The Apostle of Creation... an identity he’d accepted as his own through the use of a form that looked nothing like himself. 

Hell’s chemical air must be kissing his mind, he thinks, as, sticky-fingered and eye-catching (even in death is he something to shout about), he was able to acquire a swell breakfast by insidious means; what’s more, the shopkeeper was shot by Cupid’s arrow thanks to his superfluous flattery; she didn’t notice how she was short two blueberry muffins.

It’s mighty petty, but he doesn’t like the atrocious rot that accompanies being poverty-stricken. He’s had a miserable taste of it when Petunia—Lady Petunia, mockingly so—had attempted to nurse his exhaustion; and he never desired to drink out of chipped porcelain or sleep with an itchy blanket—for the erstwhile life of him.

Now, he’s long visited the entrance of the departed, and there’s prickling trepidation; somehow, he’s lost the baked rolls, his fingertips momentarily absent of the sense of touch; which, in part, is a grand thing as he’s hurriedly rubbing his midriff in a soothing fashion, aiming to rebuild a settled demeanor—tragically, he’s thoroughly affected with nausea.

“—what the fuck!”

After all, he had no other knowledge on a method to rid himself of it, for now.

Actually, he’s rather pre-occupied with thoughts, so there’s very few things he notices. The first of which being how the pain had somewhat decreased the more he walked this particular direction, the second being the other person here, until they let out something of a rather... aggressive expletive. Faize’s head turned, and he was surprised to catch the other in his vision simply falling. There was still a fair distance between them, but he made something of an effort to close it quickly with a short dash--his agility was one of his strong points.

Kashuu decided to get a little practice with his sword work because what can be more unloved than a blade that didn’t know how to fight. Since his arrival in this world this is the first time he drew his sword to practice.

He swung his blade, his style of fighting was quite elegant sometimes even mirroring his former master’s. Despite wearing 3 inch heels he was still able to move with grace.

He paused. He knew he wasn’t alone.