#a 01

2-Che’s Tremaine

🐱 Persian

📸 Chanan [2-Ché Persians]

"The long grass grazes my calves as the warm night breeze sweeps across the field. The vivid sensation is foreign to me.

—Nier Automata

“Aye me, Myrkhul looks to bless my evenings with such grace.” She has a habit of running her mouth sometimes, but this time, she seems particularly starry-eyed as she observes the other. “This place does not become the beauty I have gifted with.” 

"Would you mind if I kept you company?" 

Mitsuru had seen the raven haired beauty sitting alone in the bar. It was hardly out of the ordinary, but what set her apart from the other sad patrons was how incredibly attractive she was. It was shallow of the redhead, perhaps, but she had precious few opportunities to be a bit selfish in her life.

And so, the woman confidently made her way over to the stool next to her and sat upon it.

Taking shelter from the coming rainfall under a shop’s old awning seemed to have been call, given the current downpour the world was caught in.

Leaning against the wall behind him, the assassin watched the sight before him; people rushing to open umbrellas or get under cover before their belongings were soaked to the core. He sighed, watching the small cloud of his breath as it vanished into the cold air. A familiar itch crawled down his spine, prompting him to take his half-empty pack from his pocket, as well as...

...

Where was his lighter?

Cursing silently, he felt over all his coat’s pockets, finding nothing but stinging frustration. Damn it! He must have left it in his office...

┅ [☢]

The skies are clear when she left her base, armed with two knives which she had ‘found’ recently. With her sheaths secured, the soldier darts onward with the cover from the darkness. It takes her more than half an hour to reach her destination, perching on top of one of the warehouses secluded from the public. 

Mukuro wouldn’t have even know the place existed if it hadn’t been a task given to her anonymously by someone who was clearly suspicious. However, beggars never has the option to choose and with the stranger’s recognition to her affliction to Fenrir so she agreed to the task. It didn’t matter to her what the task was as long as some sense of familiarity returns to her life, or afterlife.

But before she can begin, there is an issue the soldier has to deal with to start her mission.

“I know you’re there.” Mukuro states, her words pointed as she turns to where she felt those eyes. She has never liked it when someone follows her. “What do you want?”