#hellishwrath

for a starter

She’s lost. It’s no surprise considering the fact that she’s been in this city less than a month and still has very little idea about how it actually works. There’s nothing familiar around her beyond the general familiarity of a big city and she pouts–taps her chin–grins.

          Gentarou walked out from the corner store, a bottle of water he had just bought sitting in his hands.It was damn hot out today, and Gentarou wasn’t gonna let the heat beat him. He was too good for that! He grabbed the biggest bottle of water he could find, and dropped what change he had in his pocket back on the counter. He eyed the bottle with content, ready to down it at any moment. The cold bottle began to give off a touch of condensation. Gentarou went to open the bottle, wincing a little as he turned the cap, but it proved no use. He couldn’t get it open.

           He looked down at the bottle and tried to open it once more. The cap wouldn't move, and his hands being slightly wet didn’t help either. “C’mon...” he said to himself, trying really hard this time to bust it open. The cap didn’t budge, and his hands turned a bit red. Third time’s the charm, or so he thought. The bottle then slipped out of his hand, rolling a little down the sidewalk. Gentarou pulled out the Fourze driver, getting ready to slap it onto his waist. He’d show that damn bottle who it was messing with. 

         “That’s it, I’ve had it up to...”, he trailed off, turning and seeing the bottle had rolled at the feet of a green haired girl, and stopped as it bumped against her toes. 

          “...here.”, he finished, putting the Fourze driver away for the time being. He walked up to the girl, grabbing up the water bottle, and holding his free hand out to the girl, offering a handshake. 

What does your muse think of secrets? Do they keep many or a few and what is their motivation to keep something secret? Have they ever been hurt by a secret someone else kept from them?

hellishwrath 

Some fellow comes barreling past her and hides under the tablecloth of this simple outdoor cafe. He looks plain scared out of his wits. Shortly afterwards, a woman shows up in apparent pursuit?

...Even predators don't survive long without a sense of danger. It's the little things that set her senses off, beginning with the dark cast of a shadow, the narrowing of eyes...the faintest unnatural scent of something bleak around her. Yes, you're dangerous.

Rocma makes a low growling noise. Her teeth are wrapped around a length of fish she bought - (the shame is immense) - and she silently looks at you with an expression that's pointedly mild. Intimidation or dismissive is the best way to deal with other predators...play it ice cold.