NAGAKU OTOYA - Central District: Outside Sharehouse Otoya grimaced. “What the fuck is tha—nngrh!”
It came from nowhere. A sharp noise screeched through his skull, piercing, causing him to block his ears. Not that it appeared to be necessary. Though his eardrums still ached, the sound stopped as abruptly as it started.
Before he could dwell too much, there was a pressure on his arm. Huh?
A glance back showed Fumiko, noticeably unaffected by whatever noise that was, cowering behind him.
“T-The hell you want me to do?” he said, backing up with her. Goddamn, surely this fatass rat wasn’t gonna chase them, was it? There were so many better things to snack on in this alley.
It didn’t stop its approach.
Otoya’s hand tightened reflexively around his guitar strap. Not because he was going to beat that thing with it; no, he’d rather jump into traffic than damage his baby. He just needed to secure his valuables before going on a dead sprint.
NAGAKU OTOYA - Central District: Outside Sharehouse Not a fruitful session.
Otoya wondered if he was losing his touch. His emotions were the core of all his songs, a good third of the band’s discography, but it was getting stale. Frustration, that bitter anger crusted into his psyche, it was all he had. Their followers always commended the relatability of a new track, but he could feel doubt creeping up his throat. Surely, they were getting as worn down as he was.
He tried to get something out today, strumming away by the riverside. Dead cats and assaults, shouldn’t have been hard to get a song out of that, right? A harsh melody and a few chords were all his creativity could produce.
His ribs were sore. His bruises were still fresh. He decided to head back.
An early promise the clubhouse had made between itself was to keep attention away from their living situation. For Otoya that meant no disturbing the neighbors with his music. Friggin’ annoying but whatever. It didn’t stop him from singing as he walked back, trying to knock out some decent lyrics into his Notes app.
Voice recording would have sounded fine if it weren’t for those loudass birds.
Strange stuff. As a Southern kid he knew what kind of fauna flocked around the garbage heaps. Whatever was going down in that alley seemed… excessive.
More out of idle curiosity than anything else, he wandered towards it. Fumiko was already there, and he greeted her with a casual, “Oi.”
THE FORNACIS | CARGO HOLD → KITCHEN | Ravt - 9, 1Sm; 844
Head Chef. With barely any experience outside of waitressing and dishwashing, her new bosses had placed her in charge of the diets of two hundred people. Why? She had no clue. If they wanted her to pay attention during briefings, they wouldn't hold them during lunch hour. Perhaps her speed-slicing demonstration had been too effective. Or her outfit on the day was just that gorgeous.
Either way, she was tossed to the wind, with nothing but a sack of Vs and the former Chef's stock list to go by. It was a crusty little slip that sagged as she unfolded each page, and horrifically lacking in spices too! Forget whatever voyage the crew took into the Void, she would have deemed them legendary for the mere feat of subsiding on meals with the flavour profile of stale porridge for all those years. That was one perk to this sudden promotion, she supposed. She'd be able to dazzle these fine travellers with some real food, and she'd do it with the help of her adorable new friend, the little one currently lagging behind her with three-quarters of their haul from the market. They wiped down the kitchen together the night before. Once they got all these ingredients onto the ship, they'd get started. Ah, but that was another heap of work to do, wasn't it? What a chore...
Merry tossed her gaze up the ramp to the Fornacis' cargo hold. So many crates! Such an angle. So heavy. Will... fading. Surely there was a shortcut she'd be able to take. The horned Sanyan lifted a box of oranges, raising it at an angle as she placed a bare palm against the side. If she aimed it right, launched it with the right output, she could probably...
As if cannonfire had shred through it, the crate burst to pieces, creating a tragic shower of fruit and debris.
Oh.
"Worth a shot," she shrugged.
Nia's head was obscured by the stack of boxes she was carrying, but she let out a little squeal at the sound of splintering wood and splattering fruit. She peeked around her boxes and let out a not so little squeal.
"Miss Merry! Oh dear. Oh dear," she started setting down her load, "I'll meet you at the kitchen. I'll clean this up. I'll clean it up! Don't worry, it'll be all clean! I'm sure this is fine. I'm sure no one will miss... do we need oranges? Were those important? I hope those oranges weren't important... what about scurvy? Are people going to get scurvy? Oh dear, I hope we have enough oranges," she spoke without stopping to take a breath.
"Wow. Wowow, ease up there, love! We can just make another run when this stuff is loaded."
Her hands were covered in juice, raised in a light attempt at placating the girl as she chuckled. She couldn't help it! Her assistant's reaction was so funny, if not super convenient for Merry.
"Kitchen sounds good buuuuut I think I'll go for a quick shower first. Don't want any of these stains to set. Are you alright with taking care of these for me?"
She gestured to pretty much everything they'd purchased.
"Right. Of course. Sure thing, Miss Merry! I'll have this all ready by the time you're done."
"You're so sweet. Just adorable!"
She didn't bother with a goodbye as she traipsed up the ramp.
Nia grinned. Just adorable! She was glad Miss Merry liked her.
By the time she made it to the kitchen, she was sheened with sweat, panting from the effort of carrying all of the boxes (she couldn't look lazy, so she was sure to take care of it in one trip) and vigorously scrubbing the floor to ensure that there would be no sign of their accident. After all, the cleanliness of the ship was her duty, and she wanted to make sure to live up to the crew's expectations.
After all, a legendary crew deserved a legendary janitor.
Nia wanted to impress Merry, so she was already set on opening their supply crates. Merry was in a fresh new set of clothes when she finally arrived. They looked a bit too delicate for a kitchen.
"Oh, I didn't expect you to be done already. Impressive."
"I aim to please!" Nia said with a grin, wiping the sweat off her brow.
Well yes, that was quite clear.
"Have you done this sort of work before? Kitchen and uh, crate stuff?"
"Not really. I haven't really... this is kind of my first job?"
"R-Really?"
"Yeah! I just hope I'm doing good at it," Nia let out a little sigh, her attention lapsing for a moment before she snapped back to unboxing, "I don't want to let anyone down. I've always wanted to be on the Fornacis."
"You must have really loved those stories."
"Sure did. All that adventure always seemed a lot more exciting than staying on my island. Although I never imagined I'd actually be an Empyrean, let alone here... well, not that I'm an Empyrean. I am just a janitor."
"Could've fooled me! As far as I can count, you've saved me more than any of these legendary heroes have."
Nia blushed. "Really? Well, thanks. I'll keep trying my best."
Merry flashed an 'ok' gesture with a dainty hand. "And I shall do the same."
It was never particularly enjoyable for Kerry to have to leave the safety of maintenance; people bothered you much less when you looked as though you were doing something important. Measurably worse, though, was leaving her work in order to interact with people whose usual job seemed to consist largely of causing her headaches.
Not that she knew enough to set that in stone yet, but her experiences with the Fornacis taught her it was far from an unlikely presumption. She knocked heavily on the door to the kitchens, not awaiting an answer before entering. If she was right, they shouldn't have been too busy right now.
"I have a request," she spoke gruffly, "if one of you can take it."
From the corner where she was clearly not busy, Merry glanced up from her book. "We take requests?"
The Head Chef looked to Nia, who was set on chopping vegetables, prepping for the night's dinner.
Nia nodded and gave her knife a quick wipe, setting it down. She turned to Kerry, grinning. "Right. Requests. We can take requests! I think... Miss...?" she said.
"McDougall. Head mechanic." She spoke shortly, looking to Nia, "I'd like something for my team. Nothing fancy or complicated, just something you can sit 'round a table and share. Once a week, if you've the resources."
“McDougall. Okay. I’m Nia, by the way… uh, not that that matters. I can totally do that! Or, I mean, we can totally do that. Right, Merry?”
The horned girl raised her hand in a dainty 'ok' gesture, not looking up this time.
"I see the work ethic here is already," Kerry frowned, "exceptional."
"Merry's just supervising! I am, like, her assistant after all. I think. She's been doing great!" Nia said, completely believing it.
"Hm."
"Hm," Merry said also, smiling. Must've been a funny chapter.
Kerry shrugged. She didn't buy it, but neither did she exactly care. "Well. So long as it's taken care of. Like I said, nothing fancy, just filling. It's more for the sharing than anything."
"Yep. Alright, I'll, uh, put it on the list," Nia took out an actual physical list she was carrying on her, noting it.
"You're both new crew, aren't you." It wasn't a question: they were obviously too young to be anything else. "I'll at lunchtime, whatever day suits. Give 'em a break 'round half past one usually. And whatever you're doing here," because it seriously wasn't impressive thus far, "take care of your parts of the ship. Keep 'em up to standard."
A one-eyed, steely gaze drifted between the two of them.
"Lot of memories on her. I'd hate for standards to go down too much."
"Oh... I'm sorry Miss McDougall." Nia looked down at the ground.
"Just take care of her." Kerry spoke sternly, but her gaze softened, if slightly. "And a word of advice, kid? Everyone takes some shit now'n then, but try not to be a walkover. Makes your life a lot harder."
"I agree," said Merry.
“Right. Yeah. Sorry,” Nia said again, “I should get back to work. I’ll make sure to have something ready for your crew.”
Nia turned around, picked up her knife, and found an onion to chop. Her eyes watered a little. “That’s a strong one,” she choked out mostly to herself, but loud enough to hear.
The deer girl raised an eyebrow at that, and turned to the mechanic. "We can do you one better, ma'am. We'll bring it down for you. No need for you to interrupt your work just for some snackage."
Kerry looked a little regretful, but it wasn't as though she'd trip over herself to apologise. Girl needed a thicker skin to work on a ship, especially with as many eyes on it as this one.
"We've taken care of the important things, so interruptions are manageable. But that's helpful, yes." She nodded. "Just make sure you knock properly. Sometimes the work makes things hazardous."
She grimaced, remembering all the complaints she'd had to field from the doc. Turned to leave, though, pausing at the door with some final words directed at the slacker.
"Worth everyone pitching in on the work, though. I never make my mechanics do something I wouldn't."
"Mmhmmmm~"
Merry was already back to being engrossed in her book.
Kerry didn't notice: the moment she finished speaking, she'd left. Her work there was done. Nothing but the kitchen staff and the sound of chopped vegetables remained. Chopped vegetables and noticable sniffling. Merry released a soft sigh and snapped her paperback shut.
"How are you going over there, dear?"
"Great!" Nia coaked, wiping a tear from her face, "Oh man, these onions though, Merry. Phew!"
"Mm." Oh golly. "Take it easy, if you'd like. Dinner won't be for a while."
Nia sighed, and set down her knife for a moment. "I'm fine. i'm great. I just want to do a good job," she said, before resuming.
Merry pursed her lips. It was as she said, it was going to be a long time in the kitchen with just the two of them. Several hours of... this. With a "hmph" let out under her breath, she rolled up her sleeves and moved to the kitchen bench beside Nia.
"Hey, what do you say I teach you a new recipe today, hm?"
Merry was, quite honestly, the very best chef that Nia had met. And, maybe, the only. Merry's words were quick to reverse Nia's mood, and she gave a half-smile, "Really?" The sniffles had stopped. "Okay, lay it on me."
Another dinner rush done and dusted. At least Merry never had to worry about shelving leftovers with how ravenous the crew's collective appetite was. Didn't have to worry about a lotta things with Nia around. Lovely gal. She'd have to prepare something for her someday, as a token of appreciation. But not right now. Not when she was supervising dish duty.
She whistled an old Solstice tune as her knife moved, idly carving a rose from an unused carrot. Dishes were assigned on a rotating roster, with a fellow from Cargo and a janitor stuck with the chore tonight. Quite unremarkable, except...
Merry's song continued but her eyes were now intently on the woman at the sink.
Stephanie was having a good time washing the dishes. There was something to be said about manual work. It was mindless, easy to do while focusing on other issues. Issues like, well, her entire situation.
So far, there'd been no issues with the plan to get onto the Fornacis. Sure, the Taruva had paid her an unusual amount of attention, but in the end he'd said nothing. Nobody else had spared her a second glance, which was excellent considering she wasn't very used to staying out of the center of attention. Back at the Sun Guard Academy, she'd spent her entire time putting herself in the spotlight. It didn't help that they'd invited her back a few years after graduation to teach a few seminars. Stephanie was quite possibly the worst person in the Luminary Order to take on a stealth mission, save for the famous higher-ups.
Still, nothing had gone wrong in the first couple days on the Fornacis– she'd quickly settled into a routine of cleaning during the off hours of the day and night while occasionally lending the kitchen staff a hand in clean-up.
"I'm just gonna take these to the back," the man announced.
"Right. Excellent work, Bartem, thank you."
With his departure, the whistling resumed, though it seemed to be moving closer to the janitor...
Merry leaned on the bench, studying the janitor's face from the side as she switched to a different tune. The tall woman didn't even notice her, continuing to scrub handily at the plates.
Or at least, that was what it looked like. Internally, Stephanie was starting to feel the heat.
Oh, Skyfather, she's LOOKING AT ME. LOOK AWAY, LOOK AWAY.
Normally, Steph was cool, calm, and collected in the field– the battlefield, at least. Certainly not whatever this sort of mission was. She started sweating slightly, even though the kitchen was kept remarkably cool. She brushed a lock of hair out of her face, trying to disguise the beads of perspiration as simple droplets from the sink.
And that whistling! Say something, anything! Please!
"Pardon me, Miss," said the chef, "but... would you happen to hail from Solstice?"
She breathed a small sigh of relief. "Ah, yes. That is correct. Oh, and my name is Stephanie. You may call me Steph."
wrong wrong WRONG WRONG WRONG! It's "I'm Steph, nice to meet you," not "may call me" like some sort of posh noble! Who do you think you are, some sort of upper class merchant? What's with that high and mighty speech?
Merry's smile widened, and she clapped her hands together. "Ah, I thought I recognised the mannerly accent. What a coincidence!"
"Mmhmm." Steph placed a few bowls on the drying rack. "Do you come from the same area yourself?"
"Indeed I do, right in the heart of the capital. It's lovely to find something familiar when you're so far from home. Your accent, your clothes." Merry tilted her head. "Why, I'd even say your face seems to ring a bell!"
"Really now, surely you must be mistaken. I can't say I've met you before. You must be thinking of someone else."
"Yes, 'met' does seem farfetched, I'm sure I would have recalled you had we spoken. Ah! Would you have spent much time around the Sun Guard Academy?"
"The Su- um, no, not at all! Did you attend the Academy yourself? What's a student of the SGA doing out here?"Steph tried to deflect the line of questioning. It was getting uncomfortably close to the truth.
Suddenly, Merry's eyes were as wide as Steph's. "I. Uh. Explor... cationing?"She doubled back. "Oh look at me, I've gotten carried away. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."
"No, not at all. Everyone has their own reasons."
Stephanie moved to place a knife on the counter. As her hand moved, a bit of lingering soap let it slip from her fingers towards the floor. She quickly locked it in place, then caught it before (hopefully) anyone could notice. She'd moved fast enough that the untrained eye would simply think she'd caught it in midair. Probably.
Unfortunately, Merry's eyes were indeed trained– not like she needed any training to see a pyxis in use.
"Wow. Wowow, what was that? You have a pyxis!" she jumped on the spot.
"Ah! Um!" Steph hurriedly set the knife on the counter properly. "Yeah, I suppose there's no use hiding it. I'd been hoping to keep it a secret... oh well."
Good job, Teph. You've already shown your hand. It's not been 5 days yet!
"Oh but why would you hide such a gift? You simply must show me more!"
Steph hesitated, then relented. "How trained are you in magic? Mine is pretty subtle, so it might be difficult to see its effects."
Merry smirked assuredly. "You don't have to worry. I'll catch it."
"...Okay." Steph took a sponge from the sink and threw it at Merry's head. The Sanyan moved accordingly, with reflexes far surpassing those of a regular chef. In an instant, the girl was in a combat stance, an open palm extended to the projectile, but impact never struck. It was suspended mid-flight.
"Ah," Merry relaxed back to her excitable self, "That's fantastic!"
Steph was really sweating now. That stance was definitely that of a SGA student– and one of the good ones, too. If she'd really graduated from the academy, the girl would have definitely seen Steph's portrait in one of the alumni albums. If not that, then she'd definitely heard Sir Yowen bragging about his favorite student of all time.
"Thank you. You have excellent reflexes, by the way, though perhaps a bit too much weight on the–" she cut herself off. "Never mind."
Steph reached out, placed her hand in front of the sponge, and released the locking. The sponge flew into her palm, sending a small splash of soap onto the floor.
"Thank you. That was a great demonstration, althooough I'm not sure how that would help with your janitor work."Merry looked like she was genuinely thinking about it.
"..." Steph paused, not sure what to say. "It's just what I can do."
She finished up the washing and doffed her apron, folding it neatly before placing it in a cabinet. "What's your name?"
"How rude of me! I am Merry Ach--" She covered her hesitation with a giggle. "Merry's the name."
"Good to meet you. How has your time on the Fornacis been so far?"
"Busy." Merry considered it for a second. "Sort of. Not really. It's been a big change, I will have to take some time to get used to it. I hope you've had a better experience than me."
makeajokemakeajoke "Well, the food is excellent."
"Flattery won't get you seconds, Miss Stephanie. You'll have to brawl it out with the others like every other night," she grinned. A thought crossed her mind. "Though I am interested in seeking your friendship. It would be nice to have someone who shares so many qualities, and I am lacking in a party for weekly prayer."
"Well, a prayer companion would be nice. It is awfully lonely sometimes–just you and Ravishaan."
Stephanie checked the clock. 6:58 PM.
"I apologize, but I have to attend to other duties now. It was delightful, having the chance to meet you."
"Yes, yes. Plus, the more stories we trade, the more likely I'll remember where I've seen your face. I'm sure we've crossed paths before! Farewell for now."
I might have just made a big mistake. Stephanie left the kitchen, trying not to let her hands shake with nervousness. She breathed out a sigh of relief. That girl might be more trouble than its worth.
"Well." Merry rested patiently against the bench, waiting for the dry-heaving to subside. "They say that spice tolerance increases the more you eat. Perhaps next time will fare... better."
She gave her assistant's back a tentative pat. It seemed a full cup of bird's eye was a bit much after all, especially for a... Uh.
"From where do you hail again, Miss Nia?"
Nia downed a cup of water to no avail. If anything, it just made it worse. She just didn't get what Merry liked about this stuff; it was like something was attacking your tongue. Between labored breaths she answered, "A little island in Ortzi. You probably wouldn't have heard of it."
"Ah, that explains it."
"Huh." Floorboards creaked as Cain strode in, his clean, pressed, tailored, magnificently sewn attire at odds with the fatigue clinging to his face. It was the sorta suffering he'd have to get through with eventually, but that didn't make reading the files of 200 or so crew members any easier. He blinked slowly at the two ladies present, before squeezing his eyes shut. Yup, they were still there when he opened them. "Evening, ladies," the minstrel said, voice low and smooth, "Did I walk into some sort of secret chef training session?"
Merry ran her eyes up and down the newcomer's attire. A curious smile spread across her face, and she leaned a cheek against her palm. "Hardly a secret, Mister."
If her face wasn't already red from the spice, Nia might've had to worry about blushing. She didn't say anything.
"Cain, Cain Darlite." He narrowed his eyes, sleep-addled brain trying to match the faces of the two women before him. "Ah, Merry and Nia, right? Had the pleasure of enjoying your cooking, but I suppose this is the first time we've met properly?"
"I'd recall that face quite easily, yes. You're not here to join the kitchen staff are you?"
"Alas, if only Doctor Annastasia were so flush with assistants that she'd let me peel potatoes instead," Cain lamented, flipping his midnight-purple hair with the despair of an overworked, underpaid intern. "Thought I'd get something warm to keep me up for the night. What're you two up to though?"
What a shame. "Just getting dear Nia here caught up with my recipes," she said, gesturing, "Though from our progress so far, it seems there's some tweaking to be done. What do you think, my lovely assistant?"
"Spicy," was all that Nia managed.
"So it was training after all." Cain leaned against the counter. "Well, don't let me stop you two...but do allow me to try some of what you're making too."
"Of course!"
A generous plateful of rice and suspiciously red, stir-fried chicken was soon offered to the medic.
"Hope you like it hot," she said, watching eagerly for his reaction.
With the confidence of a madman, Cain took a big spoonful of the chicken-rice dish and jammed it into his mouth. He chewed once.
Silence.
Then...
His eyes bulged. His grip on the spoon tightened. His entire body shook!
Slapping the counter with his free hand, Cain finished chewing, swallowed his food, and grinned shakily. "Wow, damn," he said, face a little flushed. "That definitely woke me up! You made this, Merry? A hell of a kick, for sure!"
A grin widened and Merry's chest puffed out with a graceful pride. "Exciting, isn't it? Straight from the heart of Solstice!"
"Solstice...you're from the capital, Merry?" Cain let out a whistle, before trying out another bite. Damn, it really was a kick in the teeth, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. Leaving food uneaten was sacrilege for an innkeeper's child. "Mighty food you've been raised up with. What 'bout you, Nia?"
Merry glanced at the girl, who was still downing her third full pitcher of water. "Dear old Ortzi, she says. Wayyy out in the provinces."
"Truly, the start of a legend. From one far corner of the world to the other," the minstrel replied, gesticulating broadly. "Though I gotta ask, are you two sticking around for the whole trip? Or are you just here for temp work 'til the border towns?"
"...Undecided." Merry tilted her head in thought. "I'll likely be around for another six months at least."
"Six months of this, hm?" Cain nodded. "I'm sure that's good news for everyone except whoever's gotta stock up on spices and seasoning whenever we land."
"Ah, but that would be us too. Our work goes on and on and on."
"Careful 'bout the overworking then, Merry. Would suck if you ruined your skin with fatigue and dehydration." He shot a lopsided grin. "After all, I'd be the one who'd have to work extra then."
"Oh my. Would the sight of my healthy face not be enough reward for that extra effort?"
"As a medical professional, I'd honestly prefer if you were always healthy and happy. The best medicine, after all, is a set of good habits." He paused, as if contemplating something."And the best habit, of course, would be to join me for morning calisthenics on the deck, everyday except for Halutyet. How's that sound to you, Nia?"
Nia was happy to let Merry do the talking for her, between the spice and other things. But she set her pitcher down for a moment, heat still clinging to her face, “Cal—i—sthe—nics?” she sounded out, “Sure. Yeah, calisthenics! I can do that.”
Cleaning, cooking, that order for Miss McDougall, and now she had to do calisthenics. Whatever that meant.
"Sounds fun." If it was a programme intended for a general audience then Merry supposed it would serve as a decent cooldown for her usual routine, between prayer and other matters. Her timetable would need from rearranging. Or she could just skimp out on sword practice.
She winced. The mere suggestion of that last idea sent a wave of guilt through her stomach.
"I'll... have to see if my schedule allows for it." Essentially, a polite 'no'. "Nia, I know you'll love it. You're already so strong, I'm sure you'll reap benefits a-plenty."
Nia blushed, just a little.
"I'm sure morning prep's a busy time," Cain said. "If you have time though, drop by! We'll be glad to have you. It'll be good to have you along as well, Nia."
Well, not that there was any 'we' to this, when it was currently just himself.
"Suppose I shouldn't hold up your training any longer though, lest we both stay up much later than the doctor recommends."
Nia finally finished draining her last pitcher, and was starting to feel a bit better. "Right. I'll see you at calisthenics!" she said, giving Cain an enthusiastic two thumbs up.
"Mhmm," was Cain's own response, as he shovelled down the rest of his food. A singular kick in the teeth turned into a dozen, but he still finished it. Circling around the counter, he stepped up to the sink, washed his dishes, set it on the rack to dry, and said, "Welp, that's all from me now. Good night, and don't stay up too late, Merry, Nia."
He waved, and strode off back whence he came.
Nia waited until Cain was gone. She turned to Merry, giving her a pointed glance, "What are calisthenics?"
NAGAKU OTOYA - Southern District Justice may never sleep, but it could certainly help with the fuckin’ clean-up.
Otoya watched him leave with a frown before collapsing back on his ass. Breathing still came hard, his whole body ached, and he was now very keenly aware of the smell of the decomposing corpse. The weight of a life stolen.
…Seiji’s meat was gonna spoil too. What a fucking pain. It was too hot for any of this shit.
Later that night, he’ll return to the clubhouse. Wave off concerned questions about his bruises, mutter some warning about a cat killer on the loose. Dress his wounds. Down a beer if Iwao hasn’t got to the last of them already. Cook the meat anyway. Go down to the river when the night air is cooler, wail some mournful, frustrated tune with his guitar. Get sick the morning after. Redress his wounds. Sleep the whole day away.
For now though, he was going to find a shady spot and get dirt under his fingernails.
“This sucks,” he said, still scraping at the earth.
NAGAKU OTOYA - Southern District Justice was an interesting choice of words. There was some truth to it but if it got him associated with blokes like… this, Otoya was not a fan. An ally of ‘correction’ might fit better? A small grunt escaped him as he was hoisted up, his hand taken for a shake before he could even catch his breath. Serial cat murders? Jesus. He’d seen some fucked up shit in the back alleys but this one was really taking the cake.
“Dunno,” he said, still coughing. “Don’t think so. Those dickheads barely had the guts to prod the little guy.”
He looked to the corpse. Its mangled limbs, its gouged eyes. Otoya could feel bile rise in his throat.
“No way they woulda been so… hands-on,” he grimaced. “Poor thing. Fuck.”
He moved to maneuver the cat back into the cardboard box, meat and destination forgotten for the moment.
Pyxis Form: A ("totally uncute") whetstone. It hangs from a string on her belt. Pyxis Skill List:
- HeartMonic Guidance! (May Your Blade Point True): Unerring accuracy. Merry is guided by magic and is able to connect with any target or point within her sight, so long as it is within her physical limits. A surgeon's precision with no cost to her speed. This applies to Merry's body, held and thrown items. There have been cases in the past where Merry's knife's trajectory has curved in midair to hit its target. The magical guidance seems to be limited to a certain amount of surface area on the item it is affecting, and therefore works best on bladed and pointed weapons. It does not work on firearms.
- StarShoot Burst! (May Your Strength Propel You): Magical tension wells in the muscles of her limbs, bursting from her soles and palms in concentrated shockwaves. She can propel herself as high as three storeys or deliver devastating palm strikes. This ability is not used often, as it would blast a hole in any article of clothing covering her energy points. No one wants a maiden to go around barefoot, right? And how's she meant to use it when she always fights with at least two swords??
- Prismatic Scan! (May Opportunity Shine Radiant): Merry’s eyes glow vivid as points of weaknesses in her vision become highlighted for her. Structural fragility, chinks in armors, patterns in movements – anything she can physically observe.
- MiraSparkle Sclash! (May Your Will Rend the Heavens): A downward swing of her sword that generates a shining arc of energy, bisecting anything in its unstoppable path. At the peak of its range, it can split an airship down the middle. However, it requires a full minute of wind-up time, during which Merry is to be completely immobile. She cannot even adjust the direction of her attack during this period, corrections and movement must be done for her externally or else she must restart the counter.
Background: Just a free-wheeling gal in search of love and adventure.
Her background comes in bits and pieces, trickling to any who stick around the mess hall long enough. Her father is an Izman merchant. She has an uncute but precious twin sister named Siusan. She loves romance novels, radio shows, and the latest fashion trends - anything cute. She spent most of her teen years at some special boarding school. Doesn’t like to talk about it much, she’s insistent on brightly and clumsily changing the subject when anyone prods, but considering the quality of her swords and the fact that they’re only produced on one particularly militaristic taiva, it’s not difficult to put two and two together. It seems that she’s on a break from whatever she was doing prior, if not retiring completely.
No matter. She knows her way around a kitchen (or the knives at least) and thanks to one of her father’s acquaintances, she’s got a job on an airship. How exciting! It seems that the ship was super famous back in the day but Merry was up to her antlers in training until recently, way too busy to keep up with the newspapers.
At least it bodes well for her break (and her street cred). If she’s gonna find herself anywhere, it’s gotta be in the open skies.
Pyxis Form: A pair of hand-wraps with glowing runes trailing down their lengths. Pyxis Skill List:
- Taking Ya to Poundtown (May The World Turn To You): A wave of energy manifests in Siusan’s hand, or at the end of a held weapon. An enemy of her choosing gets pulled towards her.
- Hard and Fast (May Your Flesh Endure): Siusan’s skin is coated with a magical barrier, but its durability corresponds to how much movement she is performing in the moment.
- I Won’t Be Munching Grass (May Your Spirit Persevere): By sacrificing one, or multiple, of her senses, Siusan can greatly boost her stamina and mana efficiency.
- Who’s On Top (May You Rise To The Occasion): After making skin contact with an target, Siusan’s physical strength grows, or lessens, to match them exactly.
- Time to Smash (May Your Might Transcend): A super attack with the same power of the initial blow, but thirty times the surface area affected.
Background: Just a knightly gal who’s always up for a scrap and down for a wrassle.
Pyxis Form: A ("totally uncute") whetstone. It hangs from a string on her belt. Pyxis Skill List:
- HeartMonic Guidance! (May Your Blade Point True): Unerring accuracy. Merry is guided by magic and is able to connect with any target or point within her sight, so long as it is within her physical limits. A surgeon's precision with no cost to her speed. This applies to Merry's body, held and thrown items. There have been cases in the past where Merry's knife's trajectory has curved in midair to hit its target. The magical guidance seems to be limited to a certain amount of surface area on the item it is affecting, and therefore works best on bladed and pointed weapons. It does not work on firearms.
- StarShoot Burst! (May Your Strength Propel You): Magical tension wells in the muscles of her limbs, bursting from her soles and palms in concentrated shockwaves. She can propel herself as high as three storeys or deliver devastating palm strikes. This ability is not used often, as it would blast a hole in any article of clothing covering her energy points. No one wants a maiden to go around barefoot, right? And how's she meant to use it when she always fights with at least two swords??
- Prismatic Scan! (May Opportunity Shine Radiant): Merry’s eyes glow vivid as points of weaknesses in her vision become highlighted for her. Structural fragility, chinks in armors, patterns in movements – anything she can physically observe.
- MiraSparkle Sclash! (May Your Will Rend the Heavens): A downward swing of her sword that generates a shining arc of energy, bisecting anything in its unstoppable path. At the peak of its range, it can split an airship down the middle. However, it requires a full minute of wind-up time, during which Merry is to be completely immobile. She cannot even adjust the direction of her attack during this period, corrections and movement must be done for her externally or else she must restart the counter.
Background: Just a free-wheeling gal in search of love and adventure.
Her background comes in bits and pieces, trickling to any who stick around the mess hall long enough. Her father is an Izman merchant. She has an uncute but precious twin sister named Siusan. She loves romance novels, radio shows, and the latest fashion trends - anything cute. She spent most of her teen years at some special boarding school. Doesn’t like to talk about it much, she’s insistent on brightly and clumsily changing the subject when anyone prods, but considering the quality of her swords and the fact that they’re only produced on one particularly militaristic taiva, it’s not difficult to put two and two together. It seems that she’s on a break from whatever she was doing prior, if not retiring completely.
No matter. She knows her way around a kitchen (or the knives at least) and thanks to one of her father’s acquaintances, she’s got a job on an airship. How exciting! It seems that the ship was super famous back in the day but Merry was up to her antlers in training until recently, way too busy to keep up with the newspapers.
At least it bodes well for her break (and her street cred). If she’s gonna find herself anywhere, it’s gotta be in the open skies.
Two more punches and Otoya was down, curled up and shuddering against free-for-all kicks. The bag of meat was forgotten, prone on the concrete like its owner. Each strike felt like a thunderclap. Thud. Thud. It was all he could do to keep his voice in, keep the satisfaction away from this brutish prick.
One particularly lucky hit in the solar plexus and Otoya released a wheezing gasp. Him and his big fucking mouth. His elders were right, it was going to get him killed one day. This was Tenoroshi, after all. Survival of the fittest, the ones who knew to scurry away from the dark, to keep their heads low. What a sad life to lead.
Even through all the pain and broken belongings, Otoya couldn’t find an ounce of regret in him. The pain would subside. His attackers would slip up. He just needed to tough it out, wait, find the right moment to—
“—HENSHIN!”
Huh?
A phone clattered beside him and before he knew it some heatstroke-immune lunatic in a motorcycle suit was leaping over him. The punks were dispatched in a matter of seconds. Otoya stared at his rescuer, answering him with a grateful…
“Huh?”
Wait, no. The man’s question brought a good point, and the musicians hands went straight for his jaw, feeling around for any outstanding damage. Nothing, thank Hendrix. He needed this handsome mug for gigs.
NAGAKU OTOYA - Southern District Otoya was not a fighter. Unfortunate, with all the situations his loud mouth got him in but the problems didn’t stop there. You see, Otoya was not much of a runner either, or any sort of athlete. Luckily, this guy’s swing was sloppy enough for even the musician’s slow reflexes to catch.
One hand holding a bag of leftover meats from Seiji’s joint. The other clutching a can of spray paint, his grip now white-knuckle. He raised them both in an attempt to block his face.
Ow. Owowowowwwww…!
Sliced pork belly and Styrofoam became a poor cushion as impact struck. The blow glanced off the package and Otoya’s forearm, dramatically lessening the force against his jaw but goddamn, that smarted.
Even worse than that, the crisp sound of shattered Styrofoam, half his week’s dinner, snapped from within the plastic bag.
Snagglepuss89
Dezuel
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AlteredTundra
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