STATUS:
Some of the damn quotes from old 80's animation is damn gold. If english isn't gonna cut it, just swap to ones native language and you have yourself some good comedy. Unlike hollywood post year 2000
2 yrs ago
Current
Some of the damn quotes from old 80's animation is damn gold. If english isn't gonna cut it, just swap to ones native language and you have yourself some good comedy. Unlike hollywood post year 2000
Morning had come, and despite the events of the day prior, Rev had slept relatively well. Perhaps he had gotten so used to being assailed by nightmares and being unable to sleep that he had learnt to cope with it. The young man found himself staring up at the ceiling, as the water from the shower splashed down his hair and body. Despite it's not as elegant nature, the showers of Rhea was quicker than taking baths in the Vauquelin way. He wondered just how far different the Izumo way of bathing were.
To his knowledge he knew that one apparently shared a big warm pool of water with others, with the towel on the head as to not defile the water. He couldn't help but imagine the people of Izumo had some fascination with water. Then again, it were from Izumo and Albion where tea originally came from. At least to his knowledge. Perhaps it had become a holy thing. Rev's hands began to slide along his long hair as he throughly washed it, to his aid he had some Rhean hair products which had a nice scent to it. While those things were good and all, he felt it necessary to keep a yellow duck present by a plastic plate in the shower. He allowed himself a soft smile, as he squeezed the duck to provide a squeaking sound. Somehow having a bath didn't feel complete without it.
Every now and then, he could hear the chirping sounds of the Phoenix-Pigeon outside of the bathroom door, as it sat on it's artificial tree. He had made sure to take well care of it, though there had been very little use for it in Rhea as most people seemed to rely on other means of communication. The blonde blew some air through his mouth as the hot water fell over his face, his eyes closed as he did.
'Then again you would actually need someone to send letters to... I suppose my cousin may still use that service?' He frowned slightly before he turned the shower handle to instead make the water abit colder. Cold water on the face felt so much better than warm in his opinion, it was as if it helped him wake up from any weariness.
Reverio pulled his hair back over his ears slowly, and then reached out for one of the many shower gel bottles that was neatly arranged along the wall. At least he was keeping himself in good shape, he thought as he applied the shower get over his abs at his chest and belly, aswell as his arms and shoulders. If there was something good coming out of going to Rhea, it was that he likely lived far healthier than before. Which was something that made him feel struck with bafflement considering how most royals in Vauquelin lived compared to the common folk.
'I wonder if Chinami is going to eventually show up with that coat? Perhaps during the evening? Well, it doesn't matter. While that coat is one of few things I still have left to remember the old days, it is in the end just a coat.' His eyes fell to his neatly arranged clothes that laid atop a dresser within the room. It was quite astonishing, how the beheaded king had managed to deceive him, but also the world. Everything had gone exactly to his grand design.
'I need to tell them. I need to tell them the truth of what really happened. If we are to find out more about the whole Nightman ordeal. There can be no place for deception. They might come to hate me... I couldn't blame them now could I? After what I've done.' Rev allowed his hands to turn into fists as he softly slammed them against the wall of the shower, the young man leaned forwards, his head hung down and the water trailed down his long blonde hair. His gaze fell on the floor and how the water would swirl before running out through the hole in the floor.
'You have some secrets of your own, don't you? Chinami? Ken? But are they as grave as mine? When I healed you, I felt something within you Chinami... what kind of wound are you carrying?' He allowed himself to ponder, as time kept trailing on, much like the water which caressed down his body.
Charles had raised an eyebrow to the sudden and quick reply over the comms, he had certainly expected some form of reaction, but that one of the unknowns ahead would have acted so quickly upon it was taking him offguard.
"Oh?" He said in a surprising tone to himself as he heard a young man speaking. 'Martin? Uncle Charles? Since when have I ever been someones uncle? Seven years ago? Where were I back then? I was serving as-' It was in that moment that Charles remembered, he had been serving as a guard to one of the most influencial families of Gjallarhorn. The child of that very family had refered to him as an uncle, now he remembered...
While he had momentary doubts about this Martin person, whose name he couldn't remember. He however remembered being refered to as an uncle, because of how it irked him. He was so young back then. This was most certainly not a bluff, this were definitely that very person. There was no way for anyone to have pinpointed these exact details.
'The heir to that family is still alive, what a fortunate turn of events.' Charles smiled as he was about to reply, when he was shocked by what the young man said next.
'Gundam...? Five... Five gundam frames? Unbelievable...' Charles eyes had widened, his very hands were shaking and he could feel the sweat starting to fall down his face. Not only had this boy seemingly come back from the dead, but he and whomever was with his had aqquired five gundam frames? The very idea was absurd, but the more the Major thought about it, the more the likely it seemed that Martin was indeed telling the truth.
"The ultimate foe is before me, not only one... but five of them. Gullinkambe... can you feel them? This is the kind of battle I have longed for, this is the battlefield worth dying upon. But..." The blonde began to collect himself, there were more on the line here than the battle of his dreams. The existance of that boy was surely to be a problem for the current leadership of Gjallarhorn. A symbol of the past for those which looked for one. His family's destruction could indeed land upon the shoulders of Gjallarhorn. That very boy could possibly raise a banner of his own and gather enough followers to challenge the order of Rustal Elion.
It was true that Rustal Elion had brought relative peace to the world alongside his supporters, however it was because of that peace that warriors such as himself were finding themselves without a purpose. Where would warriors go when there would be no battles left to be had? No great foe to fight? Would that still be called life?
Charles knew that if he were to try take the pilots and their machines in, he would receive orders to deliver them to the very top of Gjallarhorn and then those machines would likely be locked away. Weapons were meant to be used, that's what they were made for. Much like himself, what would he be if he could no longer fight? Whilst Martin no doubt could claim ownership of all the machines, the was little chance Rustal Elion would allow so much power for a single person which could threaten his order. It was also that very man which had used the despicable Dainsleif weapons on the Tekkadan and the revolutionary fleet. 'That dishonorable cur won't have his wish come true.' It was with a serious gaze that Charles flicked on the communications again, first towards Ortega.
"Affirmative, Ortega. You are to surrender to these pilots and do as they say, I shall see about providing you with an extraction point. Can you confirm the presence of gundam frames? Over." The major asked before flicking over towards the other channel to call Martin's frequency.
"This is Le Greif. I read you loud and clear, Martin En-Issue. I shall rendezvous with you. Proceed towards Debris Zone Delta-066 with your allies, your hostage and your equipment, that will be your extraction point. I shall cripple your pursuers in the meantime. Upon reaching the zone, use frequency 07-6741149 to contact my allies there. They will provide you with the repairs and supplies you need. Over." Charles spoke in a manner that conveyed that he indeed planned to provide them with support.
'To resist this immense temptation is a strength too. I wouldn't want to fight something unless it is in the best shape it could be in. It would make victory such a cheap thing. I am not Rustal Elion. I don't hide behind a dishonorable weapon. Nor am I that arrogant fool Fareed who believed he could betray the world without being betrayed himself. True strength lies not fully in a machine, but the pilot and keeping his principles. No matter what ending it will be...' The major thought to himself as the enemy ship began to bombard the old ship which the gundam frames no doubt were within. Charles decided to quickly fly his machine behind the old ship for cover.
"To think they would open fire on their own warriors, a king without his army is no king at all, just a despot ready for the gulliotine. I shall cripple you, then I will let Martin and his associates capture you. Then I will pry you open like the very treasure chests you've been looking for all this time. See just what kind of things you know. No doubt the former space rats would want some vengeance aswell. Though feelings like those can be blinding..." Charles mused to himself as he was about to engage his thrusters again to make his move against the enemy ship, however something caught his eye. Floating in the middle of space attached to some wires close to the ship was a machine, it's core had been impaled by long metallic looking spears. The major looked it over in a baffled expression.
"Dainsleif." He said as he looked over the pale-yellow machine, it looked unlike anything else he had ever laid his eyes on. What manner of thing was that? That's when he noticed it's head. A cold shiver went up his spine as he realized what it were, it was floating close to the old bridge of the ship. Had it tried to protect the ship? Or bring it down? He couldn't tell. But what he could tell was what it was.
"Gundam..." Charles said in disbelief as the large ship was taking hits from the approaching enemy ship.
"Tch. A wolf chasing a hart cannot chase too well after it's leg is hurt, nor can it escape..." The blonde major said to himself as he pushed his thrusters at full and dashed out from behind the ship, darting from debris to debris in his pathway to approach the enemy ship.
'I'll cripple your thrusters and then you can neither pursue nor escape. A fitting mission for the En-Issue heir, to see his resolve and how a gundam would fare in battle.' Charles thought as he felt the force of the thrusters pushing him back in his seat, his highly modified Geirail was such a fierce and angry thing.
There were things which he wanted to discuss in regards to Nightman however, but also learn more of Ken and Chinami. If they had all been selected at random, or if they were chosen. Then the looming question, was Nightman working alone? The blonde unlocked the door leading into his humble apartment, he wanted to take a shower but he decided to take one in the morning instead, not wanting to sleep with his hair all wet.
As he undressed and slid into his bed, which was not a mattress on the floor. Those Izumo people really made some bad choices with their beds and their kitchen utensils. Despite having won the battle of the day, why did it also feel like a defeat? He had not wanted to kill Nightman to begin with. But the doctor had made him remember that which he had tried to keep locked away in his mind.
'Why do I still feel doubt. Is there still hope for humankind? I don't know anymore. Indecisiveness is a terrible thing...' The blueyed young man placed his arms above his head as he lay down in his bed, his eyes fell on the ceiling.
'Some things were so much clearer back then...' Rev allowed his eyes to close as his mind traversed back to memories of a not too distant past.
"The master of the mask"Reverio backstory part 2/3. Starring: Liger du Main, King Marlan Maressan, Princess Lalamarie de Cloverhart and Lord Gilbert, the duke of D'Contre.
In the King's private dressingroom
"Here we go again..." The King sighed out deeply, overlooking the attire that had been chosen and designed by the court officials. Like most other things of the Kingdom of Vauquelin.
"Look at the bright side, your majesty. You will be the most colourful thing in the room." The peasant prince said in a jesting tone of voice, amusement written all over his face.
"That's what I feared. Who ever thought to mix pink and green together? Most royals end up wearing red or yellow, and in some cases blue. But this?" The King said in a highly disapproving manner, as he indicated the intricate but snot green and baby pink masquerade attire.
"At least the mask is golden." The king's brother replied, as he helped the king tie the ribbons of his shoes.
"If only I could live every day of my life wearing another mask, that would have been a dream come true..." The king blew some air out through his mouth, causing his hair to flicker upwards, slightly ruining the perfectly arranged hair which they had styled for him for hours.
"Don't you believe it would become a sad existance being a person without a face, your majesty?" The peasant prince smiled softly as he rose up from his kneeling position, to help the king with the unnecessary corset which came with his attire.
"Ahh.. my brother, can't we swap costumes? Yours does look much more comfortable, not to mention it isn't green or pink. Or both!" The King said aloud in a gasping manner, but there were a joking tone to his voice.
"But your majesty, that would mean you would miss out on your dance with the princess." The brother turned servant said in a reminding manner, as he tied the last strap on the King's attire. "Speaking of which, she should be heading into this room at any moment, your majesty."
"You are right, I can't abandon her in this, and it is my duty to bear this crown, not yours. Have you ever thought of yourself in my place? What would you have done differently?" The King asked, as curiousity got the better of him. His brother was known to always provide him with an answer, usually one which sat very well with him. Though at times he had no doubt wondered if they were truthful.
"Your majesty..." The peasant prince stopped mid-sentence. "I have never imagined myself being in your place, but If I were, your majesty. With outmost respect. I would have done precisely what you've been doing." Liger du Main offered a respectful bow to the King.
"But what have I done? The common folk are unhappy with me, the nobles are only concerned with grabbing more political power and wealth. War with Yekaterina is a potentiality not to be overlooked, if one is to believe Lord Gilbert." The king lamented. Lord Gilbert was an influencial man in the Kingdom of Vauquelin, a rich man, both in material and political matters. Yet he was a strong supporter of the royals. In the common people's view, he could even have been considered to be the regent for the young king.
"Not all things happening in the world is because of your majesty. Sometimes things spiral out of control and all you can do at the time is to go along with it and make the best out of it. Perhaps you should consider taking up more time writing poems and rhymes? It won't solve said issues for the kingdom, but it may temporary relieve your majesty's worries." The peasant prince suggested, knowing fully well that the King himself wasn't as fond of those things, in stark comparison to his servant brother.
"Hah! I am not that desperate, dear brother. Those things give me headaches, mostly because I do not know what they should be about." The King said with a slight chuckle, looking at his both hands, and how every finger had been decorated with the finest of jewelry.
"It's easy once you get the hang of it, your majesty. It is all a matter of getting into the feeling of it, try to think of experiences you've had and your feelings about them." Liger explained while he brought a handmirror to the King so he could inspect his appearance.
"What experiences? The dull seven hour dining banter with those emissaries from Albion? Come to think of it, I would rather have eaten the poisoned pastries which I was told they brought with them. If only to not having to listen to their culinary massacre." The king shook his head as he thought about it in horror. Pudding. A thing which could be used as a weapon in the right hands. The King allowed his focus to shift to his handmirror. "Do you know why I dislike seeing my reflection, dear brother?" The King asked.
"Your majesty, surely the Albion cuisine isn't that bad. But they do smell bad. As for why your majesty is displeased with the reflection? Could it be because it reminds your majesty of his illsuited brother?" Liger asked with a fake smile on his lips, his hands behind his back as he looked into the same mirror the king was.
"Certainly not! It is because I cannot stand to see the sight of myself. How despite having this crown and scepter, I am unable to qwell the problems of my Kingdom. Sometimes I cannot help but feel that someday they will all be fed up with me." The King had a solemn look on his face as he put down the mirror on a nearby table, before rising out of the royal stool which he had been seated.
"Your majesty, you must not worry, if such a day will come I will be there for you. I am, and shall always be your shadow." The peasant prince raised his right hand to his chest, right over to where his heart were before providing a butlerlike bow to his royal brother. The king, who was often moved by his brother's very reassuring words was about to reply, when there was an announcement at the double-sided doors leading into the chambers.
"Announcing her royal highness, Princess Lalamarie de Cloverhart." A pious sounding and high strung guardsman announced, while another played a small trumpet. Two other servants opened the doublesided doors and in strode a young lady with determined steps.
"Your majesty, your bethrothed has come to meet you~! I am so lucky to have such a handsome King~ Ohohoho~ I see your majesty still have a tail." The princess said aloud, while waving her fan at herself, her long blue and white dress was large enough to likely fit three people under it. Her red eyes scanned the King's attire. Soon she was accompanied by two female servants which each carried two big fans which they used to help the princess feel cool.
"You are beautiful, Lala. Are you ready for the dance? And what do you mean with tail?" The King blinked and looked over his terribly designed attire for any sign of a tail.
"Him." The princess said in quick succession, pointing a finger towards the King's brother. Liger du Main. "He is constantly tagging after you as if he was a tail, It makes me wonder if he is going to be there when you invite me to your royal chambers. Fufu~" The princess waved over a male servant which was carrying various refreshments. Whereof the princess quickly grabbed two sticks with tasty treats and a soft drink.
"Lala, he is my brother. He is my royal aide and friend. I trust him with my life. Surely the princess won't mind that he is going to also accompany us to the ball." The King explained with a soft smile, as he turned to give his brother a slight wink. There was a sense of playfulness getting the better of him, despite all the worries and problems the King and the kingdom he was serving had.
"Ara ara~ Well I hope he will not steal your majesty for the dance? My you are so handsome~ But who did your attire? You may have to banish someone after tonight." Lalamarie laughed softly as she went closer to the King, taking hold of his hand while giving his servant brother a look which clearly read. 'Back off'.
Later in the evening...
The ball had proceeded as planned, there had been music, drinks and food in overflow. The ballroom had been affected by a zone of gift negation, projected by the most elite of guardsmen. To prevent unnecessary accidents or gods forbid. Assassination attempts. The various display of coloured outfits and masked dancers filling the great hall's floor. Nobles had been invited and even their servants, for those were considered accessories rather than actual people to most influencial people.
Lord Gilbert had his grand speech about the grandeur of the royal family, how the kingdom was prospering and how the future would be bright indeed. Both the king and the peasant prince couldn't help but to disagree. It was a true masquerade, a deception. Yet those which had all the things of the world didn't care, for they couldn't be bothered with problems other than those affecting themselves. The King had taken his eleventh dance with the princess when suddenly things would take a change of turns. The peasant prince himself was not found on the dancefloor, he was standing in the front row line watching all the dancer, but more specifically the royal duo. That someone like Liger du Main, which had the same status as servantfolk was permitted to stand next to the nobles in the line was something most of the nobles found horrid.
They looked upon him as if he was a disease or a disgusting piece of art, their furrowed eyebrows, wrinkled noses and raised napkins was signs enough for it. The peasant prince however chose to ignore them, he had other things on his mind than having to care for what some nobles thought of him. King Maressan and Princess Cloverhart was in the spotlight of the evening, not only for the nobles, for the peasant prince, Lord Gilbert and the guards. But for one dark clothed and black masked man which strode into the crowd of dancers just as the music had come to a pause.
From his pocket he drew a dagger and then shoved a dancing woman out of his pathway as he made a quick dash towards the King and his princess, as they just turned around to spot the assailant. But he was approaching so fast. The brother of the king ran out from the line of people and managed to trip the man, but the masked assailant quickly rose back up and was about to resume his charge. That's when Lord Gilbert stepped forth and drew his foreign 'handcannon', sending a single round metallic ball into the masked assailant. Shooting him dead on the spot.
"Your majesty! Are you allright?!" Lord Gilbert yelled, as he holstered his weapon and leaned down to confirm the assailant was indeed dead. Guards began to swarm the floor, and began to form a protective formation around the king and the princess. Amidst the ensuing panic of the nobles running off in various directions, and the servants being pushed out of their paths, the peasant prince was shoved back and down on the ground by two guards.
"Keep your distance!" The guard yelled in his face. The peasant prince gave a narrow eyed stare towards the guard, then it fell upon Lord Gilbert which now was the one with the majority of focus on him.
Soon the ballroom was back into order and the would be assassin was taken out of the place by order of Lord Gilbert. King Maressan and princess Lalamarie found themselves watching their evening being completely ruined. The King's eyes then fell on his servant brother, which he could recognize by attire alone. "Dear brother, over here. Let him through!" The King demanded to a few guards which were not eager to let the peasant princce near their sovereign.
"Are you allright, your majesty? Your highness? I managed to trip the man. Sorry, I should have been the one to take him down. Good thing Lord Gilbert was present." Liger said, yet the King knew that Liger did indeed not like Lord Gilbert the slightest. To the peasant prince, Lord Gilbert was one of the reasons why the kingdom was in peril. It was his constant meddling in the royal affairs that kept ruining everything.
"I- I think so. Lala? Are you allright? What about you dear brother? Did you get injured?" The King asked in quick succession.
"Ohoho~ Your majesty, with you by my side what could I possibly be worried about? Some good for nothing ruffian trying to interupt our dance, good riddance to him and all like him." The princess was brutal, but honest in her opinion, as her gaze shifted to the peasant prince. No doubt the prince felt that in her eyes, he was just another one of those ruffians.
"I'm unharmed your majesty, thank you." The prince nodded deeply.
Little did Reverio know, that this was the last ball he, his brother and the princess would attend. Soon the ultimate betrayal would find it's aim true.
Still going and open to my knowledge, as for posting times it depends on who you RP with and how many are involved, as we tend to wait for people to have their character be able to make a reaction post and such.
Orpheuz kept a serious expression on his face when Alex spoke, he was paying much attention. As if every word Alex was saying, were getting X-rayed and dissected. After hearing Alex's full reply, the young man put back the photo inside of his jacket which was underneath the raincoat. Andras words about being from the underworld and that she were a demon made the hooded male chuckle slightly.
"Mistaken? Hardly. In a sense, we are very similar, you and I. We play with the hand we've been given, 'demoness'." He said the last word in a mocking sort of manner, as if it was a less fine nickname.
"I have traversed through that very underworld itself to get to here. It shouldn't come as such a surprise to you, one of the champions, to have a question hurled in your direction. Though perhaps you have not become a champion just yet... Andras. And it seems you do not hold the answers I seek." The male put both of his hands into the pockets of his raincoat, the hood slightly shading his face and his intense orange gaze.
"Have you been dealt a bad hand this time around? What of your comerades? Wolf? Michael? And the rest who stood against the shadow and made the sacrifice... perhaps it is a story yet to be written here. But not all fairy tales end in the same way. I guess that spiritual combatant were right in that at least. Hmph." The male allowed a smile to crawl up on his lips, his orange eyes glimmering under his hood. "I've come through space and time, to find what's mine. Rest assured, this time around we are on the same side."
"Train well, for this second try, or we may all die. In every world..." Orpheuz unbuttoned his raincoat and lowered his hood, before he walked closer, looking Alex into the eye. The dogtags around his neck clinging against each other. The very air around the young man would grow gradually colder, as if it were a late autumn night.
His voice would then be heard in a fiercer and more arrogant tone of voice, as he sang a short verse.
"So I will turn every dream into reality, and through the dark she will be the light to guide me!"
Get the wrong feeling? What the heck did the pinkhaired girl mean by that? He wasn't romantically involved with Mina. She was his partner however, anyone who would mess with her would get their sorry hide whipped.
"Well, perkypinksy is right, we may be abit rough around the edges, but we don't cheat." Suzakura nodded while poking his one ear with his pinky finger, finding no earwax to his surprise.
"Mina what the holy hell are you doing to foureyes? Oh so -he- can get a drink? I see, fine! Bet you be bored with him in less than five minutes." Suzakura said in a scornful manner. How could Mina chose to pamper foureyes instead of him. And if that wasn't enough, she now wanted him to take her place in that tournament.
Then Michael had woken up and started to react in a manner which Suzakura could only regard as. "Great! Welcome back to the land of the not-passed-out, foureyes. This wasn't my idea of fun. But you friggin had some! Confriggingrats you lucky nerd!" Suzakura said aloud in a mocking tone to Michael. Vera was about to leave the room, with her clear warning. The bully couldn't help but whistle in a manner which made him seem impressed.
"Oho! Whoa! What a fierce little pink pixie! She's definitely into me. But who can blame her. Who wouldn't be?" The guy grinned and shrugged his shoulders before he ruffled his own hair in agitation at his evening being completely ruined.
"Why must this be happening to me right about now? Have I really been a bad human being? Come on gods! Fine, fine, have it your way. I will beat the living hells out of whomever happen to cross my way in that ring. Come to think of it? This might be just what I need to relieve this boredom." The bully moved his neck slightly and stretched his arms slightly, it was so tiresome that he had to work on his easy-life day. He set out, away from Mina and Michael and made his way closer to the ring.
"So who the flying shmusters am I going to fight? Oi! You there! Guy with the bad hair! Tell the manager the cow got a case of mad cow disease and can't show up, I'm the replacement. With a big Rrrrrrr..." He pointed his thumb at himself before sighing deeply, how had he ended up being goaded into filling out for Mina in this stupid fight with all it's rules.
The major had excused himself from the bridge, and instead found himself gearing up to sortie alongside two other pilots, Abdul and Meyer. A veteran mobile suit pilot and a rookie. There were usually pairs like these found on the battlefield, having an older pilot along was reassuring for the young, while the old felt good in having some eager fresh fighters to brag or teach to.
Charles was in the locker room, alongside the two other pilots. He pressed the command panel over by the door, which connected him directly to the bridge.
"Anything? Captain?" The major asked.
"Nothing yet sir. I'll have Abdul and Meyer sortie and look over the ship in case you find some trouble major." The captain said, his voice over the comms were gruff and... odd... almost as if he was crunching on something.
"Finding trouble is what we are here for, captain. I'll head into the zone to find your missing pilot..." Charles slid his hand over the panel and shut off the connection, before nodding towards the two other pilots then the doorway.
"Remember your captain's orders, stay with the ship. If the enemy engage you, pull away from the debris. Do not engage them. They'll shoot you down. Stay within range to your ship and captain." Charles said aloud as he moved down the corridors with the other two pilots in tow.
It didn't take him or the other two long to enter their respective machines, and as soon as the ready came for them to launch they did. One after the other. The two darkblue grazes were first to launch, and they indvidually landed on each side of the ship, landing in places which were meant to be platforms for cargo and less mobile mobile suits or mobile workers.
Soon after their launch it was Charles turn, his custom Geirail taking off with a not too extraordinary speed. But that might be as he was only using the standard Geirail ones at the time being. As he gradually proceeded into the debris zone he put his propulsion at very low, so that he might better conceal his presence amidst all the remnants scattered over the area. Some of the old reactors scattered over the place were likely still functioning. Such finds would eventually find themselves into the hands of scavengers or pirates.
'Control is of outmost importance, not only in a mobile suit but the world as a whole. In chaos none is safe. But is the order which Rustal Elion stands for to be victorious in the end, or will it be...' Charles snapped out of his thought process as his slow drifting amidst the debris was picking up some odd object ahead. Was it the missing scout? Much like himself, this particular scout had been transfered to the vessel. Why would they specifically transfer that one man of no significant rank to this place?
Dwelling on the reasonings of the military higher ups generally provided more headaches than answers, and thus Charles decided to leave it be. What use was it to ponder upon something which he might find out soon enough. The scout couldn't have gotten far. As Charles and his machine, the Gullinkambe drifted closer towards the distant object it turned out to be a ship. An old ship. It was likely a Gjallarhorn one. But Charles couldn't place what type of class the ship were. But there was clear activity there. He could see things swarming by it, like flies around a carcass.
'Looks like the scout was the one being scouted, but even hunters can be hunted...' Charles had a smile begin to crawl up on his lips as he reached out with his arms at the controls. It was time to move, he had gotten close enough and from what he could tell the scout was still alive. That it would be pirates fighting amongst each other in a place like this was rare, and it wasn't profitable for them.
Charles finally allowed his machine to fully use all it's thrusters and he pushed his custom Geirail forth. How Charles loved how it felt, the pressure on his ribcage, how his breathing would be strained, how he could feel his body tense up in anticipation of what would come. The force in which the thrusters of his machines were operating at, was deemed dangerous by many pilots. Even some of the better ones. Then now and again there would be someone who would scoff at the very idea of piloting an outdated model.
"Let us awaken the dormant to fight, Gullinkambe!" Charles said in an eager manner, he wanted to see just what opponents he would encounter this fateful day. He had already passed beyond the point where he could no longer contact the ship which he had launched from, the amount of debris would cause interference. However within a short distance in the field such would surely...
"This is Le Greif! Come in, Ortega! Status report? Over!" He called out on the signal ID which the scout should have had according to the captain, before turning on the open channel. "This is Major Charles Le Greif, of the Arianrhod fleet. Unknown mobile suit pilots, under the laws of Gjallarhorn you are to state your intentions and if it is regarded as unlawful we demand that you surrender. You will not be harmed. I repeat, you will not be harmed if you comply. Over." Charles said in a loud if not abit stoic manner over the channel, no doubt there would be some reaction. A part of him was craving for battle, while the other was craving for knowledge just what was going on here. If he would be lucky, perhaps he could obtain both.
Being all formal and speaking of the current laws of Gjallarhorn was making him partly ill on the inside. It was far simpler to just do battle, and letting someone else do the talking. It wasn't that he disliked to talk, on the contrary, Charles was fond of speaking with others. But not in the formal kind. Philosophical, existencial discussions were more to his liking. And matters regarding the near future, and what could be done to make it better. Better was such a subjective word.
'A name. What is a name? What friends and family use to call you, but when all such things are gone. What use is there for names? Perhaps as memories of times past, of better days in place far away yet at the same time... so very near.'
The hood of the raincoat was still up, as the wandering young man traversed his way towards the building which held the so called Midnight tournament. He had heard of this place before, a place where people who had the godsgiven gift, would compete against oneanother for the amusement of a crowd or money.
Money. What use was money for the dead. What use was entertainment when you had none to share a laugh with. Nothing.
The wet stone walls and stairs leading down into the ticket hall of the building was covered with colourful graffiti, of those who enjoyed displaying their works of creativity. But to Orpheuz, they might aswell had been whispers in the wind, for he passed them by without as much as giving them a second look. The door into the building was open, leading into a room which had a guy sitting behind a counter and a larger and older guy standing guard.
"The matches are already underway... but we are still selling tickets, you can get one for half-price." The young male sitting by the counter said in a very disinterested manner, barely looking at the water drenched figure before him. Same could not be said for the big bouncer, who carefully followed the hooded figure's movements.
"That is fine. What is the price?" The orange-eyed youngster asked in a very firm manner.
"Four Rheans." The young male at the counter said in a sleepy fashion, as the two changed money for a ticket. Orpheuz suspected the tired looking male wouldn't bother looking at the printing date of the coins.
"Enjoy the evening... let him in Brutus." The younger male said to the bouncer, who in turn opened the door leading further into the building, the music and voices were now reaching out into the room.
Orpheuz didn't waste any time to linger in the ticket hall, and proceeded into the section where the party was. Money. Money was useful to the living, but was it truly something to really strive to live for. No. It was a means to an end at most. But there were things you simply couldn't buy...
The midnight tournament did indeed live up to it's reputation, as there was plenty of fighting, partying and dancing going on. The current song being played did however catch his attention, where the graffiti had not. As he made his way through the crowd in search of familiar faces, he couldn't help but find the song awfully appropriate for his entrance into the lively den of nightlife. It did take him some time to pass through the crowds of people without bumping into anyone, but he managed to find himself a good vantage point at one of the top benches of the large room. It was from this point where he spotted someone he recognized. 'Looks like fate is smiling on me at last...' The seeker sat up from the bench and gradually made his way down towards what could only be described as a booth for the fighters of the tournament. The one whom he had noticed, was a girl who sported an eyepatch.
Still wearing his black and hooded raincoat, the young man approached the booth and the girl sitting in it.
"Excuse the intrusion, we've never met before, not in this place... I am just wondering, have you seen the person in this photo?" Orpheuz reached his hand into the inside of his raincoat, taking out a photo, the kind one would get in a photobooth. How very old fashioned. Then he held it out to show the eye-patch wearing girl. Yet he seemed to hold onto the photo.
The person depicted on said photo was a girl, no year older than Andras herself. Her hair blonde and long, her eyecolour however was hard to tell with her eyes being closed on the picture. The girl's attire would appear to be of the highest quality, befitting of a noble or even a royal. Orpheuz orange eyes were fixed at the lone eye of Andras, as if he was looking for signs of deception. The long green-blonde strands of hair hanging out of his dark hood.
"The girl in the picture. I am hoping you could assist me in her whereabouts..." The young man steadied his footing on the floor, his movement causing the two dogtags in his necklace to clash against each other.
"Through space and time, to find the one who shine... my Eurydice." Orpheuz averted his gaze from Andras and looked up towards the ceiling momentarily.
'What in the holy hells?' He blinked quickly, seeing the glasses which he had liberated from Michael being snatched from his fingers. What his eyes ended up on was a pinkhaired girl which he had not seen before, his irritation to not hear the refreshing sound of glasses being broken was replaced with curiousity.
'Who the heck is this background character?' The bully pondered. She looked familiar? Had he seen her in a magazine? 'Oh... nice top. She's definitely on the A-F scale.' The bully thought as he looked Vera over, she had touched him aswell in her mission to snatch his amusement. It wasn't that bad to having girls clinging to him like if he was a big steak at a barbeque party.
"Whoa! Where did you come from, pink poodle? Oh don't you worry, me and Mikey here go waaaay back! He's just having temporary amnesia! We used to... play those boring bored games where you move black and white pieces, oh and look at different coloured squares, circles and triangles with a load of admiration..." Suzakura couldn't stop the yawn that came out as the began to think of these things he found lethally dull. Who cared about colours when it was shapes that mattered? At least those old 'Vauqelian women' drawings had some style.
"He's fine! Fit for next fight? See?" Suzakura walked around Mina to Michael's side, grabbing the guy's head with one hand and the left under his chin, making his mouth move in accordance to Suza's hand movements. "Suzakura is like.. totally the coolest chief here. I am a pervert-addict, I am drinking to cure myself." The bully channeled his powers to give himself ventriloquism to sound like Michael while using the guy's head as a makeshift puppet.
"See?" Suzakura said aloud, before giving Michael a few slaps in the face to wake him up. "He's fine! It's all-okay." He said in a reassuring tone towards Vera.
"But hold up Mina, I am coming with you, I am like your manager, your coach. We are a team after all. Right partner?" Suzakura walked around Mina and then attempted to hook arms with Vera's other arm.
"So.. you said something about getting off? Looks like we are getting off to a great start, Miss Magenta. Ever worn a undersized swimsuit by any chance? Me neither." Suzakura allowed a grin to crawl up on his face.
Was it folly or was it a show of will that had made Michael take his own grip on fate. To Suzakura it didn't matter, it was basically a non-lethal death sentence. There were a couple of things which he couldn't stand, and one of them were when people were fiddling around with what he could only label as 'his stuff'. But the bully's plans to intercept and cast divine punishment on Michael had been put to rest by his impressive bovine barbarian.
'Oooh! That's gotta hurt!' He thought before exclaiming. "That's what you get you foureyed freak pervert! To bad you are knocked out cold, so you can't see your miserable face! Eeeeh!" Suzakura approached closer to Mina and then looked over Michael as he was lying on the ground.
"Good work Mina! I knew I could count on you to make my day more interesting! That's my girl allright!" Suzakura reached out to give her a gentle pat on her behind as he was passing by, but his path was obstructed somewhat by Erisse.
"Oi! Don't take gifts from strangers! Apples are typically poisoned... besides.. shouldn't one bring an apple to the teacher than the reverse? Also what the heck is this?" He took hold of his received gift with two of his fingers, dangling it as if it were a sack of trash.
'To the strongest? What possible use do I have for this? I cannot stoop to the level of all these low level narcissists and have something like that. Just what kind of person do they take me for. Putting me on the same level as stupid people... " He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose with his free hand, taking a slight breath before throwing his newly received gift over his shoulder. Landing probably in someone's drink, face or popcorn. But did it really matter? Not to him.
"Listen here, teachypeachy. I think you could cough up a better gift than that. Allow me to inspire such..." Suzakura straightened his pose, and then gave a slight cough into his hand.
"One, and a two and a three. A cup, B cup, C cup, D cup, E cup, F cup. La la lala la! There's many great things left to ponder, come with me and gaze at the wonder! Dun di dun di di di dun. F cup, stands for full cup! For the female bull stuff! Right Mina? Dodido didi didodido! E cup is the real she cup, best made into a we cup! Dodidodido di do." He took a moment to hymn on the same melody before proceeding in very lively demonstrative hand motions.
"D cup is the to be cup, there's many more still along the way! All ready at display! Huhun huhu huhu hu! Lalalala! C cup is the free-cup, please don't stop to jump up, look at my Chinami-chaaaaan. Huhu huhuhu. Nananana. B cup, is the a small C cup, B-wary of the bouncyness in tops! Huhihuhihu hihu! A cup! A cup is flatcup, also known as the sadcup! Look at the cardgirl to know what I mean! Huhihuhi huuu! Now the song is over, remember to not use a concealing pullover! Naninaninani naaaaaaa! Chinaminami chaaaan! A bra is the gift you gotta give! Come on in this moment we just gotta live!" He allowed himself to whistle the remaining part as he walked over towards Michael's body.
"Ahh, I almost forgot..." Suzakura would proceed to lean down to pick up Michael's glasses, if he would be able to get his hands on them he would go out of his way to pretend to drop them and then step on them with great effect. Accidents happen oh so easily.
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