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Hey guess who else comes back from the land of the dead.


Marianne Delacroix



The hooves of her steed restlessly clacked as it shifted about. With the winds blowing at their backs, Marianne's long dark hair flowed gallantly with the drafts. Marianne's own version of a war banner, if one were to look at such a thing in such a way, symbolic though it may be. Dark eyes focused on the horizon, Marianne held her bow in hand at the ready. Her veil in her opposite, prepared to channel her mana. At her side, a far larger and more opposing target than she, Sir Ricard sat on his haunches. His own glorious and luxurious fur waving in the winds as he surveyed the distance with her. Ears swiveling at every sound he could pick up, cold snout sniffling at familiar and new scents. The giant beast would've been a mighty force to be reckoned with during the inital charge with the Iron Roses, but he had other plans. He cared little for the other knights, and stubbornly stayed at Marianne's side. Though she was positioned in relative safety, Sir Ricard was not one for chances and gambling. His large body would be her shield and as well sword if need be.

Saying to no one in particular as she kept her eyes trained ahead of her, Marianne smiled slightly.
"It is time to place my new training to the test, no?"
Sir Ricard glanced side long at her.
He could see that she was nervous, as she trembled slightly.
Why, he couldn't tell. But the canine had his ideas.
"Better now than never, I suppose."
Marianne let out a breath, a sigh, as if to expel her rattled nerves.
She placed a hand on her chest as she shut her eyes briefly.
What was she worried about anyways?
She was in the rear.
Perhaps it was the practical application of her magical ability that worried her.
Perhaps it was her worry of accidentally going too far and placing herself out of commission.
To become a dead weight for her comrades to have to burden.
Either way, none of that mattered. The time for such worries and talk had long past.
Opening her eyes and lifting her head, she saw her fellow knights in the distance.

Steeling her resolve, she placed her bow across the tops of her thighs and gently placed her veil against it. Lowering her head and shutting her eyes, she began her incantation created for the purpose of mana control. Softly uttering its phrases in her native tongue, in hushed tones.



Her horse stirred anxiously as Marianne's hair lifted and crackled with ferocious electrical arcs, though it remained unharmed. Her bow glowing with a bright golden light as it was imbued with her power. Opening her eyes and affixing her veil to her hair where she could, she grabbed her arrows which were also infused with her mana the moment she touched them. Assuming a good stance once her horse had ceased its trotting about, Marianne tightened the muscles in her upper back and nocked multiple arrows at once as she pulled the her bow's drawstring back, the tense string audibly creaking with her effort. Her brow furrowing, eyes burning with determination, she unleashed her volley.



With each release of an arrow, the air cracked and boomed. A light flashing each time she set free a lethal arrow from where she sat. Unrelenting and without rest, she fired off one well-aimed arrow after another. Attendents and squires to her rear were at the ready with excess arrows, keeping her constantly stocked.

To the opposing force facing the head-on charge from the Iron Roses, it would appear as though a lightning storm itself was backing the knights. The sky screaming and howling as Marianne's arrows pierced through the wind, her lightning arrows miniature versions of her hand-thrown javelins. To which veterans of the Iron Roses would know their terrifying power. Truly, it was a sight to behold as essentially Marianne herself was a one woman siege, demonstrating the might of the Iron Roses led by their Captain. Hundreds of arrows soon filled the skies above. Goddess be with those at the frontlines, for no mercy would be shown.
Kuhaku Shiro



Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . .
A steady tone echoed within the darkness.
Irritating and annoying with its incessant cadence.
Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . .
Silver brows furrowed.
An aggitated grown.
Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . .
Golden eyes snapped open in alarm.
With a sharp inhale and gasp, the boy shot upright into a sitting position.

Wide eyes staring at the scene in front of him as his blurred vision began to adjust to his surroundings. Sterile and bright whites. Baby blues. Shiny chromatic metals. An acrid chemical smell that made his stomach turn and gave him a headache, the odor ever present. The smells of chemical cleaning solutions and medications. It was without a doubt. He was back at his unofficial 'second home'. Beacon Academy's infirmary.

"Lords, damn it. What did I do now?" the boy lamented.
With a displeased frown, the faunus boy scratched at his twitching ears as he looked to his left and right for evidence of his mechanisms of injury. Possibly a nurse or attendent to speak to, perhaps to fill him on his committed crimes and antics. As he did, he took stock of his body and current physical health. Holding his ever-bandaged hands in front of his face, he counted his 8 fingers and 2 thumbs.
"Yup, still all here. For now."
He touched his silvery-white furred ears.
Both still there, with no nicks to speak of.
Wiggling his toes, he could feel he had all 11--
His heart rate immediately spiked and then dropped.
"Err, no. I have 10 toes."
A miscount. Cut him some slack, he just woke up from who knows how long of a 'nap.'
Didn't help that his memory was fuzzy and hazy. As if someone stuck a hose connected to a fog machine to funnel in "confusion gas" into his skull.
Wriggling and fidgeting in his hospital bed, he appeared to be all fine.
He didn't feel hurt...
So, why was he here?

Just his luck, a nurse poked his head in to check on him. Smiling when he saw that the tiger faunus was awake now. Brushing aside the privacy curtain, he stepped in with a clipboard. "Ah, Mr. Kuhaku. I'm glad to see you're finally awake. How are you?" Shiro blinked a few times, his lips slightly parted as he tilted his head. Obviously lost as to why he was here. "Uhh...I'm f-fine, I think. What....what did I do this time to end up here?" Shiro scratched at his ears. The nurse chuckled sensibly, "Oh, it's nothing serious. The woman whose purse you recovered was thankful, though did you really have to use your Semblance? In any case, be grateful the media didn't cover your little wild chase and that you incurred no injuries when you fainted." Shiro cocked an eyebrow, one ear flattening the other standing straight erect as his confusion deepened. "E-eh? Purse? What?" The nurse scrawled something on a piece of paper and tore it off his notepad, handing it to Shiro who took it between his bandaged fingers. "Since you only collapsed due to your Semblance usage and are in 100% good shape otherwise, you're free to go. Doctor's already discharged you and checked you out. Ah, but after you get dressed and before you head to your next class, be sure to stop by the Headmaster's. Professor Ozpin wants to have a word with you." The nurse patted Shiro on the shoulder and turned, leaving before Shiro could have any of his questions answered.
"A-ah! Hey, wait! How long have I been out? What woman's purse! Wh-..."
Shiro frowned as his words fell on deaf ears, clucking his tongue in dissatisfaction.
"Damn it." Shiro's eyes traveled to his bedside, where his clothes were neatly folded.

Leaving the Headmaster's. . .


As the large doors shut behind him, Shiro had a rather gloomy look on his face. Team Swansong....disbanded? Two of his teammates had to leave due to family emergencies? So that left Shiro....where, exactly? What did it mean for him? In any case, the faunus boy sighed. Flicking away beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, at least he wasn't going to get reprimanded for apparently using his Semblance in a public setting among civilians. Whatever he did, he did good. If only he could remember what it was exactly he did. Ah, well. No harm, no foul. Right?

. . .Right?

Looking up at the ceiling, the thought hit him.
"Ah! Oh, right. I should be heading to class now."
Rummaging through his pockets, he retreived his Scroll to check the time and his schedule. Surely, he had enough time to make it.
Shiro froze in place, body rigid as a statue.
The dark look on his face said otherwise.
"AAAHHHH! I'M SO LATE! I'M LATEI'MLATEIMLATEIMLAAAAAATE!!!"
With a scream and in his usual fashion, Shiro dropped to his faster method (*read; destructive) of mobility and transportation which was his quadrupedal running form and tore through Beacon's hallways. Ripping and tearing through any unfortunate obstacle that happened to be within his hellacious warpath to Physical Education class. Lords save his classmates.

He was back.

Incoming. . .


Panting heavily as he bounded, the end was in sight. He could see the double doors leading into Beacon's massive gym. A smile on his face as he saw his goal, the smile quickly faded as he realized that those doors were getting closer and closer much faster than anticipated. Oh wait, that wasn't the doors. It was him that was getting closer. He was moving too fast. He couldn't stop in time.

"Uh-oh."
This was going to hurt.
Didn't he JUST leave the infirmary too?

With a loud crash! Shiro attempted in vain to hit the brakes and skidded along the floor, only to burst through the gym doors face first. He learned very quickly what happened to an accelerated object moving at high velocities when met with a relatively large and typically unmoving object. Pain. Pain was the answer to that equation. Math was never Shiro's strong suit. After the disruptive crash through the gym entrance, Shiro still had his brakes on and the sudden change in traction threw him off balance.

"W-woah! AH, SHI-!" Shiro mentally cried out.

Tumbling, rolling, and limbs flying every which way as he flailed uncontrollably, he slowly came to a stop. Something something inertia, something something momentum. Shiro wasn't good at physics either. Gravity was typically his enemy, as most things were in the natural world.

Laying on the ground in a somewhat twisted heap, Shiro panted heavily as his vision spun. You'd think that with the little braincells the poor boy had, he'd be more conservative with how many knocks he took to the head. Ah well, who needs that many braincells anyways? Shaking his head violently, Shiro stumbled and hopped up to his feet. A manic look on his face as he dripped with sweat and the class proper hadn't even quite started yet. Staring at his class mates and some shirtless man, he fought for a moment to regain his breath. Looking all the more awkward, and crazy, as he possibly could before his breath returned to him. Recovering, Shiro shot a hand up into the air.

"I'M HERE!"
He declared, quite obviously as his voice echoed.
"S-SORRY I'M LATE!"
No need to explain where he had been all this time, at the moment.
He'll talk to the teach afterwards.
Looking around, he slowly lowered his hand and cleared his throat.
Embarassment just now washing over his face as he seemed to shrink, slowly shuffling his way over to his fellow class mates.
Was that a limp he was walking with?
How troublesome.
"I hope I don't get yelled at. Agh, what are we even doing today? I hope it's something easy." Shiro thought to himself.
If only he knew that it was a contact sport.
Football.
Great.
His knowledge of nearly any conventional sport was typically fighting over some object, most cases a ball, and two teams fighting said object from one side of the field to the other and into some...thing. Do the thing, get the points, pretty much. As athletic and physically fit as Shiro was, he never did well with sports because of confusing rules and regulations. In any situation where you asked Shiro to 'think' was typically a wash and moot point. If anyone knew him well, it was better to point and yell simple commands for him to follow. Like 'go blow that up!' or 'fetch!'.
o 3o
So, I'm bored and I was thinking if I am allowed to return to this game. Do I really need to be caught up in all that's happened?

With the way Shiro was written, as cheap as it can be, his Semblance gives me a literary loophole that is essentially a "reset" button. It's as simple as Shiro having been part of some mission where he did a reckless thing that ended with him in a coma. Waking from it in IC to either little or large fanfare.

The drawback of course being any character development and memory all being wiped clean.
either way i'd say you should first focus on catching up


Agreed. Anyone mind filling me in PM preferred, of course.
Snow, savage af as always it seems.
Aww, shame.

Uhh, I'd give y'all a tl;dr about what happened to me and where I've been, but so much stoof's happened that's waaay too numerous to put here. So, I'll just leave it at

tl;dr - Stuff happened. I died. Now I'm not died. Yay!~ *Toots kazoo, throws confetti*

And I'd like to return to this if possible because that durn rash has come back. Uhh...not the one they make a cream for but dat literary itch, y'know what I'm sayin'? If y'all would like to have me back that is. If on the chance y'all do I could return as Shiro though I wouldn't even know where to begin with that. Or, I could make a new character. Or! Or! Third option, and this may sound crazy. But DO BOTH.

>Triumphant pose

So what's bein' goin' on guys n' gals?
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