NaraK — Roleplayer Guild

Sangue found herself absorbed with the simplicity of Gren's relationships with his friends. As she expected, Shiro was a nice person. But there seemed to be others who weren't exactly abundant with energy, yet that didn't stop them from being friends with him.

It was strange. She had people she knew of now, yet it was still a new experience to learn about how others viewed their friendships with people. And as interesting as it was, it also warmed and calmed her heart from all the things that tended to confuse or concern her needlessly.

It felt great.

"No, it's... not... boring at all," she told Gren as she tried to smile, though her lips only curled up very slightly. It was easy to tell that she tried to loosen her expression, though.

The woman blinked when there appeared to be a serious situation next to them. Believing that staying out of their business was a good choice, she quietly walked behind Gren as she ate the fruit he had given her.

There seemed to be a bad incident for the group of students that came from the ship. One of them was badly injured... and the others were not... too happy.

I hope... things get better for them... she thought as the snake consumed the fruit in her hands yet again.

@Lucius Cypher@Nytem4re@Lazo@Guess Who@Awesomoman64

Many years ago, a man and a woman sat under the edge of their roof with conflicted minds. They believed in hope in a hopeless time.

The scent of flowers encompassed the Naga household. Its quiet and peaceful essence blended perfectly with the serenity of nature, its only residents sitting outside as they observed the loud waterfalls from a far distance.

The morning sky let its warmth envelop both the house and the man and woman under the roof.

In moments of hopelessness, there was always a glimmer of hope. Hard to find, but easy to accept once it was found. It was such slivers of hope that let the two go on, even while running with their child. For the clan deemed it unacceptable for them to leave alive one of its most dangerous enemies with the direct intention to do so. They showed mercy, and were brought no mercy.

So they fled and resided far away, where nobody can hurt their child without making a painstaking effort to find their home. But their first child remained in the boundaries of those who were determined to end their lives- their stories, which the respective authors did not want to end so quickly.

They had to leave their beloved no matter what. It was for the child's safety.

The beautifully red-haired lady cradled her child, who had yet to open her eyes. The sunset-haired man stared off at the skies, unsure of their future. The mother smiled, her happiness distant, yet existent despite the clear sadness behind her tender expression.

Everyone they knew of was after them. They will raise their arms, and no doubt will they bring harm to their child...

Even if the mother and father faded from the face of Remnant forever.

The man failed to mask the bitterness that fueled his heart. No doubt would a child die on her own if she were left in the wilderness. Any man with low human morality would kill her.

The woman brought the child closer to her embrace, however, knowing the child would not be alone. She looked at the far waterfalls as her keen eyes fell upon the far figure who stood underneath the falls, meditating.

A man lived in the waterfalls, the red-haired lady explained to her husband. A murderer- one of the enemies of the clan, for he endangered their partners with his unpredictable pattern of attacks on such groups. He knew nothing of the clan itself, however; therefore he will not recognize the child's heritage.

The sunset-haired man closed his eyes as he realized who she spoke of. They had met him long ago when they were still accepted as one of the clan's most valuable members. He who brought fear just with his name.

He did not know them- the Naga clan kept its name hidden unlike groups such as the White Fang. But they knew him well.

A killer who was considered an enemy to every society. He who haunted and humiliated people he chose to his own accord. A legend from the darkest depths of Mistral, which had spread itself to even continents outside of it.

Yet, he was a sign of hope for them. Perhaps the fear held to the man, who had little to no knowledge of anything tender, could ward people off the mountains.

He would reside near her, she told her husband as a tear trickled down her porcelain cheek. But if he happened to meet her, then they could only dearly pray that he did not take their only treasure away.

And they prayed.

Prayed that the nightmare known as Apophis could bring upon a miracle for their child from her inevitable doom as they set off to face the clan in a game of hiding.

Just outside of the industrial districts of Vale, a lonely temple, worn by the entity known as time, stood. Pieces of its wooden roof had fallen to the ground, though they had all been swept to the side by its only resident. Ropes that had once held various items hung from wooden pillars that had managed to survive unlike the roof. Some of the stone tiles were either missing or shattered, but for the most part, it was safe enough to walk across with bare feet.

A raven remained perched on one of the tall, thick pillars of the broken temple as it tilted its gaze at the one man who resided at the temple.

Sitting in front of a relic with the etch of a snake, a man with a long, messy ponytail remained still with his only eye closed. He let out a harmonic chant, his hands placed together in the form of meditation as he allowed silence to dominate the temple.

The raven tilted its head to the other side as it watched the blood-haired man meditate. A cyan glow steadily emerged underneath the hair that covered his missing left eye.

"أن҉ا ا̷لأ҉ف̀ع̴ى҉ ͜ال̧أك͜ب͡ر.̴ ع̸ن̀دما̸ ̵النه́ر̡ ا̸ل͟أح̵م͡ر͝، ̴و͝ا͜لب͞ق̛ا͝ء م͠ع ̢را͘ئ̡حة҉ لها̕. لمق̴او͞م̢ة̕ ͟ه҉و ̨ف̸ي ال͟قي͢ام بو͞اج͠به̡ ̷ف͜ي حم҉اي̴ة̡ ث̡ع̶با̛ن͞ ا̛ل͝شبا̸ب̧.͞ "

The trees outside of the temple rustled as the wind began to howl.

"حم͘امات تفا̀ؤ́ل̴ا͟ ̸من҉ ͏م͢سار̛ ͜يسا̵ر̡ي تشو̧ي̨ه̢ ͢الما͘ض͝ي، ̀ولك̸ن͜ ال͘م͏اضي̡ ̡فق͘ط͝. ̀ا͡لمو͏ت̡ ͘هو ͏أب͜دا ͢ا͡لغرض ̴الو͞حيد ̴ا͜لذ͡ي ͞يج̵ب͘ أ͡ن ̀ت̕ق̴د͘م̕ه، ̴ح̴تى ̶إ̵ذ̛ا م̵ا͡ زل̕ت͢ على͜ ا͝ن̴تش͏ار̕ه̸.̢"

The glow grew brighter as the air around the man seemingly became darker on its own.

"ل̧ي̴س͠ ͝ا̢̀͝ل͟م̢ق͘͝ص̢ود̛͜ ̛͡ا͟͡͏لذ҉ن͢وب̀͜͝ ҉͏̢ا̸̕لت̧̛͝ي͡ ̸ي̕͏جب̸̡ ̡͢غس͜له͠ا.͜͏ ̸م͜ا̢͡҉ ͠أ͡ري̧د̷ ل̕͠͞ه͝ا̸͘͟ ̵أن͘ ̶͞ت҉̕͟ب̡͝͏ق̵͝ى ل͢҉͠ح̢҉͝ك̡͞͞م҉̸ة̵̛،̵ ͜و̨́است̧̛͡خ̨د͟͡ا҉̨م͘ها͞ ͘҉ل̀͢ف̢́تح̷͘ ͟͝ف̷͏̧ر̴̴ص̢̕͡ ͢و̵͘ا̶ح̕͟د̕͢ ا̴̧͠لذ̨̢ي̴́ ̴͏ج̶عل͝ ا̷͢ل̴̨ذ̷͢ب̛́ح ̸̢لم͞ ت͘͢ع̛د̶ ͠م̧͟ن̴̡͢ا̴̢س̨̀ب͞͏ة̴͝ ͠ل̡̛ي̕.͢͠ "

The scent of controlled bloodlust spiraled out of control, causing the raven to flee in fear.

"ع̛̮̗̪͕͠ͅن̵͇̦̪̪̙̲̻͟͟ͅد̴̭̗͔̬͎͖̭̀͟م̸̖̝̤͝ا̵̛̻͉͎̥ ͔̼̟̟͇͉͠͞͞ت͏̞̮̠͝س͈̣̺͔̞̠̞͞و̣̠̦̬̳̼̤د̛͓͖̥̮ ̵̻̫ͅا̵̣̮̱͈͇͉̣͖́ل̡̢̪̞̳͇̟̙̺͢ح̸̷͍ي̼͔̤͍̭͉̀͝ا̨̮̭ة̸̼̝̠̝̯͟͟،̡̱͓̜̗̤̳́̀ͅ ̴̧̗͕̮̝و̩̞̱̭أ̗͚͎͚̤̗̫̞ͅن̶̼̝ا̶̘̞̟ ̸̦̠͈ͅي̘̯̥̯̀ج̴̼̯͠ب̨̬̦͚͔͎̲̰͎͢ ͉̹͝أ̢̝̟͔ن͚̘̣̙ ͔͚̟̀͟ت͡͡͏̱ب̩̩̀̕ق̸̴̦̱̙̦͍̺͚̻̥ى̨̡̣̯̦̮͎̩͎ ̜̼̲̹͠͝ف̶̘̹͈̤ي̷̶̤̞ ̝̹̤͈̣͖̟̠͈س̢͚͔͞ل̛̠͙̞̟͈̞̰͜ا̴̬م̢̡͙̳̤̱̘.̸̢͉̬͚̤ ̸̢̺و̛̮͇͎̣ل̦̩̰͓͡ك͈͈͓͖͎̝̲̕ن̨̫͖̬ ̣̩̟̣͍̠͠ͅع̦͓͇̳̤̩̞͘͜͢ن̸̪͉͢͝د͏̬̯̫́م̸̸̹̟̘̝ا̵̧̦͇͍̫́ ̝̹͕̯̺ي͏̶̳ف̱͇͚̻̱̀ت͉̤͢ح̸̧̘͙̙̭̙͇̟ ͕͠ا̠̗̰͍͟͟ل͇͈̠͜͠م͢͏̦̥̗و̛̖̬̗͘ت͠͞͏̺̳̜̝͕̯̖͈ ̷̧̩͈̫͈͇̟ا͏͏̳ل̙̜̳̮̕͝س̶̡̳̜͓͚̪ت̛̦̀̀ا̛̤̬͈ئ̢̥͙̥̤̮͇̹͉͟ر̷̨̝͕ ̶̼͉͚͉̖̻̳͓͞ل̺̦̰͚̜͙͕̪̕ه̵̢͉̫̬̜̺͚͎ا̰̣̜̥́͜،̹͓̭̮̕̕ ̵̜̮͉͚̘̰̭̲̞و̠͉̱̫̥͟͞ͅس̢̨̛̝̟͇̥و̶͈͖̺͍̗̪͞ف̶̳̱̪̘͉̙ ̶̪̼̭̥͜ي̡͓̩̼͉̰̪͚̪ب̨̬̹̹͙ق̺͉̪̬͠ى̷̼̙͚̠̠ ̵͏͓̮͖̙̺̻͙̜̫ف̴̖͉͢ي̺̲͖̥̤̝͓̮ ̺̝͢ن̣͈̭͖̥̻̀͜ͅو̷̧̝͉̰̞̠̬͇̪ع̞̻̟̖̀͝ ̸̗̠̼̞͚̻͉͔͘م̶͏̭̣̪͚̲̳̯̹̀ن͏͔͜ ̶̛̫͕̹̻͈̪ا̪̮̥̤̲͍̥͘ل̻͇̲̖͎͉̤̲͢س͈̖̞̺̭̗̺ل̨̺̙͖̳͝ا̴̢͖͕͡م̙̹̟͚̞̲ ͏͓أ̴̟̯͍̥͎̯̞͜ك̠̟̰͔͟ث͔͈̪̻̯̰̻ر̡̲͢͞ ̶̱̹̘͚ب̱̯̹̟̗͢ك̢̱̖̭͚ث̵̛̞̖͔̩̞͠ي̴͖̜̝͙̝̬̳̗̥ر̶̵̗̠̤͕͎̩̦͉ ̛̺̻̝̺̀م͟҉̼͕خ̮͚̩̕ͅي̵͓̖ف̯̯ة̴̣͓̼̣̯̜̮ ̷̜̺̫͔͖͜م̹̙͕̣͕̫̣̖ن͞҉̬ ̵̘͈̗ا̵̖̘͈͓̤̀ل̨̗̟̟̞̼͜ͅم̡͙͖̙̤و̵̭̮̩̰͈̳ت̥͖͈̻.̼̟̙͇̘̹̕ "

And...

...the man did not break the quietness of the temple any further.

".͠.҉.͟ه̴ذا̶ ه͜و͘ ̧طريق҉ ͞أب͘و̨في͡س͢،͠ ̀مرة̀ وا̶ح͞دة̛ في ̢ر́ش ͡من̧ الفو̀ض͠ى.͡"

Soon, the chanting quieted down as the glow faded, and the world seemed to brighten once more.

Apophis opened his eyes, looking up to the skies as he squinted at the sun above him.

"...Whoever turns on the lights in this world needs to be fired," he growled as he stood up.

Without any other witty remark to make to amuse himself with, he decided to start heading off to the commercial districts of Vale. It would take some time if he walked to there at the pace of a normal person, and he had no qualms with that.

Sitting in public transportation wasn’t Apophis’ kind of thing. Whenever he had the choice to pick vehicles or walking on foot, he always chose the latter. Over twenty years of hunting people had gotten to his head quick, so simply watching people chatter and go about their own things came off to be extremely uncomfortable for him. That was especially the case in buses and the like.

It had been years since he quit his old “job,” though. Now he was a nominee for one of the world’s “richest hobos” simply because of all the money he took from the efforts he made in the past years. There was no actual need for him to use money aside from buying random gifts for the child that made him quit in the first place. He could eat grass and call it salad for all he cared.

So what was the child to him if she was enough to make him stop manhunting?

To put it simply, he hated her. It was impossible for him to just let her wander about without watching her get into situations that could get herself killed.

That was a given, though- she somehow survived in the wild on her own. There was no way she’d know anything that could put her in danger within society’s deceptively non-existent “safe bubble.” Maybe she was a lucky idiot to have lived for so long.

She was weaker than him, so he had nothing to learn from her in the whole “fighting” field. She was even less intelligible than him on so many things, both educational and practical.

So why the hell was he even catering his life’s standards to match hers?

Wait. Did I ever have “standards” of any sort in the first place? Apophis wondered as he walked down a dirt path on his own. A large duffle bag rested on his shoulder, and a sleek black kukri he brought from a little storage room he made under the temple was wrapped around his back in a crudely made sleeve of bandages.

He really didn’t know why, but something about Sangue sparked something human within him. As someone who raised himself to ignore such things, maybe it took him by surprise. Maybe in an alternate universe, he just killed the little shit when he had the chance before she warped his mind.

…Or maybe not.

Still, he commended her for doing what literally everyone else failed at doing. Convincing him at something.

He also commended her for making him do a bunch of weird shit that he considered to be more embarrassing than hunting people.

Taking out a letter he received at the front doors of his temple on an uneventful day, his eyes twitched at the piece of paper.

He remembered a conversation he had with the bartender at his favorite bar…

”Family Day?” Apophis muttered, raising an eyebrow as his usual smile contorted into that of a confused frown. “Mark, the fuck you on about? Do I look like a family man in ANY fucking way?”

“Well, y’know,” the bartender said as he cleaned one of the glasses nearby him. “Beacon is gonna have some sort of ‘Parent’s Day’ or ‘Family Day’ or whatever it was. Thing is, isn’t this your chance to see Sangue in her new school?”

“…Chance??” Apophis muttered as he steadily began to laugh, only to howl in laughter as he stomped his foot repeatedly against the wooden floor. “’Sangue in her new school?’ What do I look like, her dad?”

“Ye.”

”I’ll fucking kill you if you ‘Ye’ my tired ass one more time, you Loch Ness shithole.”

Setting the glass aside, Mark raised his hands in mock fear as he insisted, “To be fair, saying ‘Your adopted child in an academy designated towards raising Hunters and Huntresses’ makes me sound sappy. Ain’t that right?”

“…I get your point but I’m still going to fucking kill you.”

Sighing, Mark shook his head as Apophis grumpily drank out of a bottle. “I won’t say ‘Don’t be such a child’ because I know you’re not used to that stuff, but you really should think of how much she’d like to see you.”

The ex-manhunter downed the entire bottle in one gulp as he slammed it against the counter. Unfortunately, he slammed it a bit too hard and shattered the bottle itself under his clenched grip.

“…Dammit, I just cleaned that spot,” Mark mumbled with a pout.

“Mark, if you’re thinking that it’d be logical for me to meet up with the little shit, what’d you think I do if I met her friends?”

“Oh yeah! She made friends, right?” The bartender brightened up as he clicked his tongue. “All the more of a reason to go there. You were worried about what kinds of friends she made, anyway.”

The redhead killer of a man growled, “’Worried’ is an overstatement you might wanna avoid saying. And… yeah, I’m interested in seeing what they’re like, but not THAT interested.”

“You said you’d kill them if they bullied her.”

“…”

“…”

“…I, uh… I did?”

“Yeah. Right in front of my dad, too.”

“Goddammit, why was your dad even in your bar?! Did he stick his dick in something that’s not your mom?”

The bartender merely raised an eyebrow, remembering how his father just wanted to see how his son was doing. His attention went back to the ex-manhunter when Apophis muttered something quietly.

“…So what about the whole 'visit' thing I talked about?” Mark asked.

“…I’ll pay her a FUCKING VISIT, OKAY?!” Apophis screamed in anger as he humorously slammed the broken neck of the bottle he just smashed over and over against the counter, not realizing that some of its shards were sinking into his hand. “But YOU’RE going to make the arrangements much more comfortable, you understand?”

At the time, Apophis did not believe that the bartender would actually help him.

…And now, it’s come full circle to bite him in the ass.

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

The only attire he had was an extremely dirty white coat that had become grey, dusty pants, and boots that he had originally used to kick people. Top that off with his black kukri and duffle bag, and you got yourself a mentally challenged hobo who knew how to kill people.

He could already see it. Him arriving in Beacon in that shitty attire as Sangue walked up to him with her shitty little smile. And she’d call him fucking “Apep” in front of everyone and make him sound like he’s some kind of dumbass pet who knew how to swing around a Gurkha knife.

The motherfucker.

Motherfucking Sangue with her hankdy dankdy lucky-go-shitty innocence was going to kill him of embarrassment of all things.

“I definitely need some kind of make-over,” he admitted to himself in the most regretful way possible. “Fuck, if Sangue’s teammates turn out to be rich snobs flaunting off their fashion, I’m gonna at least throw some cow shit at them to make myself look better. …Yeah, a bucket of cow shit sounds nice. I’ll grab that before I go to the school full of little shits without telling Mark about it. I'll prepare today and throw shit tomorrow.”

He figured that his plan was foolproof. But first, he needed to go to the bar and see if there were any simple clothes he could buy. Carrying a small portion of the money he had accumulated, he wondered if a million Lien was enough to buy a hoodie. Hopefully it was.
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