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Post by The Sidhe on Feb 17, 2014 14:49:34 GMT -5
The sun shone brightly down in Paris, blanketing the city in deceiving light given the crisp chill of early Spring that lingered in the air. The old pale buildings with their second empire roofs and petite iron balconies stood silent over corner cafes and busy intersections. Even for the early afternoon, Paris was bustling, with school children heading home or out with friends for lunch, taxis ferrying businessmen and the usual 9-5 crowd that had missed their morning train, and scooters weaving dangerously between rows of traffic. Across the street from stories tall apartments and green walkways of trees shimmering in sunlight stood the old red windmill of the Moulin Rouge. The old cabaret and former brothel appeared far less glamorous during the daylight hours. The lights were shut off, the interior dark to those attempting to glimpse beyond the tinted glass windows, or what few were on the doors. Without the lights and with the red letters of the establishment’s name still dark, the windmill looked old, out of place and out of time standing watch over a business that had outgrown it over the years. But the familiar marker remained in place, and even though the exterior was quiet save for the loud and colorful advertisements of shows plastered to the exterior walls, from inside came a rhythm. A dull beat could be heard even from the outside, and as a young woman clad in legwarmers with her hair still looking like she’d just rolled out of bed rushed through the doors, the song fell out into the street to blast passer’s by with music for a few brief seconds before the door fell closed and blocked its path again. Inside, the beat continued. Rehearsals were in full swing for the show later that night, despite the recent goings on. Ticket sales were down and two acts had been cut. Several of the girls had quit, and a few had simply stayed home with mystery illnesses to avoid coming in. They were scared. Even those who didn’t sport red hair and pale skin didn’t want to risk the possibility that they could be next. The Moulin Rouge was all bright lights, loud music, and spectacular dancing, but they all knew its past. The building was far from having a clean slate, as was the management. The main floor had been cleared for the day, tables and chairs still hidden in back rooms out of sight. Only a few of the dim red lights glowed this early, casting odd and uncomfortable looking shadows against the old floors and walls as the color faded in the presence of modern fluorescence. Up on the stage, the dancers moved in uniform lines. Twisting, twirling images of women in can-can skirts and heels painted a rather awkward image given the sweatpants and tank tops they also wore. It was only rehearsals, and most knew the dance well. There was no need to be in full costume yet. The can-can was everything it was born to be when performed by them, legs kicked high with shined red pumps pointed towards the ceiling, but one look at any of their faces ruined any suggestive feeling given by ruffled skirts and loud colors. A look of apprehension was almost palpable in the air, and it was clear that those present for the rehearsal were either desperate to leave or desperate for a pay check, only present out of necessity whether it was for cash or to comfort the other girls. They reigned it in well, smiling through it, but without the stage makeup or the lights, the slightly darker area of the stage painted their eyes with unease, their features strained. Not a damn one of them wanted to be there. Before the stage stood two people, a man and a woman. The latter stood stock still save for her tapping foot keeping time with the music, her eyes flitting over the dancers. Every now and again and she step forward, either motioning someone back or calling for a pause before biting out critique and commands. While she was clearly the choreographer, the man behind her was clearly the Moulin Rouge’s current owner. Middle aged and on the shorter side, Jacques Zidler looked like he’d sat in the sun a tad too long. His skin was tinted a shade redder than it should have been, the outline of sunglasses clear around beady, dark eyes. Equally dark hair had been beaten into submission and slicked back along his skull. Heavy gold rings adorned his fingers that didn’t match the sharp silver suit he wore in the slightest. Behind the choreographer he paced, never stopping once, and only appearing to grow more irritated as time marched on, snapping quips when the sight of imperfection became too much, <<You call that dancing? My grandmother kicks better than that and she’s had hip replacement surgery! Twice! You there on the end, don’t arch your back so much, are you trying to dance or trying to be a contortionist? Elise, what the hell are you doing? You look about as graceful as a drunk elephant on roller skates!>>He threw his hands up before stalking away several feet, taking a drag from a half-finished cigarette that he held between his fingers and grimacing. The choreographer cast a glance at the girls and motioned for them to stop. The music halted for a moment and so did the movement, the dancers breathing so heavily it was audible and a few moving to the floor to stretch during the break. The woman wandered over to Zidler with a sour look on her face, though that may have partly been from her blonde hair having been yanked back so tightly into a bun her face didn’t have enough leeway to move, <<Jacques, you’re not helping. The girls are bad off as they are, they don’t need you harassing them like that. It’s my job to help them in rehearsal so let me do it!>>Zidler rolled his eyes, <<They’re slacking off.>><<They’re scared, Jacques!>> The choreographer exclaimed, gesturing animatedly to the stage behind her, <<They found Simone hanging from the rafters last night, and now they’re up there dancing under where her body was! There’s still blood beneath the floorboards because the janitors haven’t had time to clean it all up yet, they’re terrified that the doctor will be after them next!>>The dark haired man truly didn’t seem to care. Clicking his tongue, he drew another breath from his cigarette before turning gleaming eyes onto the blonde woman, <<Marie, no one’s gonna be next. Know why? Because ghosts don’t exist. We’ve just got some nut job on our hands, and those kids are on their way to take care of it. Now get those heifers crowding the stage up there back in top performing condition for tonight or the next one walking out the door is gonna be you, understand?>>Marie clearly held her tongue only with great effort on her part and gave a curt nod before turning on her heal and stalking back to the stage, <<From the top! Are you can-can dancers or aren’t you?>>Zidler pinched the bridge of his noise and let out a long breath. He didn’t need this. Casting a glance back at the stage as the girls got back in their lines and started up as the music did once more, he tried to tune out the rhythm pounding in his head and made his way over to the currently closed bar if only to lean against the counter. The dancer that had come in late stood stage left, getting her shoes on and pausing between lace-ups to stretch. For the moment, Zidler ignored her. She could be reprimanded later. Letting his head hang back against his shoulders, he glared up at the ceiling and sniffed, <<Where are those damned kids already? The show must go on.>>
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Post by Levi Kastein on Feb 22, 2014 17:33:51 GMT -5
What was with France and its inability to keep people from falling to madness? Maybe they were just so overcome with their own worthlessness and unimportance that they gave up hope and turned to the side of madness. One would think things would at least be a little better in the capital but according to the mission board that wasn’t the case and so someone had to go clean up other’s messes again. If there was any nasty fuckin grime that got on his clothes this time there would be problems. If that was avoided there shouldn’t be any real problems.
Compared to their first mission this sounded like a piece of cake. Some supposed ghost didn’t sound like much of a threat after taking down the beast that made the small French town wet its collective pants. Levi had managed to avoid scarring but his hand still bore the marks of the creature’s teeth after his stunt of yanking on its jaw. No ghost was going to do anything close to hurting him and he chalked the beast managing to hurt him up to luck and size. That aside he hoped the peasants they needed to meet for this mission were more helpful than the worthless bunch he was forced to deal with on the last one.
Wearing a similar outfit to what he wore on the last mission Levi was set to show off his excellence to these plebeians. This time however he decided to leave Zegen back at his house instead of keeping the blade at his side. A normal sword would only do so much and against a kishin egg its value decreased. The last thing he needed was some fucking ghost causing him to lose or even break Zegen; the thought alone pissed him off. He would just have to manage with just Irene this time but he felt that was sufficient. She did manage to work well with him against the beast and followed his directions well enough that he probably wouldn’t need his sword.
Shibusen understood his demands now and getting a proper plane to take them to France was much easier than before. The flight still took too much time for his liking but he couldn’t help that. Not having anything to really think about he passed the flight in mostly silence remembering the training he had with weapons like Irene so he would be sure to be at his best for this. Spending so much time with swords had certainly gotten him in a routine but breaking that for a corseque wasn’t much work.
Landing it was time to head out and figure out exactly what was going on with these idiots. With the sun shining so brightly Levi wore his shades like glasses to not have his wondrous vision impaired. Being surrounded by so many people bothered Levi as there were so many people who weren’t paying attention to important things like him! He was much more important than whatever mundane things they were doing like going to work or other things he didn’t care about. Of course he couldn’t just demand they pay attention to him or he would spend all day doing that and not have time to take care of the mission at hand. Begrudgingly he ignored them and continued onward to their destination.
After walking for a bit they came across the building and Levi was unimpressed. For a place that was supposedly important or something it didn’t come across as anything special to him. Giving the building a glance over he sneered and looked at the doors that led inside. Hearing the soft beat of whatever music came from inside Levi fought the urge to roll his eyes as he didn’t think the building even deserved that from him. Not wanting to touch a door that people who came to a place like this had touched he nudged the door open with his foot ad walked inside, assuming that Irene would follow him without issue. Inside the music was even more obnoxious and more annoying to deal with.
Looking around he saw what looked like some sort of red faced rat standing near the bar so he was probably who they should talk to. The idea of speaking to the creature upset him but it couldn’t be worse than that useless woman on the previous one. Walking over Levi stopped when there was still a substantial gap of distance between them so he wouldn’t have to entertain the disgusting thought of coming into contact with the thing.
”I’m assuming you’re the one we need to talk to. Explain this mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”
His words lacked any sympathy or attempt at friendliness; they were there because these people were too weak to deal with things on their own. The sooner this vermin talked the sooner they could fight whatever this kishin egg was and be done with this whole stupid country.
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Irene Dixon
Weapon
Demon Corseque
Wake me up. I'm living a nightmare.
Posts: 108
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Post by Irene Dixon on Feb 22, 2014 20:32:14 GMT -5
Another mission.
Alone, Irene allowed herself to smile. There was no one to hide from here, no one to put a mask on for. In her room back at the school dorms, she prepared once again to accompany her meister on a mission. While to a certain degree she detested Levi, she also trusted him. She had to and she wanted to. He was her partner, the one she would work with and fight for. Grateful to him for getting her to go on missions again, for getting her stronger. Dressed and ready to head out the door, the girl took one last look in the mirror. Denim jeans hugging to her legs and hips, short black boots protected her feet, and a thin cream sweater clung to her torso. A calm color for the woman, she was settling back into life… It finally felt like things were going correctly.
Out the door, she didn’t want to miss the plane. Levi always seemed… so prepared and picky when it came to things like this. The planes they were on were always so nice. She and him didn’t talk during the travel, which was all the better for Irene. Her mind was processing. This mission was once again in France. Their first mission together was… quite interesting. The fact that she didn’t understand the language had severely irritated her. Causing her to start studying more words of the French language on top of her other classes to deal with. The fortune of going to France again would have her test her new knowledge, however small it may be.
This mission seemed different from the last, but he was certain they would be able to handle it. If she paid attention to Levi and to their surroundings once they got there, they would figure it out and be home in no time. No beast was roaming the streets of the city, this was much more secluded. One specific place was being hit, not a whole village. It sounded simple. Her only fear was collateral damage, harming those who might get caught in the crossfire… But she would worry if the time ever came.
Running the information they had about the mission over and over in her head, it seemed like no time at all had passed for them to land. Her partner had placed a pair of glasses over his eyes as they stepped out of the plane. While she squinted for the first moment or so, Irene’s eyes quickly adjusted. The city was busy. People everywhere, scooters running through the streets, taxis honking and speeding about… The chaos was unsettling and calming at the same time. So many people living, going on with their lives when darkness could be so close. A cold feeling washed over her with that thought. That darkness could consume them at any moment. It wasn’t fear or anything she had quite experienced before…
Shaking this uncertainty from her self, she focused on her partner. Determined to get to the Moulin Rouge and get to the bottom of this. Probably trying to avoid all of the low class. They approached the building they were meant to be at. The appearance of it… was so scattered. While she assumed this was because it was meant to be a nightlife hotspot, it still gave off an odd feel. Posters hung everywhere to announce shows, a mixture of color and the past. The place was just a mixture of so many different details. Keeping the oddities of the place secluded to her own mind, she followed her meister’s movements. The opening of the door caused music to surround them in an instant. She expected it from the faint thumping of the rhythm heard as they approached, therefore not causing her to stir too much. Holding back the amusement she felt at Levi kicking the door open, she wondered if it really was because he didn’t want to touch the place or if she was reading too much into the small movement.
Inside, the place still held the same odd feel. While the decor was certainly more organized and fitting, there lingered a certain uneasiness. Her eyes traveled over the place, looking at the various objects within the place and the people. Some looked less comfortable than others. The dancers moved with great precision but with hollow faces behind their smiles, a blonde woman concentrated before them, one woman seemed less in sync with the rest, and a man that reminded her of a weasel stood apart from all else at the bar.
That was where Levi headed, so she followed. The expression on her meister’s face, that she could see, seemed typical of him. He looked generally displeased. The thought ran through her mind that they sort of matched… in that way. Keeping within general distance of Levi, they both stopped by the weasel man. Making a sort of lopsided triangle of conversation, Levi spoke first. Always the very blunt one, her partner was, she kept her attention on the unknown man. There was no way this person was going to respond too kindly to that comment, especially with the tone it was presented. Hopefully she could deal with any escalation that may follow. But… for now. She remained quiet. Afterall, she wanted the same information her partner did.
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Post by The Sidhe on Feb 26, 2014 0:09:02 GMT -5
From his place at the bar, Zidler continued to throw judgmental gazes towards the stage. He didn’t give a damn how well they knew the routines. Smiles weren’t worth a damn thing with their eyes full of fright. The owner of the Moulin Rouge vaguely straightened only to spare a glance up towards the rafters, where the lights hung over the lines of kicking feet clad in polished heels. The brief memory of the girls who’d been hung thus far sent a chill through him and he averted his gaze just in time to see two teenagers enter the building. For a moment, Zidler was ready to tell them to get lost until he remembered they were likely the students from Shibusen. With the curt introduction from the green haired kid, Zidler assumed he was right.
There was no hiding the mild indignation on his face at being blamed for the whole mess. It wasn’t his fault some whack job had a hobby of killing his dancers and then stringing them up by their pretty little necks. What was he supposed to do, try and tackle the psycho himself? Not hardly. Even if the kid’s demeanor had him side-eyeing them both, he did appreciate that he was to the point. Zidler let out a breath and composed himself, putting on a grin more fit for a used car salesmen than the owner of a historical cabaret, “If you mean to say you are looking for Jacques Zidler, then you’ve found him.”
A French accent clung to the vowels Zidler spoke, somehow making him seem even more the stereotypical image of the sleazy businessman. Turning so he was facing them, he kept the grin going and leaned with one arm propped against the bar counter, “I’d like this matter resolved as quickly as possible so I’ll try not to keep you. Time is money after all, and I’ve been losing it in droves because of this damned psycho running around killing my girls.”
Speaking of the girls, those on stage froze. For an end of routine, one would have expected flashier poses and brighter smiles. Each and every one held eerily still, their eyes searching above for threats as opposed to sending sultry looks out to where the crowd would hopefully be later on that night. Marie audibly sighed and slowly shook her head, clapping her hands together before declaring a break. All present on stage lost all their luster, their act over with her words of release. Their faces fell, their posture grew timid, and several skittered off towards the dressing rooms to fix their petticoats. The late dancer hopped down from the stage, face blank and walking stiffly as another dancer followed after her, appearing concern. The former glanced periodically towards the team and her boss in a way she likely thought was subtle but only succeeded in looking accusatory as Zidler began speaking, oblivious of the eavesdropper. Zidler pointed to the rafters over the stage, “See those beams? Three of my dancers have been hung from those since the beginning of last week. Whoever’s doing this is a real piece of work. Cuts open their ribs, pries them open, and bears their hearts for all to see. All redheads, all fair skinned, all brilliant at what they do.”
Zidler turned his dark eyes back on the team, searching his suit pocket briefly for another cigarette only to find the pack was empty. Clicking his tongue, he tossed it on the counter, “The Moulin Rouge is old, it’s been in my family for over a hundred years. The building’s been burned down, blown to pieces, renovated, and rebuilt more times than I dare try to count, so I have no doubt whoever’s doing this knows that and knows that there’s hiding places all over the damn place. The girls think it’s a ghost, some doctor from the Moulin Rouge’s glory days when it doubled as a cabaret and a brothel, but I digress.”
It was evident that Zidler made an attempt to stand as straight as possible, but in the end he failed. His demeanor seemed to mimic that of the dancers’ a for a brief moment, the man looked exhausted. However it was gone in a flash, replaced by a fake smile and followed up by a downright uncomfortable gleam in his eye, “So long as you don’t wreck the place, I really don’t care how you get rid of this psycho that’s hold up in my cabaret. Just get rid of them quick as you can be and be on your way so we can start the shows up on time and I’ll be happy. Lord knows I don’t need to lose any more business. This is the worst thing that’s happened to us since-“
“That is a lie!”
Zideler heard the familiar shrill voice and sighed, clearly aggravated. His smile became clearly strained as he looked to the team briefly. “Please excuse me a moment,” he whispered before turn in to face none other than the late dancer. Thought she was taller than him and shaking with what appeared to be fury, he didn’t seem fazed, <<Amani, you have rehearsals to attend to. Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?>>
The switch back to French was a weak ploy at trying to stall her. The dancer now known as Amani ignored Zidler, looking right over his head to the team. She stood stiffly with her arms crossed, her words shaking with an accent that was clearly from elsewhere, further from the Seine around Paris and closer to the Tigris. Her syllables were cleaner, but she was clearly less well versed in English than her boss, “He is lying, this is not the worst. This has happened before, every year during the same week a dancer resembling Rossingol dies! He only called in help because one of girls with seniority threatened to sue if he did not!”
“Amani! That’s enough!” Zidler hissed. She shut her mouth only to leer down at the greasy little man in front of her. He didn’t appear to scare her one bit, but that didn’t stop him from biting out commands to her like her owned her, <<Now you listen to me and you listen good! If you don’t shut your mouth this instant and get your pretty Persian ass back on that stage I will fire you, do you understa->>
Zidler’s sentence was cut off harshly by Amani’s hand cracking across his face. Gasps were heard from across the room form the other dancers. A few even clapped. Amani’s expression was darker than thunder clouds, but the tears she was blinking back lessened the impact of her clear rage, “I am Iraqi, and you cannot fire me. I quit.”
She stormed past and disappeared around the corner. Zidler shook his head, ears ringing, and glared at the team, “Well? Don’t just stand there, get to work!” The owner of the Moulin Rouge shoved himself away from the bar and stalked off towards his office, Amani having headed in the opposite direction and stopped just short of the door leading backstage. What happened next was in the team’s hands in what path they would choose to take.
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Post by Levi Kastein on Mar 1, 2014 20:42:14 GMT -5
So far contacts hadn’t been the most likable of individuals on missions and this one was no different. Seeing the irritation on the man’s face from his introduction pleased Levi, it told a bit about him. He must be in some sort of position of power and didn’t like being talked down to, too bad for him that was all Levi intended to do. If Levi had to tolerate interacting with this peasant he wanted to make sure he was aware of his place. So that was his name? It didn’t matter; Levi wasn’t going to waste his time remembering some worthless scum’s name.
At least he wanted to get this taken care of quickly, the less time Levi had to spend here the better. The way he talked upset Levi and it only grew worse the more he said. This man had horrible leadership qualities and was trying to pass of as being remotely competent. Ignoring that as best he could Levi tried to focus on what he was saying about the mission. The kishin egg definitely sounded like a more human thing than the last one. From the description it sounded akin to a serial killer with the certain traits of victims and specific ways they were killed.
Hiding places all over the place? That was going to make finding the thing all the more difficult. Tracking down some creepy kishin wasn’t exactly what Levi had in mind. He just wanted to fight some creature, kill it, and have Irene take its soul so they could leave. Hunting down things should be left for commoners, he was here to fight and take care of the creatures they were too weak to deal with themselves. His tone was starting to piss Levi off with what he was saying. He was a knight and a prince, not some common barbarian who just destroyed things in combat. If something got in his way he would take care of it.
As grating as it was listening to the peasant talk the sudden interruption didn’t make things better. More people talking was the opposite of what Levi wanted, he wanted the talking to stop so he could start the part of the mission he was here for. Hopefully this woman had something important to add and wasn’t just wasting his time like before. Was it so hard for people to just tell him where the kishin was so he could kill it and be done? Levi did listen to what they said though, if he was lying to them about things that might be important there would be problems.
Hearing what she said was interesting and caused anything the man said to be viewed with a certain level of skepticism. He didn’t care about getting rid of the kishin or preventing other deaths, all he wanted was to make money and everything else was a secondary concern. It almost tempted Levi to be as destructive as he could when he found the kishin just to cause him more problems. The idea was in his head but he would have to think about if it was worth the hassle to annoy such a worthless man.
When she smacked him Levi couldn’t help but crack a grin at the sight. She was almost commendable for actually touching him with her bare skin, who knew what diseases she might get. Her attempt to save face was unnecessary but he couldn’t hold too much against her, she was a commoner and they had a tendency to lose themselves to emotions easily. All the times he had jumped to violence over minor things never even crossed his mind while he thought about that.
Despite the scene he was still willing to work with the owner until he opened his mouth again and immediately ended that thought. That was an order that just left his mouth; he actually gave Levi a command like he was another one of his pathetic workers. Out of instinct his hand went to his side where his sword would be but he had left it back in Death City for the mission. Clenching his fist sparks of wavelength jumped over his knuckles as his mouth turned into a disgusted sneer. Looking at the man a bitter taste formed in his mouth as the words made their way out.
<<If you ever give me an order again I will cut your tongue from your mouth!>>
Speaking in French to get his point across Levi made sure he would be heard by the man and anyone else. Letting out a sharp exhale of breath he looked to where the scum went and where the woman went. If information was being withheld from them things could end up more difficult than they needed to be and he wanted to be done with things as quickly as was possible. If she could call him out on things she must know what she was talking about so they might as well talk to her and see if they could get an idea of where the kishin even was.
”Let’s go talk to that woman and see if she can actually give us something helpful, can’t be more of a waste of time than trying to get anything relevant out of that trash.”
Heading after Amani he walked toward the backstage door trusting that Irene would follow. He doubted she would argue against his decision or think that there was any useful information to be gained from being around that mockery of an owner.
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Irene Dixon
Weapon
Demon Corseque
Wake me up. I'm living a nightmare.
Posts: 108
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Post by Irene Dixon on Mar 25, 2014 22:16:42 GMT -5
Irene caught the shift in expression at her partner’s words. Obviously the man did not like the fault being placed on him. Whether or not that was useful information had yet to be seen. While the man did not seem totally appreciative of the words, he was quick to change to a smile. It was a sickening sort of expression, totally opposite of Irene’s usual goal. While her normal attempt was to suppress anything, this man seemed to be forcing a… friendly? attitude. At the very least, he was forcing a smile. That was obvious. Then he stated his name. Of course this was who they were looking for… how wonderful.
He spoke english, that helped Irene out a great deal. Though… she was somewhat disappointed that she didn’t get to test out her new bit of skill. The man attempted to come off as calm. That same odd smile, him leaning against the bar like he was going to chat it up with old buddies. How much of this was a facade and how much of it was him not actually caring? With their last target actually being the one that called them, Irene found herself having that much more lack of trust.
And the uncaring attitude of people continued to solidify itself in her mind. Time is money. That’s what it’s all about right? Money. Not the lives taken. Not those who are erased from this earth. Anger. It was slipping into her expression. Though she didn’t speak on it, she could feel her jaw clenching in frustration, her eyes somewhat narrowing into a glare. This man was a rat.
Even in her thoughts, something else caught her attention. Or rather… the lack of something else. Those who had been dancing instantly were not. Her gaze shifting to the side, she looked from the corner of her eye rather than turn her whole head. With this shift of attention, her anger ceased to cross her face. Her mind focused now on the fearful women on stage. Another seemed to be in charge. A woman, choreographer maybe? As the women were done, one seemed more interested in Zidler, herself, and Levi than with going with the other women. Looks, glances, maybe glares… All in their direction.
Letting it slide for now, Irene’s attention shifted back to the ratman to listen to his words. Three. Three people so far. Strung up for all to see. Yet, there he remained in an almost uncaring fashion. This time, she held back any sort of emotion from appearing on her face. Oh how she hoped he was the issue… That Levi could sink her blade into his heart.
The more he talked on, the less helpful Irene found him to be. If she wanted, she could make up useless stories about what it could be. That didn’t help. Irene felt like she was picking up on her partner’s more intolerant demeanor. She pretty much welcomed the interruption that came next. The young woman from before, the one that had been paying attention to them since the end of the dance.
As he turned to deal with the girl, Irene’s hands instantly clenched into fists. The hope again surfaced, that he was the one that would end up dead at her weapon form. The accusations from the girl seemed.. more helpful. While it could be a trick, it was just as much as Zidler had been giving them. More words were exchanged between the two, anger rising between both of them.
Then… the slap.
A smile. An obvious expression of pleasure, crossed Irene’s lips. He deserved it, at least in her eyes. And she was glad for that smack across his face. That seemed mostly the end of the fight. The girl quit and stormed off in one direction. Ratman barked at the two of them and… well, almost was slain by her partner. Irene’s eyes instantly moved to watch the reaction of Levi. Anger was obvious. Ratman really should not have ordered her partner to do anything… While she saw Levi move for his sword, she was almost disappointed it wasn’t there to threaten Zidler with. Alas, words seemed enough. From what she could catch, he was threatening him. That would have to do.
Irene kept her eyes on her partner for now. Zidler was storming off his own way. She wanted to go speak to Amani. See if they could get any more information out of her. But, waiting a moment to make sure her partner wouldn’t lash out at her was as good an idea as any. Thankfully, he was on the same page as her. He wasn’t stupid, she had figured that out a while ago.
Nodding a bit in agreement to the first part of his words, she replied with a bit of anger and bitterness to the last part of his sentence. ”The only thing I want out of him is his guts to be spilled across the ground. More… aggressive than her typical self. While her face had returned to its expressionless self, the words were… still odd for her.
Irene did indeed follow her partner, keeping close to him but also keeping her senses focused on the place around them. Secrets… random places that anything could be. If something really was attacking every year, it would certainly know the best passages from one place to another.
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Post by The Sidhe on Mar 28, 2014 16:56:57 GMT -5
The Meister’s words weren’t lost on Zidler, not that they drew much of a reaction. The owner grumbled and kept stalking towards his office, holding a hand gingerly over the quickly reddening cheek that the dancer had slapped. She hadn’t gone far, at least. Amani had stormed off in an image of tightly held fury and swishing petticoats of the rehearsal skirts she wore. Around the corner, the door to the backstage dressing rooms and beyond stood slightly ajar. Dull, softer music could be heard emanating from it, meant to act as a background to help the dancers get into the performing mood but not to the point of being a distraction.
Beyond the door was the first of several hallways barely big enough for two people to squeeze past each other in a hurry. Dim lights faded to yellowed glass cast warm ambient light and cast long shadows. Lining the walls were doors, each with a slot that held a name card to mark which room which dancer called home while she was present and working. Lights beside the door frame glowed pink to indicate who was present and who was already hurrying towards the stage. Muffled conversations brewed behind a few of the closed doors, and from further down there were girls to be seen hurrying back and forth.
The door to Amani’s dressing room was also ajar. While earlier her dark hair had been bound tightly back, now tight curls fell freely to her shoulders even as she worked to pin back her bangs at least. She’d exchanged the rehearsal skirts for sweatpants and already had switched from the shiny red heels back to more street appropriate ballet flats. Surprisingly clear blue eyes appeared slightly reddened as she swiped tears away before they could fall. The sole action she took solace in was giving him a taste of the hurt they were all feeling before she took her leave. The bastard deserved far worse, but alas Amani knew her limits.
As the team found her, Amani would dab at her eyes and do a double take, not actually having expected them to follow after her. For a moment, she cast her gaze to the floor, unsure of what to say. As she lifted her head to look at them both again, he voice was far softer than earlier, “I apologize for my behavior. And for interrupting. But the bastard had that coming.”
Shifting in her seat, Amani tucked her feet back and folded her hands in her lap. She almost looked like she expected to be scolded, but then part of her did, just not by two teenagers. The room was small and impersonal. Only a few effects that were clearly Amani’s were present, those being the bag she’d carried in with her and a small coin necklace that hung from the vanity. Apart from that, the room clearly had gone through several occupants. Evidence of the history hung on the wall in the form of framed vintage posters of dancers that had long since died, the wallpaper appeared faded in sickly shades of white that had yellowed and red that had dulled. The furniture was battered looking and the carpet appeared to not have been cleaned since the place opened. The light was as dim as it was out in the hall.
Fidgeting under their gaze, Amani let her shoulders drop. “I am uncertain as to how much Zidler told you before I arrived late, but if you like I can tell you more about what is happening. The truth, at least” she stated softly, her gaze drifting back down to the floor, “I owe her that much.” The last was said quietly more to herself than to the team. The dancer, at least, seemed more inclined to help them solve the mystery and catch the monster killing fair redheaded dancers than her boss was.
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Post by Levi Kastein on Apr 13, 2014 19:22:28 GMT -5
Hearing Irene’s comment as he headed to where the dancer had gone was mildly amusing for Levi. He assumed the man wasn’t the kishin or he was a very bold kishin and that didn’t seem to fit him. It was a shame though, being able to kill someone who dared think themselves above him would have been a nice touch after coming back to this country. Picking to follow the dancer proved to be the best move as when they reached the door she had gone through it was slightly open so he didn’t have to touch it. Nudging the door open with his foot he looked around at the hallway before him and walked in.
The hallway was horrible. Too small for someone of his standing and not bright enough to display his greatness. Dealing with the less than ideal conditions Levi headed down the hallway glancing at each door that they passed to see if it was what they were looking for. If he remembered correctly, and he always did, the dancer they were looking for was named Amani so that was the name to search for. He could try another dancer but didn’t want to deal with any more unhelpful peasants than he needed to.
Finding the correct room didn’t take them too much time and the door was even slightly open to make it easier to locate. She managed to change into some different clothes before they reached her but they did nothing to make her look less like a commoner. Observing her he picked up on the redness around her eyes and assumed the confrontation earlier had upset her. She was challenging the authority with her actions but the authority was shit to begin with so he couldn’t blame her. Her apologizing to them would just serve to waste more time they could use hunting the kishin.
”Don’t apologize; he was wasting our time anyway. He lacks the skills to be useful let alone lead anything.”
Even at his worst Levi had never been as worthless of a leader as the man had shown. Perhaps his father worried he could become like that but that was a level below what he imagined he could reach. Thinking about it too much would just distract him and Levi needed to focus on the mission at hand, especially if he was going to have to deal with hidden shit around the place, even so he felt that he was beginning to understand at least a little more why his dad sent him to Shibusen.
Taking a quick look around the room Levi wished he hadn’t. It was the epitome of common and just standing in it made him feel like he would catch something. Nothing stood out as interesting though; she didn’t look at all like a possible kishin egg either. Hopefully she could at the least give them an idea about where to look for the kishin egg, the more exact the better.
”He didn’t tell us anything useful. Just tell us what you know that will help us find the thing and take care of it.”
He was as blunt as usual and waited for the dancer’s Intel. Sympathy wasn’t going to change anything and all they needed was the details to do what they came here for.
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Irene Dixon
Weapon
Demon Corseque
Wake me up. I'm living a nightmare.
Posts: 108
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Post by Irene Dixon on Apr 14, 2014 21:05:58 GMT -5
The path to follow the dancer seemed to be an easy one. Afterall, she couldn’t assume that these performers would have the mental capacity to travel through a maze when in a hurry. Places like this should be set up for efficiency, right? Or… perhaps that thought was not correct. What Irene found was small hallways, dim lights, quiet music… It gave Irene a strange feeling, a sort of impending darkness. Surely that wasn’t the intent, but she wasn’t in the greatest of mindsets at the moment.
The shadows that lined the thin hallways did nothing to assist the aggravated weapon. While she realized that she needed to calm herself to be able to work well enough with Levi, she couldn’t escape the intensity of something eating at her…. like something chewing at her very soul. Eyes darting about the hallway, looking at everything and successfully drowning out her aggravation. Names, shadows of themselves, various doors that people had recently used, little snippets of people talking, other people. Taking in details of what she saw.
It took little time for the pair to locate Amani’s room. With the door being open, it was easy to find her even if they wouldn’t have known her name to look for a tag. Entering the room, she let Levi take the lead. She could only assume her preferred it and it rarely bothered her. Though not much time had passed since they last saw the woman, she had already changed and had her hair down. Waste no time.
The female looked ashamed of her actions, though not apologetic of having done them. The was only confirmed by her words. Second guessing maybe? Irene was used to that line of thought. Yet, she didn’t say anything. She was sure that man deserved more… Levi, of course, added his own thoughts. Irene found herself slightly surprised that he didn’t add a comment about how he was a better leader. Maybe he assumed it was implied.
Letting her eyes drift from Amani to the room and then back, Irene tried to get a feel for what this place held. If any lies might come from her or if she would simply be helpful. Dim light, shabby furniture, old pictures, and a few belongings. Taking a side glance at her partner, she assumed he was disgusted. He… had little tolerance for things he found below him. Which, was everything.
The next thing she spoke seemed full of emotion. Sadness at losing someone, wanting to end this madness. Levi responded as he often did. To the point. For the moment, Irene found no reason to add anything. Amani wasn’t falling apart before them, merely upset. She didn’t need a reassuring hand, she just needed these horrid events to end. They could do that, they just needed her information. So, wait for the girl to respond. That was her best option, best not to postpone it with any further words.
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Post by The Sidhe on Apr 15, 2014 15:54:10 GMT -5
Amani tried very hard not to smile at the Meister’s comment. Only years of performing and discipline helped her succeed, though the distinct upwards twitch at the corners of her mouth was a telltale giveaway. At least she would be useful after all, then. The weight that had settled on her chest since the week previous seemed to lighten a little bit. Nodding at what he said next, Amani let her shoulders drop into a more relaxed posture, though she still looked a stone’s throw away from curling fully into a ball, arms crossed protectively over her ribs, “You’ll need to hear the beginning of this story, then. I’ll shorten it as much as I can so you can find her.”
Bending only slightly, she plucked her duffel bag from its place beneath the vanity she sat at and cradled it in her lap. The quicker she packed the better, and she could talk and move at the same time. With her breathing more even, her voice shook less but sounded hollow. “Any woman who works here with half a brain knows that only one of two people could be responsible for the murders: Rossignol or Louis.”
She paused as she stuff her hairbrush and makeup kit into the open bag, keeping her gaze lowered and her words as clear as she could make them, accented though they were. She was attempting to speak quickly for a variety of reasons. She still felt her eyes stinging for one, and for another she would rather not linger in the Moulin Rouge any longer. “Back in the times when the Moulin Rouge was at the height of its business, Rossignol was its star. She had the voice of a nightingale, hence the name, and was the most wanted courtesan the Moulin Rouge employed. Every man wanted her, but only one caught her eye: Louis Bernard. He was the physician that attended to the courtesans back then. As the story goes, they fell for each other.”
Amani reached for the coin belt hanging beside the mirror, her eyes lingering on it a moment before she actually picked it up. The coins jingled as she laid them carefully in her bag, “But there was someone else who wanted after Rossignol. A local duke was determined to have her as his own. He threatened Zidler’s grandfather and claimed he would buy the Moulin Rouge out from under him if he did not hand her over. When Rossignol heard that he’d agreed to the deal, she was furious. It was no secret the two were set to run but,” another pause as Amani pursed her lips, glancing up to her own reflection in the mirror, “they both disappeared before the Duke could do anything, at least that’s what everyone says. Not everyone mentions how gunshots rang through the windmill above this place or how the Duke made himself scarce afterwards. He left and never came back, but no one really thinks that Rossingol or Louis ever left the Moulin Rouge.”
Amani zipped up the duffel bag in her lap, slowly turning to the team with her hands folded atop it, “Some of the girls think it is Louis because of how carefully the corpses are cut open. Some think it is Rossignol, like I do. Either way, this is not the first time it has happened. I have worked here three years and every year girls with Rossignol’s likeness are killed all during the week when she and Louis disappeared. Other girls that have been here longer that I have spoken with say the same thing. Rumor has it the murders started the year after they disappeared and have kept up for every year since then.”
Sliding the duffel bag off her lap and back onto the floor next to her, Amani managed to look to each of the Shibusen students, her expression still drawn tight,“There are any number of places to hide in the Moulin Rouge but only two that no one ever goes into anymore. There is storage space beneath the stage, but under that still is an old wine cellar. It is supposed to be bolted shut, but several people have heard the old door opening and closing. Rossignol’s old room still stands as well, up in the windmill above the building. It can be difficult to get to, the stairs are rickety and there is a bit of climbing involved from what I understand, but it is possible to get up there. Everyone has heard footsteps up there sometime or another. And-“
The vent over the battered looking armchair in the corner puffed a cloud of dust that was who knows how old and rattled. Amani damn near jumped out of her skin. She spun around in her seat, her eyes glued to it instantly. So soft it was barely audible came a song, slow and sweet but with a melancholy tone. Amani let out a shaky breath and slowly turned back to the tea. “A-and there,” she paused and swallowed dryly, yanking the mask of composure back onto her face, “there is also that.” They weren’t the only ones who’d heard it. Apparently the other vents were affected as a few of the other girls hurrying to and fro in the narrow halls paused or walked faster, faces varying from concerned to stony to plain distressed. Amani shrugged the strap of the duffel bag onto her shoulder but didn’t stand just yet, clearly trying her best to ignore the soft tune coming from the vent, “If there is nothing else, I should be on my way. I need to look for work and,” she risked a glance over her shoulder, “I would rather not stay here any longer.”
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Post by Levi Kastein on Apr 30, 2014 23:58:57 GMT -5
Hearing that she was going to need to tell them the whole story almost caused Levi to audibly groan but the fact that she was going to shorten it made it a tad more tolerable. Was it so hard to just tell them that a certain location was suspicious and they should check it out? He didn’t care about the history of things nor did her care about who the kishin could possibly be. Whoever they were before they became a kishin egg was irrelevant and would become even more so when he ran them through with Irene’s weapon form.
Names didn’t mean anything to him. He didn’t care who the murderer was, it wasn’t like he was going to refer to them by a name in the few minutes it took for him to kill them. So there was some stupid love story along with the idiocy? Couldn’t these French people use common sense for once and just deal with their love issues reasonably? At least it would have been easier if the Duke just went through with what he was going to do. How eating human souls became involved Levi didn’t know but weak people would do stupid things for power.
That story could have been shortened so much and just kept to the details but Levi wasn’t in the mood to tell her that and risk getting a reaction that would waste more time. A wine cellar under the stage? That sounded like a closed off space that would make fighting with Irene much more difficult. Plus there was the fact that kings did not go into old wine cellars probably filled with dust and other things not worth his time. The room upstairs was difficult to get to? That just sounded like a challenge for him then!
With Amani as uncomfortable as she was they probably weren’t going to get much more out of her. They could talk to Zidler again but he was unpleasant to even be around. At least Amani had given them some options for where to search. The room seemed like the best option as far as Levi was concerned, the bodies were hung up high so best to search up high. Now all they had to do was get to it, hopefully find the kishin egg, and kill it mercilessly.
”You can go. You’ve helped enough; we can take care of it from here.”
Dismissing Amani Levi turned his thoughts inward for a moment to contemplate what to do next. He assumed the kishin egg was in the room and probably the girl from the story Amani told. Considering the last kishin egg they fought this was probably going to be much different but he wasn’t sure if it was better or worse. It didn’t really matter though, he was going to find it and kill it regardless! Enough of this planning shit it was time to kick ass! Turning to Irene he didn’t plan to as much ask her opinion but tell her his own and get a response.
”The room sounds like the best place to look. I’m sure getting there won’t be a problem so let’s find the stairs and take care of this thing already.”
Done speaking for the moment he moved to exit the room so they could begin their walk to the stairs. Mostly he just wanted to be out of that closet they called a room and hurry up the mission. He moved slowly towards the stairs at the end of the hall which took effort on his part. He could crawl faster with a suit of armor on but he wanted to conserve his energy and be receptive of Irene decide she wanted to speak.
Working on the whole partners thing was a pain but a necessary task. He never got far with Achilles so he had no point of reference for how this thing worked. Irene had proven herself worthy of being his weapon but that was only part of a much bigger piece. Already considering this mission as good as done Levi’s mind went to the future, mainly his progression. If he was to scale the ranks of Shibusen and take his rightful place at the top he would need to figure out the whole resonance thing. Soul purge came easy enough but that was his own soul so obviously it would be easy. Thinking too much about irrelevant things would only get in the way though, for now he was to focus on killing this kishin egg and other things he could worry about later.
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Irene Dixon
Weapon
Demon Corseque
Wake me up. I'm living a nightmare.
Posts: 108
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Post by Irene Dixon on May 4, 2014 11:04:15 GMT -5
Irene caught the small hint of a smile crossing Amani’s lips. Was what Levi said really that amusing to her? All in all, the weapon guessed that she herself was just in a lousy mood, to the point of not even caring about Levi insulting someone she disliked. However, it cheered Amani somewhat, even for a second. After smacking someone across the face, it seemed natural to delight in another sharing the same disgust. But to the extent that it seemed to put the woman at ease… it just seemed… odd. Still upset, but also “relaxing” body posture. Strange.
Like Irene was one to think that.
Whatever. They were going to get the story now. Unlike Levi, Irene liked added information, as long as it was related. Stories were usually good. Even if they might not be true and have been made up by people, they usually held hints of truth. Patterns were important as well. As much as was made up to make a story interesting, something had to spark the idea. Therefore, some part of this must be important. The fun was in figuring it out.
Irene listened to the woman, taking in the details but also watching her carefully. Last time their target had been the one that called them there. She didn’t want that happening again, or at least… she wanted more warning. She doubted Amani was the one they were looking for, mostly because she was fleeing the scene. Kishin eggs would need a reason to stick around. While it could all be a distraction, she had her doubts.
Two things bothered her though. 1. Amani’s half composed, half falling apart nature. Maybe she was looking too much into it, but it was a lot of mixed signals. Then again… she was stressed. 2. She didn’t look at them throughout the whole telling of the story, just at the end for “accusation time” and mentioning the areas that were most dangerous for an attack. Which, she had been packing and was still upset, but lack of eye contact often hinted to a less than truthful telling. Not that the team had many other options to go with.
Wine cellar and Rossignol’s old room.
Who was the story mostly about? Rossignol. Where had gunshots been heard in the story? Windmill. When was the wine cellar ever mentioned? To Irene, the answer was obvious, the needed to go investigate the old room. So far, if Amani was telling any bit of truth, the crimes had been committed in a pattern. Even if the story hadn’t had a true beginning, the killer was clinging to something like it.
The vent that caught Amani’s attention also caused Irene to stir. While the dust wasn’t surprising, seeing how the place was, the singing… was strange. Amani’s fear did not seem feigned though. That was at least helpful, somewhat. The other girls also seemed to be freaking out somewhat, a little more commotion coming from the hallways. Instant upheaval of chatter and movement.
Great.
Holding her normal composure, Irene kept herself from looking how irritated she was. This place was grating on her nerves. Amani didn’t stand, but spoke that she wished to leave. As far as Irene was concerned, there wasn’t much more they could get from the girl that was actually useful. Glancing to her partner out of the corner of her eye, she saw him prepared to speak. Listening, he thought the same. Good. Her eyes back on Amani, if the woman looked her way, she would give a slight nod. If not, there was no need.
Her eyes back on her partner, she watched him more directly. She knew where she was going, and she’d drag him kicking and screaming if need be. But, better to let the prince make a decision first. Hot-headed and needing to feel important, there was no reason to cause an issue between them if he could come to the same conclusion she had.
Speaking once again, she made sure to give a bit of a nod to her meister. They agreed. The room was the best option. Moving to follow him, she offered nothing else. Really, what could she say? She didn’t know the layout of the room, she wasn’t sure what might come next, so she had nothing else to say. And if she knew Levi at all, he didn’t like useless chat. Especially when he was looking to slay something.
They moved slowly down the hallway, which… once again, Irene wasn’t sure if that was for her or because he was conserving energy. It reminded her of the last mission, he did this much the same. Certainly it was for him, right? Regardless, she appreciated it. It saved her much added effort.
What was going to come next… she needed to be ready. For her and for him.
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Post by The Sidhe on May 4, 2014 13:23:33 GMT -5
Being dismissed had Amani looking nothing short of relieved. Standing at last, she slung her bag over her shoulder and followed the team out, pausing only to remove the slip of paper hidden behind the plastic nameplate on the door. She gave one last glance towards them before turning fully and heading for the exit. She hoped they found it. She hoped the monster suffered when they killed it. It was a tad hectic in the narrow passageways between dressing rooms. Dancing bypassed the team expertly, working around their presence in the same way they worked around each other. The singing from the vents had stopped, replaced by the dull beat of music which, though muffled, could still be heard well from the stage and rehearsals. Following the hallway lit up with old lamps and ambient shadows that moved of their own accord with each passing person would at least earn the team a break from confined space. At the end of it there was a right turn the opened up into a much more spacious area. The cords for the curtains hug further off, and beyond were the dancers practicing, poised looks that everything was alright still smeared on their faces in the form of bright red lips and winged eyeliner. The sound of heels hitting heavily against the floor and the swish of heavily layered petticoats accompanied the music. All around them would be everything you would expect of backstage space. Switchboards for the lights, cables that ran up to the catwalk, a ladder that actually led to said catwalk that all seemed to be avoiding and glancing at like a poisonous snake. What the team was looking for was to their left, shoved in a corner near a clearly more recent renovation from the paint job. The old staircase gleamed dully, half the banister missing and the jagged wooden edges only covered by a tarp. It led up a single story and then appeared to turn off to the left again, disappearing behind an older looking wall of plaster. The dancers continued to bustle about them, a few quips of hushed conversation perhaps cause for concern. <<Have you seen Lucille? She was due on stage ten minutes ago.>><<I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, she’s probably just late. She’s always late by a few minutes, I’m sure she’ll turn up!>><<But what if she’s…>><<Don’t say that! She’ll hear you!>>The dancers ranged from barely held stoicism to blatantly apparent fear held in tight expressions as they tried to continue doing their jobs. The team’s path to the stairs was clear, though, all purposefully avoiding getting within even ten feet of the structure. But just up the steps and a ways up the turn to the left was where the difficulty came in. As Amani had said, the Moulin Rouge was old, and it showed. Several steps appeared cracked and dry, splinters sticking up defiantly from the old wood. A bit of banister along the wall remained, accompanied by the presence of peeling wallpaper that clung to a striped pattern so dulled it was impossible to tell what the original colors had been. Continuing up brought holes in the walls, small at first, but quickly growing larger to expose structure. And then the walls disappeared entirely as they reached the second story, empty space lingering twenty feet down in dust and dark, sunlight spearing through breaks in the old wood of the windmill above. Support beams, definitely new in the form of cast concrete, held up the windmill further up and the room within, along with much else of the building. Without them, the roof would be crumbling. The stairs carried on for a ways, steps beginning to go missing in twos and threes until they stopped altogether, but there was something out of place. Ladders. A whole series of them hanging first, second, and third to lead up to the floor of the room only twenty feet above them. Clearly whoever had hung them up was confident that no one would dare venture far enough upstairs to find them. Poor planning on their part. The first ladder was hung a foot before the end of the steps, several small rungs leading up to the start of the second, and the second leading up to the third. The third was actually nailed into the wooden flood above. With the music behind them and muffled to barely a beat, another sound could be heard. High heels scraping desperately across the old wood, the sound heavy fabric, and the muffled sounds of terror of the missing dancer being held above.
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Post by Levi Kastein on May 16, 2014 22:59:08 GMT -5
Once Amani left the room and headed for the exit she essentially vanished from Levi’s mind. She wasn’t their target and her leaving just meant that she was one less person to get in the way. There was no reason for him to concern himself with the issues of the lower class and even less when he needed to be focused on the mission at hand. Assuming he was right, which he always was, they should be finding the kishin egg soon and then they could do what they came here for and kill it.
Walking through the passageways was a pain and Levi didn’t like it. All these peasants around him in such a small space, he might catch something if he was there for too long. It was at least a tad reassuring that the dancers managed to avoid touching him and risk dirtying his royal presence. Despite the dancer’s ability to avoid him he still disliked the confined space and the area in general, none of it was fitting for someone of his stature. If Levi were a lesser creature he would have even been relieved when they reached the more spacious area.
Being backstage was not where Levi wanted to be in the slightest. The music and dancers were more an annoyance than simple ambiance and considering he didn’t know the layout that well they were a potential liability. Plus their focus on dancing meant that they couldn’t fawn over his greatness and that was practically a crime. Ignoring them he looked around and saw the very obvious staircase that probably led to the room they were looking for. Walking over he took a moment to glance up the stairs and take a moment to plan slightly for what to do next. While thinking he overheard the conversation of the dancers around him.
So the dancers clearly feared something which meant they were probably headed in the right direction. On the other hand the kishin egg may be in the process of hunting a human soul at the moment. Levi wasn’t one for hostages and dealing with them so he hoped that wasn’t the case and he had to deal with the hassle, Shibusen probably wouldn’t be too pleased with him if he ignored a hostage, though that might get him home sooner… No he was too invested now, he had to become the best and make a death scythe first.
Taking on the steps Levi only moved slightly before he was met with another obstacle. Those steps were not nearly suitable for walking on and if he tried to scale them he would probably end up crashing through on the first step. Once the steps vanished there was no chance that he could climb them, a jump and he would most certainly fall to the floor. Luckily there were ladders that led up to the room they were headed for. Maybe that was the workers here being competent for once or maybe that was what the kishin used, either way he didn’t want to touch it.
Levi could climb the latters though obviously. Going up those ladders was a testament to his own greatness. Giving another glance up the ladders he nodded and turned back to face Irene quickly.
”Be ready to transform when you need to. I’m going to go against my general judgment and trust that you will when necessary without signal from me.”
A small gesture and clearly veiled heavily by his arrogance but a gesture of partnership all the same. He wanted this partnership to work on some level and was going to actually put in at least minimal effort to have it happen.
Turning back to the ladders he tested his weight on the ladder closest to him before pressing his foot down on it. Managing not to stomp was a task for him but he managed and headed up the ladders slowly as to not alert what was above them. He wanted a fair fight and al but he could announce his presence up there so the kishin didn’t use cowardly tactics against him.
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Irene Dixon
Weapon
Demon Corseque
Wake me up. I'm living a nightmare.
Posts: 108
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Post by Irene Dixon on May 17, 2014 1:11:17 GMT -5
And there she went. The woman who had struck the man that annoyed the team so, the woman who had given them information to help them on their mission. All too pleased to be gone of the place, Amani disappeared from their vision after picking up her things.
They could only go onward. Irene was sure that Levi couldn’t wait to be done with this. From what she knew of him, patience was not one of his strengths. Even so, the strengths he did possess are what drove her to work with him. Drove her to better herself. Following her meister’s lead, her mind was many places at once. How things would go if their target did happen to be in the tower. How she didn’t totally mind Levi taking the lead. And most importantly, focusing on the now around her.
Everyone trying to keep out of everyone’s way. These women had a show to do, continuing on with their lives amidst the mayhem. Levi and Irene kept on with their lives as well, but the mayhem was their lives. Girls passed by every now and then, but her and Levi were headed backstage. More space, at least a bit. It definitely wasn’t a narrow hallway, but there was so much more here. Typical backstage. Curtains, knobs, levers, cables, ties. Irene looked up, the catwalk. Beyond that…. bodies had been hanging. Maybe not right there, but from the rafters soulless shells had been hanging. Leaving people behind.
Her partner still moving on, Irene couldn’t delay. An old staircase… it didn’t seem like anyone had used it in years. Made sense, Amani said something along those lines too… Wouldn’t that be a hazard of some sort though? Leaving part of the building rotting away? Of course that had to be where they were going… Drawing her lips into a straight line, that was the only change of expression that might mean worry. She couldn’t say she was a big falling fan. That was more that Giovanni kid’s territory…
Women passing by. This time they talked to each other and some of the words caught Irene’s attention. Levi seemed unphased, not abnormal. But… she was glad she had at least gotten some more French studied again. From what she could tell, someone was missing. A girl named Lucille. That name meant nothing to her, but you never know what information you might need. The fact was though… if something was attacking girls and one wasn’t there, they should probably be a bit more concerned.
She couldn’t determine if she was relieved or possibly a little creeped out by the wide area of avoidance these girls gave their destination. Guessing death was just that terrifying… that must be why they stayed away. Things people didn’t understand often caused nervousness and avoidance. Irene could understand that.
Up the steps. Easy enough. But Amani said it could be difficult to get up to… And there was the reason. The wood seemed to be almost rotting away, well.. in the way that it was disintegrating into nothing. Stairs were slowly being destroyed by time, and farther up the tower the walls were falling away, the stairs became more sparse, and then there were… ladders?
This was going to be Just. Great. The thin line of her mouth had never been released, and even now the weapon was worried. It wasn’t too dangerous, she just had a small fear of falling down through the darkness of this stupid building. Growing more irritable as she followed Levi, she kept a careful watch on where he stepped, where she stepped, and at what was coming next. The pathway got trickier as they moved and she didn’t feel like either one of them falling. Levi stopped and she did as well a step or two behind him, he turned to her. What? Was she going to get a command from the great Levi Kastein?
While sarcasm filled her mind, she kept her mouth shut. It wouldn’t help anything. And in fact, he did talk to her. Really… she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Overall, it sounded like he was trying to insult her. The only things that threw her off were that he talked in the first place, that he said he as going against his own judgement, and the word ‘trust.’ For some reason he had decided to tell her this. Half wanting to punch him, the young woman merely nodded. What was she going to say to that?
I hope I don’t get you killed because you’re the hardest person in the world to read, your highness?
She really probably should talk to him about that.. Her first partner and her were close. They didn’t need a lot of verbal communication because they knew the other so well. But Levi.. he was like an alien to her. While she didn’t mind feeling judged and pushed, she didn’t always understand what he wanted from her. In a situation like this… she wouldn’t want to do the wrong thing and set him off the wrong way. If she didn’t know how he’d react or what he’d want to do, how could she act accordingly?
Exhaling slowly, she tried to relax herself. The closer she got, the more nervous she got. She should trust in him more, trust in herself more. They were both strong. This shouldn’t be a problem. And there he went. Her plan was to stay close to him. Against a kishin egg, she didn’t want him on his own, for obvious reasons. He checked his weight, he had been fine, and he was mostly to the next ladder by now. So she followed. She wanted to keep a little space between them. Not test the durability of the ladders with both their weight. She also wanted to remain quiet. That especially became important as they came closer to the top of the tower…
Sounds hung loosely in the air. Someone was definitely up there. And it didn’t sound like a happy go lucky someone...
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