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Post by Spike Gatling on Aug 1, 2014 3:06:37 GMT -5
It was late afternoon and the Shibusen library was almost empty by now. One student had been there scouring through books, carefully combing the shelves since classes let out. This young man currently sat at one of the desks in front of a substantial pile of books. His jacket rested on the back of the chair, still adorned with the tag that marked him as an unpartnered weapon. His pen was scrawling furiously across the pages of his notebook. Spike had been used to formulating winning strategies for games he was familiar with. But fighting a kishin egg was going to be a different story. From what his teachers said when a soul is corrupted the body could take any number of forms and exhibit an even greater variety of abilities so he knew he couldn’t exactly plan for each encounter. But he thought that studying up on past ones, especially famous ones would give him a better idea of what he was up against. If he could figure out the parameters he could possibly work from there. Spike’s broad shoulders leaned over the desk further and further went from page to page, jumping from book to book writing down notes as he went, but the more he read, the more he found that there was hardly a pattern. He set down the pen he had been using to take notes and straightened back up in his seat. “Ugh.” He muttered dejectedly rubbing his temples with one hand and propping his head up with the other, “This isn’t working. It’s only giving me a headache.” He closed the book he had been skimming through down and stared up at the chandeliers. He closed his eyes and loosened up his neck and shoulders that had grown stiff from the hours of studying. Spike returned to his previous position before a long sigh took the stress out of his posture. ”I think that’s all for today. “ He put his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, gathered up his things, and picked out a few books to check out before getting up out of his chair. But his jacket was still on the back of the chair and caught it as he got up causing him and the chair to fall backwards. The weary student landed with a loud thud, hitting the back of his head and scattering the books over the floor. His head throbbed as he slowly reached his hands up to cradle his head off the ground. “Awwh! That was a good one.” he said, the pain evident in his tone. “I think I’ll just lie here for a bit..” Accustomed to hitting his head during unexpected meetings with the ground, he knew that he’d be fine in a few minutes.. After the stars go away.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Aug 1, 2014 10:31:28 GMT -5
Reading about how to properly use any given weapon was certainly boring. Cyrille didn’t fancy the act very much, but it was rather necessary. He didn’t know how to wield quite a few long range weapons and lacked any proper mentor to teach him. So, the boy had to read about it before putting what he had learned into practise. So very boring, but perhaps his new partner would be a weapon he knew nothing about.
Now there was a thought. New partner. It was almost as if he was saying his previous partner was easily replaced. That wasn’t true, obviously, but Cyrille still had his goals. If he wished to meet said goals, he’d have to find a partner. It was for the best, but even so Cyrille wasn’t the keenest on the idea. He had taken off the tag that had labeled him as a partnerless meister. After all, the boy didn’t really want just anyone coming up to ask if they could partner with him. What if it had been a girl that had come to ask him if he wished to partner with him? That’d be... startling, to say the least.
As his brain begun to think about what kind of weapon his new partner might be, the boy eventually gave up on focusing on what he had been reading. Honestly, he didn’t want to have a bow and arrow as a partner. That was so very boring. So, Cyrille closed the book that he had been reading and got up. It was getting late. He should probably start cooking dinner soon anyway. He went to return it, but on his way back to the shelf he had got it on he heard a loud thud.
It had appeared some idiot had fallen over. Quite the loud person, not that it mattered as there were only a few people around. The students that were around were most likely the quiet types who wouldn’t do anything about the noise anyway. Best see if the guy was okay, in any case. Cyrille wasn’t too fond of people getting hurt.
Standing over the boy who had fallen, Cyrille spoke to him. ”Are you alright?” He asked. The boy had the tag for an unpartnered weapon on the jacket he wore. Hm. Good thing he was a weapon, as clumsiness was likely to get a meister killed. The boy had knocked over a bunch of books when he had fallen. Some were open, and one in particular caught Cyrille’s eye. It was a book about kishin, but the page it was open to was more along the lines of how to fight kishin. It was about grigori souls, a special soul that let off an anti-demon wavelength. The very soul Cyrille was in possession of. Curious about what it said, Cyrille picked up the book, more or less ignoring the boy who had fallen to the ground.
There wasn’t much info in the book Cyrille didn’t know about, save one little detail. ”One in fifty million? It’s really that rare?” He murmured to himself. Cyrille had really only been told that his soul was rather rare, but not exactly how rare. The trivia was interesting, and let a small smile tug at the boy with silver and pink hair’s lips. He shut the book closed, then remembered what he was there for. The kid hadn’t responded. Best ask again. ”You are alright, right?”
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Post by Spike Gatling on Aug 3, 2014 13:18:27 GMT -5
The throbbing in his head was all the kid knew at the moment. His face was contorted into a grimace and he wasn’t much aware of the world around him. At the moment he was perfectly content existing in his chair on his back on the floor until the pounding subsided. The light from the chandeliers filtering through his clenched eyelids was darkened by some figure. The figure seemed to be saying something but spike was a bit preoccupied at the moment. He opened his eyes and his vision gradually started to come back and he saw that the figure had long hair, white with streaks of pink. A girl? Something was amiss about that assumption. But what was it exactly? The outfit the figure was wearing was some hue of pink which wasn’t typically worn by guys in high school from fear of being picked on. But Spike supposed this wasn’t necessarily the case with Shibusen where fights were sanctioned. Spike’s vision finally came back into focus and found the source of his doubt. The figure’s build was definitely masculine. Taking a closer look he saw that the boy’s eyes were pink. “Pink eyes...” he mumbled. Something about his eyes seemed to resonate with Spike. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out what it was about his eyes. Outside his expression seemed somewhat stern but his eyes betrayed a certain softness. Was it kindness? When the figure spoke a second time it broke Spike from his train of thought and he was able to comprehend and respond. “Yeah I think I’m okay now. I just needed to lie there for a bit.” Spike gathered up the scattered books on the floor and stood up. He was momentarily shocked by how tall the fellow student was. Spike thought he was tall for his age. “Sorry about the noise. I’m Spike by the way. I’m new here so I don’t know very many people yet.” he stuck out a free hand for a handshake.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Aug 3, 2014 15:00:27 GMT -5
The boy Cyrille stood before had muttered something, though he couldn’t quite make it out. ”Hm?” Cyrille questioned the boy, though he honestly didn’t expect any clarification. People seemed to mutter to themselves a lot here. Was it really so hard to keep one’s thoughts as nothing more than thoughts? Oh well. Cyrille would excuse him since he was probably a bit out of it due to falling like that.
Then, the boy begun to speak again. He said he was fine. Good. Cyrille wasn’t particularly fond of wasting time, especially with people he’d probably never meet again. Just like that boy he had sparred before, most interaction with people proved to be pointless and disappointing in the long run. Well, whatever. Best not waste his time thinking about such things either.
Next, the boy apologized for making so much noise. Once again, odd. Most people wouldn’t be sorry for accidentally hurting themselves. This boy seemed to be filled to the brim with oddities. Again, it really didn’t matter. ”No need to apologize.” Cyrille said, bluntly. No emotion seemed to show in either his voice or expression, though if Spike hadn’t noticed it before an obvious french accent clung to his words.
The boy then told Cyrille his name. However, he neglected to state his last name, simply referring to himself as Spike. What kind of name was that, anyway? Must be American. They always had such simple names... Furthermore, the boy had said that he was new here. Made sense, judging by the tag and all. Cyrille shook the boy’s hand firmly, mostly to be nice. ”And I’m Cyrille Lécuyer. I suppose I’m new around here as well.” He said. Then, Cyrille remembered he still had one of Spike’s books. He held it out in front of him. ”Oh. Sorry if you were on a page. I kinda closed it.”
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Post by Spike Gatling on Aug 5, 2014 0:42:44 GMT -5
When Cyrille extended his hand with the book forward and offered his apology the clumsy student took the book and replied “Oh. Thanks. Don’t worry about it. I hadn’t gotten to that one yet.” Spike put the book in the stack with the others he was hoping to check out. “That accent. Are you French? I’ve never met a French person before. One of the perks of going to Shibusen is you meet people from all over the world, I guess. Even though the French are often bashed for losing wars they have had a huge influence on the American culture. French cooking is considered mainstream in American kitchens, especially the liberal use of butter. And many terms regarding cooking and food in general have their root in the French language. Speaking of! I was actually planning on making something out of a Julia Child cookbook that I have back at the dorms tonight.” It took a while but Spike was able to stop himself from talking about France and cooking. “Ahhh, sorry. I got lost on a tangent” he chuckled trying to laugh it off. Spike thought q uickly on how he could divert Cyrille’s attention from his regurgitating an eighth grade report before scaring him off. “Uhhhhh.. So! You’re new here too huh? Are you a weapon or meister? As you can see from my tag I’m a weapon.” Spike said pulling the tag toward Cyrille for clarification. “I’ll give you a hint as to what kind. It’s really badass.” He exclaimed. Pointing at himself with his thumb and smirking.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Aug 5, 2014 9:03:42 GMT -5
The boy had informed Cyrille that he hadn’t been reading the book. Good. The last thing Cyrille needed to be was in debt to someone he didn’t know. Or barely knew, at least. Regardless, having to do someone a favor would greatly cut into time where he didn’t have to go to classes, so Spike no caring was well received.
However, if that simple statement had given Spike some favour, his next words certainly didn’t.
Honestly, Cyrille hadn’t heard many of his other words. Something about cooking. What really stuck in Cyrille’s mind was just a few words; “Even though the French are often bashed for losing wars...” Now, Cyrille wasn’t one to really care about politics, but was Spike inferring him to be a coward? Though the boy tried to not let those most likely innocent words get to him, he couldn’t help sounding a bit annoyed. ”Yea, I’m french.” He said, simply.
Soon enough, the boy had started speaking again. He did that a lot, didn’t he? Cyrille was pretty used to so much talking, as his previous partner had also done a lot of it. Even so, it wasn’t like that obligated him to enjoying any trivial chatter. Cyrille was a man of few words. All this talking was annoying. ”Meister.” He said, once again being rather blunt.
Then, the boy said something else. He wanted Cyrille to guess what kind of weapon he was, going off no descriptives - save one that could basically define anything? Right. Cyrille would try to make the most out of the silly request. ”Let me guess... a falchion, right?” He said with a slight smile tugging at his lips. Such words probably shouldn’t be spoken, but he quite wanted to hear the boy’s reaction. Hopefully he wouldn’t regret those words.
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Post by Spike Gatling on Aug 6, 2014 19:41:48 GMT -5
He could tell from Cyrille’s response to his question that Spike’s giving in to verbal diarrhea had irritated him. Was he not a fan of Julia Child? That’s silly. No one hates Julia child! Did he have something against linguistics? No that would be an oddly specific thing to be irritated by. Ah! Maybe he’s lactose intolerant. Spike had completely forgotten about the first sentence he said when started talking about France.
The boy’s answers to Spike’s two other questions, one being Cyrille saying he’s a meister and the other being him guessing that Spike’s badass weapon form was a falchion led Spike to form one conclusion in his mind. At hearing the first answer Spiked perked up a bit but upon hearing the second he shrank back to a very slight slouch. “Oh! So you must already have a demon falchion as a partner. That’s cool.” He said trying to mask his disappointment, “Ha, it’s rather difficult to find a partner and you said you’re new so you finding a partner already is lucky. To call a falchion badass you must be really happy with your partner. I hope you two have a lot of great adventures together” Damn. He’s already paired with a weapon. Spike had a feeling that this Cyrille fellow could be the one but his hope had been crushed as soon as it was formed. “I can’t wait to find a meister who can wield me so I can start going out on missions and having new exciting experiences. Have you and your partner gone on a mission yet?”
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Aug 6, 2014 21:34:13 GMT -5
Oh, Cyrille. You’re such an idiot sometimes.
Cyrille was not one to pride himself on his intelligence. He wasn’t one to pride himself in general, really. Regardless; the boy wasn’t the smartest one. If things had worked out like they were supposed to, that wouldn’t be a problem. His sister was extremely intelligent and strategic. While not being as good of a fighter as Cyrille, she had tended to tell him what he should do to get the upper hand during any given fight. And since she was the weapon, her lack of combat skills otherwise did not particularly matter. Yes, he and his sister had been the perfect team. The two would have been able to take out kishin left and right.
But that wasn’t how things turned out, now was it?
Instead of everything going perfectly, everything had gone wrong. Cyrille had come to Shibusen four years after his sister’s death. He wanted to stop more people from getting hurt. But, to do that he’d need a new weapon partner. The boy found himself far too picky about deciding this new partner. No one could possibly compare to his darling Ophélie, after all. He knew he couldn’t be so picky, but he also couldn’t bring himself to not be.
Though Cyrille’s words had no ill intentions behind them when he had answered Spike’s question, he noticed the error in speaking such words. Why on earth had he ever thought they were a good idea to speak in the first place? Sure, he might have spoken in such ways four years ago but now it was just poor taste. He had spoken in such a way on a whim, but even so did not expect such a harsh outcome from speaking them.
Spike’s conclusion made sense, but that didn’t mean that his words didn’t each pain Cyrille immensely. Perhaps if he had just asked if his partner was a falchion it would have been alright. But, no. The boy then had to go on about how great of a weapon they must be. Those words returned the feeling of insatiable longing to poor Cyrille. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t run away from this pain. Why not? The words hurt so much. So very, very much. But, he was frozen by them. The most Cyrille could do was look to be speaking to himself, though no sound parted his lips. This continued until Spike had stopped speaking for mere seconds. Then, Cyrille suddenly lunged at him, grabbing the collar of the boy and yelling.
“<<Ne vous osez parler d'elle!>>”
French? Cyrille had momentarily forgotten himself. He was used to speaking french everywhere but Shibusen, so in a panic he commonly spoke it. English was his second language, which was why he spoke it so formally on top of already being so soft spoken. He had also forgotten that they were in a library. No librarian to speak of, however, to Cyrille’s good fortune. Even so, the other students in the library quickly focused their attention on the two boys that had been so loud, though none stepped in to intervene.
It was easy to see the pain written on Cyrille’s face. If Spike had gotten over how scared he might have been due to being grabbed by someone much taller and then being yelled at in a language he most likely didn’t understand for what seemed like no reason at all, he might start to pity Cyrille. Cyrille’s hands trembled. He looked exponentially more pale than he did only a few seconds ago, and his eyes were beginning to fill with tears.
After a moment or two of maintaining this position, Cyrille’s expression suddenly shifted from anger to worry. He let go of Spike’s coat, and quickly turned his body away as to hide his face from view. He spoke again, though in a much more shaky voice this time. ”My apologies. I’ll be going.” With these words, Cyrille begun to make his way to the exit.
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Post by Spike Gatling on Aug 8, 2014 14:21:11 GMT -5
With his eyes averted Spike did not realize what was happening until it was far too late. He looked back up just in time to watch Cyrille quickly and sternly grab the collar of Spike’s shirt and yelling something in French. Elle? That means her I think.
Cyrille spoke with such venom that a chill ran down Spike’s spine. He hadn’t noticed just how great the height difference was between the two. Right now Cyrille seemed to tower over him. The muscles of his body began to clench as he experienced an adrenaline rush. Scenarios were playing out automatically in Spike’s head of how this could go. He couldn’t possibly come out of a fight with a meister unscathed could he? He learned from orientation that fights were allowed at Shibusen. Was this the situation he was about to find himself in? But from what he understands an official fight had to be officiated by a teacher. Spike scanned the room through his peripherals and only saw students. He had to start planning for the worst. Collar grabs were most commonly followed up by a strike to the face. Spike glanced at his face to get an idea of the boy’s intention. As soon as he got a good look at his face his fear went away. Cyrille was indeed very angry but his expression gave away a great pain. Spike had seen this pain before. This was the pain of loss. Whoever this demon falchion was they were very important to him and they were no longer here. And Spike said a lot of things that were very painful for him. Cyrille held Spike by the collar with trembling hands for mere moments but it felt like an eternity before his collar was released. Spike’s face gave away how guilty he felt.
After he muttered a shaky apology, he turned to walk away. Without thinking Spike went to grab his sleeve and began to speak “Wait!” He hesitated before continuing. “I seem to have brought up something painful for you. I’m sorry about that. To make it up to you I’ll let you hit me. One good free shot.” Spike was surprised by his own words but still continued. “And besides. You haven’t guessed what kind of weapon I am. Here’s another hint. It turns opponents it’s used on into mist as pink as your clothes.” At that Spike released whatever he was able to grab. Gritting his teeth and bracing himself for whatever strike might come with a goofy grin on his face.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Aug 8, 2014 17:09:12 GMT -5
Before Cyrille could safely make his way to the doors, he felt something - or someone - tug at his sleeve. He stopped, and turned his attention to the one who was trying to get said attention. Spike. Of course. Cyrille quickly averted his eyes. He didn’t want to have to explain his actions. All he wanted to do was get away from this place. Get away from all these people...
Spike spoke. What was that he had said? First, the boy had apologized. But next he had said something that Cyrille just couldn’t understand. He wanted to be hit as repent for making Cyrille angry? Odd. Surely he didn’t want to be hit by someone so much bigger than he was, so why make such an offer? As Cyrille was trying to decode the reasoning behind the proposal, Spike continued to talk. He was continuing with that guessing of the weapon thing.
Cyrille simply looked confused. The hurt that had been on his face had vanished into that confusment. In fact, he had completely forgotten about being so upset. Spike’s cheery attitude had calmed Cyrille quite a bit. However, he still brought his hand up. For a second, it looked as though Cyrille really might have been going to hit Spike. But, instead Spike received a pat on the head.
”No offense, but I think a hit from me might kill you.” The meister spoke. His voice sounded much more upbeat now, and his face echoed that. ”As for the weapon, still not sure. I didn’t know mist could be pink...”
The next words Cyrille spoke were words he normally wouldn’t if he wasn’t in such a good mood. Spike was lucky that Cyrille had a soft spot for people who tried to be kind even if it might hurt them in the long run. ”You know, I wouldn’t mind being the meister of such a badass weapon. Now if only I could be so lucky as to partner with one...”
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Post by Spike Gatling on Aug 11, 2014 11:00:45 GMT -5
Here it comes! Spike thought. Cyrille’s fist was clenched and his arm was cocked and he was moments away from being clocked by a meister. Spike couldn’t help but shut his eyes on instinct. He waited but the punch never came.
He flinched as he felt a hand rest on his head but then opened his eyes. Cyrille’s smiling face was what was awaiting his gaze. With this smile Cyrille spoke. He was probably right about getting punched by him being deleterious to Spike’s health.
This is the first time he had seen this guy smile. He was an interesting one. Whoever ‘she’ was, Spike would have to be careful not to mention her or bring her up in any way. But he felt like he could work around that easily enough. And what he said next surprised him profusely.
He wanted to be Spike’s meister! His bold apologetic gesture must have really paid off. The daydream he had earlier came back in full force. All the places he’d possibly be able to see and all of the things he’d possibly be able to experience came back into full view feeling so close that they could be out in the hallway. But more importantly Spike knew that he now had the opportunity to move forward and become stronger.
“I don’t see why you can’t.” With a hopeful smirk on his face, Spike placed his hand on top of Cyrille’s head copying what he did a moment ago. ”So I guess you’re my meister. In exchange for making me a death scythe I’ll protect you and fight by your side, partner."
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