Jadeite didn’t understand the opposition, but he was going to. That was his job as a spy, as an infiltrator, as a diplomat, an ambassador, etc, etc, all the pretty names and ugly ones, at the end of the day that was what he always did. He got to know what the other side wanted, whoever the other side was, so he could take that back to his leaders and they could use it to get rid of the opposition.
Of course, he didn’t really remember much about the fact that he’d done all this before - like everyone else who’d been purified, he didn’t remember any life but this one - but he’d heard about it, from the few records that were around, and it fit with his skills.
Those at least didn’t rely on memories.
This did. Infiltration, and investigation, he needed memories - not his, but those from Nemesis. How could he understand if he didn’t hear what motivated the people?
His hair is black, dull and nondescript dyed instead of magic’d, cut in a bland, average cut, his eyes still blue but dull, his features made bland, nose a little busted, lips a little chapped, brows bushy - nothing about him is fancy, but he also isn’t too perfectly average. Just a regular person, a little hard to pick out of a crowd. His clothes are overlarge and patched, and his hood is tucked over his head - fitted to the people who sat in bars on Crystal Tokyo - and who scrabbled over supplies in Nemesis, according to rumor.
That’s where he was. Nemesis, shipped hidden with a garbage truck, stranded for the next round of days, to collect information before he headed back to Earth to report.
For now - he wandered, watching without lingering.
snowghoul
theartofmadeline
andulkaphoto
2087
vaporwave
