Sanzio did his best to ignore the hands that clawed (ineffectually) at his forearms, though it was a bit harder to ignore the teeth that sank into the palm of his hand when it came up to cover the woman's mouth. Just another explorer, tromping through the snow to see rare sights and natural wonders. A foolish innocent who wandered too far off the beaten path and saw things they shouldn't have, learned thing's they shouldn't have. He paused for the shortest of moments, before his arms ripped away from each-other, twisting her neck in a quick snap.
Ryosuke had asked him, during one of the first training missions the boy had been sent on with him, why he would use his blades for the soldiers and guards, but always kill the mission target with his hands. "I wouldn't be able to feel it through the sword." he'd answered. The older man had just laughed, and called him a 'vicious little thing'. "It's always the quiet ones that are the real monsters, hm?"
Sanzio hadn't bothered to correct him, but it was the exact opposite. The guards, the soldiers, they fought back. They took their roles, knowing that they would fight, that they would die. The targets were always innocent. A traveler who saw something they shouldn't have, or an unknowing link in a spy's information chain. It would be far too quick with a sword. Far too simple. It would be so easy to grow numb to the simple flick of a hand and a blade parting flesh three feet away. Tactile sensation no different from going through kata in the courtyard.
But with his hands, with his arms, he could feel their pulse. Their struggle to breathe one more lungful of air, to clutch on to one more minute of life. The uncoordinated flailing of the untrained, the innocent, the desperate. He hated it, every time, and he never hated it any less. That was the point.
It should never be easy to take an innocent life. The other Shadows, they would just slit her throat and let her body drop, no more important to their memories than the snow she falls in to. Sanzio had to remember them.
Carefully, he kneeled down as he lowered her backwards into the snow, etching the shape of her face, the color of her eyes and hair and skin, into his memories.
Remembering them was all that reminded him he was still human these days.
The premise is simple, friends. Using only four words, write the happiest story you can think of. It can be IC or OOC. Past, present, future. The world is your oyster, on this.
It went surprisingly well, despite his internal panicking whenever he remembered that he was, in fact, on a date. Here was his thought process!
Uh. Wait. Were purple flowers supposed to mean something specific? Ah well, she didn’t seem to care if it did. Looks nice.
She tucked her hair behind her ear. I remember Aegir saying that was supposed to mean something. What was it...
She got sushi? I picked Shiokaze because they have a wider selection, thought she’d go for something familiar. Hm, I guess if you’re a foreigner in a new place, you want to try local things. Should have picked Bokairo. Dammit.
Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep.
She did it again. That’s got to mean something. Or was it just in the way of her eyes? Her hair is pretty light, I wouldn’t notice from here if it was just a few strands...
Oh good, she brought out the interesting, heavy topics first. Pretty interesting, too. Hmm...
She’s right, time really does just disappear when you’re having fun. I’ll have to remember to prepare for that next time.
What’s she..? Oh! She wants me to hold her hand. Wait, that’s it right? I’m not misreading? Wait, shit, don’t ask her, she might be embarrassed. Just go for it and play it off if she pulls away.
Ok, that’s the third time she’s done it. It has to mean something. God dammit Aegir, why can’t you ever be coherent when you’re drunk?
Alright, second and third dates secured. Provided I don’t screw up the second one. It’s just shopping, that’s easy enough. I thought dating was supposed to be difficult?..
Club C’s Club Macabre!
The Imperials decided to bring their Voidsent: The Masquerade game to the club for a fun night of aether stealing! The goal: try to seduce the Living into giving away their aether (get them to buy you a drink).
Excuse you! Zhi got one drink fair and square before @runaway-diremite stole it!!! Obviously the Assmiran couldn’t ignore Ventrue aether (and also probably didn’t think his little cousin should be drinking).
Sanzio flinched back as the hounds snapped at the bars, their slavering jaws filled with teeth the size of knives, and every bit as sharp. The only thing that stopped him from retreating further was Zheng’s hand on his shoulder. It had felt reassuring at first, but now it was a shackle chaining him in with the beasts. The boy looked up to his father figure with a fearful furrow to his brow.
The forge burned hotter than the sun, but it was not yet enough for the Asura's purpose.
“I-I don’t like tending the Pugnax, and I don't think they like it either. M-maybe you should get Shibun to do it, they like him a lot better than me.”
The Asura glared, its fury and disappointment palpable. It clutched its own children in each of its six arms.
Zheng's response was immediate, and as calm and certain as it always was. "They attack because they can sense your fear. The further you cringe back from them, the faster they will lunge. Straighten your back, and march with confidence and purpose. They will not attack something that is stronger than them."
It tossed them into the fire, one by one. With each screaming burden fed to the forge, the flames grew brighter.
With a look to the side and a nod of his head, Zheng motions Shibun to step forward. The slightest of smirks twists the younger boy's lips as not a single one of the fully grown Pugnax leapt to bite at him. Once in the center of the cage, he spun around to taunt his cousin's cowardice, turnign his back to the beasts.
When the demigod reared back to toss the fifth one in, the sixth bit his hand. It tossed that one in instead.
One of the larger hounds growled, the only warning given before it sprang at the child's open back. The teasing words changed into a pained shriek before they were even spoken, and Sanzio lunged forward to free his cousin before the beast mauled him further, shrugging his way out from beneath Zheng's constricting hand.
The sixth clawed its way out of the forge, skin still burning. The Asura laughed in triumph.
Sanzio's small fingers found their way into the hounds eye, and it released its hold on Shibun's arm to tear at the older boy. Its center claw caught him beneath the eye and rent up through his nose, and his voice joined his cousin's in screaming and whimpering from the pain. The beast was preparing for a second swipe, when a shrill whistle sounded from its master.
The Asura peered at its burning child, smile slowly slipping. "You are not ready yet." it declared.
Zheng stepped into the kennel, and the hound backed away from the two boys. Once he had made certain none of their wounds were fatal, he shook his head in disappointment. "Neither of you are ready for further training, yet. We will work on this more tomorrow."
Sanzio awoke suddenly but silently, a quick glance at the chronometer on the wall proving his 'rest' as lasting less than even half a bell. He lets out a quiet groan of irritation (and exhaustion) as he wipes an arm across his face and pulls himself out from under the cot he'd stuffed himself.
|
A few obligatory stretches later, and he's creeping through the no-longer-abandoned fortress. The small detatchment of Ishgardian knights that had taken up residence recently would be back from their training rounds soon-ish, and he'd have to be in position before then.
|
It isn't long before he reaches the base commander's room, wedging himself behind the wardrobe and settling in for the wait. He decides to keep himself entertained by seeing how many nails he can coax out of the backboard with his forefinger and thumbnail.
|
(He manages to pry four of them free before the door swings open.)
|
The commander grumbles under his breath as he stomps through his room, either working his way up to a full head of steam, or winding down from one. He paces as he thinks. Sanzio counts; four long steps from the door to the bed, four back to the door. On the third step toward the bed of the fourth set of paces, the assassin lunges out of his hiding place, blade poised to pierce through his target's heart as the armored man whirls around far too slowly to raise his shield in time.
|
The commander's life is saved by a fluke - a loose floortile shifts beneath his foot, unbalancing him from the centered posture, and Sanzio's predictively aimed stab misses, the blade skittering harmlessly off of chainlinks. The Shadow kicks the door shut before his target can call for aid, but that gives him enough time to steady his footing and raise his sword and shield.
|
The duel starts off in the Ishgardian's favor, his defensive style impossible to breach with Sanzio's bladework alone, but a mudra formed with a single hand swiftly turns the tables. The fire that he calls forth is weak, unstable, and useless as anything other than a party trick, but it attracts the commander's eye for a moment. Sanzio makes it count, his hand sweeping through the embers floating in the air and drawing back as if he was to throw the dissipating fireball at his opponent, and the feint works. The Ishgardian shifts his posture to favor his sword, and Sanzio's blade comes up unhindered, sweeping over the commander's shield and piercing him between the eyes.
|
|
He returns to the Castrum later than predicted, but he manages to give a tired salute to the man waiting for him at the gate. "Mission accomplished, Praefectus."
Sanzio's Den @runaway-diremite - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
