He wandered the kibougamine campus with a frown, he had no idea where he was, the troubles of a new student he supposed, somebody really should of supplied a map, or maybe they did and he just hadn’t noticed, thinking about it, that was pretty likely.
A long sigh escaped his lips as planted himself firmly on a bench, which he had only managed to track down through sheer luck, frowning as he rested his head on his hand, his eyes scanned the surrounding area, hoping to find somebody to talk to. Apparently that was irrelevant.
And so he sat there, for a good 5 minutes waiting for somebody to walk past, waiting…waiting..and still waiting. Until FINALLY, he spotted a head of silver hair coming round the corner, and thank any holy authority for that, because he was worried he would be sitting there all day.
“AH! Excuse me!” he called from his bench, but in that moment he froze…was….was she carrying a sword?that seemed INCREDIBLY dangerous and he was less than ecstatic to throw himself in harms way. For a brief moment he considered hiding and waiting for somebody less…dangerous looking…to walk past, but that being said he was the only person here, so it was unlikely to work.
And thinking about it, if she was the short tempered type and she found out he called for her then hid, he would probably be in even more danger. That of course, was assuming there was any danger.
Deciding that it would be safer to follow through with this, he got up and waved to signal the stranger over.
“I uh..don’t want to be rude but im a bit lost…would you mind telling me where I am? I’m a bit lost.”
The swordswoman stopped in her steps as soon as she’d heard the voice calling in her direction. She turned to see the source of the sound, and it seemed he saw her as well. More clearly, at least.
Unsurprisingly, within only a few seconds he began to hesitate, likely regretting calling out to her; a rather common phenomenon among both the freshmen and seniors alike.
She stood still in her place, watching the boy as he thought and waiting for him to have a change of mind and slink away like other students usually did. When he didn’t, and actually called her over, she was rather surprised.
{{ ♙ }} — ❝ Lost? How lost exactly? You are at Hope’s Peak Academy. I do hope you know that much, at least. ❞
I am always wanting to write Rated R material threads but I’m never sure of who would be comfortable doing so. Can roleplayers please reblog this post if you are fully comfortable writing mature subjects in your threads? { Blood, gore, murder, alcohol and drug use, hack&slash etc. } I’d like to find out by this post who IS comfortable with these types of roleplays rather than making someone uncomfortable just by asking. Thank you!
She smiles. She knows Peko is just trying to get under her skin. She needs to learn that I’m the best at that game. She removes the knife from Peko’s breast, returning to idly scraping under her fingernails with the metal. She takes a step back, sitting back down on her desk.
“ Kuzuryu sure seems to think of me as his QUEEN. He said so a few weeks ago. When he took me on this very desk. “
She doesn’t raise her eyes from her fingernails, as if scraping dried blood and dirt from them were the most interesting thing in the world. Well, with so many dead, it just might be. But with Peko surely ready to burst, things would soon get more interesting.
The swordswoman felt a vein pop in her in her head, the gaze from her crimson eyes quickly lowering into a glower in the blonde’s direction as she grit the teeth in her jaw.
She knew the girl was only trying to rile her up. She knew that very well, in fact. Such a practice was a common thing between the two of them but… ah, Enoshima was so very good at it.
{{ ♟ }} –- ❝ Eh? ❞
The small sound came from the swordswoman’s throat almost as a reflexive response, as though her body had suddenly understood just how irritated she was and had shifted her tone to match just as suddenly.
With long, loud strides she followed the blonde to her spot on the desk, both of her hands slamming down simultaneously; one on the face of the desk and one on the other’s neck. Fingers twined around, tensing against skin and nails digging into flesh.
