[mission: hyrypia] hey kid wanna see a dead body

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: EVERYONE
WHERE: The Second Flight
WHEN: DAY :021 - DAY :022
SUMMARY: Leaving the Graze and flying over the Finger Maze. [insert Psycho music cue here]
WARNINGS: Corpses. Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

HYRYPIA - THE SECOND FLIGHT
DAY :021

I. ALLLL ABOARD
THE SOUND OF HORNS has become familiar in your time on Hyrypia, but the low drone seems out of place here in the great open space of the main hall of the Second’s Flight. The space here is fantastically and beautifully ornate, the pale polished wood floors and rich dark paneling strangely reminiscent of sand and stone, loamy earth and some rich, dense forest not native to the arid lands of this planet. The space seems to dare the sky to claim it, acting out some daring violation of delivering the earth into the heavens. The twin heads of House Tyrisson are equally lavish both in their appearance and welcome. Two brothers, draped in elaborate pastel fabrics and glinting with enough metal accents to put the ornate robes of Seconds to shame, they trade a short speech back and forth between them:

"Once, our ancestors would have travelled the depths and turns of the Finger Maze in an effort to follow the footsteps of the First. Luckily, we don't live in such dangerous times; the gifts of the First and this planet we call home have allowed us to grow up out of our desperation. Consider this comfort our gift to you and enjoy your time on the Second Flight."

A band strikes up the moment the Tyrisson twins take their seats and you are left to your own devices. So much for living simply.

II. A MURDER MOST FOUL
A SCREAM PIERCES THE SILENCE of the saunas. The low sound of gently flowing water and the soft piped music seems to fade to nothing in the wake of the raw, terrified noise. Unsurprisingly, it draws immediate attention as a horrified Descendant practically falls into the arms of the servant that comes to his aid. The outburst is easily forgiven as word travels like lightning through the ship.

There has been a murder - or rather, two murders. Two bodies, damp with humidity and beginning to give of a distinctly unpleasant smell, have been found in one of the hot bath grottos. The mineral water they've been soaking in has reverted from a milky white to a terrible, blood rust brown.

And while it's unlikely that any Carbauschians were sharing the pool with them (robes make for unpleasant waders), the dryer albeit stiflingly hot areas of the conjoined saunas are such a communal meeting places that it wouldn't be out of the realm of imagination that one or two Hosts might be nearby… Regardless, news travels quickly and the chilly atmosphere that descends over the Second Flight is palpable. A horrific hunting accident is one thing, but murder? That's something else altogether.


HYRYPIA - THE SECOND FLIGHT
DAY :022

III. A SORDID AFFAIR
TO SAY that the atmosphere is somewhat tense is an understatement. It seems that everyone has something to say about the murders- but these things are said tersely, in whispers under the breath, with darting eyes and suspicious glances, and security- once hidden, secret- is now easily visible. They can be found at the entrance of each of the broad areas, patrolling down the paths that run alongside the outer walls of the Envoy’s cabins- never intruding, but ever present. Still, there seems to be an insistence that it will be dealt with by a member of the Tyrisson protectorate guard - Detective Savela, a hard-nosed, serious woman who seems not to want any assistance - and that the guests should continue to enjoy themselves. The bands still play, the games are ever present. Of course, those that are enterprising may wish to try poking around, instead.

IV. THE SHOW MUST GO ON
MURDER SCHMURDER-- In what's very clearly an effort to retain some sense of normalcy, an elaborate meal is served late on Day :022. The dishes are so complex that might as well be show pieces of their own, the music has an air of desperation, and the display of technomancy from a pair of Seconds is so delicate and ornate - centering almost entirely on a cloud of small metal coins that shifts shape constantly to illustrate scenes from the famous epic poem The Arion throughout the course of the dinner - that under any other circumstances it might be a singularly memorable moment.

Unfortunately, the palpable sense of suspicion between the envoy factions persists and the temper of the room is anything but celebratory. Late in the evening when most people have retired from the stifling atmosphere, a scuffle breaks out between some Meradan bodyguards and a clutch of Carpathan servants.


HYRYPIA - THE SECOND’S FLIGHT
DAY :023

V. A FAREWELL TO ARMS
THE ENGINES ever-present hum ticking down an octave is the first sign that the Flight has almost reached its destination. By the time the servants are politely knocking on the entrances of the berthings, the new dawn reveals that the cliffs and the winding passages of the Finger Maze have finally fallen behind the ship. The land here consists of rocky, relatively bare hills and is accented only with occasional short, sparse woody tree and straggly clumps of red grass. From somewhere in the distance, salt touches the wind. The Second Flight lands, setting gently down into the trough between two hills. Its now familiar gangplank extends, ready to send the Pilgrims again out onto the road.

---

((OOC Notes: This log covers days :021 and :022 on the Second Flight. A log will be posted for the walk on DAY :023 and the arrival at the Red Coast. Please be sure to review the MISSION: HYRYPIA ooc information to find setting information for the Second Flight. If you have any questions, please hit up either the mission's question thread, the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))

NAVIGATION • GAME CALENDAR • MISSION: HYRYPIA • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[miscreant]

SECOND FLIGHT

[Leaving the ground was not a particularly pleasing moment for Seviilia, who had once again begun accustomed to being there. She found herself pining for the elin, however false of a simacrulum they might have been. But, being who she was and understanding the nature of things, she doesn't both to voice how disgruntled she is -- it will be evidence enough in the mental connection wafting between her and other's.

There was a lot to be said for comfort, but Seviilia was not feeling particularly comfortable. There is a distinct unpleasantness about her in the main hall -- more than usual, as her ears settled backwards under her many veils. The sound in the room was awful to her sensitive hearing, and she couldn't quite figure out why.]

( I don't suppose anyone else is feeling slightly claustrophobic? )

[That, of course, wasn't entirely true; Seviilia wasn't phobic of anything. However, she could recognize that it was probably closer to what others were feeling from her.]


MURDER

[The energy brought to the Second Flight as a result of the murder immediately puts Seviilia on edge -- not because she had felt her life might be in danger, but because of all the various bits and bobs that were associated with an assassination.

She could smell the blood from any corner of the ship, and it widened the ever-present pit in her stomach and shared it (and the pain of starvation that came with it) with the rest of the hivemind.

Needless to say, she was more than ready to be on the ground. The murder itself, while curious and interesting on its own, was merely a gross inconvenience.]

( I don't suppose anyone knows anything about all of that? )

[She has a sneaking suspicion that is not actually the case -- her tone is slightly accusatory.]


WILDCARD

[HIT ME. or plurk/pm me.]

[skaikru]

I. we’re going on a trip in our favorite rocket ship ( berthings | open | day 21 )

( witness: a moody teenager doing moody teenager things, like staring out a window in silent contemplation.

okay, it isn’t all bad. despite the semi-constant cloud of doom and gloom that seemed to circle clarke’s head like she’d acquired her own gravitational pull, after the last few days of leaking grief, frustration, and exhaustion indiscriminately, it’s all gone relatively quiet. retreated to a hazy, distant static; a channel that, if tuned into, only offered white noise. what may have begun as kneeling up by the pillow of her bed, arms folded against the small sill, and staring through the thick glass with a sense of childlike wonderment at the ground drifting by below them has shifted into just… staring out the window at the ground drifting by below them. the hues of orange dust and pink coral, all bathed in the bright red sunlight looked different without the obstruction of their veils. a tad brighter, and all the prettier for it.

but staring too long at the intricate groves that were the expanse of the maze threatened to dredge up recent memories of standing atop the maze itself — all hot sun, cooler breezes, the excitement of the hunt below, and the death.

whenever her thoughts stray too close to old wounds of any variety, clarke takes a long, sweeping inventory of the souls in their sleeping quarters. it’s different, so many bodies in the same room, and so many bare faces; there are names and interactions to assign to people she’d never spoken to unobscured, and there were those who remained strangers. and maybe she’s staring a bit like an awkward creep, just this side of calculating and chilly.

catch her eye? or just come bother her while she’s mouth breathing all over the glass? )

II. lookin' pretty in a hotel bar ( forward cabin | open | day 21 )

( it’s only after the fourth time the same polite member of the waitstaff has asked her if she’d like a refreshment that clarke finally accepts. smiles, though it’s hidden, nods, and swiftly defers to the servers’ judgement about what is the best drink on the menu is.

turns out it’s a tall, lean glass with a smattering of spherical ice cubes, and a murky orange-brown liquid full of pulp. and alcohol. a lot of alcohol, enough that one unsuspecting sip has clarke smothering a coughing fit behind one hand, and gesturing desperately for a glass of water with the other. but it isn’t so bad, and pairs quite nicely with the elegant alien-cheese platter. clarke takes a better part of an hour to drain her cup, watered dregs and all, and then returns to staring out the windows of the viewing deck. her thought process is simplified:

she’s never drifted so smoothly through the clouds, and surrounded by so much glass and the faint tinkling of chamber music it feels a lot like a dream. she’s never seen any landscape like this in her world, dry and expansive and uninterrupted by any signs of life. she misses trees. and her friends, both technically present and far removed through the universe.

it’s this swirl of nostalgia for when times were different (not necessarily easier, but different) mixing with a light buzz, she’s very eager — almost excitable — to hail down the next member of the nest that comes anywhere near her high table. )

Here, sit.

( there is a high chair on the other side of the small round table, which she now gestures toward invitingly. )

III. butts on butts on butts ( springs | open | day 22 )

( clarke griffin is partially clothed, wet, and v uncomfortable over here )

IV. conspiracy theories over space coffee ( main hall | open | day 22 )

( this is not her first cup of space coffee this evening. it isn’t even her second.

oh no, clarke griffin is halfway through her third cup of alien bean water, and can’t quite seem to get her leg to stop jittering under the table. sure, the food had been dainty and delicious, the music was lovely, the display of their host party’s techromancers was full of grace and downright magical. but everything paled in comparison to this dark, hot, liquid delicacy. even the buzz of grief in the air for the two bodies found yesterday took a backseat. it was sad, yes, but there's a distinctly selfish air of relief around clarke — at least this time, it wasn’t one of their own.

for once, she’s relatively chipper in comparison to the crowds around them at dinner. easy going and relaxed, by clarke griffin standards anyway.

and be it her constant underlying train of paranoia making a brief appearance, or maybe just the caffeine wearing on her brain to (brain) mouth filter, but clarke catches the attention of the nearest host, drags it up towards the front of the dining hall, where well dressed officials sat stoically, observing all the muted festivities. )

( Are they staring at us? More than usual. )

VI. wildcard motherfuckers!

( you know the drill, GET ON ME )

[wille]

001. I'M MUCH TOUGHER. DAY :021

[ Misato was among the first on the scene, having traced down the source of the scream like a bloodhound to prey, and she arrives just as the servants carry out the bodies out of the sauna. The heft and the distressed expressions on their faces betray what the layers and layers of cloth conceal, and she can pick up the stench of death even from here in the hallway, blocked off from the worst of it by a barricade of polite yet frustrated Tyrisson guards. She stays quietly watching, as close as allowed, far enough that the security won't shoo them away.

Only once both bodies have been carried out, and whispers of the suspected identities of the victims disperse among the curious crowd, does she reach to grab the nearest Carbauschian by the arm. To the outside eye, the gesture is one of distress, but her grip is forceful rather than pleading, her mind is a grounded pillar certain of her place. ]

( Which is worse, an accidental death or one that somebody wanted to happen? )

002. I DON'T NEED THE BUFFER. DAY :022

[ It's conspicuous even to someone like her, this attempt at reciting ancient poetry and presenting architectural marvels for dinner to distract from worse things. As it goes, the more one wishes to not think of something, the more the thought dominates. All these displays only serve to highlight the unusual state of the evening, the possibility of there being a murderer on the loose aboard a sealed ship, and the tension in the room is thick enough to eat with the spoon she drops onto her emptied plate with a clatter.

Few heads turn to her even as The Arion concludes in a tricked out marvel of technomancy, the sweat and tears of the orchestrator palpable from the overreaching, the overcompensation. She finds it painful to watch if only because it's so familiar. ]

I've got a dare for you. The Hyrypians are obviously bad at this, so let's help them out a little.

WILDCARD!

[ As it says on the tin! ]

( CLOSED TO SETH + NOVEMBER )

[ophidia]

[It's not something to be blindsided by. Surprised. It's a fact of life for Richard, a basic necessity, and suffering under it in the middle of the gathering listening to the Tyrisson's speech is fucking shameful. He'd thought the hunger was manageable, could be held off until he knew the terrain better, the opportunities available. Now that sounds like an excuse. Basic stupidity. Light-headed, near swaying on his feet, and the speech ending so quickly would be a relief if walking wasn't as much of a damn problem. His first step forward is practically a stumble, and his attention's directed downwards, inwards, focus narrowed tight, determined to keep his feet under him.]

[adamance]

[Given that it's Lexa, there's no need to hail her—the reason why she's here is Clarke. The tension in the air among the four who had taken part in the conversation is thick, like something she can barely manage, or barely breathe through. It's her own doing, but it drives a wedge between her and Bellamy and her and Clarke. Now that they're in a single room together, driven into the same place by circumstance or fate, she knows she can't continue to leave things this way. It would be impolite.

More than that, it was hard enough spending three months away from Clarke because of her betrayal. And another three months here. And now—

She orders a drink before she advances. Some part of her wants to be difficult, wants to make things as hard as possible. But it's hard to hide the brush of her mind against Clarke's, and after a few sips of "courage," she draws closer, coming to sit beside her, not bothering to take a seat across from her. She craves proximity. If she had been smarter about how she handled certain things in the past few days, she could have had it.

It's times like this where she wishes they had privacy. She wants Clarke to be able to see her face. There's a lot on her mind, and she doesn't conceal it through effort. The jumble of thoughts is present, like a convoluted mess made worse by the person producing it. Lexa has always overcomplicated things, even when she's pretended as if she wasn't. Nothing changes that now.]

( How much of that have you had? I'd like to catch up to you. ) [It's a casual remark, but she has a different aim: Lexa is willing to relax, to bend a bit, to be open. She knows that the alcohol will help, because if anything, she needs to be more candid here.]

cw: alcoholism

[sistershoggoth]

one more, on me -- wildcard for a mopey ass
[ The relative luxury of the ship has, in its way, only exacerbated her. The lack of distraction by way of the day to day ruggedness of their pilgrimage has left her without anything to keep her busy. The booze is even easier and more plentiful here on the ship. If she is not actively in the corner of the bar with her drinks and her hookah, she's in the berthings, asleep.

Her presence is subdued, a muddy puddle of obscure thoughts, none of them positive. Her sketch book, increasingly running out of clean paper to work on, is filling up with scratchy, dark scribbles, faces and eyes peering with disapproval from beneath long, beautiful hair. ]

002

[redheadcarrier]

[ The air's been tense for a while, but Asuka's been trying not to let it get to her. Still, it's creepy to think about some murderer being on the ship with them. What if they decide their delegation needs to be cut down to sizae? Brrr. The dinner entertainment is... lacking and she's acting a bit bored, gaze distant, chin in her hand as she stares off into space. Thinking, mostly. Turning over ideas in her head, remembering... people.

Misato speaks up and her attention shifts, shattered out of the reverie. ]

Huh? What kind of dare?

[ She's suspicious, but not anymore so than she usually is. ]

[greentech]

Restricted Area (closed; for Elliot)

[ If there was one thing that Pidge absolutely had to see once they'd come aboard, it was the engine room. True, she'd had a shot to see what made an Elin tick, but a flying airship? That was a little too good for her to pass up. Getting down there was... well. Not the easy part, but being able to turn herself invisible was definitely a plus in terms of "not getting caught". The engine room itself was more than a little cramped and she had to be careful not to run into the engineers. She's puttering around in an out of the way corner, carefully doing her best to get a better look at some of the machinery when she realizes that there's someone skulking at the corner up ahead. For a moment she blinks and then she creeps forward, still invisible - until she realizes that she's coming face-to-face with another of the Nest. ]

Hey-

[ And she pops back into visibility. ]


Scuffle Truffle

[ She's not fond of the dinner party, especially in the rather oppressive atmosphere that's been left by the murder. Still, it's... better than sitting around and moping about it. Then again, she could be looking into those deaths or working on some sort of remote surveillance or - well, anything that wasn't watching slightly uncomfortable performances. It's still pretty quiet as far as things go. Another night on this long trip to... somewhere. It's getting late and Pidge is contemplating finally slipping off to bed. At least until that scuffle breaks out. Someone overturns a tray, something breaks and there's some raised voices and a struggling, shoving knot of robes.

Before she can really think too hard, Pidge gets involved (despite her small size), darting forward to try and drag a pair of people apart. ]

Hey, cut it out already-!

[ Someone give her some help before something unfortunate happens. ]


Wildcard!

[ The usual. ]

( CLOSED )

[wrackful]

( ANNIE )
[When he comes down to their berthing shortly after take off, it isn't an attempt to avoid any of the socialising or exploration going on. There's a very direct purpose in how he searches out his own pack of belongings, a sharp note of responsibility edging it, one that only dissipates as soon as he finds the med supplies and tech he'd brought down from the station still safely concealed where he'd left them. The sense of relief is mild, but he lets himself take a breath in it, just for a moment--

and then a piece of fruit smacks him on the side of the head.]

The hell was that for?

[He'd demanding it before he's even seen who did it, irate as he stands to turn on them.]


( BELLAMY )
[It's only been two days. Set down in comparison, it's nothing. He's gone months solid without seeing Bellamy, without seeing any of skaikru, and at the time it had suited him just fine. But at some point during the second night, woken from another nightmare, he'd realised this is the longest he's gone without seeing Bellamy since he'd been dropped down in Concordia.

It doesn't sit right. Gnaws at him like a burr he can't shake loose. Two days was more than enough for things to cool, for them to curl back on him, slide thin blades under the skin. All the feeling Bellamy had thrown back on him, and now the razor-thin sensation of the line between them. He'd barely managed to sleep, the second night. He doesn't want another night like that.

But it's luck, more than judgement. Coming down to the berthings as the evening's winding up, the right kind of time to start settling in for the night, but before the rest of the hosts have filtered down. All of them except one.]

Sucks, right? [Coming to stand at the bottom of the bed Bellamy's chosen, not waiting for an invitation or letting himself hesitate. He knows what'd happen if he did.] You switch tents to get away from us, then we all get stuck in the same room.

[Not that Murphy had even realised Bellamy had bailed on Lexa's tent until the next day, going back for his pack.]

[detestable]

[ For all his attempts otherwise, Seth's mind had remained too crowded. He's aware of his brood and the Nest, and that's new and inconvenient. But being so aware of Richie is business as usual, and the gnawing ghost of hunger in his gut had worried Seth even before Richie took his few few clumsy steps forwards. ]

Hey.

[ Seth's already in motion as he speaks, one hand grabbing Richie's arm, the other landing in the center of his chest. ]

Jesus, Richie, we're gonna have to do something about this.

[ Discussion of Richie's dietary needs have been limited since they reestablished their partnership. It had barely ever needed to be a topic of conversation because Richie had never had a problem handling it. But clearly, he ws having a problem now. And even if Seth had wanted to try, he couldn't avoid it. He just doesn't have a workable idea on how to get Richie a meal in this place. ]

dinner fight

[shiro2hero]

[Parties still aren't his thing. Nothing good has happened at one since he can remember. But for appearances sake, he's stationed himself on the edges, back in the bodyguard role. The people tend to give him a wide berth, at least, and affords a good look around from his "brooding corner".]

[With tensions like they are, it's no surprise someone starts throwing their weight around. It's even less of a surprise someone tries to stop it. He hangs back a few moments longer -- giving her the chance to settle this for herself. She's every bit the warrior he is. Just in a smaller package.]

(Behind you.)

[Pidge, at least, gets a warning before he steps in. Grabbing for one of the combatants' arms before it can go for a swing.]

[sistershoggoth]

[ She's not as drunk as she could be. It's early. She also does absolutely nothing to deny she threw the thing at him. ]

Got you a snack.

[greentech]

[ Pidge has managed to avoid getting nailed by one of the bodyguards - who are a lot stronger than they look or let on - and she's mostly just been trying to shove people apart. Which is hard, because she's small. However, she's still managing a fairly decent job of it when it comes to holding her own.

At least until there's a quick mental tug. ]

( Thanks-! )

[ She turns in time to see Shiro grab one of them by the arm and she helps him by ramming an elbow into the man's solar plexus region. Same principle as on humans and galra, right? ]

[redheadcarrier]

[ Asuka can feel the sharp pinch of starvation. That sense of hunger underlying the smell of blood. Her own feelings on the smell are mixed. Nostalgia, comfort, fear, home. She tries not to dwell on it. Better to focus on the present, even if she feels a bit strange.

That's probably Seviilia's take on it, honestly, bleeding into her perception. At least that's what she tells herself. There's a mental shrug from her, a sort of carelessness. Maybe a hint of fear and uneasiness at being stuck in a confined space with someone willing to kill on the sly. ]

( I haven't heard anything. Who'd want to kill a couple of people like that? Especially when we're all stuck together? They couldn't exactly hide the bodies... )

[shiro2hero]

AROUND THE SHIP;
[Aside from checking in on people via mental link, he's mostly chosen to keep to himself. It tends to involve pacing around in an odd state of restlessness. He should be feeling more at ease -- back in the air and all. Maybe he'd feel better if he were flying.]

[He can be found mostly in THE FORWARD CABIN, staring out the viewing windows without much in the way of concern for the drop. Or surrounded by space caffeine cups in the MAIN HALL -- that habit is back in full force. Or, after the bodies, in the HOT SPRINGS, wrapped in towels.]


OH GOOD MORE DEAD PEOPLE;
(What happened?)

[As soon as the news breaks out, he's calling out to the others. To anyone within range. Reaching for familiar minds, first and foremost. There isn't the sense that anyone of theirs has been hurt, but after Lavellan...]

(Did anyone know them?)


FIGHT;
[For the most part, he'd been sticking to the edges of the various parties. Gatherings have never really ended all that well for him lately. So staying apart just makes more sense to him.]

[It gives him a good view of the ensuing scuffle, though. What's a bodyguard to do when other bodyguards start getting into it? Step in, of course. After a moment of staring into the distance and wondering why him.]

[In he wades, in an attempt to restore order -- a big, black-robed individual with a literal iron grip. Do you help? Or are you accidentally in the middle of it yourself?]


wildcard!
[Hit me up if you want anything more specific!]

[shiro2hero]

(Guess no one ever told these guys the same size rule.)

[If she had her armor, her bayard, these guys wouldn't have stood a chance -- of that, he is entirely confident. But now, it's just size threatening to overpower her. All the more reason to start throwing his own weight around.]

[The guy he's holding abruptly crumples, with a low wheeze as Pidge's blow lands. He lets go, letting gravity take over.]

(Think we're ever going to get into a party where no fights break out?)

[miscreant]

( Well, our hosts appear to be just as confused. I simply wonder is all. )

[She wants to go closer to investigate, but she is no fool. She'd never be able to resist being so close to a fresh kill. Too much time had passed.]

( After several days of calm in the ranks, it strikes me as...opportunistic. )

[greentech]

( I don't think they'd listen anyway...! )

[ They probably shouldn't fight in complete silence, but they are anyway - and moving like they're part of a team. Maybe she's just been an unbobtrusive bodyguard this whole time. Who knows? At least there's no one grabbing her again. At least not yet.

So she tries to drag someone else out of the scrum, teeth gritted behind her veil. ]

( I mean - last time it wasn't the guests who started it at least, right? )

[redheadcarrier]

( It's kind of creepy to think about. Especially if someone decides they don't like us... )

[ Blech. The last thing Asuka wants to think about is getting murdered in her sleep or while she's touring the ship. Still, she takes a small measure of comfort in knowing that anyone who wants to get to her bunk is also going to have to go through Shepard and Seviilia. ]

( Think they have their eyes on us? )

dead people

[sistershoggoth]

( You should all know them. I showed them to you. Nobody pays any fuckin' attention to me. )

[ She is belligerently drunk, her thoughts sloshing over him. ]

[shiro2hero]

(Annie--)

[He shouldn't be surprised by her reply. Or the sense of her state. But he takes a minute to shore up his walls, regardless.]

(Thank you. Do you know anything else about them, or how they died? That you... feel like sharing?)

[shiro2hero]

(If they did -- we'd probably get lectured for breaking character!)

[It probably paints a scarier picture for this cover than speaking aloud would. Which may be good for them, in the long run. Give them some kind of mysterious warrior aura.]

[Pidge is hauling someone away, and he throws a shoulder in between someone else, trying to follow the guy.]

(Point taken. Maybe one day we'll get a normal party.)

[sistershoggoth]

( I assume it was cuz they were fuckin' skulkin' around and their mom wasn't in to it. )

[greentech]

[ True. Super silent warrior bodyguards were probably pretty intimidating. To emphasize that, she trips up another of the combatants and flips his robes over his head. Why don't they just calm down? ]

( You know, I think I'd like that. Less giant monster attacks and fighting, more fizzy drinks and cake... )

[shiro2hero]

(That seems a little extreme.)