Redecorating and Other Pranks [Wasaki/OPEN]

[Eva Liu]

Too bad she won't be able to see his face when he encounters the finished product of her labor. Eva held the large tote bag close to her body as she cautiously opened the heavy, ornate wood door to the boy’s dormitory and quickly slipped in. Her eyes darted to and fro to check for the dormitory superintendent. However, if she were caught, the girl felt as though there would be no reason that she should be punished; she was definitely not here for that kind of business. Furthermore, the boy’s dorm held no mystical properties for her for she had grown up with brothers and knew what to expect from a male’s living quarters. The demon weapon was not here to gawk and giggle at the opposite sex, no. She had a very distinct purpose in mind for her visit, and she was not to be deterred from completing her mission.

Once she was sure that it was safe, Eva darted up the stairs. There was a rare liveliness and eagerness to her step. In some part of her mind she wished she could be as motivated to do other more serious tasks, but the majority squelched the opposition by declaring that in the grand scheme of cousin relationships and familial competition, this was a very important undertaking indeed.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she grew reckless with her excitement. Rather than check if the hallway was empty of witnesses and potential rats, she just kept walking until she reached her cousin’s room in the middle of the hall. This placement was simply fate, since everyone could see.

Eva set down the canvas tote, which was heavy with left over decorating materials from some younger female cousin’s room remodeling. With the package the materials were mailed in was a brand new hanfu dress that she was currently wearing. The Chinese demon weapon swished the thin, silky fabric around. She really didn’t need any sort of payment for this undertaking, though her female cousins did know her taste well.

The bare door was so daunting a canvas that she actually took a step back to try to picture what the end result might look like. However, she never was much of an artist and decided instead to reach into the bag and randomly stick on the first thing she pulled from it. A sheet of sticker decorations! Perfect. The girl peeled off a bright yellow star with a rainbow tail and slapped it on the upper left corner of the door. Now the emptiness was no longer so intimidating.

Wait a minute- she pulled out her phone and popped in her earbuds. Aww yeahhh, a bouncy K-pop song was perfect for this occasion. Eva bobbed her head and rotated her shoulders to the rhythm as she continued to apply flashy diamond rings, high heels, and purses. Feeling that there were enough stickers for now, she pulled out magazine cutouts of men in various states of dress and undress, as well as several colored markers and a roll of tape.

“No oh no oh, no oh oh, I can’t breathe,” she sang under her breath to the only lyrics she actually understood, and went back to humming when the singers returned to Korean. After she taped up the men all around the door, she moved on to drawing and writing over them with her markers. On a brooding white boy lifted straight from an Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue, she drew a heart around his face in first a pink, then purple marker. The shirtless African American flexing his muscles diagonal from him was branded with “Hubby No. 1,” while an Asian pretty boy with guyliner and orange hair further down was “Hubby No. 2.” “Boytoy” was an Antonio Banderas look-alike. That should just about cover the spectrum of men on the floor, and anyone who felt left out could go bwahh by themselves.

Sparkly beads and ribbons followed, but Eva was not done just yet. The final touch to complete her haphazard decorating job was not yet in place. From the depths of the bag, she delicately picked out a pair of lacy red panties, a gag gift from a friend, and spritzed the never-before-worn undergarment with a flowery bodyspray. She hung it obscenely on the doorknob, and clapped her hands together in delight. Now it was finished. Eva almost felt sorry for her poor, unsuspecting cousin, who was doubtlessly enjoying his time back home on an impromptu holiday.

[wasaki]

“Yaaaaawwww-hn!”

The holidays droned on and he continued to be the singular existence upon a floor that would soon be littered with numerous indolent Shibusen students who would come to find someone unfamiliar already living in their midst. Isolation was an accursed subject for someone who passed through one moment of the day to the next in a mind-numbing sea of it, but the soft quietness of the boy’s dormitory was a welcome change after that incident.

“I wonder what that guy’s doing anyway…” muttered the fair skinned lad as he shuffled awkwardly in his bed, sheets mussed up after days of not being changed. He didn’t really care since his roommate—if he was to have one that is—was nowhere in sight to tell him to clean up his section. Wallowing in his small world of moderate filth he stared blankly ahead in concentration while holding the trouble load of braided hair strands that were giving him enough trouble as it was. “Just…a little…damn!”

SPOILER: Click to show

I planned on changing Wasaki’s profile picture before meeting new people, but this is fine. Here’s what he looks like now: Wasaki Tafari

Cursing his luck aloud vindicated some of the pent up frustration, but it did nothing for the hairy situation he had on hand now. Of course his main issue was that his clothing had been confiscated for inspection leaving him with only the long flowing cloth of silk that he now wore—something he rarely wore in a setting he was comfortable in, much less one he was not. Sighing he dropped back into bed, momentarily accepting the fate that had forced on him while formulating rebellious plans to stifle the unruly curtain sitting atop his head; he’d not spend the day swatting defiant dreadlocks from his meals…not like yesterday. Needless to say, things had been a bit less exciting at the school of weapons and meisters, much less interesting than his first day in Death City, Nevada…though he wasn’t sure whether to be thankful for that or not. Alright one more time. he goaded himself, assured that the finality of one final attempt would give him the quintessential surplus of motivation to wedge the goddamned loop around that thick mass of…hair.

….

….

….!

Nothing.

“Bloody balls and bollucks!” screamed Wasaki, his dialect mixing British slang with Cameroonian accent all in one jumbled mess of a sentence. That was something he’d intended on working on while the other students were away—along with actually mastering some discernible skill that qualified him as…well as someone who belonged here. Physical aloneness never substantiated itself until he was either in the dark or being shunned by people; both were situations he’d avoid at all costs, be damned with rationality. Whether because he was suddenly more aware of his surroundings or he’d given up on the cause of netting his hair into something that didn’t look like a ‘Bob Marley’ do gone wrong, the street urchin was suddenly attuned to the sounds coming from the hallway.

Maybe someone stayed behind after all Not likely, but talking to someone would have been nice after the oppressive gloominess of simply sitting in his room all day. He hadn’t gathered the courage to venture out into the school grounds, not after meeting the ‘Death Scythe’ on the way here. The man was a loon wrapped in an enigma lost in a sea of lust—that he was a demon weapon of legend was something that he had to check at the library.

Opening his door cautiously he stuck a toe out to test the waters. A strange thing to do considering that he was in possibly the safest haven on earth, but he’d had years of uncertainty leading up to this point and it was hard to let go now. It wasn’t until several minutes of only the toe on his right foot being visible to any in the corridor that he concluded that whoever was there was either not paying attention or was simply not harmless. Fair enough. I’m a bad ass anyway, not like I’m gonna get beat up. Nuthin’ to worry about. Reassuring himself all the way until he made his way completely from his room he looked down to his left and saw nothing. Feeling evermore confident that nobody was here and that he could stop squeezing the cloth of his legs, he scanned the right side and saw….

A girl?!

“Hey! HEY!” he shouted angrily while pointing a finger at the rhythmically bouncing intruder. She had no right. None. She was a girl for Christ sakes! A girl with a nice, cute smile and…long flowing hair…and…Wasaki halted his march about ten steps away from the decorating damsel unaware if she was aware of him for suddenly the only thing he could understand was that his heart was beating rapidly and sweat was making pools in his armpits.

-GULP!-

[rain]

Is he gone...

What Wasaki didn' realise was that there was something amiss about his room. It was very subtle, in a spiky knife blade sort of way, and also very creepy. A twisted fusion of the battle axe and the Les Paul Gibson electric guitar was sitting as innocently as possible underneath the dark skinned teen's bed. It had waited for the room's occupant to leave, which had taken a lot longer than it had first anticipated, before transforming into a tall lean and muscular boy from the Orient, complete with sailor mouth and monstrous hairstyle. Rocket had rolled out from underneath the bed, complaining internally about the smell only an untidy room can aquire, before playing Mr. Detective with the teen with braided hair.

Okay, okay, so maybe it was a little stalkerish, but Wasaki had wielded him so well, and Rocket simply had to find out more about him! Spending the night there, as he had, was a little overboard, but Rocket was an all or nothing kind of guy; it was almost to be expected! The demon weapon slipped into the corridor after his acquaintance, wondering just why he had been swearing so much. Rocket bit his tongue. It was all he could do to keep himself from bursting into mad laugther at the dark skinned teen's new look. 'He's gay'd himself up!' he thought to himself, commenting mentally on Wasaki's new look. For some reason, Rocket decided to keep himself hidden from the boy with whom he'd had an adventure, hiding in the little space that was a grey area between the corridor and someone's room. It didn't help that his hair jutted out from the wall, and no doubt he was quite the spectacle for the girl with whom Wasaki was having trouble. An evil smirk grew on his face as the Oriental weapon could almost smell the dark skinned teen's discomfort. He was like a shark in the sea that fed on whatever it fancied; be it mysterious black guys that could wield him, or an ex-champion boxer, Rocket took them all on. An admirable trait, in any other human being -- the rock and roll axe guitar's abrasive personality sort of ruined whatever redeeming qualities he could have had; his determination to do anything being among them.

And so he waited...

And waited...

NOW!

In a burst of impulsiveness, Rocket sprung from his hiding space and barelled into the back of the teen with braided hair, no doubt sending him sprawling and stumbling forwards into the girl with whom he was trying to eke out a conversation. Mad laughter and puerile glee emanated from the demon weapon, coming together to form the words that left his mouth.

"Haha! World's best wingman!" He cried, pointing and chortling at the dark skinned teen before him. Rocket, however, stopped laughing instantly when he saw the fine piece of feminine flesh before him...

...and the person it was attached to wasn't half bad either.

Swaggering with a familiar arrogance to the lady stranger, Rocket, figuring himself as something of a heart throb, loomed over the girl with a smirk that revealed a perfect set of pearly whites. Gymnasts get paid more than one might think, and fixing his teeth had been a matter of dollars and angry appointment getting.

"All jokin' aside, I'm Rocket babe. And what's a lovely lady like yourself doin' in a corridor with the likes of 'im, anyhow?" Purred Rocket. Remembering that he was trying to get on the dark skinned teen's good side, he added a quick word to allay any thoughts of animosity between the two.

"No offense," He said, before turning back to his "lady friend".

...Smoooooth.

[Eva Liu]

Maybe she had been much too reckless in going about her task. So enthralled with her handiwork on the defaced door was Eva that the angry, accusatory shout from further down the hall came as a complete surprise. She froze, muscles tense and mind quickly jumping from multiple possible courses of action. So this was it, this was the end result of her daring foray into the boy’s dorm. She was to go down in flames as a martyr for those who suffered under people with no sense of humor. Maybe she’d even get a perp walk, which everyone knew was far more glamorous and sensational than the walk of shame could ever be. She already had her defense ready: she was merely sticking to her convictions, her philosophy to live “for the lulz.”

All romanticizing aside, the main thought that gripped her mind was that the very best thing to do now would be to quickly stow everything away and go tearing down the stairs as fast as she could. Yet the girl remained rooted in place. Maybe it was the subversive spirit of the prank that was influencing her decision process, the little voice that said she might as go all out. Eva calmly pulled the earbuds out and turned her head to see the dreadlocked young man marching closer with his finger pointing out her presence where there should be none. As he seemed to lose his conviction, she found herself growing more confident with how stupid she was being by staying. It didn't hurt that she found him attractive, objectively speaking, mop of unruly hair and all.

Hypocrite that she was, Eva was struck by the white cloth that the boy had draped over his body. Was he even wearing any, you know, unmentionables under there? For a moment she was also at a loss for words. As her eyes darted everywhere besides meeting the boy’s, she caught sight of what, as ridiculous as the thought was, looked to be someone’s outrageously styled hair poking out from behind a corner. Right, this was Shibusen, only the truly fresh freshmen were still shocked at the oddity of the student body. But really, what was with the men here and their unusual hair?

It was good that the voyeur unwittingly revealed himself, as she was not caught by surprise a second time when he leapt onto the young man in front of her. She was able to step aside to avoid a collision with Tall (Relatively), Dark, and Handsome (to some), though she couldn’t say the same for the door and the panties that previously were hanging on the doorknob. Her arms, bent at the elbows and half-raised with her palms facing out, gestured her denial of responsibility in what had just occurred. Really, it seemed that any time men were in the presence of other men their collective maturity levels regressed to toddler-hood. Admitting that she would have, and already did many other times, the same to her meister Rune didn’t occur to her in the least.

Ordinarily she shirked responsibility out of laziness, not cruelty. However, Eva made no effort to check if the dreadlocked male was injured, only giving him a sidelong, perfunctory glance to note where he was before turning her attention back to his swaggering friend. One of the few things that actually riled her up was someone whose ego was actually greater than hers, and this guy clearly thought he was God’s gift to the world. Tsch. He did have a nice smile, she had to give him that, though the “elevator stare” he’d given her also did not go unnoticed.

Always the obedient child, a goody-two-shoes, Eva was clearly in over her head so much that she even considered for a moment submitting to someone else’s sense of superiority. She even shrunk slightly as the Chinese boy loomed over her, despite her not wanting to betray that the attention he was giving was in a way flattering. Damn him!

“Oh, I was just scouting for a few Chippendale dancers for my cousin’s 18th to give him a good time,” she replied coolly with a small nod to the decorated door. “I guess you two are an item already though.” The words sounded unnatural to her; she was trying too hard to sound casual and dismissive and she knew it. This wasn’t Eva at all, but rather a caricature of what she thought was a savvy young woman jaded with suggestive male overtures. She continued to avert eye contact, hoping that it would make her act less obvious if they couldn't see the hesitation in her eyes.

[wasaki]

The heavens must have reviled his existence to have placed him in such a situation. One hand, a dainty figure with tassels of brown flowing in a mane down her slim frame stared at him with an angel’s face. On the other, behind him, a shout to make his blood freeze within every vein in his wiry—and somewhat overly exposed body; how could he have been here?

"Haha! World's best wingman!"

You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.

A bit of an exchange went on which was fine, Wasaki wasn’t interested in either the demon guitar who seemed to have a knack from raising hell wherever he went nor did he have any desire to mess around with a girl on the boy’s floor. Wait.

“What are you doin’ here anyway?” he cut in smoothly after, the sly Casanova’s unnoticed advances. His eyes narrowed somewhat and his folded arms reeked of disapproval as he once again regained the moral high ground that he’d come into the discussion with—girls, were simply not allowed on the boy’s floor. Ever. Of course this went unheard as the girl seemed slightly…enticed by the vulgar, caveman approach to wooing a female, her answer somewhat strained, yet…approving.

“Oh, I was just scouting for a few Chippendale dancers for my cousin’s 18th to give him a good time,”

Of course being ignored was something he’d dealt with before, there was that spacey feeling that came right before something bad happened; the isolation of being cut out of a dialogue could ruin a lad’s life. “What are you doin’ here?” he asked again flatly, his chin sinking into his chest, but again he was rolled over as the answer that was given was to the Oriental beast. “I guess you two are an item already though.”

Sighing he turned away to head back to his room and seal himself until classes actually began those long, arduous months down the road. It would be fine as long as he didn’t have to put up with either the strange girl whose excuses were flimsier than the clothes he was wearing or the eccentric haired demon weapon that had a predisposition to being touched by others…which coincidentally was not all that weird. By the time he came to this revelation he was already a few steps down the hall on his way to the safety of his room where he could simply tune out the unnecessary noise of unwanted human interaction. It would be nice. Maybe he’d even play a few video games…Americans a nice stock of virtual reality games to play around with.

But wait, something was wrong.

Somewhere between one step and the next he found himself replaying the paper-thin excuse that girl had uttered in her sheepish rebuff at the implied suggestion that she was doing something abnormal.

“I guess you two are an item already though.”

Veins rippled angrily upon that once clear forehead and as he whirled around, the maelstrom of a rage demon’s aura burning around him, he had only one directive; to utterly destroy this girl. “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHH?!” he roared as he tore back down the hallway, fire streaming from his mouth while his strips of white danced ever so tantalizingly close to slipping clean off his skin. “WHAT WAS THAT BOUT US BEING A COUPLE?!” he bellowed again. Leaping into the air he prepared himself to land a furious flurry of blows upon her—not to hurt her, but to teach her that when you were in a man’s world you played by their rules.

That had been his intent.


Unfortunately the elegant white tails had taken to wrapping his legs together leaving him in a very ineffective position to strike. In fact he appeared to be completely entangled within the binds created by his own country’s fashion…a mummy wrapped in his own sheets. Red flushing his dark skin, he bounced over to where his punk rock familiar was standing and mumbled something about something about freeing him—of course it was all incomprehensible thanks to the single strip that served as bit in his mouth. It was in these tender moments he was saved…though he would not desire to such as a succinct breeze cut through the hallway.

Its target: him. “Uwah!” he gurgled unintelligently as freedom found him suddenly and just as suddenly, a growth which we will refer to as ‘Ole Norton’ came dangling free as the his robes were tossed into the air. Oh, it did dance for few seconds of sweet freedom that it enjoyed and when the clothes came settling back into place, there was a breezy sense of satisfaction filling the flush faced freshman of DWMA.

Speechless and ashamed, Wasaki simply counted the tiles on the ground in hopes that he would disappear…or die. Whichever came first.

[rain]

His advances were ignored, but the Chinese demon weapon seemed to be too full of himself to notice. In his own little world, Rocket continued to woo the dame before him, not pausing to question why a girl was in the boys' dorms, and it lead to all sorts of sordid affairs. He knew, despite the bouncy girl's efforts, that she would be putty in her hands... Needless to say, he was quite content with his mental entertainment, and was actually rather annoyed by the dark skinned teen's verbal interjections. They ruined his fun, in his view. But then there was rarely a time when the Oriental weapon didn't think someone else was in the wrong. Maybe one day he'd see that he was the common denominator. Or perhaps he'd just keep on going down the dark path he was on, rock riffs and hellions accompanying him all the way...

It was the holiday. He shouldn't be so philosophical.

Crude and caustic; now that was something he should have been doing. And what better way to show off his great personality than by blowing off the very person he had taken to stalking?

"Why the eff else would I be in the boys dorms, retard -- I'm a boy!" He retorted, toning down the swearing for the lady's sake. Even in remote Chinese islands, there was one thing that was drilled into you from school. Aside from the whole discipline and fishing and striving to be the best and pro-China propaganda. And that, was to always be respectful in front of a lady. Even extreme communists weren't so barbaric as to suggest that women were to be subject to the same vulgar language as men...

...Right?

The lady in question provided a flimsy excuse for Wasaki's interrogations, saying,

“Oh, I was just scouting for a few Chippendale dancers for my cousin’s 18th to give him a good time,” Now that was what he wanted! Rocket's smirk grew into a brief smile, an instantaneous reaction to the pleasing words of the girl he loomed over. Now, what she had said, and what she, in Rocket's world, actually meant, were two totally different things. Her lips did indeed for the words "scouting for Chippendale dancers". They also said "give him a good time". What Rocket thought she meant was "I think you are hot". And so, his acute mind cottoning on to the cryptic game they were playing, the rock and roll axe guitar replied in kind.

"Sure, I'll be your dancer~" He purred, actually meaning "Yeah I know I'm hot, we should totes make out or some shit".

What a romantic.

Due to his intolerable conceitedness, Rocket couldn't hear what the girl had said next, and it didn't really matter to him. In his mind, he'd totally scored, and that Wasaki kid was still there, so he could actually find out some more about the guy who found it so natural to swing around a musical battleaxe. Speaking of the dark skinned teenager, where'd he gotten to anyway? Rocket adopted a confused expression; Wasaki had been standing just in that spot...and in a flurry of white silk and things from down below he was back again! The Oriental Shibusen student couldn't help but clap his hands in glee at the dark skinned teen's embarrassment. To pile insult on injury, he said,

"Woah there Kimosabe! Dun be hittin' me with no dick!" Yup. There it was. It was raw, it was inappropriate, and, ultimately, it was Rocket. He leaned on the wall as he waited for Wasaki to, inevitably, make eye contact again. Despite his seemingly lazy position, the rock and roll axe guitar was actually on tentahooks to see how the teen with braided hair would react. His weapon-like hairstyle pointed at the dark skinned teen like the crosshairs of a gun, Rocket just waited for someone to pull the trigger.

[Eva Liu]

Eva found herself on the defense, not quite sure how to deal with both at the same time. While Tall, Dark, and Handsome was trying to use the opportunity to recover himself and return to his earlier outrage, God’s Gift to the World was laboring under the delusion that he was really going to get anywhere by putting on the moves. While at first she was in the frame of mind to humor the former and scamper out, his sanctimonious attitude was begging her to act like an impudent child and absolutely refuse to give him that satisfaction. Who did he think he was, ordering her to get out? Pah, it wasn’t as though she was here to solicit unsavory favors; she wasn’t that kind of girl. The implications of the treatment stung her pride and now she was determined to stay merely because it offended his sensibilities.

Besides, Eva was sure he was new, or at least much newer than she was. As a devotee and hopeful future contributor to the rumor mill at Shibusen, she would have recognized at least his basic physical features if he were already part of the student body. This was now a double insult: fresh meat trying to overstep the system of seniority? Simply unheard of.

However, that still left the question of how to deal with God’s Gift to the World, or rather, Rocket since he volunteered his name. From the way his expression changed into an even more self-possessed smile, as if that was actually possible, she knew that she lost that round of verbal exchange. Actually, was he even really processing her words, or was he merely carrying on as though he had heard exactly what he’d expected? “Sure, I’ll be your dancer,” he replied suggestively, with all the confidence of a seasoned player. Eva gagged a little. Really? People actually talked like that? When he first opened his mouth, the novelty of being hit on made his words somewhat palatable. Being complemented was something she could endorse, but not the suggestion that she was returning the favor. She supposed his approach might work with someone as narcissistic as he was, but even Eva found the weight of his massive ego was insufferable. The degree to which he was self-absorbed should have been obvious even before; anyone who thought himself able to pick up girls with a cartoon character's outlandish hair had to have either massive denial or assurance in their own abilities.

The second part to her answer didn’t register at all with the Chinese man, but the dreadlocked one noticed it all right. “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHH?!” came his violent objection. “WHAT WAS THAT BOUT US BEING A COUPLE?!” Now it was the girl’s turn to smirk, even as the mummy came charging like an enraged bull. No, she didn’t expect the Casanova to leap to the rescue, nor did she intend to transform and fight him herself. Pushing Rocket in the way remained a possibility though. Overall, she had a good feeling that things would finally turn out in her favor. Call it déjà vu.

Comically, as he leapt forward to rain hellfire upon her, the white cloth wrapped itself around his legs. Not only was he forced to abandon what would have been an impressive launch, but he also had to hobble his way over and attempt to demand help. As his friend tried to decipher his muffled words, a fortuitous breeze blew down the hallway just as someone was liable to suffer indecent exposure. Eva would later never say whether or not she actually saw it, but it didn’t matter, for from his embarrassment it was quite clear what had happened.

The girl bent over in a fit of uncontrolled laughter. This was more her element. That is, the body humor, not the deriving pleasure from another’s misfortune. Now it was more like before she enrolled in Shibusen, before she started to pay more attention to her physical appearance and put more effort into dressing up, just “one of the guys” in the group of friends that she left behind. This type of situation had happened before, with idiot Samuel in swim club who jumped off the diving board with only the intention to go as high up as he could and create as big a splash on his way down as possible. When his competition Speedos floated up to the surface of the pool before he did, well, she and the others who had egged him on collapsed in shrieking, howling, banshee laughter.

Right now Eva sounded nothing like a hysterical hyena, though her reaction was sure to shatter any perceptions of her as any sort of appealing lady. She didn’t care how unfeminine she seemed; if it got them to stop, all the better.

"Woah there Kimosabe! Dun be hittin' me with no dick!" she heard the Chinese man say over the sound of her own mirth. “Woah, I get that he’s yours. You don’t need to go around marking your property,” the weapon managed to gasp out as she began to calm down. “I’ll just leave you two alone to kiss and make up then.” It was the perfect time to make her exit: one was restrained and thoroughly humiliated while the other was distracted and probably had highly selective deafness anyways. She reached down to grab her tote bag, hoping neither would stop her. She really shouldn't have said anything at all though if her true objective was to slip away unnoticed, but she couldn't resist having the last laugh and rubbing her momentary victory in.

[wasaki]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i287.photobucket.com/albums/ll153/tokyotabby/Grey.jpg); border: solid #ffffff 4px; width: 250px; height: 650px;] You gotta problem and I got ten solutions on these two hands: let’s do this The allotted number of responses he received were both disheartening as well depressing—as one sought to humiliate him by pointing out his ‘inheritance’ dangled for all to see the other painfully jabbing at his pride with a quip inlaid upon the previous one. Burning at the cheeks, Wasaki struggled to layer first one tail then the next over his anatomy, all too aware of the twin pair of eyes lavishly ridiculing him in their respective fashions. Certainly not of meek heart he glibly shot a flat stare in the direction of both hoping that it would cease the barrage of jests so that he might un-fluster himself in peace. No such luck would find him today. “I’ll just leave you two alone to kiss and make up then.” the girl said somewhat acidly, yet still noticeably hasty in her retreat as if she believed that now as the prime window to escape back to her own dorm. She was right in some respects as neither he nor the amorous oaf of a demon weapon he’d been slapped with had seen her doing anything intrinsically immoral—unless she’d come upstairs looking to solicit a secret admirer to dandle her on his knee. With a slanted gaze his eyes took in the hurried pace of her steps and immediately rejected his question based on logic; she didn’t seem the sort…else she might have taken to flitting away with…whatever his name was. Harried and pressed for time as he finally slipped the last fold over his shoulder, once again righting himself in the eyes of society he scanned for anything that was taboo, anything that linked the girl to the scene of a crime. His back to the door that she’d been standing in front of left him depressed even though he was redressed, Damn… he thought biting his thumb in frustration as dropped to his knees hopelessly, I was so sure she’d done something! His instincts had never failed him so utterly and now he sat brokenly confused at the way the situation had unfurled. The mission seemed destined for failure and the meat headed rocker hardly possessed the mental capacity to focus his mind elsewhere for more than three pressing seconds at a time—and there the seconds went. Emptying his mind of the dribble undoubtedly coming from the jet engine named miscreant, the crafty dog immediately began flitting through the opportunity as that skirt drifted ever closer to righteous freedom it so undeservedly seemed about to achieve. Cursing himself for being so clumsy he lashed backwards in a fit of anger. Now the swears flowed audibly through the hallway, the kind of free spirited sailor talk induced by pain that flashed brightly in one’s mind for a moment before returning to nothingness. It was only after he’d recovered from his folly that he noticed something peculiar; he was now facing the door. “Hoh? Interesting…” Wasaki muttered loudly, his milky voice floating almost musically through the corridor reaching all on that flow presently, “Yo, ‘screwface’, check out this out…we gotta lil vandal on our hands…” he said sweetly as he half turned in the direction of the wretched girl who’d tried to give him the slips. Dark revenge already colored his thoughts as his fangs became a prominent portion of his feature. “Ready to pay what you owe, toots?” he asked with the malevolence of a shark riled by the smell of blood in water. Execution Session: begins now! WORDS: 584 TAGGED: goes here OUTFIT: In Picture Above MUSIC: When You’re Evil by Voltaire NOTES Tired template made by mikey is a lady killer ?! @ caution 2.0, steal it and she'll send zombie pandas to eat your brains!

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[rain]

Well, he certainly hadn't been expecting that.

The girl's little quip he had heard, on this occasion, mostly because it had become clear that his advances weren't going to get him anywhere: the American creed dictated that a girl fell for you in two minutes, tops, otherwise she'd never do it. Unless of course this was one of those soppy romantic comedies that dragged on for ages even though the protagonist ending up with the girl was a foregone conclusion, that even the most oblivious of movie-goers could predict. At any rate, the trespasser had been rather harsh with her words -- "kiss and make up"? Rocket and Wasaki were barely friends -- if that was even the word for their...complicated relationship. No, thought the rock and roll axe guitar, she would not be getting away with that.

And the dark skinned teen seemed to think so too, for quick as a flash he had cornered the girl while Rocket fumed. But, he knew when and where he was needed, and so rushed with the speed of a man who could almost taste the payback he was about to dishout towards the location. Previously, he had been the gun, but now he was the spikey-hair-pronged bullet as he sped on a beeline towards the target. Meaty hands from Orient reached out, intending to grab and restrain the girl. Sure, Rocket would have preferred to be on the other side, where he could score a better view...but it felt just as good knowing that with him as the shackles there would be nary a prisoner escaping the little "prison" he and the teen with braided hair had erected in the section of corridor in the boys' dorms in Shibusen.

"Kick her fuckin' arse!" He yelled, baying for blood like the tumultuous crowds of Rome in the arena. All previous emotions forgotten in the rush he always felt when justice was about to be served with a nice serving of malevolence, Rocket would probably forget this ever happened. He was a man that lived for the rush, not for the details. All he'd write down in his diary -- if he did something so stupid as that -- would be that he'd gotten "major kicks" today out of "wailin' on some person". It didn't matter to him who it was or where it was; as long as there was violence for his insatiable appetite, he would be temporarily content. Despite the rush, his brain did processs the pejorative nickname Wasaki had given him, and so he shouted again, saying;

"And call me screwface again and I'll throw you outta the damn window!" The concept of choosing a side never really stuck with Rocket. Even at Shibusen, he crossed the line between sort of good and out and out evil so often that no one knew where they stood with him. Even now, as he held down the girl to receive whatever punishment the dark skinned teen had set out for her, he was hurling threats from behind his "shield", and was quite prepared to carry them out. Besides, this was Shibusen -- if falling out of a window was what it took to break you, both mentally and physically, then chances were you didn't belong. Just like this strange girl didn't belong in the boys' dorms. And just such an excursion was about to have consequences...

[Eva Liu]

A deceptively silky smooth sound floated down the hall. “Check out this out…we gotta lil vandal on our hands.”

A clean getaway was too much to ask for. Of course they wouldn’t just let her walk out of there, and she had herself to blame for it. Eva just couldn’t resist making that one last taunt, and when did that ever work out well for her? She ran her mouth and pushed her luck with exactly the wrong kind of people, and now it was coming back to bite her in the ass.

But where’s the fun if you don’t run the risk of getting caught?

Getting in and completing the job was the easy part unless you were destined to be the successor to the geniuses who bungled up Watergate. Now, making your escape with the right degree of excitement and peril and a heavy dose of panache required the special type of person who knew how to push the boundaries and still find wiggle room. The real danger beyond capture and punishment was the immediate assumption that one was, without a doubt, that type of special person. Too many have fallen into that trap only to crash and burn, and Eva looked to be shoving other people out of the way to be the first to jump off that cliff.

Not even when the boy with the light brown skin blocked her way did she acknowledge the possibility of facing some sort of retribution. That realization only came in full when the Chinese man caught her from behind, his arms constricting her movement. “Ready to pay what you owe, toots?” There wasn’t going to be any sweet talking out of this one.

Shibusen was populated with fearless girls who didn’t hesitate to gut Kishin eggs or witches, but Eva was still pathetically far from being counted amongst their numbers. She made the fatal mistake of thinking in terms of high school social rules, but this was a whole ‘nother world where bruises were too common to notice and broken bones badges of honor. Truth was, your ability to fight determined your place in the school hierarchy, and without her meister Rune Arwald she’d still be languishing at the bottom. If she was told to swim, run, physically exert herself until her body gave out she would under the right circumstances, but act on aggression? There was a reason why she stuck with swim: you didn’t have to physically confront anyone. Even as a weapon she mainly depended on Rune, only able to take some of the heat off him and experiencing the same pain with her ability.

Pain. That was perhaps one thing she could lay claim to, being trained to tolerate pain by using her ability with her partner. The very first time they tried it out, the instantaneous steamrolling from multiple blows her meister had sustained affected her as well and she nearly transformed out of weapon form from the overwhelming sensation. She didn’t; she held her sides and gasped for breath like all the air had been beaten out of shriveled lungs, but she held on to her form and passed the first test. The demon sword couldn’t throw a punch for crap but was getting better at taking them. How funny, she could make her meister temporarily immune to pain and fear, but she couldn’t do the same for herself.

Rocket howled for her blood, and Eva responded by trying to jab her captor in the ribs with her elbows. Dumb beast, thought the one acting like a wild animal herself.

“Cào nǐ mā de bī, Fuck your mom’s cunt! Let me go you bastard,” the girl snapped, using the ubiquitous mainland Chinese phrase as she kicked and thrashed wildly. Chinese language school was finally paying off. She was angry alright, and her voice was a low snarl that even she had never heard before. No frightened whimpering, no high-pitched screaming for help! help!, just the sound of a cornered animal whipping itself into a frenzy since fleeing was no longer an option. “Shǎ bī, you stupid cunt, get your hands off me!” She’d never been this furious before, but she had also never been so terrified. Fight? It was so contrary to her sedentary nature. She didn’t know how the hell to react, and was more of a danger to herself than to the two exacting revenge upon her. Maybe she’d black out on first impact; blood would eventually wash off of clothes, bruises fade, and wounds heal. Scars were a given through sheer virtue of being a Shibusen student.

She thought she saw the boy with light brown skin move to throw some gender equality her way, and flinched by transforming her arm into a dadao. Oh, right, they didn’t know whether she was a weapon or meister- not that it mattered since a weapon was nearly useless without a meister. Transforming was about as smart as giving an idiot a loaded gun, and she was far more scared of what she had done than the either of them could be. Her heart was jackhammering away in her chest, and her pupils dilated so much her dark brown irises looked like thin ribbons bordering the black. Eva didn’t want to fight at all, didn’t know how to fight at all, and it showed.

[wasaki]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i287.photobucket.com/albums/ll153/tokyotabby/Grey.jpg); border: solid #ffffff 4px; width: 250px; height: 650px;] You gotta problem and I got ten solutions on these two hands: let’s do this He’d effectively sealed the path of escape and it looked like the show would begin. With a snarl feral enough to make even the wildest of animals start, the big haired rocker snatched poor girl who undoubtedly suspected that she’d pranked her last boy’s dormitory. It should have been illegal or unhealthy to slaver the way he was currently. Fangs protruding from his mouth where pearly whites resided and as he cracked his knuckles to the girl’s screaming and flailing he could feel the pit of his stomach flutter in excitement. Okay, maybe it was a bit perverse. Maybe he and this bulky mass of East-end chum were monsters for putting the hurt down on a some innocent little girl, but what the hell, the world needed villains so that the innocent could enjoy the sunshine. They were doing a service. "Kick her fuckin' arse!" “Oh, best believe I will!” shot back Wasaki as a fist already cocked and primed for action. The girls riotous screams ringing through the hallway, flowing continuously down the painted over walls of the residence building before filing neatly into the ears of the only people available to hear them: no one. As he stepped closer he was startled by the ferocity with which she combated her much larger adversary—even throwing him some words that he had no comprehension of, but sounded vaguely familiar…he’d heard that somewhere…in a dank place filled with sweat, despair, and broken dreams…but where? “Shǎ bī, you stupid cunt, get your hands off me!” pulled him out of his thoughts and back to the present moment as his eyes widened slightly in disbelief; he’d forgotten this was Shisbusen, the school of weapons and meisters. The girls arm was transforming arm turned into a slightly curved edge even as she thrashed and immediately the sense of danger set ever nerve within the reckless youth’s body tingling. That’s my shit…gonna eff somebody up now! More than revved up he stepped up, ignoring the glimmering steel even as he coolly met those frightened saucers stared back at him. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time…maybe too long. He was losing his nerve and his five fingered knuckle sandwich was slowly coming loose despite his mind’s flagrant calls to teach this trick a lesson. Something about how stark fear painted her supple features a dreadful visage in his mind, the sort of thing that stained his thoughts and it was the kind of thing he’d seen Kishin eggs do all the time back home. Baring his teeth as he tried to summon the will to strike the blow that would put her lights out, he only twitched slightly before letting his arms sag to his side. “Well…shit…” he said before clicking his teeth and folding his arms. They weren’t going to clean this bitch’s clock; he was too manly for that. She wasn’t going to get away with either. Another thought came to mind and this one left Wasaki feeling much better insides, “Yo, big boy, how’s bout a change a strategy: she wants to be an artist right? Well maybe she can help tag all the rooms in the girl’s dorm downstairs.” he said flatly. For some reason he turned his back on the pair. Maybe it was because he didn’t want either to see the thin layer of sweat tickling his scalp or the slight sigh of relief at not having to actually go through what have been a merciless beating…he didn’t need to get into kind of thing at Shibusen; he’d been around it enough for a life time. Execution Session: begins now! WORDS: 607 TAGGED: goes here OUTFIT: In Picture Above MUSIC: When You’re Evil by Voltaire NOTES Thinking the post sucks template made by mikey is a lady killer ?! @ caution 2.0, steal it and she'll send zombie pandas to eat your brains!

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[Dirge]

"Awwww yeah, baby. Keep on bringin' those cold, sweet drinks!" The voice of an enthusiastic Rune punctuated a moment of pleasure and freedom in the middle of the beach. Pristine sands, cool, clear waters, and women and men alike populating the whole place scattered about, dancing and singing to the rhythm of hawaiian tunes. Half naked babes stood in a queue to enter a certain portion of the beach that was sectioned from the rest by a large velvet carpet. Cracking jokes left and right, laughing like a maniac, and drinking ambrosia from a silver cup, Rune Arwald sat atop a marble throne lathered in velvet with details in gold. His partner was somewhere amidst the crowd, as the throne she was occupying merely a few minutes ago was completely empty.

“’eeeey shortyyyy!” The meister shouted and raised the ornate cup towards the little demon weapon once he’d located her. “Pretty good for a ‘simple vacation’, huh?!” Large trays containing food in small bowls and drinks in crystal-clear glasses (they even had the traditional umbrella in’em) changed hands continuously, and the party went on and on. It was paradise but all things, good or bad, must come to an end. And if there was something you should know about Rune was that if you interrupted any situations like these – ANY – that he was participating in, you were going to get your ass kicked. Hard.

The sky literally cracked. It was one of those Ice Age cracks but instead of running from the ground up, it torn through space and time from the clear skies all the way down to the sand and water. And this sound, this horrible scream ripped through the beach’s expanse, sending people flying and pushing the white sands away. The frequency and the power of the shockwaves were enough to shake the whole place upside down. It sounded like…

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH!?”


Rune’s eyes snapped open, the sclera still a little red as his groggy, pissed off self picked himself up. It was like watching a goddamn zombie slowly stand erect upon the mahogany floors. Most of his hair was a mess; long tresses of blue hair draped over his face, casting shadows that completely covered his facial features save for his right eye, which overflowed with anger.

Reaching down for his metal rod, the most prized possession of his’ which was kept under his bed in a large wooden case, Rune kicked the door leading out into the hall open. The weapon he was holding in his right hand began to glow and illuminate the corridor just like a candle or lamp of sorts, and he could only feel his anger rising the closer he got to the source of the sound. He could hear the shouting of more than one person and, as he continued walking down the main corridor, perfectly natural Chinese.

Blue pajamas and all, Rune probably wasn’t an imposing figure if anyone planted his eyes on him from behind. But if you encountered him head-on, that was a whole ’nother story, as the two guys near the little girl in the middle of the hall would soon realize.

Come to think of it… The Chinese girl hadn’t even seen Rune like this before.

Little surprise she was going to get when her meister towered behind the Cameroonian, sweeping with the metal rod outward from left to right to hit the guy straight in the right side of his head. Rune would’ve aimed for the temple, but he was in such a state of blind rage that he didn’t bother much with precision and accuracy.

As the meister swung the piece of metal, his voice resonated through the corridor with no regard for the people who were still sleeping, if any, in an intelligible roar. Oh, yeah. Rune was pissed.

[wasaki]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://parisvega.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/boxes-background.jpg); border: solid #D2691E 8px; width: 420px; height: 650px;] Let me hear the music... The human mind is a funny thing when really pondered upon. While it is this muscle, which we use approximately ten percent of, that limits us, it is also the very muscle that in times of dire consequence grants some humans access to an impressive repertoire of what we lovingly call—superpowers. It’s man’s dream to achieve this plateau of existence through hard work and Shibusen is a grand example of that. A school were paranormal abilities in some humans are cultivated while the more ethereal demon weapons are crafted into finely tuned Death Scythes whose soul purposes lay in maintaining peace and ensuring that Kishin are destroyed upon rearing their ugly head. Now…what does this have to do with the situation at hand? A quivering prickle at the nape of his neck. Beneath folds and folds of braided hair follicles were resting upon the white traditional wear of his country, Wasaki felt the looming of a onerous spirit at his back just as he dropped the fist which he’d so stoically relented from smashing into the more striking facial features of the entangled weapon girl; she was in fact, the second weapon he’d met and Shibusen creating the question of just how many of these freaks were there at this school. Of course this question was not of pressing matter as he only managed to half turn following his business proposition to Rocket whom still tightly held the demon dadao in his gorilla like clutches, “Wha—?” Inane and unintelligent at the same time, but it was hard to be coherent when your temple was suddenly under fire which was the case as something, no, something held by someone walloped quite effectively over head the head sending a flurry of colored stars into his vision as he clumsily danced into one wall and then flopped backwards into the pair of weapons. “D-D-D…damn…” he half sighed, half deliriously murmured before slumping to the floor. For now he lay facedown after being jumped from behind; it was a common thing in the hood and he’d developed a sort…constitution for it. After all everyone knew that when the victim came to was when the real war started, but something was off about this procedure…and then he realized he hadn’t seen the face of the attacker at all. From his resting place on the cool, frilly carpeting of the residence hall he creaked his eyes opened and craned his neck upwards to see a behemoth the likes of which he’d only stumbled upon the form of the Demon Axe-Guitar and a strangely cultured teacher whose identity was better left not referred to, “W-wh-who the hell…?” he managed before collapsing entirely into oblivion. The black screen was the most comforting sight a slobber-knocked gangster could see… ...of your breaking bones. WORDS: 468 TAGGED: Thread People template made by mikey is a lady killer ?! @ caution 2.0, steal it and she'll send zombie pandas to eat your brains!

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[rain]

OOC: Skipped? Q~Q

A number of very entertaining things happened at once.

First, the Cameroonian before him decided that beating up a girl simply wasn't his style, and so aborted the attack. Of course, this was duly after she broke out of the rock and roll axe guitar's grip and started displaying her demon weapon abilities while swearing in Chinese; something that had caused Rocket to simply smile in subtle appreciation for another Chinese person in Shibusen, and also because insulting people sounded so much better when you did in languages they didn't understand. Although the venom in her words was of the international kind, attacking the hard exterior of arrogance Rocket had built up for himself, as well as the dark skin of his cohort. Diplomatic suggestions were of no use to the boy with the egrigious hairstyle; he cared little if she graffiti-ed the dorms or not: the only art Rocket understood was that of combat, and in that respect he was up on the pantheon of legends...at least in his own mind. Although that was a little harsh; the Chinese Shibusen student was actually a potent force, as evidenced by the way he reacted to the second thing that would entertain his hindsight for weeks to come.

The second thing was to be expected when one goes around causing commotions.

Someone else joined the fray.

A piece of metal, cold in its indifference to the havocl it was about to wreak, came swinging around, glinting malevolently in the light that came through the window and as such piqued Rocket's interest. The figure loomed over Wasaki, the dark intention clear despite his groggy face. Rocket would have pondered why someone who looked tired would bother joining a fight -- maybe they were just high on something, would be his natural response -- but did not have the time for his body was already moving. On instinct he rushed forward, becoming comparable to a red clad freight train, with intent to save the dark skinned teen with whom he had previously been causing trouble. Unfortunately for the muscular Shibusen student, the assault came much too suddenly for him to do an awful lot about it; the pipe connected with Cameroonian cranium, sending Wasaki down in a heap. It was at this moment that the third entertaining thing happened.

Rocket cared.

"NO!! He cried out with fervor, the intensity of his shouting being such that one could almost see the double exclamation mark; italics and all. An awkward silence fell over the boys' dorms, as if the sense that something was amiss resonated throughout the campus of Shibusen. Rocket coughed, breaking the silence, resuming the natural order of the world with his next words;

"I totally wanted to wail on 'im more!" He said, an unmistakeable maliciousness lining his words that went hand in hand with his arrogance. It was true, thankfully -- Rocket had wanted to rile the group up, said group being he and the girl he had previously tried to, in order, hit on, and then hit, into cornering and bullying Wasaki for trying to take the placating option. But his volitions were never voiced; lost in the sudden wave of entertaining things occuring. Rocket's smirk ran away as a thought came into his head: 'This guy obviously cares about the girl, and he doesn't look to be a weapon that can transform, so he's probably a meister. And she's a weapon...so..shit.shit.shit.shit.SHIT!'

It was two against one, and not in his favour.

Oh how cruel fate was.

[Eva Liu]

Bloodshot eye? Uncombed, matted blue hair? The racket the three made really did raise the dead.

She held her breath because she could see something coming that her would-be assailant couldn’t. The gorilla restraining her was doing just fine distracting himself with hurling threats. In the storm of fear and anger, an extravagant hope emerged. It was thoroughly outrageous that this was even happening, but Eva was ready to accept complete warping of reality without batting an eye. She felt a strange dissociation from the situation, as though she were only an observer and it was some other smartass who was in the less-than-favorable bind. At first she assumed the African boy would strike before he could reach them, and contented herself with the knowledge that she would be avenged. However, the boy’s hesitation allowed for another possibility: maybe her knight in fuzzy blue polka-dotted pajamas would actually reach her in time. If she was able to process any more emotions at this point, she might have cried from joy.

Bodily sensation returned, and Eva felt herself being pushed to the side as Rocket rushed forward to intervene. The Chinese man’s yell was drowned out by her meister’s furious roar as he downed the boy with a well placed smack to the temple. Too late. One simply didn’t interrupt Rune’s beauty sleep without getting beaten senseless. She couldn't say she felt sorry for the boy as he crumpled to the ground. Not even his partner's brief reveal of dismay swayed her from apathy, though she of all people should understand the fierce instinct to protect one's meister.

However, it seemed that the demon dadao's senses were not all there (as if they had been through the whole ordeal). The emotions washed over her and she simply reacted. Rune was here; all was well with the world because she now had the support of a meister. However, his appearance did more than to just introduce a small element of hope. Now that he was here, Eva could fall victim to devastating stupidity and he’d be there to clean up the mess, and she was currently struck by the overwhelming urge to be as foolish as she could. Why not? The situation was quickly devolving into nonsense by the second.

Maybe it was an inkling of courage that she drew from Rune, mixed with a dash of righteous anger. She knew it wasn’t the goodness of his heart that stopped the African boy, not from how he was slobbering away at the prospect of breaking her nose. It was a matter of her would-be assailant deciding that it would be a waste of his own abilities to beat her black and blue, a decision encouraged in no small part by her own terror. He’d been taken care of, but that still left his partner.

In the following silence, the girl took action. She ran towards Rocket, brandishing her transformed sword-arm. "I totally wanted to wail on 'im more!" Oh don't worry, you're still here she thought. Eva made a slashing movement with the flat side of her blade, upwards and diagonal to the right. That wasn't meant to hurt him, only to distract him and possibly provide cover for her real objective: at the same time, she aimed a kick at Rocket's family jewels. Had she more fighting sense in her, she might have instead opted to turn her body sideways, pulling her knee across before making a jab at the sensitive region with her foot. It certainly would have made herself less of an easy target to strike back on. However, no such idea came to Eva and instead she merely kicked like she was whole heartedly trying to punt a football across the field. It wasn't the best planned out attack. In fact, it wasn't planned out at all, but she felt like doing it and damn it, she did. She made an ass of herself doing it, but what could you expect from someone for whom fighting, for the most part of her life, merely entailed howling at the object of one's displeasure and in the case of extreme anger, hurling whatever items are closest to oneself at said object. In the event that her half-baked attempt failed, well, Rune was there to handle things.