Dripping scarlet smoke[open]

[mocha]

Tap, tap, tap

Mocha's feet were almost quiet against the stone floor. The bone chilling air swirled around her as her feet quickly moved to the beat of her heart. Her thin arms wrapped around her body, digging her thin fingers into her sides. Cold air rushed behind her to fill in the gap where she had once been. The dark halls were lit with torches that barely illuminated the dark area. Making eerie shadows that seemed to jump. It did it's purpose of barely showing the damp walls though, where she was sure there would be moss growing somewhere. The fragile girl shivered in the cool air. Even when it was so hot above, this far down she thought she would freeze to death. Or maybe it was her own fear that made it feel like mice were dancing down her back, or the cold night air from the desert taking over? She closed her crimson eyes tight, furrowing her eyebrows. Mocha's scarlet hair bounced as she pulled in closer. Her barrettes clicking together, making dolphin like noises that echoed against her ears. Her hair fell revealing baked red shoulders and a soft line of red across her chest. Signs of being in the desert the day before, allowing the sun the burn her down and leave her sore. Like a pastry left in the sun.

Tap, tap, tap

Mocha thought she would scream as she bean walking again, fear bubbling in her throat. Scarlet orbs opened to view the damp world, turned into the same fire that lit the torches. It was a depressing sight, like walking through hell. How had she gotten down here again? Why was she down here again? A culprit of her listening on others conversations, and sleepless nights. Exactly how did she get down though? A bad teacher who fell asleep. Now she was wandering a labyrinth, wondering where the room was. The room she so desperately needed to feel as peace again. Her breath was getting heavy after wandering for so long, leaving her mouth in billowing clouds of steam. She was curious about the time that must be ticking by. Leaving a second of the world behind forever. Her knees felt like they were about to give out underneath her, pain blossoming through her legs from her joints. Than there it was in all it's glory. It's horrid, dirty glory. She could she rusty blood spots spattering it here and there. The fear tightened her chest and it was a war to breath anymore. Her doll-eyes became wide like a deer in head lights. Glazed over like a dead person, her body was stiff and it grew closer every second.

Creak, creak, creak

The door just wouldn't budge, she was too small. It was too large, and felt too solid under her weight. Her thin fingers were wrapped tightly around the bar and she was pushing up with all her might. Her knuckles turned ghost white as she pushed. Her feet were sliding out under her, making this all look the more comical. She groaned in pain as she pushed harder. Pain taking over her body, she could feel the bile toss in her stomach. Mocha pushed away with a pout, glaring at the doors. Her shoulders hurt even more now, making the bright red marks turn even more like her hair. Beating shades of red as she tried to ignore the heat. Her eyes flicked back and forth searching for anything, anything at all on the door to show a weakness. It was strong and solid and she could find no life behind it. Not even her soul perception could pick anything up. Was this because there was nothing in there? Or was it simply that she was being blocked out by something?

Scratch, Scratch, Scratch

Her nails dug into the door painfully, but she knew she could not open it. Scratching at a door like a feral cat wasn't gonna help. It only made her fingers raw, and the skin around her nails bleed. Dripping onto the floor with a slow pattern. She stepped back farther, and than it came. Silence, it engulfed her. Like the shadow of death that she couldn’t shake off. Mocha didn't feel right, everything felt wrong. Like she was in a daze, like when she listened to rain. The silence swam through her entire body, shaking her to the core. Not a sound was made anywhere. Even her breath didn't make a sound as she glared at the door. Shouldn't there be a noise, anything! Where were the prisoners down here? Had she not gone far back enough to find another living soul? Had she passed them all already and not known from her fear. Mocha gritted her teeth but still not a sound echoed. She wondered if the witches could smell her fear.

Drip, drip, drip

The blood ran down her nails painting them red. Red it was a beautiful color, it suited her well. Her eyes were round and lost, staring after something that was not there. They were red like blood too, would the color drip down her face like the liquid in her veins. She felt as if she were asleep, but awake at the same time. Like smoke curling around her body, all her thoughts were lost. She couldn't grasp onto one and she was surprised she was even breathing. Had she lost it? No, she could feel it. Something trying to grasp her mind, toy with it. Could this be her imagination? Was she fooling herself into thinking something was here? Mocha's thin fingers lifted to grip her head as it dropped. Tightening like twigs around her curling messing red hair. White barrettes bit into her pasty skin. Her lips left in a feral snarl, she wasn't going to loose it. Her thin body began to shake horribly in spasms, before going still. Her breath left her mouth in pants and she slowly raised her head.

[Carter Ripper]

The weapon, Carter found himself lost in under Shisuben…yet again. The weapon was just walking down the stairs when he took a wrong right, he was going to the lower levels , so that no one would see him smoking on school campus been when the boy looked up to see where he was it was dark and chilly all around him. He was scared and started to run all around try to find a way out. The boy was getting more and more scared as he was going deeper down the rabbit hole. Carter kept hearing slight footsteps, tapping on a door and then he heard it like it was right in front of him scratching and clawing at something metal. He was terrified, it was dark and he was hearing noises coming from the hallway in front of him, his hand went into his pocket pull out a pack of cigarettes and then he grabbed his lighter. He put the cigarette in his mouth and cracked the flint against the metal of the lighter to create the flame to light his cigarette. Then he saw it, a girl sitting on the girl with bloody finger nails. Right when the boy saw this he ran over to the girl trying not to scare her.

“Miss are you okay, what are you doing down here? Don’t you know that it’s a dangerous maze down here?” the boy asked the helpless girl in the underground mazes of the school. She looked terrified, lost and hurt from trying to get the door behind her to open. He thought why this door, what’s behind it? What’s going to happen if I open that door? The fear of the underground maze was starting to get to the boy just as lost as the girl sitting on the ground in front of him.

[mocha]

Music, she could hear music. It softly traveled through her ears, she stopped her body was limp. Where was this coming from, it took her a second to realize she was using her soul perception. Somebody was here, and they were coming this way. Her scarlet orbs wandered to see a boy looking at her, the music slowly faded. A blurred shape on his chest disappeared as her soul perception was turned off. Her eyes flickered, becoming softer and less large. “Y-you shouldn’t b-be down here eit-either.” Mocha replied. Her voice calm, though retaining it's skipping record quality.

She turned to fully face him, pulling her arms in as she hugged herself. Crimson red eyes locked on him. Tendrils of smoke rose to lift of of the fag in his fingers, the end burning red within it's own ashes. Her shoulders seemed to beat red in time with the glowing embers. Behind the curtain of hair her eyes seemed deadly, full of blood lust. It must be a trick of the light though, such a small, sweet girl would never even think about hurting him. Not unless she needed to of course.

The air that churned around her was old and musty, it felt thick to breathe. The vapor that left her mouth traveled up into the air like the smoke. Like a dragon who's fire was burning within it's chest. The tendrils rose in the air only to disappear. Blood dripped onto her light brown sweater, staining it with the metallic red water. Her teeth gritted together, she came down here to see what was behind that door, not to be pestered by some boy.

[Carter Ripper]

“I came down here to have a cigarette, but what are you doing down here, are you lost or do you need help with anything?” carter said to the little girl that was scared and terrified. The weapon looked around and could just tell that the blackness of the halls was getting darker and darker with each passing minute. The air was getting harder to breathe in the schools underground halls. Then the boy got a cold shiver that corset through his entire body.

“Miss we need to get you out of here, I don’t think it’s safe for you to be down here.” The weapon was scared that the little girl would die down here or worse that they would both die down here if they didn’t get out of these halls. The darkness and the feeling in these halls were scary and almost like death was waiting for them.

[mocha]

Mocha's bone thin fingers twitched in irritation. She huffed and turned her face away from him. “I d-don't need any help from you.” She gritted out from her teeth. She hated feeling this hopeless. She might as well just walk out of here now and go home. If this kid wanted to destroy his lungs with toxic smoke, let him. At this point it wasn't her problem. Sure she worried about people, and she didn't want somebody to die because of a pointless cause, but she was tired. Plus she didn't know this guy, he could be some creep!

Visions of horrible things passed through her eyes and she took a step back. Forget whatever was behind that door. It didn't matter anymore, there was a problem of flesh right in front of her. She was ready to make a break for it at any second. Mocha stepped farther back from the guy. Her mind was stepping back into it's rightful place and she was becoming herself again. She was not gonna let this guy touch her, and if he tried she gonna rip him a new one...and than run for her life.

[tokoz]

A loud, Rhythmic crashing echoes down the hall from behind Carter. It just barely overshadows the noise of footsteps. A boy appears from around the corner a second later.

His right arm stops at the elbow, and continues as a thick-handled Spear, with a broad, serrated head. His black jacket flutters as he smashes his spear-hand into the wall with every step, similar to someone banging their fist against one in a fit of anger. His Gray fedora is low over his eyes, but it is immediately obvious that he is incredibly angry. As he gets closer, he is revealed to be muttering.

"Assign me to a mission, fine. But why the bloody f****** hell did they give me a smartass and a damned fishing rod? Useless....."

He looks up mid-sentence, and see's the two others standing there. His face immediately goes blank, reverting to a calm, apathetic demeanor. He then takes a closer look, eyeing Mocha for a second longer than Carter, noting her expression
with his ice-blue eyes. His short brown ponytail flutters as he calmly jumps over a crashed pillar, landing right next to the pair. As he steadies from the landing, he continues rocking forward on his feet, until he's just a tad too close to Carter for it to be entirely comfortable. "Is there a problem?" His tone is flat and innocently curious, but looking into his eyes, the rage he exhibited is still very much burning.

[Puss in Boots]

Well oiled leather boots and a soft step made Laurent an eerily silent presence in the twisting dungeon halls. Torches lit the way, and he had excellent night vision besides, but he had brought a flashlight with him. Despite wild rumors and urban legends of the horrors that made their home in the bowels of the school, he found it a bit too dramatic to bring his saber along. Even so, it wasn't possible to be too prudent considering that just five years earlier it became known to the student body that Kishin Asura had been imprisoned beneath them all along. The seemingly redundant flashlight could double as an improvised billy club if it came to it, though in his explorations of the underground labyrinth he had been alone so far.

Every time he found himself becoming too sedate or accustomed to frippery, he took it upon himself to engage in some form of daredevilry. It kept his mind sharp and added just the right flair of intrigue to his persona, or so he assumed it did. With the eye patch over his ruined left eye, he made for a ruggedly dashing explorer, but not so gruff as to detest the idea of tea and hot buttery croissants afterwards. He felt strangely invincible as he made his way through the maze, filled with a calm confidence that it would be exactly his unperturbed state of mind that would allow him to emerge with a thorough enjoyment of the experience rather than terrified out of his wits.

His oversized ears immediately swiveled towards the direction of the sudden crashing ruckus, which came from a side-passage up ahead. He could opt to continue down the hall, but what adventurer could bear to ignore a serendipitous detour? Curiosity was enough to make him take a turn, though he maintained an easy pace to be able to listen for more sounds. Voices, student's voices from the sound of it. Well then. He certainly couldn't miss this chance for fun, now that he had dedicated his day to not being stuffy and proper. The serval carefully adjusted his tailcoat before stepping closer.

"What are you all doing down here?" Laurent asked as the three students came into view. His silky baritone voice likely reached them before they set eyes on the walking feline. "I didn't expect to see students down here during my patrol, didn't they warn you to avoid this area? We're trying to contain the situation, you should leave immediately. But don't panic, you're not in immediate danger, though we'd like to keep it that way."

[mocha]

Mocha shrank back as she heard loud clanging noises. A soft whimpering sound could be heard from the frightened girl. She fell down onto the cool ground as the man walked up, and she could not bring herself to speak. She only shook her head wildly and prepared was ready to run for it. She prayed to whatever God heard her that he would save her, just as a cat pulled up behind her. Mocha stared blankly at the walking cat, “Huh...” She blinked quickly at him. No matter how many times that she blinked the cat was there.

Mocha's fingers still laced with blood traveled to clutch her messy hair. “I'm going insane aren't I? I've finally gone and lost it.” She mumbled staring at the cat. How was he walking, and talking. All that was fairy tale stuff. Cats don't talk, though now that she looked closer she realized it was much bigger than a cat. Maybe a serval or ocelot? She couldn't tell as she had never seen one in real life.

Mocha was sure she was dreaming, or had gone off the deep end. There was no way she was down here, with these guys, and that cat. She couldn't even begin to comprehend anything and she was left in a state of complete utter shock. The kind of shook where your face goes blank and you start mumbling strange things to yourself.

[tokoz]

Bran looks at the cat, suprised, but he quickly paid attention when the cat began speaking. He stares at him, suprised, then narrows his eyes.

"Really now. So they decided to send no teachers to guard the entrances, to keep people out? No-one decided to rope off the doors or call security? And you must of course be fighting something that eats noise, since we haven't hears a damn thing. Or, the "situation" is moronically simple, which explains why you don't appear fatigued or dirty in the slightest, and have time to stand and chat with us?"

Bran crosses his arms, and walks forward, separating them and getting in a fencing stance, changing his arm to it's spear form. He looks at Laurent again, his eyes narrowed. They flick to the side, momentarily looking at Mocha, then soften slightly. He changes his arm back, and with a deeply suspicous look back, go's over to Mocha.

"Hey. Hey, it's Ok. You're not going mad. What's your name?"

His voice sounds oddly caring, contrasting the anger of before. He crouches, honest concern etched on his face. He extends a tentative hand in her direction, smiling gently.

[Puss in Boots]

A hint of a smile? Laurent's gaze remained steady even as the premise of his spontaneous practical joke was being torn apart. So the students here weren't just mindless killing machines! The sudden hostility on Bran's part, however, amused him even more greatly than the boy's skepticism. The famous Shibusen fighting spirit had not been exaggerated at all, though the serval had little interest in fighting him at this time. He considered it more a challenge to talk his way out of trouble, especially when his adversary appeared to have a wild temper in danger of spinning out of control; there was nothing quite like an entirely calm and collected feline telling a human to take charge of himself. He had been given the gift of speech and intelligence, and was keen on never again pretending it was otherwise.

There were more pressing matters to attend to, however, than outwitting the pugilistic demon spear. His presence seemed to be too much for poor Mocha to tolerate, and the girl had tried to withdraw from her immediate surroundings, in complete denial of the information assaulting her senses. With a paw he gently batted away the hand that Bran held out to Mocha. "She's a girl, not some feral animal," he said, chiding the boy's well-meaning approach. "And it's not anything you can say to help." It was he the serval that the girl was staring senselessly at anyhow, and he turned to face her in acknowledgment. There was no need for him to crouch to be able to look her straight in the eye. His own single large eye took on a dark, warm color in the limited torch light.

"Come now. With a sun that snores, a moon that smiles, and a school full of children who turn into weapons, what more to handle is a serval that walks and talks?" His voice maintained its smooth, nearly musical quality. It was in these moments of forcibly separating himself from his ordinary rigidity that he could express the slight fondness he had for bastards, orphans, and broken, beaten things. Though he had never met Mocha before, she certainly looked to fit into at least one of those categories. "There are things that are borne of the darkness that strike you down in complete silence, so swiftly that there is not even time to think about screaming for help, but I am not one of those things. And you, young miss, have come here to exterminate that which would have you paralyzed in terror, so summon whatever it was that brought you here. Anger? Desire to prove yourself? Their greatest victories are when you succumb to your weaknesses in their absence. You are stronger and braver than this, your being here is proof."

[mocha]

Mocha closed her eyes blinking heavily, the sleep that had been denied to her body for so long was now trying to overtake her mind. Mocha curled her hands together, smearing blood on her skirt. What had she been doing down here anyway? Had her boredom taken her this far as to attempt to come down into this place. She even made to her destination, Her attempt to get in though had left her in complete failure. She looked down at her hands were her skin was rubbed raw and now bleeding. Had she really thought she could make it open for her by scratching at the rusty steel door?

Mocha looked up over at the man, his hand held out to her. Speaking calmly, but it made her feel like a small girl. She thought quietly about replying but before she could the serval slapped away his hand. Mocha wondered if that hurt since the paw of a cat was so soft."Come now. With a sun that snores, a moon that smiles, and a school full of children who turn into weapons, what more to handle is a serval that walks and talks? There are things that are borne of the darkness that strike you down in complete silence, so swiftly that there is not even time to think about screaming for help, but I am not one of those things. And you, young miss, have come here to exterminate that which would have you paralyzed in terror, so summon whatever it was that brought you here. Anger? Desire to prove yourself? Their greatest victories are when you succumb to your weaknesses in their absence. You are stronger and braver than this, your being here is proof."

Mocha nodded softly to him. He really didn't seem bad, but the stories of her childhood still pricked at her mind fresh. Demon creatures known as bakeneko and nekomata eating children swirled in her head. None the less she really did love cats. “yea,” Mocha mumbled softly. She reached out to him a little, his fur looked really soft. “Would it bother you if I like scratched you behind the ears or something?” Mocha asked him, she hadn't been able to pet a cat in a long time. Since her last cat was in an unknown situation.

[tokoz]

Bran rolled backwards, his slight frame unbalanced by the serval's bat. He secretly didn't mind as much as his now slightly annoyed face indicated. He was a bit rusty on people skills. He had probably come off as a tool, if he was honest with himself. He hadn't talked to a lot of people in the past 4 years, and his already brief time at Shibusen hadn't helped that much.

When Mocha seems to calm at Laurent's somewhat straightforward question, Bran relaxed. Good, she was Ok, just scared. He had definitely muffed that, huh? Damn. The cat was obviously quite intelligent, and he probably managed to read quite a bit into the combination of his tearing apart of the ill thought-out story, and Bran's obvious awkwardness. And the girl probably thought he was condescending as well. That was what really got to him. If he was honest to himself, .... She was very cute.

Bran desperately hoped the faint blush that rose at this thought was concealed by his already red face from his exertion earlier. Skipping around down here, jumping from crumbled pillars to statues, was rather tiring.

Would it bother you if I like scratched you behind the ears or something?”

He very nearly laughed out loud at this. She seemed fine for the moment. But she had been down here for a reason. And whatever it was, He was willing to bet the door, with the faint bloodstains on it, that she was laying near, was probably the reason. Bran walked over and examined the door carefully, looking back over his shoulder slightly at the girl on the floor, then mentally slapping himself. NO. He was not going to get a crush on someone. Not yet. He could control his weapon form reasonably well, but after seeing that man's face... He couldn't risk getting close to someone. But... His mind was still arguing with itself as he looked at the door.

[Puss in Boots]

Something appeared to stir in his deep amber eye as Mocha broke free of her terrified trance- or was it just trick of the flickering flame light? He wasn't sure if his speech had entirely gotten through to her, though her small nod communicated that she had at least understood the encouraging sentiment behind it. This was the method that he preferred: not coddling but empowerment, giving them the opportunity to choose to be more. Bastards, orphans, and broken, beaten things. He had been all three at some point in his fifty years, and perhaps remained all three at the same time even now as he was coming to terms with the loss of his fighting partner and left eye.

His empathy was enough to prevent him from taking grievous offense at her request to pet him. Even the most impassioned of broken things still craved some form of affection, he knew that better than anyone. Laurent paused, for touch was one of the most stubborn boundaries he had in place, especially when it involved him being treated like a pet, an ordinary animal. He grappled with his own obstinance. Laurent the uptight prude would ultimately turn down her request and put his dignity before all else, though Laurent the dashing gentleman explorer could not in good conscience turn down an opportunity to give even the slightest comfort to one who so obviously needed it.

If he was to act like a house cat and submit to a scratch around the ears at least he'd make sure her hands were clean. As he supported one of her hands with his own soft paw, he set down the flashlight and pulled out a monogrammed handkerchief from the inside of his tailcoat. The serval dabbed at her fingers gently to try to clean off some of the fresh blood; her fingers were likely too raw for her to do it herself without a large amount of discomfort. Laurent went about his work daintily, and dropped one hand when he was done to take up the other, leaving her free to pet him if she still wished.

"So what was it, mademoiselle? What told you to come down here? What was it that told all of you to wander through this labyrinth? What made that boldness suddenly leave and make you try to claw your fingers to stubs?"

[mocha]

The serval hadn't seemed very comfortable with her request, and she could understand. She didn't have to take care of a cat anymore so she had to deal with stuffed animals. Yet he took her hands in his delicate paws, taking a small piece of fabric to wipe her fingers off. Taking time to make sure each hand was perfectly clean. After he let her first hand go she took the time to scratch behind his ear real quick. It was over in a second and than she let her hand fall comfortably on her lap.

"So what was it, mademoiselle? What told you to come down here? What was it that told all of you to wander through this labyrinth? What made that boldness suddenly leave and make you try to claw your fingers to stubs?"


Mocha took a second to consider that one. She looked around the hallway the shadows the flame created around her. Each of there forms morphed into monsters in the dark. The shadows played tricks all the time, something she learned after being dragged to haunted house after haunted house. “I heard...heard some kids talking. They kept talking about ghosts, and monsters down here.” Mocha paused her slightly shaking voice. Not only was her Japanese accent more audible than before, but she was tripping over her own words. Mocha looked back at the door where Bran now stood. The door where her blood was streaked. It was an unnerving sight, she had never been on a mission. So her blood was not a usual sight, unless it came from her mouth when she was sick. To know she had done that to herself killed her inside.”My Brothers used to take me to haunted houses all the time. So I took a liking to them, even if every time I went to one I couldn't sleep that night. I-i've never been to a real one though. My eldest Brother always said I was to young, to childish, to frightened.” Mocha stopped speaking a second. If only to control herself over the thought of her family. She turned to look at Laurent.

“I couldn't sleep tonight. So in the end I somehow ended up down here. Scared out of my mind until I finally found the spot I heard it was the worst. “She said softly pointing at the door. “I wasn't really thinking straight at that point.” Mocha mumbled. Her Brother was right, just like he always was. Just like every other time he always was.

[tokoz]

Bran ceases his tugging in the door to turn around as Mocha spoke, putting a hand across his mouth as he listened,cupoing his chin, both to focus, and to hide his still present blush. He listened to the story as Micha told it, thinking all the while.

Mocha was obviously quite scared. But she didn't seem like the type to just break down, more as if she had just wandered, and scared herself when she arrived hete, desperation coloring her perception. He understood, sort of. He often had to peer past his instinctive reaction to grow angry when looking at situations. He walked quietly back over, and sat down to the left of Mocha on a piece of rock.

"He's wrong about you." Bran said in a low, embaressed tone. He says you're childish and scared? That's ridiculous. You might be scared, but after what lived down here, that's perfectly natural. Hell, I'm a little worried I'm going to get jumped. 's why I'm so on edge. Amd Childish? You heard about one of the most terrifying things in a schools of scary thigs, and what did you do? Run and stay away? No. Not at all. Bran puts a hand on her shoulder and smiles warmly."You came down, at night, to find out what was really here. That sounds more brave then scared and childinsh to me."