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originally posted in:The New Dojo
11/18/2017 11:13:08 PM
1
[i]"No, he just has a lot of pull on this planet - If he wanted me to stay at home, I would have every sensible person on this planet keeping me in one city while he went to take care of things like the asshole he is."
Nat was entirely honest about that. Her father was no legend on Tatakai, but people did know he had a certain air of power that was respected. It infuriated her, but it was the honest truth and she just had to live with it. [/i]
English
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She pondered for a bit. This wasn’t something she knew or understood, so she eventually relented, albeit only with a slightly exhaling. “Fine. Can you point me in the direction of the nearest town then?”
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[i]"Yeah, it's just in the direction I came from. Watch out though, I had to cut through one of the seedier neighbourhoods to get out without any of my dad's friends seeing me, and it's right on the city outskirts," Nat responded, pointing behind her. About a quarter mile away was Dojoville, hidden beyond a few hills that were between the pair and the city. [/i]
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She flicked her eyes that way for a second, then nodded confirmation and leapt back up into a tree, breaking line of sight.
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((end?))
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(If you want. Or we could pick it up in the city with a different character)
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((works by me. I'll need you to start though, since you'd be choosing where in the city ya are :P))
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Divia moved swiftly through the forest until she came to the outskirts of the city. From there she analyzed it, found the most likely area to get herself some food and undamaged clothing, then moved out, dashing swiftly and silently over the rooftops, always on her guard:
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[i]"Hey! Wait!" A voice would call out to her from behind Divia. Unlike the last voice that spoke to her, this one was more of a masculine one, deeper and with more confidence than the previously shaky Nat. [/i]
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She almost froze, but instead dived for cover, rolling out of the voice’s assumed line of sight, rolling off the edge of a rooftop and crouching under the eaves, feet braced against the sides of a window.
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[i]"Dude I can -blam!-ing see you. Do you need to be some sorta edgy Assassin's Creed ass rooftop runner?" The voice belonged to an odd fellow, truly. One standing proudly at six foot three, his muscular torso hidden by the dirtied brown duster on his body, tattered and torn at the very bottom fringes of the jacket. Beneath it was a loose white button up shirt and a pair of rancher jeans faded from the sun and by a pair of holster belts that lapped the colour away in strips at his thighs. The man had a hat on his head, casting a light shadow onto a weathered face, with a single cigar protruding from his bearded lips and casting a trail of white smoke into the air gently. The man was armed to the teeth with revolvers, a pair of jagged swords, and two weapons stowed on his back, held in place by a bandolier, but the most curious weapon of all came in the form of a prosthetic left arm, skeletal and a charred black shade underneath the duster he wore. And he quickly approached the woman, jumping off the roof with her. [/i]
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She rolled out from her position and landed directly in front of him, not quite nose to nose, hand near, but not resting on, her knife’s hilt. Looking at her, she seemed slightly ragged, probably due to the condition her clothes were in after that fall.
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[i]JT stepped back and looked at time woman. She looked threatening and the hand being near the weapon only solidified his opinion, though unlike Natalie, JT didn't fear conflict. He embraced it. "Touch that knife and I swear I'll turn yer hands into homemade séx toys. I ain't trying to hurt ya, just wanna ask some questions." [/i]
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She looked at him hard, the glyphs on the back and palm of her hands glinting subconsciously, and unbeknownst to both of them, so was the one on her back. “Ask then.”
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[i]"Who are you, why are you acting like a shit tier assassin, and for the love of God, where are your clothes? Those rags barely cover you." [/i]
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“I have next to no idea, I’m not entirely sure, and as far as I know these are all my clothes.”
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[i]"Alright, hot amnesiac with social disorders and ripped clothes. Normally I'd just keep moving, but... Fúck it, you need clothes. There's a small store near here that sells them, just up the road, let's go." [/i]
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She remained cautious, but nodded in acknowledgment and followed him.
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[i]JT led her down to a small store not to far. It wasn't selling any Brandon name clothes, though it was enough to get the woman by. "Head in. The owner knows me, just tell them I sent ya." [/i]
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“And should I refer to you as the edgy Harrison Ford clone?” She says in the exact same tone he used when referring to her as a shitty/edgy assassin.
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[i]"Good one,"JT responded with a chuckle. He hadn't heard that quip yet. "Most call me JT, my name's th' most generic -blam!-ing thing ever." [/i]
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“JT. Understood.” She turned to head in.
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[i]Inside, the store was pretty regular. A clothing store that dealt in clothes, of course. [/i]
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She carefully and pragmatically selected a black long sleeved shirt and a pair of comfortable (not tight, never tight) jeans.
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[i]JT waited outside for her. He would at least show her the common courtesy of acquainting her with the city, since he knew people like her - the oddballs of society - would need a lay of the land to get a leg up in the world. He knew from experience. [/i]
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She paid and stepped outside, noting that he was still there. “Thank you.”
