[center] [h3][url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3449024]THE LEGENDES[/url][/h3] [img]https://i.gyazo.com/e206223e32ac882857fad449a4f1de3e.png[/img] [/center] [hr] [i]Aboard the Cruise Ship.[/i] [b]John Legende strolled in through the heavy, metal door, his black cane first.[/b] His steps fell into an echoing tandem with it, his gait graceful and sure as his [url=https://i.gyazo.com/b62b29dac7747451da0c8ecc67bea832.png]apparel[/url] rustled without a sound. His half-shut eyes slithered listlessly under their lids, perhaps leaving most with the impression that he [i]wasn't[/i] taking in every detail of the ship. His fair-skinned demeanor contorted to a patient yet grim scowl as he came to a stop, hands atop his cane. His younger half-sister, Anya, darker in contrast, stopped as well, having practically been glued to his side ever since she and her family left the airport. Hands clasped before her dark blue, strapless dress, Anya's timid gaze jumped from face to face in the large gathering room, checking off the identities that she remembered and zeroing in on those she didn't. Not a moment after, their shared father, darker still, strolled in on a motorized wheelchair. His large body, wrapped in white bandages and a whiter shawl, seldom left his wrinkly flesh exposed, though his face did have a kind of determined, wizened scowl to it (like father, like son). The Patriarch of the Legendes, the one and only... [i]Zidane[/i]. And the pair of hands grasping the handles of the wheelchair belonged to a butler, whose shadowed body remained just out of sight. Anya and John met Zidane's gaze, the former with love, the latter with respect, and he nodded. Then a thought crossed John's mind, and he looked to the butler, gesturing with a hand, his mouth moving to the tune of 'luggage.' The shadow left, leaving the three to make their way to the dining table. Some eyes followed them, perhaps, and others didn't. But the Legendes cared not, and it showed. John sat across from the Laofeng Patriarch, and eyed his good taste for a moment before summoning a waiter for what [i]that[/i] guy was having. Anya slipped into a chair besides John after taking out a chair on his left so that their father's wheelchair would have space. As John asked for the chair to be taken away, he noted Anya resuming her crestfallen demeanor, the clash of new faces and events no longer distracting her from the pain in her heart. She had been like this for a while since her betrothed seem to have vanished. Zidane's wheelchair ceased its droning as he pulled up and plucked a snack from the tray. He, too, noted his daughter's pain, albeit he needn't eyes to see what could be seen. John placed a hand on Anya's bare shoulder, whispering, "I'm sure we'll have our answers soon, Anya." She nodded, her fragile brow quivering at the thought of more tears. But then she (and John) noted Claire approaching, which prompted Zidane to back his wheelchair up a tad so he was angled to see her better. The Legendes observed the woman's antics for a moment, but then John resumed sitting back in his chair while Anya looked on, curious of her father's reaction to the obnoxious lady. Zidane stirred, his mouth working out saliva. His bandages flexed as his wizened gaze drifted up at Claire. The most wry smirk dared to spread across his lips. His dark eyes simmered ever so lightly as they raked over her facial features, snake-eyeing her feminine features below that tender, juicy neckline. “Ah... it is only,” he began, [b]in French[/b], “that God is good. And, ah... as for his devilry... Unlock your cabin window tonight and... Damballa indwell me, you'll [i]know[/i] him.” Anya notably blanched. [i]'Daddy!'[/i] she reeled mentally, as John merely let out a slow, hissing chuckle. Claire savored the gesture, but then whipped her hair back, gesturing with her hands and thrust out hips. "Your God can't handle this!" she beamed, chin tilting out. "Ah, then you have nothing... [i]much[/i] to worry about, do you?" Zidane continued in her native tongue. [color=ed1c24][i]Chuckles...[/i][/color] Zidane and Anya blinked, for behind Claire now stood their butler, Mr. G. Knots, his height leaving the top of the lady's head just below his pectoral. [color=red]"Shall I prepare all of your condoms for you, my Lord?"[/color] Mr. Knots asked earnestly, a strange cheerfulness in his tone. Claire started, her breath expelling explosively as she stepped aside, realizing just how much personal space had been invaded by Mr. Knots' sudden arrival. Her eyes darted to Zidane, for an answer. The Patriarch cracked a sympathetic grin to Claire, shaking his head slightly. "Ah, no... no need to rile her, Mr. Knots. She is a fine, ah... [i]rebel[/i]," he stated plainly. She turned towards Zidane. "You, I don't mind, but him," Claire hissed, a thumb out at the butler, "needs a reminder that servants, after all, are to be seen, not heard." With that, the Matriarch grabbed Mr. Knots in the groin, twisting and pulling with enough might to probably turn some family jewels into [i]literal[/i] ones. The butler blank-faced, but remained standing, much to the matriarch's confusion. "Eunuch?" she gasped, glancing down at Zidane, who simply shrugged, eyes somewhat wide at the sight of a groped butler. Just before Mr. Knots could surmise a witty response as to whether or not he had testicles, John interrupted, his desired wine sloshing in his hand elegantly. Anya looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide as well. "The luggage, Julian?" he asked sternly, staring at the table before him. Mr. Knots blank-faced again for a moment, before blinking, regaining composure, and replying that the luggage was misplaced, and that the ship's staff was inadequately tasked for the job. Anya's eyes narrowed at this revelation. [i]My things are gone?[/i] Claire continued twisting, pulling, but she could not rock the butler's steady frame. "You have responsibilities, [i]Julian[/i]," John stated, "See to them after you've finished... [i]harassing[/i] Mrs. Laveau's hand." [color=ed1c24]"Yes, if that is what you wish,"[/color] Mr. Knots replied with a strain, vanishing in the blink of an eye and out of the lady's iron grip. Clair left them to their business, notably annoyed by their stupid butler. Zidane waved good-bye after her, droning his chair back to the table so that he was perpendicular to it. He then resumed snacking on the salty peanuts. Anya, quiet and observant as ever, felt compelled to ask her brother something that had been starting to bother her ever since they had begun preparations for this Meeting of the Crests; frankly, his treatment towards Mr. Knots, when before, he had nothing but staunch respect and gratitude for the man. "Brother...?" Anya whispered softly, leaning into the nook of his shoulder. John nodded, as though he'd been expecting this, before slightly turning and looking down at her, his facial features softening. "Yes, dearie?" he said, a strange glow in his eyes. Perhaps just a trick of the room's lighting. "Why must you treat Mr. Knots so... I don't know, harshly?" Anya asked, the left side of her mouth scrunching up. "Oh, is that what's been bothering you?" he joked wryly, to which Anya rolled her eyes. He turned back towards the table, careful to not let Anya slip out of his arm. His wine glass came before him, and just before sipping he said, "He is merely slacking off, that's all." "Oh," Anya stated flatly, watching him drink as she sat back into her own chair. Suddenly, LASER BEAMS WITH CHEESCAKE AND NIBBLES. John looked down, the wine glass spilling all over his lap. The gravity had become 10x normal earth gravity, affecting all but the hairiest of Saiyans. Anya tensed, closing her eyes and concentrating on the face of the young, large-nose man she had come to love. In contrast, Zidane strained, grunting slightly as his weak flesh threatened to fall off even more. His drive flared, barely protecting him. John noted this, but there was nothing he [i]would[/i] do. Fortunately, the moment passed well enough, and then, just when he almost wondered where 'Julian' had gone, a hand slipped into John's vision, picking up the wine glass and setting atop the table, [i]all while everyone else prepared to kill everyone... else.[/i] Anya opened her eyes, gasping lightly at the upcoming onslaught... Zidane wiped his forehead, glancing at Mr. Knots as he wiped away wine with white napkins on John's lap. It would seem the Legendes had not prepared any alchemic countermeasures at all. None would know why. Except Mr. Knots. [color=ed1c24][i]Chuckles...[/i][/color] [color=red]"Perhaps a tournament is in order,"[/color] the butler mused, done with his task. "Oh, I hope not," Anya breathed, hearing Angel's footsteps breaking the silence. Zidane said nothing, his thoughts his own as he observed the alchemies manifesting. John sighed lightly through his nose as Angel crowed his maniacal lines, after which the attorney (among other things) pushed back his chair and announced to 'Julian' that he would need a new suit, but to stay here, with 'Father' and Anya. [color=ed1c24]"Yes, if that is what you wish,"[/color] Mr. Knots replied as John exited the dining room, leaving Anya to people-watch and Zidane to ogle.