[center][img]http://rp.alexarnold.ca/rook/rook_p_grey.png[/img]
— Hokkaido —[/center]

Steel rasped against steel as he drew his blade halfway, taking a step to distance himself from the other two. The casual, relaxed posture made the gesture more of a statement, rather than a threat. He was armed and it was there to be used. Air thick with condensation found it's way out from around the mask with every breath.

At the conclusion of the clowns words the sword came the rest of the way out of the sheath with a flash of movement and the hiss of parted air. Just maybe there might have been another noise, something like laughter that hung in the air.

[color=#AA3333]"Gods and cruelty sound like more of the same ideals that I've seen fought over time and time again."[/color]

He pointed the tip of the weapon off to one side and  rolled his shoulders to let the cloak hang more naturally. Rook wasn't sure who he had been fighting for under the blue colouring but now it fades to an unaligned grey.

[color=#AA3333]"Now give me something to fight for that I might actually be interested in."[/color]

Now he took the moment to notice the, so far, silent member of the trio. They were obviously female and equipped with some sort of armour that he saw no practical use in. Rook also didn't see anything that he might recognize as a weapon.

Strange, but so was this whole situation. Most alarming was the apparent hole in his memory. It wasn't the first, but usually it was accompanied by a splitting headache, the memory of some drinks beforehand, and waking up in bed with someone.

[@Ryougu][@Medjedovic]