Tasuke

Between Life & Death

The formality of the woman's bow is in steel-eyed scrutiny, creating a reasonable inference pertaining their state of mind; they babble like a fool drunk on metaphor, gesturing their hands awhile their words needled the swordswoman's hearing with pricks of annoyance. Then the threats, presumptuous, arrogant and tactless. Mayhap they are truly so stupid; eager for death; ignorant of the viper they taunted and teased awhile their atmospheric machinations go unregistered.

What follows the pretentious display is encroachment; a threatening advance behest a glinting knife. Hisame scowls and dips her head to glare at the woman with murderous ire. Her right hand descends and curls into a crackling fist, the other's grip taut around their cutter as she cants her head to the dexter while bangs drape over pallid flesh. No verbal response is given, for words have lost worth; let the woman come and prove their words full or false; let them evade becoming another victim of the accursed Fateful Death...

Let them kill that which the reaper has betrothed...

Arena Chat Thread

@Drifting Pollen

Posted, by the way.

Arena Chat Thread

@Dreaming

I might if you have a character that'd be a good match.

RPGuild Ranking Headquarters!

@Skallagrim

Indeed; they seemed more geared toward melee; though your moniker-sharing character may be a good match.

Between Life & Death

The perpetual rhythmic crunch of leaves and clap of sandals underfoot in tandem with a scraping of drug steel is the only music to be known, artificial and nonsymphonic; presumptions of loneliness fade when a feminine, melodious timbre floats to the woman's numbing ears. She halts with wide eyes and parted lips, darting her glance astride and abaft, through the many trees in search of the source of song; they yank on the fabric of the tsuka and take underhand hold of the unsightly weapon, smoothly flitting the blade to forward elevation at waist level. Then she's left to wait for the moment her newfound acquaintance manifests.

Another macabre howl of freezing wind makes her flesh feel frosty, rudely lifting her locks and blowing them where it wished. She groans in discomfort and clenches her chattering teeth, lifting her right hand to pull bangs neatly behind her ear; a long blink is taken and what's in view thereafter is something estranged from the welcome.

A woman, dressed in cascading fabric and crowned with long, lustrous hair; she seems elated, albeit pretentious in atmosphere awhile they fearlessly address the damsel whom should be deemed dangerous.

The Japanese dame listens with narrowed eyes, her hand still upon her lobe, sifting and chewing on the words for something useful; given chance to reply, she takes a deep, wintry breath, straightens her frame and says, “I am a drifter on their way; who are you?”

Between Life & Death

Fix'd.

Between Life & Death

An autumnal overcast of clouded silver starves the land of afternoon sunlight; below, the skeletal limbs of a nameless and naked forest reach up to the heavens in yearning for winter's arrival, heralded by a ghostly howl of gelid wind. A lonely golden leaf clutches for life in swaying protest, only to find itself surrendering, fluttering to gusting will as it pirouettes en route to cold earth. It peers upon a solitaire stranger wandering the leafy trails: a longhaired woman dressed in shimmery scarlet kimono; toward the fetching and youthful raven-locked damsel it flits, seeking to crack her mask of indifference with a coy kiss of her right cheek.

Their face flinches and she elevates her slender dextral hand to swat away the meddlesome leaf, to be shunned and forgotten awhile she carries onward with the clap of sandaled steps. A scraping follows the stride, though not from her feet; her other hand drags a sheath-less katana by the unwound wrapping of its hilt: a silver-guarded blade seemingly caked with rust, whose lavender lacing wraps its handle messily. It's towed like a burden as her dark, listless stare mindlessly gazes into the forward. Fall's trademark scents go unregistered, but the frore breeze which blows through her stops the woman cold. She half turns left to shield herself from the cruel wind, clutching her bicep with shivers and pursed lips.

She wobbles forward before leaning rightward, against the covering confidence of a nearby trunk; they close their eyes and taste the crisp air with a full breath of chill, exhaled in white fume. Perhaps in need of rest, the lass is unmoving; for over a minute she's attached to the tree, musing over thoughts until the wind abates. Then she pushes herself off and continues at last, aching for the sweet melodies of birds to prove other life inhabited the hauntingly lonesome woods; as always, she's alone.

Cold and alone.

Between Life & Death

Oh. That's wonderful. -.-

Arena Chat Thread

@Drifting Pollen

I've posted the thread for our match along with my opener.

Between Life & Death

I'm a clown; discuss.