I'm thinking of my soul's sovereignty
WHO: fuelblade and you.
WHERE: Wherever!
WHEN: Whenever!
WARNINGS:No Shakira dance included! Nero has a potty mouth!
SUMMARY: With Nina's breakdown and mess, Nero activated his Devil Trigger a whole bit easier than he usually does. That does not agree with him and makes him a grumpy sod, because he should have had better control than that! So after visiting Nina with what I believe is an inconclusive end, he goes out on a walk to unwind. Probably shoot some cans or sculpting the Mona Lisa in a rock with his sword or something.
FORMAT: Whatever you'd like!
[He's not exactly sure how he should feel about the whole crock. On the one hand, he had the fact that no one was really hurt those days except for those nasty creatures that suddenly decided to make the City their favorite smoothie parlor [sometimes he had to wonder about the poor judgment and choice of those things. One would think they'd learn about recon before attacking whatever].
He looks around after taking the final sip of a soda [and go figure, it's actually better than the one he had back home, even if slightly more acid], crunching the tin in his fingers and throwing it at the alley he somehow landed himself on - how does I shoot maps?
It even gave him time to draw out his revolver and shoot it before it hit the ground.
As he holstered it, he frowned. His fingers have been way too easy on the trigger lately. It worries him, so he does whatever he did since he arrived to that city, and blames the whole thing on it, really.]
WHERE: Wherever!
WHEN: Whenever!
WARNINGS:No Shakira dance included! Nero has a potty mouth!
SUMMARY: With Nina's breakdown and mess, Nero activated his Devil Trigger a whole bit easier than he usually does. That does not agree with him and makes him a grumpy sod, because he should have had better control than that! So after visiting Nina with what I believe is an inconclusive end, he goes out on a walk to unwind. Probably shoot some cans or sculpting the Mona Lisa in a rock with his sword or something.
FORMAT: Whatever you'd like!
[He's not exactly sure how he should feel about the whole crock. On the one hand, he had the fact that no one was really hurt those days except for those nasty creatures that suddenly decided to make the City their favorite smoothie parlor [sometimes he had to wonder about the poor judgment and choice of those things. One would think they'd learn about recon before attacking whatever].
He looks around after taking the final sip of a soda [and go figure, it's actually better than the one he had back home, even if slightly more acid], crunching the tin in his fingers and throwing it at the alley he somehow landed himself on - how does I shoot maps?
It even gave him time to draw out his revolver and shoot it before it hit the ground.
As he holstered it, he frowned. His fingers have been way too easy on the trigger lately. It worries him, so he does whatever he did since he arrived to that city, and blames the whole thing on it, really.]