[CLOSED]
Who: lovedthedeadone and prescientblade
When: Mondayish, sure why not.
Where: The training hall in the Alliance HQ.
Format: Actionface.
What: CLASH OF THE DEAD NUMBER ONES. Uh, a spar.
Warnings: Not really, not really. Wait, I lied. Violence.
[Truth be told, Roxanne has become bored.]
[It's not the nature of the city, per se, it's the complacency of it all - another day, another day, and click click click, time ticks away, and nothing happens except for dreams and little elves and people whining about how much they did or didn't eat or fuck or dream or think.]
[So little space, and so few amusements.]
[In fact, she would probably just go ahead and both wither and die, except that there are two people in her... field of vision at the moment. First, there is Irene - that woman with the very fast blade. A fascinating technique - one she'd like to get to know better, really. Second, there is Teresa. Quite a specimen, that one - no apparent techniques, but still possibly the most formidable warrior that Roxanne herself has ever encountered. Beautiful, experienced, aloof...]
[Just the thought of her makes Roxanne's chest all... squeezy. And, as usual, when holding a blade Roxanne cannot help but think of her.]
[...well, there are others too, but she's a bit reluctant to spend much time around Abyssal Ones and their lackeys for, surely, pretty well evident reasons.]
[In any case! Standing in the training hall, blade drawn, Roxanne swings twice, focused on her movement, the flash of the blade in the air... and the energy around her, too. The crushing weight of Isley's yoki bearing down on her, even from far away. The steady glare of Irene's in the upper floors. Cassandra, not close, and yet not so far. And--]
[And someone else. She raises her head, and looks to the door.]
When: Mondayish, sure why not.
Where: The training hall in the Alliance HQ.
Format: Actionface.
What: CLASH OF THE DEAD NUMBER ONES. Uh, a spar.
Warnings: Not really, not really. Wait, I lied. Violence.
[Truth be told, Roxanne has become bored.]
[It's not the nature of the city, per se, it's the complacency of it all - another day, another day, and click click click, time ticks away, and nothing happens except for dreams and little elves and people whining about how much they did or didn't eat or fuck or dream or think.]
[So little space, and so few amusements.]
[In fact, she would probably just go ahead and both wither and die, except that there are two people in her... field of vision at the moment. First, there is Irene - that woman with the very fast blade. A fascinating technique - one she'd like to get to know better, really. Second, there is Teresa. Quite a specimen, that one - no apparent techniques, but still possibly the most formidable warrior that Roxanne herself has ever encountered. Beautiful, experienced, aloof...]
[Just the thought of her makes Roxanne's chest all... squeezy. And, as usual, when holding a blade Roxanne cannot help but think of her.]
[...well, there are others too, but she's a bit reluctant to spend much time around Abyssal Ones and their lackeys for, surely, pretty well evident reasons.]
[In any case! Standing in the training hall, blade drawn, Roxanne swings twice, focused on her movement, the flash of the blade in the air... and the energy around her, too. The crushing weight of Isley's yoki bearing down on her, even from far away. The steady glare of Irene's in the upper floors. Cassandra, not close, and yet not so far. And--]
[And someone else. She raises her head, and looks to the door.]