( Oh god, not clones! )

( A cake for my beloved~! )

A girl in a long black jacket is dodging a flurry of thrust attacks from a sword-wielding technician. Nothing seems that strange about the scene. She's clutching in both hands a bold red and black scythe, ducking and weaving around attacks instead of parrying them. ...There is blood dripping down the snath, originating from the place where the ( Read more... )

He's in a dimly lit room, and a familiar one at that. He recognizes the curtains, the floor... the piano. He also recognizes the voice of the one addressing him, and it's not a pleasant reintroduction ( Read more... )