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originally posted in:The New Dojo
originally posted in: THE DOJO
12/29/2017 5:48:48 PM
1
[i]Irina couldn't help but study the small bell, with those freezing blue eyes, her gaze going still as she looked upon the metal shine of the silver bell. She was familiar with such things, emphasis on the word "was". It had been years since she had heard that jingle, whether relieving or foreboding.[/i] "There is.. another. Just one." [i]Irina would admit that, for one. There was indeed another one of their ilk, but not one that had descended into the darkness that was Yharnam and returned as a predator of the night. This one was still prey - for a time.[/i] "A little girl. She took the corrupted blood, not from the Queen, but.. from my being. She would not receive the blood from the proper source, but she is one of us, still." [i]One of us. The words rang in Irina's ears as she spoke them. How odd it was, to hear such a thing, and be conflicted between feeling joy or be overcome with dread. Her hands would tighten a little as the thought, kept at her sides, her fingers digging into their frozen palms.[/i]
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  • “Whether from the Queen or another, this... condition is still bloodborne. This little girl is kin to us now.” ‘Condition’ was the best word he could call the corruption without sounding too derogatory, though it still held a negative connotation in his mind, as did it in Irina’s, most likely. He held Irina’s gaze towards his bell, thus noticing him groping it. Immediately his hand retracted and sunk back into the abyssal folds of his cloak. Next, he noticed her apparent unease at mentioning that she had turned another to their kind. He saw the tightness form in her hands. He would do his best to comfort her. “Shall we walk, Irina? You leading the way, of course. I am not familiar with large, populated centers such as this Dojo. Nor.. am I particularly fond of them.” Ashley seemed to murmur the last sentence, feeling ever so slightly disconcerted at him admitting his social awkwardness. Obviously, he had manners, but never the courage or wit to properly strike up colloquial conversation. The sounds of battle and sparring broke the spell of silence. “We could also train, if you wish. I haven’t put these old bones to work in many years.” He laughed softly to himself. What was strange however, was his voice gave the impression he was a man of his twenties or thirties. Perhaps the Old Blood was counteractive to the afflictions of aging, as well.

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  • "...I wouldn't be much of an adversary. And if I was, in training.. enhancements over time would make combat unfair." [i]Irina sighed drearily at the thought of herself having a fair, almost balanced fight with another Hunter: it had been too long since she had swung her Rakuyo's sharpened blade, or fired her Evelyn, though she kept both tools in a stable condition yet. They were of her past, and such things were to be kept in pristine condition.[/i] [i]She would hold out her hand for Ashley to see, as she would tighten her fist, until it was as if her hand and arm had become steel. There, Ashley could almost hear it: the brief, quiet sound of metallic muscles shifting and moving, nanite flesh flexing to the movements.[/i] "I am no longer human. And yet, I doubt I would even be considered Vileblood at this rate - a mixture of a machine, and the blood." [i]Irina would say, as a sudden *shink!* would whistle through Ashley's ears. A two foot long, metallic blade slid out from the woman's right hand, before as if willing it to move, would return into her arm once more, folding back into the forearm as if it was bone.[/i]

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  • “This place is quite beyond me... quite beyond the means of a Hunt.” Ashley couldn’t tear his eyes off of Irina’s cybernetics, as it was the first time he had seen such a thing. He had an urge to touch the metal skin, to caress the cold steel that was once porcelain flesh. He remained still, however. “I fear my paraphernalia is inert in such a place of advancement.” He let out the same quiet laugh to himself as before, yet it almost seemed sad. Self-deprecating, even. Irina still had not seen Ashley’s weapons, though he was bound to have some. His sides were still consumed by his tenebrous cloak. Then, as if almost on queue, Ashley pushed his cloak back with his hands to reveal two weapons resting at his hips. The venerable Chikage, a Katana/Saber hybrid that used the blood of its user to empower itself. Then, the repeating pistol: an advanced weapon utilized by the Hunters of the Healing Church. It could fire two shots in quick succession, at the cost of being a ravenous consumer of quicksilver ammunition. “As you can glean, my weapons mirrors that of the Crow, too.”

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  • "A Chikage.. and oh, one of the Church's repeating pistols?" [i]Irina was a heavy weapons enthusiast herself: although she was more satisfied and such by a blade rather than a ridiculous firearm, there was an obvious respect in her expression at the sight of two unique, familiar tools that she had once faced or fought alongside, though never with.[/i] "...Though you will have to look at receiving more modernized gear. The inhabitants of this place are.. I'll be rather blunt: awful." [i]At the mention of "the inhabitants of this place", likely the Dojo and those that resided within it's stone walls, Irina seemed to have a swelling disdain, steadily growing for this Dojo. A disrespect, or just a general dislike, for it's methods.[/i]

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  • Edited by Xeno: 12/31/2017 6:03:59 PM
    “Modernize? Oh, dear...” Ashley worried audibly and allowed his cloak to overlap his sides once more. He mused for a long while on how these Dojoians could be ‘awful’. He was a firm believer that everyone was redeemable, and all deserve the same respect. Whether or not his good-mannered self would be in for a rude awakening, is yet to be seen. He laughed. “What esoteric weapons does this place utilize? If these awful people have access to powerful gear, color me a worried man. However these people may be, I can trust you to be respectable, my lady Irina.” He choked on his words as soon as they came out; realizing he had called Irina “my lady” once more, he had to apologize. “I am terribly sorry, Irina. My manners escape me.” He was fidgeting now ever so slightly, shifting his weight from boot to boot.

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