hunterborn:

   //The answer she’d be looking for was ‘out of habit’. Manners was something deeply instilled him, and even after giving up the possibility of a life of heroism in exchange for common indecency, he still new the basics of right and wrong. Offending a stranger he had no ill will against— yet, anyway— was on the latter end of that spectrum.

    The inquiry surprised him. The source of which was unknown to him, and when spoken with that mild grin of sorts bared, he did not know quite what to make of it; save for, perhaps some underlying malicious intent. He did not answer, not verbally. What was given was a haphazard nod, though behind the face consuming shades his gaze intensified from view.

Manners, surprisingly did matter to her. A strange nuance considering how she killed for a living. One would think that ruthlessly taking away another life was far from the plate of etiquettes. But one would be surpised at how even the most gruesome of killers could be so… meticulous with their victims. She had seen it time and time again; a serial killer was bound to be like any citizen in a functioning society, even soliciting out in the open with ordinary professions. Cordial human by day, sadistic sick fuck by night. It thrilled her how she was assigned to take these people down. Though she was not as cruel as to make them relive their worst fear or have them suffer as their victims had suffered — no, Suu was merciful; if you counted blowing your skull or your head clean off your shoulders merciful.

She returned the grin with her own, albeit a small one, dark eyes glinting at what future prospects lay ahead in these few moments. It would be only a matter of time before she was called away for a mission. And as much as she enjoyed killing, sparring was just as fun as it was an art of restraint. She would have to force herself not to draw her sword or pull out her gun and kill the person she was fighting. Then again, she had also been taught that using the body in a means of a fight should be for defence. Kung-fu was, after all an art, not some way to haphazardly throw your arms and legs around like an idiot.

“Well then.” She got into a fighting stand, her heels making a soft clicking noise against the floor as she parted her legs and bent her knees ever so slightly. That grin turned into another smirk as she raised her arms, elbows bent as she uncurled her hands.

“Do not underestimate or think to go easy on me just because I am a woman.”

[[Sorry if that was confusing, he himself didn’t grin; he was reacting to her grin. After all, Rude don’t make faces :U ]]

She moved like many before him had, but with a grace that rang true more to the militaristic period of his life rather than those he surrounded himself with now. She wanted to fight him, a stranger who had done her no ill will and vice versa. While this certainly was no new concept to the man, as with all ego heavy creatures we humans can be there were plenty of opportunities to fight without just cause, but it did not make him anymore excited about it. A rusted tone of his father echoing past lessons against the walls of his mind:

‘You fight and kill women and children only under these circumstances—’

“I’m sorry…” Quietly now, do not offend. Do not upset.

‘They’re toting around guns, or are a danger to your comrades. If you’re not going to die, take the beating. At the least it will toughen you up.’

    “…I don’t fight women.” Finalized with the gentlest shake of his head, expression absolutely concrete.

‘They’re not delicate flowers, they’re not weaker than us, they’re not stupider than us— We are equals, but they are Mothers. Even if they never bare a child, they are Mothers. Don’t you dare hit a mother, don’t you dare.’

   “…it’s nothing personal.” And so he didn’t budge.

ablackwing:

Obedience through training, the man before the marine was sheer power and confidence, those glowing hues taking in everything from the other man. What little was given was enough and the General’s head inclined slightly in response towards the words. He understood the way that mentality worked and the smile finally eased off, the nigh-perfect features returning to a state of placid receptiveness that belied the intelligent mind lying in wait beneath that calm veneer. It was clear this man had long ago learned the art of silence — people always were uncomfortable about silence unless they breathed it themselves, always prone to speaking and revealing far more than was likely intended. So it was that his head remained slightly canted, simply spinning the words through his mind. Thrifty as ever, mused the broken thoughts, on words. Some things, it seemed, would never change. And others always would. But there was only a flicker of eyelids when the other ceased to talk, the General blinking for the first time since they’d begun their exchange.

“… Forced retirement..” came the whisper, almost too muted to be heard before there was a new smile on rose tiers — unlike the first curving of muscle and skin, this one was far colder and directed at its owner, rather than his conversation companion. “I understand.. complications and.. personal matters.” Freedom from the military — something Sephiroth could only dream of. Bred into his own role, how he nearly envied this doppleganger of the bespectacled Turk that remained a silent and stalwart presence at times. “Far better than I likely should.” And then he trailed into silence himself, feline pools finally shifting offwards. How long had he simply been staring? Far too long, like as not. Few remained comfortable under that stare for any extended period of time — not only was the shading of the silvernette’s gaze unnatural in coloration, the pupils were distinctly inhuman. And that was also not factoring in the fact that one could read nothing in the stare — it remained flat and expressionless, only the barest breaths of life giving truth to the fact he was indeed a living breathing soul.

An airiness was about the once unfaltering tone, keeping the near mute ensnared with the want to know what was going through the General’s mind that had caused such a distance. It had been there in the few other spoken sentences, that disassociation with much emotion, but now, though quieter, it sounded nearly more… tangible. That feeling was intensified as bright optics were torn away, and it was only now that he caught that glint that had distracted him not so long ago.

Something about them— those eyes— were unnatural, aside from the iridescence of hue. The way that when light hit and they retracted, nearly in a manner of… No, no. It was the lighting playing cadences of refraction upon the intensity of color, he mused to himself.  “I do not mean to pry,” He started, in a low murmur of sorts. The curiosity was sapped dry from his flat voice though, and the man now speaking partially appeared uninterested. “Have you fared some… complications of your own?”

littlemarlenewallace:

bornafighter:

     //cocks an unseen eyebrow

…aren’t you a little young to be out on your own?

/looks at him and then takes a step back unsure how to be around the stranger./

U-um, It’s okay.. I..I know how to take care of myself!

……

    //a quiet burst of air comes from his nostrils, one of bemusement. She could take care of herself, was it? He wouldn’t argue. He’d known younger with that same attitude, who ran about the streets making ends meet by doing practically anything… Though— giving her a quick once over— she definitely did not seem that type.

Are you lost…?

hunterborn:

   //Had he offended her already? Apologies would be offered, perhaps, at another time, if the hostility that sparked the air would ever die down. A hum quietly hang limply in his throat, a deep reverberation. Did he say later? The feeling crept up upon him already.

…Apologies, ma’am.

    //Tapping his gloved thumb to the side of his thigh, he ran through the processes of normal social interactions, though wondered if they would even be necessary for someone so… much like him, at this juncture.

[She smirked, though it was barely an upturn of her lips as she kept her gaze upon him, steady and calculating. Instincts would not help her here; she was foreign to such… exchanges, not having lived any other way besides the barrel of the gun or the edge of the sword. She lived to kill. She thrilled in seeing her victims writhe as she tore at them with her blade, or pierced their bodies with holes. A trained monster. A killer whose blood ran cold.]

Why do you apologise? There is no need.

[She saw his thumb tapping at his side, that smirk turned into a grin, though she did not reveal her teeth.]

Do you fight? [The question was sudden, but she was bored and needed some action to kill time before decimating her next target.]

   //The answer she’d be looking for was ‘out of habit’. Manners was something deeply instilled him, and even after giving up the possibility of a life of heroism in exchange for common indecency, he still new the basics of right and wrong. Offending a stranger he had no ill will against— yet, anyway— was on the latter end of that spectrum.

    The inquiry surprised him. The source of which was unknown to him, and when spoken with that mild grin of sorts bared, he did not know quite what to make of it; save for, perhaps some underlying malicious intent. He did not answer, not verbally. What was given was a haphazard nod, though behind the face consuming shades his gaze intensified from view.

ablackwing:

Had the man before him inquired, he would’ve been granted the sight of Sephiroth having to scramble to come up with a decent reason beyond the simplest You remind me of someone that the swordsman could have provided. The smile was a highly controlled thing, barely there, but it was there nonetheless as he regarded the man in the silence that had washed over them again. His silence, however, was less of being unsure of what to say and more the mute study of something beheld with fascination. Yes, the man that was.. Rude and not the Turk was completely intriguing to him. Then came the rumble of something that might have been an aborted laugh low in the man’s chest and then he spoke once more in the sibilant flatness that carried itself out with the slightest of purrs.

“You look.. uneasy,” he said at last. “You needn’t remain at such attention. As I said.. the title of General is likely only an honorary title these days in regards to me.” Did he even still retain the rank? Sephiroth didn’t know. But the man was certain that the not-Turk would not comprehend the differences the way Sephiroth himself did. Then came the pause, almost deliberately unnoticeable, before long bangs swayed with the barest shift of the paler man’s neck and skull. “.. Tell me of yourself. You said you were an.. ex.. Marine, was it?” The tone questioned that rank, clearly, but there was interest in discovering the meaning behind the strange description.

   Primal utters of beguilement, instead of frightening like they should have, put the rather uptight male in a blanket of comfort. The pieces of the puzzle were certainly missing more than a few key slots, but he could discern enough. Something, no clear certainty of what, was… off. That rang true for most good men in branches of any military, years of unflinching obedience did something to the psyche, particularly in males, and so being around someone who radiated that twinge in normality was homey.

Focus returned promptly, he dismissed the comment about unease with a shake of his head, however he readily ignored his attentiveness being addressed. It was built into him, far before he even walked among the ranks of Marines, and it would not be brushed aside by whim. “Mmn…” Gaze unable to drift, he let it fixate. “I was a… Lieutenant Colonel.” Yet, he felt much unable to spill a life story to a stranger, even if he could possibly understand. “I was forced into early retirement… Due to an accident. Complications, personal matters kept me from returning.” Thick shoulders lifted shortly, and following was a nod. There was an awkward afterthought attached, devoid of bias, “…here we are.”

I do not require anything of you, if that was what you had been thinking. [She narrowed her eyes a little, taking in his appearance. Though she did not know him, Suu could tell from the nuances of his stance that he was a fighter of sorts…]

   //Had he offended her already? Apologies would be offered, perhaps, at another time, if the hostility that sparked the air would ever die down. A hum quietly hang limply in his throat, a deep reverberation. Did he say later? The feeling crept up upon him already.

…Apologies, ma’am.

    //Tapping his gloved thumb to the side of his thigh, he ran through the processes of normal social interactions, though wondered if they would even be necessary for someone so… much like him, at this juncture.

ablackwing:

And there was the confirmation that he had been seeking without openly searching for it — the words that made him aware this was not the Turk but someone else with his name and face and voice. Intriguing. He would have only smiled that calm and mildly unsettling smile of his had the man been able to read minds for Sephiroth would have had to agree. Even blind men noticed the General — a raw sense of charisma exuded itself into the air without the silver-hair even bothering to speak. When one was around the mad General, they always seemed drawn in, like flowers turning towards the sun. Self-confidence was one way to describe him — Sephiroth himself simply regarded his abilities to be what they were. Never one to boast of his strength, the man simply knew what it was he remained capable of. And that was what made the madman so appealing to others. The snap to attention, subtle as it was, did not go unmissed.

“Just Sephiroth,” came the musing roll of syllables from his throat, vibrating low in volume as he fought a laugh that would have given too much away. “The title is.. perhaps best to be called only honorary.” There was a pause before a wild burst of amusement flickered to life within the glowing gaze and faded away just as fast, a sun flaring to existence and fading quickly in mere milliseconds. “A pleasure.. Rude.” The pause was slight, but despite himself, the corners of Sephiroth’s lips had shifted to a bare lift, as if something about this had suddenly amused him. And it had. Oh, it had.

Not left completely in the dark, especially when it came of reading people, he did find his gaze fixated upon the turmoil on the General’s mouth. There seemed to be muscles resisting the fight of something, thin lips growing taut, almost. And, just as his own nickname, one he’d picked up during his time as a military man, was repeated, they really did move. He was sure of it.

Was the silverette appeased by his unspoken rank or the odd double-meaning of his alias? He was unsure, but that uncertainty crept up on him, reminded him suddenly of that thing he’d locked away before… An omnipotent presence. “…yeah..” He didn’t know what else to say, dazed by confusion for why the other so subtly displayed humor. That, and he was not exactly the most sociable of men to begin with. He would offer something to get to know where in the world this ‘Sephiroth’ was from, but…

//A silent exchange? With such a cold exterior bared to him, though he was guilty of the same inhuman distance, he assumed her of some previous training that required a reserved persona. After all, it was only fellow soldiers he recalled acting as such. The hand was taken promptly and given a single short shake of greeting, body unmoving otherwise. When the semi-leather clad appendage all but snapped back into place by his side he let his head cant in a breath of movement difficult to perceive. Did she need something of him?//

ablackwing:

It was the voice that took the man aback and for one of the very few times in his life, the madman did an honest double-take to reassess the man standing before him. It was a rumbling registry that he recognized easily enough, having heard it before — but this appearance and the lack of recognition.. Almost, almost would Sephiroth have taken it as a practical joke — but the words ‘practical joke’ would never go with Rude. At least, not him being the perpetrator of such a thing — the General wouldn’t have doubted, however, that he was the butt of many of Reno’s jokes. How very odd, then — a twin, perhaps? But what twin ever looked perfectly alike to their other half? He ignored the metal, ignored anything else, in favor of physical structure and aural comparison. 

Only one thing proclaimed Sephiroth’s rank, that being the wide belt of metal and leather encircling the almost-thin body that was partially concealed by the strap of a buckle across its surface. The design of the emblem of First-Class was set in an encasement of sable leather, backed by a field of matching shade. “.. Sephiroth,” he uttered in the calm and nearly placid flow that left nothing about his thoughts truly readable to an untrained observer — but anyone that did know.Sephiroth would have heard the intrigue flitting in the depths of that smooth reply. “General of Shin-Ra. First-Class SOLDIER. And you?”

Somehow the pause did not fit the man it came from. There was a presence about the leather clad entity that spoke volumes, the way he presented himself alone gave off confidence that made hesitation appear strange. Sephiroth. Eyebrows covered by the face consuming shades worn lifted a few increments with hidden interest. What a name to go with such a regarded looking man, he felt the years of training beginning to stir, and falling prey to the titles spoken… He couldn’t help but straighten up a little more in respect.

“……” The air left his lungs momentarily, so impressed he found himself at a loss for words (no rare moment there), though his face was as unmoving as marble. “Mmn. Ex-Marine, well decorated in my time—” He hesitated, whatever grievances he should have been feeling for the government was fleeting, and he felt himself weak for it. But with a name like ‘Sephiroth’? And of a ‘Shin-Ra’, was it? The stranger was likely from a foreign country… So fascinating. “I’m Rude… It’s an honor, General.”

ablackwing:

bornafighter:

      //What peculiar attire. Despite its oddities, it did bring this sense of militaristic belonging— However he couldn’t focus on it long, the sweep of seemingly endless white (he refused to believe it silver) hair stole his focus. His stance became ridged and rather board stiff-vertical, soon following his half-gloved hand was extended for greeting, as was a customary introduction for the well seasoned man.

From toe to head, the General of Shin-Ra was a striking figure — imposing, almost, and intimidating to a degree. Silver it was indeed, though like anyone else’s hair, it shifted in shade with the lighting illuminating the vast array of strands — frost-hued metallic drapery played across the broad shoulders, eyes of glowing teal dipping to regard the hand that was extended out towards him. A human gesture, born out of greetings towards a stranger — one Sephiroth rarely did beyond an initial glance towards someone. But he reached out, long fingers and large palm briefly clasping the other man’s grasp to be polite in turn. Sephiroth did have manners, after all, and the reaction was accompanied by a mild nod as slitted pools of unnaturally shaded emerald lifted to regard the man yet again.

Fear wasn’t a trait easily instilled in the well trained man however, and so the air of danger that surrounded the almost equally tall stranger was… Not ignored, simply stored in the back of his mind. The handshake he gave was firm and almost robotic, accompanying it was a nod that swayed an assortment of piercings. Literally less than a second’s time after the short engagement was complete, his hand fell quickly to his side. There was a glint of something— A flash of light, perhaps? That caught his unseen eyes, and made him take another look over the exotic man before him.

Standing squared, as if constantly at attention, he did finally lift his head fully to speak. “Evening…” Hesitant came the baritone, but its monotony did go on. “To what do I—” Carefully scanning for a nametag or perhaps some decorative medals of honor, the pause was nearly unnoticeable, “—…owe the pleasure?”