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Legends. Stories, scattered through time. Mankind has grown quite fond of recounting the many exploits of heroes and villains, forgetting so easily that we are remnants - byproducts - of a forgotten past.

Join the ranks of Remnant’s prestigious Academies as you fight to protect the Four Kingdoms from the clutches of the evil Creatures of Grimm. Alternatively, you may work towards bringing the world to its knees by fighting against the last sparks of humanity. Red Like Roses is based on the hit web-series RWBY by Monty Oum and Rooster Teeth Productions.

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 Been Caught Stealing, #ShadowBright
Sol Moon
 Posted: May 9 2016, 12:07 AM
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"I don't expect your life story, what I expect you is for you to listen, and I hope you will understand." He replied with a sigh.

Nothing about him seemed to change, there was not some much as a flicker in his gaze, nor even a twitch of his mouth, and the swooping planes of his face did not alter in the slightest, as if he were simply made of stone. She might have just told him something completely unremarkable, like pointing out that fire is hot, or just easily not said a word for how much impact was apparent on his face. It was a startling contrast to the open fury that he'd worn during the fight, and if he'd been blazing like a kiln before, now he was inert as ash. However, once he realized that he was hurting her, something that did not show on his face apart from his eye rising to meet her gaze when she spoke of it, he stopped using his false hand other than to hold her limb still as the other worked, clearly blaming the unfeeling metal for any rough handling that might have occurred. Being forced to do that, or perhaps simply being reminded that his right hand was just an insensitive machine, was what finally caused an emotion to register on his face. He frowned, but if he endured talk of death and abandonment and other topics that would surely touch a man's heart with such emotionless regard, assuming he was not truly indifferent, which paradoxically to his reputation did not seem to be the case, then that slight downward curve of his lips was the equivalent of another man openly weeping.

It was a lost slower going without the use of his dominant hand, and his left was understandably clumsy besides, though Sol would have pointed out that it had become much better than it was, and now his handwriting was almost legible when he wrote with his left, but the care he took was obvious, and his touch was absurdly gentle, considering the aire of palpable menace that seemed to surround him. He'd never lost that sense of violence that followed him like a shadow, but it did seem to have slipped into the background in comparison to the more human elements of his behavior, meaning whereas before he was a unknowably dangerous as a hurricane of a forest fire, now he seemed just sword resting up against a wall, clearly an object intended for a violent purpose but not currently fulfilling that purpose.

"I am trying to tell you why I tried to kill you." He continued, that frown not touching the level smoldering tone of his voice, nor the focused gaze of his golden eye, though it did seem that the latter was now actively avoiding looking any higher than Shadow's shoulder, "Why I would have killed you if you had been any slower or less resourceful than you were."

The words were awkward, and gave the ironclad suggestion that Solomon Moon was not a man who often deigned to explain himself, perhaps in part because he sounded so strange when he had to.

""Since you made the show of announcing your next target, I poured over the reports the police have on you. and I could probably recite a half dozen of them from memory. They didn't provide any clue as to who you were, what you looked like, your methods, or what equipment you might have at your disposal. They didn't say if you'd be armed." He said, that tone of voice so level that either he was made of steel or actively controlling it to a positively superhuman degree, begging the question of how insane with rage he must have been to have been shouting earlier, hearing him now it was nearly impossible to imagine that he might ever have raised his voice. If it was not such a harsh sound, broken and gruff like the bark of a great tree after being seared to charcoal by a wildfire, it might have sounded... gentle.

"When you looked me up. Were you afraid when you realized who I was? What I had done and what resources I could call upon?" He said as he rose and moved over to sit on the other side of her, and carefully began tending to her other arm, "What do you find more frightening? A man with a sword, who's every detail is as plain to you as daylight, or a shadow, within which anything might be concealed? I know what I find more terrifying, but then again, humans can't see in the dark."

He started at her shoulder, propping her arm up on his right hip as he turned towards her and began wrapping the limb, occasionally pausing to adjust something or run his fingertips over a patch of skin, to see if it was burned or not. Every now and then, his right hand would rise as if to try and assist, until he realized that the limb could not be trusted and willed it to rest motionless again, locking her wrist against his side.

"I didn't know my mother either." He said, departing from the previous topic whhich he considered to be concluded, "My father didn't talk about her, and he got sad whenever I asked about her. I think she died... but I'll never know now."

Briefly, enough so that it might have been missed, Sol paused in the ministrations of his hand, the hand simply becoming still for no apparent reason, as he stared at the completely unremarkable layers of bandage that he'd applied, seeing little, if anything at all. Then whatever it was, passed, and whatever thought had caused him to become still was gone as well, and he went back to applying first aid as if he thought nothing of it.

This post has been edited by Sol Moon: May 9 2016, 12:26 AM

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Shadow Thief
 Posted: May 9 2016, 09:49 PM
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Shadow recoiled at his bluntness, then smiled at Sol cheerfully. It made sense for him not to want to hear her life story, and it didn't really bother her that much. When he stopped using her mechanical arm while continuing to bandage her, Shadow's smile softened even more. It was strange just how comfortable she looked now, compared to both the situation and how uncomfortable she looked before. The frown that showed up on his face was not lost on Shadow, though she was able to hold her tongue about it-albeit with great difficulty.

As Sol worked, bandaging up wounds he inflicted himself, Shadow merely watched. She didn't have any true medical training, relying on hospitals to help her recover. The experience was valuable, though she was nowhere near knowledgeable enough to care for herself after, say, getting shot. When he began talking again, Shadow did the surprising thing of continuing to stay silent, through his whole speech. Of course, she couldn't control her face and hold her tongue at the same time, so when he asked her if she was scared when she looked him up, Shadow snorted in amusement, making it quite clear she wasn't.

Sol's mention of never knowing his mother, and subtle indication that his father was dead as well caused Shadow's face to fall. She started to say "I'm sorry", but stopped before she could get further than "I'. After all, this man was clearly not one to accept pity from anybody, let alone her. The slight hesitation, while noticed, was not reacted to. Instead she spoke up and changed the subject once again. "So, now that all the sappy is out of the way, did you have anything specific in mind for me? Or were you just going to give me a ring whenever you needed me."

Shadow's cocky smile, languishing posture, and confident attitude were back in spades, though she tried her best not to have it interfere with his bandaging. "Hate to tell ya, but I dropped my scroll in that chase we had, so I'd need a new one if you wanted to get into contact with me that way. Of course, at that point I'd be happy to give you my number." Another fang showing grin, another giggle, Shadow showing none of her previous negativity. "If we are to be working together, I figure I'll explain a few things about my arsenal. Only a few though, I don't want to share all my secrets." Shadow lifted the arm not currently being cared for by Sol and began morphing ANCH into various small things, nothing to fancy so as not to excessively burn her aura.

"These are ANCH. You saw quite a bit of what they can do, but they can do quite a bit more. If I can think of it, they can become it. 'Course, I can't use them while I'm in a disguise and they have quite a hefty aura draw." Shadow instinctively tried to reach into her clothing to pull out a pellet, only to be reminded of the tunic she was currently wearing. A grimace flicked across her face for a moment as she realized she would need to make it home to refuel, and she was not keen on the idea of showing Sol where that was. "I'd explain my pellets, but you've already seen those in action. They're what I used to create the smokescreens, the blinding flash, and the anti gravity wall. Plus, I'm fresh out of them at the moment." Shadow's face was positively glowing as she bragged about her arsenal, making it obvious she was extremely proud of her creations.
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Sol Moon
 Posted: May 10 2016, 07:14 PM
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Sol concluded his first aid, and looked on as Shadow provided an explanation of her equipment, but about mid way through he seemed to lose interest and produced a scroll from a slot in his left bracer, which went on to occupy the majority of his attention. Rhythmic clicking and beeping signaled whatever Sol was doing on the scroll, as Shadow showed off the capabilities of ANCH, to which Sol merely glanced up momentarily from the communication device that he held awkwardly in his right hand, as he hen-pecked the screen with the forefinger of his left hand. If the display impressed him, it did not register beyond the expression of cool acknowledgement that punctuated his features. The man could give a rock lessons in stoicism.

"I suppose there is no harm in telling you. I want you to infiltrate the White Fang. I assume one with connections in the underworld wouldn't have much trouble ferreting out their recruiters. And a person who can wear a different face whenever they please shouldn't have to worry about blowing their cover, and might even still be useful once their cover is blown." He responded absently, as if the suggestion of such a thing didn't carry with it a staggering level of personal peril on the part of the infiltrator, "It is about time you paid for all those things you have taken, and that should be a fine way to start. I'll have more detail on how exactly to do that, once I've been able to confer with my contemporaries. But that's the plan in as much detail as I have at present."

He finished whatever he was doing and passed the scroll to her. It was indeed hers, and it seemed that Sol had been browsing through her contacts, and god only knows what else, and had added an additional contact to the list.

"You have my number now. Consider yourself in the employ of Moon Military Contracts. Now you might want to find something to hold onto." He added.

The warning came perhaps a moment, maybe two, before the VTOL jerked wildly, throwing the two occupants bodily against each other as the engines outside began to howl, seemingly in surprise. The turbulence beyond the exterior panels of the aircraft became audible, and the entire cabin began to shake, as Sol reflexively reached out to steady Shadow, who likely was not as used to motions of a small transport transitioning from use of its engines to gliding.

"Some of my Soldiers call these VTOL's (Vertical Take-off/landing) hoppers and droppers." He explained calmly, as rigid in his seat with his left hand locked around a handle on the bench, as any other fixture in the cabin, as he extended his right towards her, "They are capable of limited gliding, to save fuel, and we just reached the apex of our flight, were are in free-fall at the moment. We are just about halfway to my compound. You'll be spending tonight at the brigg, and will be briefed in the morning."

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The wisest path to peace is to have a bigger and more terrible weapon than your enemy.
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Shadow Thief
 Posted: May 13 2016, 03:58 PM
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Shadow's eyes went wide when Sol told her she'd be infiltrating the White Fang. "You want me to do what now? Um, I'm not sure how well that would work out, considering I'm a pacifist." Shadow, still looking uncharacteristically scared, shook her head. She could pretty easily figure out what Sol was going to say, and to be fair she hadn't given him the full extent of her reasons. This was going to be an unfortunate disclosure, and one Shadow really didn't want to do. But it had to be done, so she clenched her fists and looked straight at Sol.

"Before you tell me to suck up my virtues, especially one so cowardly, let me explain. I have what's called a Pure Soul. I'll spare you the details, but basically my ability to wear many faces comes from it, and the moment I directly attack another sentient being, human or faunus, I lose it. I get the strangest feeling the White Fang is going to want me to commit violent acts. Mind you, I'm a quick thinker and I might be able to find my way out of said situations, but it would be difficult. She sighed and looked away, hoping that would give him a good enough reason but knew it probably wouldn't. Even still, there was more than just that reason she didn't want to infiltrate the White Fang.

Before she could continue explaining, Sol returned her scroll and told her to hold on to something. "Why should I-Woah!" Shadow was thrown fully into Sol when she didn't grab on to anything, and Sol reaching out to steady her helped her regain her seat and grab hold of a handle on the bench. "I see. Well, as I was saying, there's another prime reason I'd rather not do that. While I'm, shapeshifted, I lose access to my aura. This means no semblance, no ANCH, no aura barriers. I try to stay out of the White Fang's business, but I'm well known enough in the criminal underworld that they probably know my face. And I'd rather not run into hostile territory without my aura." Shadow knew none of that would matter, he'd just tell her something like "sucks to be you", just in hard ass speak. Even still, it was worth a shot, and Sol had surprised her many times already.

There was one more detail Shadow needed to address, the fact that she didn't want him to know her day to day life. "One last thing kid, while I'm fine with working for you, even spending a night in the brig-though I'm going to get myself some nice blankets-I'm not letting you into my everyday life. I'm comfortable with it, I like it, and I have friends. I'm sure as hell not letting you ruin that for me, this life is one I'm quite enjoying. I'll come when you call me, but if I catch one person trying to tail me back to my place, the deal's off and you'll never see me again. Understand?" Shadow glared at Sol through almost the entirety of her speech, her finger raising and pointing at him at the last two sentences. She sat there for a moment glaring at Sol with her finger up before shaking said finger and looking away, the finger dropping back to her lap.
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Sol Moon
 Posted: May 20 2016, 06:55 PM
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"When is the last time you thought about anyone other than yourself?" Sol's words, like the rest of him, were keen, tempered and sharpened to a lethal edge, but even so, they did not cut the way they might have coming from the lips of another. It was simply a question, an unremarkable one judging purely by his tone, but definitely not idle. Not once thus far had he given anything to suggest that any action he took was an idle one.

Anyone entering the conversation at precisely that moment might have been forgiven for believing that it was hardly a relevant question, but they would have been just as mistaken had they happened upon a man with steel bared and assumed he did not intend to use it.

Solomon was, his father had told him, named for an ancient and wise ruler, perhaps hoping or even expecting that the boy would share some of that wisdom, and true to his namesake, he was indeed capable of insight, though perhaps not to the level of that long dead king, certainly more than one might expect of a man who had a reputation for a foul temper and being easily given to grudges. Perhaps it was simply that he did not think like most other people did, and did not boil down decisions to the sum of their parts, nor was he given to basing any action entirely on a question of morality. Indeed, harboring a wanted criminal, no matter the reason, was hardly in keeping with an ironclad moral compass. That is to say that Solomon often found his mind would not simply touch upon tangentially realized considerations, but would instead grasp them as firmly as possible and worry them like a dog with a bone. This was just one such example, as he seemed to diverge entirely from the topic at hand, and talk circles around the point, as if it were indeed a physical thing that could literally benefit of a change in perspective.

The whole time he maintained that almost vacant, robotic gaze and utter absence of expression or inflection that might suggest he was even remotely capable of feeling any emotion at all. He was staring dead ahead at the metal knuckles of his right hand, and when Shadow wagged her fingers and glared at him, she might have just as easily been a gentle breeze attempting to stir a mountainside.

He took the cat figurine, gem encrusted, and heavy, from his left hip pocket, and beheld it in all of its "splendor". He studied the object that had incited this entire parade of events, that had cost him a night of his life, and had lead to a mess that would cost many thousand lien to clean up in the future, turning it over in his hands, as if searching for something that would justify the effort, but just as he had upon first setting eye upon the thing, he was no more capable now than then of discovering anything but what was objectively obvious. To his eye, the trinket was a pointless work of precious metal and rare stones, something that represented hours or perhaps weeks of effort upon the part of the creator, as well as a material cost that was staggering given the elements used to fashion it, yet served no actual purpose but to be what it was. To him it was wasteful, and in a way, ugly as a result.

He turned to regard Shadow, and his mind did that peculiar thing where it compared two things that were objectively as different as possible, and it was so strong that for a moment he could not tell the statuette apart from the faunus.

"How do you justify using your gifts the way you do? Is this truly the greatest purpose you can aspire to? Are you really content to be nothing but a thief?" He said, as he looked up at her just as he hand fell back into her lap, a perplexed expression suggested in his eye though his face remained as neutral as stone, again not speaking as if to insult, but rather it seemed making an honest attempt to understand something that was utterly beyond his comprehension.

Had he been trying to deride her, or lecture, it was clear by this point that he would have had little issue accomplishing either, at least as far as his part in the execution.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see this bloody cat. Something achieved through long hours and sacrifice, at great cost. That serves no purpose, other than to be held up as a symbol of supposed excellence, and I do not understand it." He passed the object into his right hand as he spoke, and as the sharpened metal claws curled around it, it seemed that the trap might snap closed at any moment and destroy the cat, "You know, I always thought it was funny how idol, and idle, sound the same when you say them out loud. So if you are content to be nothing but a prop, a waste of effort, then say so, and when we land I will hand you over to the authorities, but if not, lend me your skills, and together we can make a difference."

"The Fang is like any army. They need more than just soldiers. An Atlesian Paladin is a state of the art weapon, that has a thousand moving parts beneath it's armor, and some of them are not weapons, but no less essential to it's operation." He explained, again starting somewhere removed from the point he was trying to make and counting on the ability of the listener to see the point, "Not every member of the Fang is an insurgent, or even a soldier, in fact most aren't. They are just regular people, with average jobs, who cooperate with terrorists. They have accountants, craftsmen, cooks, and cleaners, and many of them never even see a weapon that will inflict harm. You are not an assassin. I do not employ assassins. You are a spy, my eyes and ears on the inside."

This post has been edited by Sol Moon: May 20 2016, 07:11 PM

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The wisest path to peace is to have a bigger and more terrible weapon than your enemy.
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At least that way you have an advantage when peace inevitably fails.
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Shadow Thief
 Posted: May 25 2016, 10:01 AM
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Shadow's smirk returned at Sol's first question, her expression and response even more coy than her normal speech. "If you want to get really technical, I was thinking about you while trying to survive your onslaught" She giggled at her own joke, smirk turning to a smile for a moment as she did so. The impromptu tunic she was wearing ruffled as she twisted her body to have her head face Sol while her body faced towards the opposite wall. "Joke's aside, I dunno. I mean, selfishness is kinda part of the job description here." After that, Shadow remained silent for his speech, though when Sol pulled out her mark a flash of pride shot across her face. That mark embodied everything Shadow held in high regard. Beauty, elegance, swiftness, agility, trickery, all of these things associated with either the cat or the specific mark, either way still embodied by the gem encrusted figurine.

Sol's not quite insults hit quite close to home and the smirk fell from her face, replaced by a frown. This frown turned into a scowl as he kept talking, then rose back into a similar emotionless mask to what Sol was wearing. By the time he was done, the amount of cold indifference on her face was just as jarring as the destructive rage Sol had in the manor, Shadow took a deep breath to calm herself, and brought back her trademark smirk in an instant. It would seem that no matter how much she's knocked down, her coyness blown away, it always returns to her face. So when she continued talking, there wasn't even a hint of anger within her words, merely her overconfidence and extravagant demeanor.

"Alright Sol, I'm about to monologue here so stay with me would you?" Shadow smiled at Sol, almost apologetic yet still completely confident in what she was about to do. "Where you see a useless bauble, I see a gorgeous piece of art. That mark shows someone who puts time and effort into things, who cares about details, and who takes great pride in her work. Not only that I see a symbol. A symbol of grace, of beauty, and of agility. The purpose isn't something physical, the purpose is the pride in completing it. The joy in getting the reaction you want, and for me specifically enjoying flaunting the inability to stop me."

"As for me, for one I'm not 'nothing but a thief'. I am the Shadow Thief, the greatest thief alive. I suppose I am content in being the best there is at my job, but you're right. There's more to life than just lifting trinkets or robbing banks. There's a war going on out there, everything's getting more dangerous, but to be fair I was never the right woman for the job. People either needed fighters, or were fighting the White Fang and needed non-faunus. Either way I was out. You have given me a unique chance to actually fight those barbarians without, well fighting them. What I'm trying to say is,"

Shadow stood here, pause and all, the smirk only growing wider as her aura rippled. She activated second skin in the most dramatic way possible, starting at the feet and working its way up. Her bare feet were replaced with some basic running shoes, a dark pink in color. Her skin tone darkened slightly to a more tan color instead of her normal ivory. When her aura hit the makeshift tunic it turned it into a flowing violet dress, complete with pink buckle. ANCH turned into elegant gloves that look most at home in a royal ball, not on a transport ship. Then it hit her face, the fangs in her mouth disappearing and her tongue normalizing, her eyes turning a deep orange. Her hair lengthened into curling brown locks, and goat horns appeared on her head. She smiled in her new form, and spoke again in her new voice.

"I'm in."
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Sol Moon
 Posted: Jun 11 2016, 05:43 PM
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Solomon listened patiently to the viper as she responded to each element of his dialogue in respective order. His habit for avoiding laying his gaze upon the girl directly seemed almost deliberate at this point, as if he preferred to to keep her in his peripheral vision for some obscure reason, or as if he were looking at something else entirely and she were little more than a voice to him as far their interaction went. Something must have been on his mind for him to be looking so intently inward to the exclusion of his surroundings. Whatever that internal debate might have been, it was not betrayed by the set lines of his neutral expression, as deliberate in it's unflinching and mute impressions as if he had simply put on a mask to hide behind. Life had made him a hard man, and that hardness was an ever present theme in nearly every aspect of him, from the chiselled bone structure of his face, to the way his jaw flexed, quietly grinding away at his teeth.

He did not consider for a moment the impulse of calling down Shadow for her beliefs, for her confidence in her place in the world and her satisfaction for her lot in life, because she was as entitled to them as he was of his own, and even he was not arrogant enough to entertain the idea of criticizing such things, at least not now, not for her.

He realized that he'd gone soft with the girl, over degrees and increments as fine as razors, slowly he'd shaven away the contempt he felt for a lowly thief who though to challenge him and the might of great Atlas itself. But what remained now. Perhaps it was fear of the answer that kept his gaze anchored to the cat idol in his metal fist, or perhaps it had already found the answer right there beneath his nose and resting in his iron palm.

"So be it." He replied icily, as he firmed his grip on the statuette, tightening his serrated fingers around the icon's shape, perhaps to prevent escape or to guard, or simply in preparation to crush it, he was not sure.

One thing was certain however, a certainty familiar to any man who had lead an army. Shadow Thief was no longer anything more to him than a tool. He would be sending her into the lion's maw, clothed in nothing but an illusion and armed with nothing but her wits, and whatever she might have been to him before, he could not afford to think of her any other way now. He could not allow himself to feel any more for her than he could afford to feel for the sword in his hand. By accepting his offer, she and he had driven a barrier down between them that separated him as firmly from her as his artificial arm did separate him from anything else he touched.

As if driven by that thought, perhaps just to prove to himself that he could, Sol allowed the gruesome fingers of his right hand to close entirely upon the cat idol, slowly. He had to make himself hard, it was the only way he could ensure he would not lose his nerve when he needed it. The materials of the intricately worked statue groaned and moaned as they offered only nominal resistance to the implacable pressure of his iron grip, metal warping, ceramic grinding, crystal shattering, until what remained in his grasp was utterly unrecognizable as what it had once been. Now it was nothing but a pulverized, crushed, and twisted suggestion of something indistinct... and Sol felt nothing for it.

He drew in a shaky breath, only just realizing that he had been withholding sweet air from empty lungs, since exhaling when he had spoken. With a gulp of air he rose to his feet and discarded the statue's remains and grasped the overhead compartment above where he'd been seated, towering over Shadow in her new disguise, exposing only his one side to her, allowing the other half to remain obscure, just as the entire transport rocked violently, as it landed and the dull moan of the engines slowed to a full stop.

He forced a warm smile onto his face, as he took her hand in his left, and threw his right arm across her shoulders. The prosthesis was like a skeletal arm made of ice resting across her neck, the ice dust treated metal perpetually frigid to the touch. He counted down from twenty out loud, his voice barely above a whisper as he set his gaze, currently hidden from Shadow by the blind half of his face, upon the rear loading ramp, whilst exposing to her only the wounded and artificial half of him even as he embraced her, and as he reach zero, he struck a large red button on the other side of the cabin.

The loading ramp groaned as numerous hydraulics sprang to life and like a draw bridge the gate swung down to reveal an exit from the transport. Sol quietly palmed a bottle of nondescript liquor from one of the storage lockers, as he turned to Shadow and planted a kiss on her cheek right as the gate fell far enough to reveal an assortment of men in uniforms, with a bespectacled man with brown hair and at their head.

"Ohh, Dallas!" Solomon exclaimed, as if only just seeing the man and his small squad of retainers,"I've brought a guest! No need to get excited, she'll be staying in my rooms tonight."

"Master Solomon..." The bookish man, several inches shorter than Sol and at least thirty pounds lighter, stood his ground as the object of that severe expression upon his visage made a languid exit from the VTOL with a pretty faunus maiden on his hip, referring to the youth with a title he only ever used when he was preparing to scold, "I'm surprised you had the energy to pick up a guest after tonight's excitement."

"A man who could be dead tomorrow should make the most of every moment, don't you think?" Sol replied jovially, wearing an expression that looked very peculiar from Shadow's perspective with how his face splitting grin seemed to clash with his eye-patch, which were all that were visible to her as she lay trapped against his side by the might of a mechanical arm.

"I think you owe me an explanation! It was bad enough when I though you were just scrambling two squads in the dead of the night, but now I'm getting calls from the AMP, saying that you set fire to a mansion and disappeared into the night! What were you thinking?" Dallas growled, his cool and thin voice clearly only remaining below the volume of an outright yell by a formidable store of willpower behind it, as he made no attempt to conceal his inspection of Sol's shirtless appearance and opened bottle of alcohol, not to mention the woman he was holding captive in a lecherous embrace, "How could you possibly justify..."

Sol cut the bookish man off by tossing the once stolen artifact towards his midsection. Dallas caught the cat statue, no worse for the wear despite the night's excitement, and glared up at the boy, slack jawed in fury.

"Tell Hephastus I recovered his ugly little statue, but the thief escaped. He can take what I owe for damages out of the fee we agreed upon. Now if you'll excuse me, I promised to give young miss Bellweather here a tour of my armory. She's expressed a great deal of interest in my sword." Sol responded curtly, the last part almost certainly accompanied by a wink that would have been hidden from the aforementioned guest.

Dallas gritted his teeth, and adopted an expression that was his equivalent of a sulk, before turning to the other gathered men, and barking orders for the lot to depart.

Meanwhile Sol, in no great hurry, whilst squeezing and pinching the disguised thief in a manner that was hopefully just for show, made his way towards a complex that stood adjacent to the airfield in which they had landed, only relenting in his lewd advances when he could be certain no one as observing them, though he continued to leave his arm looped across her shoulders as he strolled and drank from the bottle in his left hand. Darkness settled over them as they left the airfield and hangars at their back and passed into a blocky building complex that served as the on site apartments for officers on duty at the air field. There was nothing especially remarkable about the complex, other than the fact that it was all apparently owned by MMC, and by extension Sol himself, and served as a hint to the influence he could exercise should he wish it.

This post has been edited by Apathy: Jun 11 2016, 05:48 PM

--------------------
The wisest path to peace is to have a bigger and more terrible weapon than your enemy.
user posted image
At least that way you have an advantage when peace inevitably fails.
PMEmail
^
Shadow Thief
 Posted: Jul 10 2016, 09:36 PM
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Shadow cringed as he crushed the idle, a mild whimper as though she were the one being crushed being emitted from the now shapeshifted faunus. She did so love those things, and they were as much a part of her as her gloves or her job. When Sol rested his shoulder upon her and took her hand in his, Shadow shuddered once at the strange, cold feeling. However for all of her shortcomings a slow mind could not be listed as one of them, by anybody, so she quickly realized at least a small sliver of what he was planning. Her demeanor shifted, becoming much more open and accepting of him, leaning in slightly and walking with him. She did not do anything more extreme until she knew for certain what he intended. Of course her suspicions were confirmed at the way he introduced Shadow to the other man, Dallas from what she could tell, as well as the kiss to her cheek. As soon as he said that her demeanor accentuated, becoming far more clingy and doting, as well as a little bit tipsy. She reacted positively to his "for show" advancements, giggling lightly and stumbling a little as they walked away.

The moment they were out of eyesight Shadow dropped the act, slithering out of his embrace with a shudder. "Wow, that was really creepy and disturbing. You, do you really bring woman here like that? Because that is, wow that shows a lot about you." She walked confidently beside him, returning to the clingy and tipsy appearance should anyone have the chance to see them, only to drop it the moment they couldn't. Some might say the ability to so quickly and easily change the way people see your emotions as a gift, others a curse, and a few more as something only fools and monsters trained themselves to do. Shadow simply saw it as a part of the job. Looking at Sol, her now orange eyes clearly showing the large smirk that was quickly plastered upon her face. "So where am I crashing tonight? First you say the brig, then you say your room, you know for a man with such conviction you are really indecisive." That was another thing people considered a character flaw for her, the fact that no matter the situation she would run her mouth off in the most inconvenient way possible. The thief just saw that as more fun, it gave another level of enjoyment on a more personal level. But of course it also put her in quite unfortunate situations. Situations like the one she was in currently, forced between two choices that she didn't really want to make. Even still she laughed after finishing the sentence, and her tone clearly indicated a far more joking than insulting manner.
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Sol Moon
 Posted: Jul 16 2016, 09:31 PM
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Sol walked calmly beside Shadow as she slipped free of his embrace, and if he missed the contact between them, he found a quick replacement at the bottom of the nearly fully drained liquor bottle that dangled from his left hand. He was a big man, and had a considerable tolerance for alcohol, despite his technical status as a minor, though in his clan a boy became a man the first time he shed blood in battle, and by that logic Solomon had been a man for nearly four years, but two thirds of 40oz of hard liquor was beginning to take it's toll on him. His strides had become more ponderous, and his manner of speech had grown slower to the point of near slurring.

His pace faltered when Shadow spoke to him, and he nearly came to a complete halt as he fastened his bleary eye upon her and put up his left hand to trail along the wall, steadying himself as the bottle scraped the concrete.

"I said you'd be staying in the brig before you accepted my offer, when it didn't matter who knew you were here, but Dallas is a stickler for formality, and if he knew I was harboring a fugitive..." He replied, finishing up the statement by whistling in imitation of a falling artillery round prior to detonation.

Frustrating the bookish officer must have been a source of amusement for the oung lord, because he nearly cracked a smile at the thought of it, though as he further reflected upon Shadow's words the suggestion of mirth vanished entirely from his face.

"You can stay in my apartments. They were built to house the Lord Commander and his family, so there are some extra rooms." He grunted, and oddly chose that moment to drain what remained in the bottle and grimace as the harsh liquid seared his throat and belly.

The line of speculation which went unsaid below his stony surface must have reached a very unpleasant conclusion, because that expression of discomfort did not depart with the sensation that had caused it, and as Sol raised the bottle for another pull, only to find it empty, he uttered a pungent curse in an unfamiliar language and hurled the empty vessel into the distant shadows. The distant sound of glass shattering returned after what felt like a very long time. It did not take long for that frustration to circle back around to Shadow, and he turned his head glared at her sullenly, or at least, the ruined side of his face that she could see looked sullen at least, the rest was obscured by shadow save the glimmering intensity of his golden eye.

"You know, romantic conquest is not a strong option for one eyed cripples. Why shouldn't I bring company back to my estate if I can manage it? Or do you imagine that the only way a woman would share my bed is through force?" He growled, golden eye ablaze, voice actually sounding somewhat hurt, before storming ahead, towards a large building that stood in the center of the rest.

A petulant reaction? Perhaps, but there seemed to be more to it than teenage moodiness, though it did bare mentioning that by the standards of the rest of the kingdom Sol was still very much a youth. He'd been forced to grow up very quickly in some respects, but in others he was still just a boy, often a scared or confused one, and being called a creep in a moment of vulnerability had found an almost imperceptible fissure in his bluff exterior and sunk deep like a needle. While offense or insecurity at the remark seemed odd for Sol, it hardly would have been that strange for any other seventeen year old to react strongly to such an insinuation.

The apartments were less the humble dwelling usually associated with the term, and more a mansion that dominated the courtyard around which the other domiciles stood. Three stories tall, with a blocky concrete exterior decorated by swooping exterior balconies and pagodas, and close to a dozen windows per floor visible on this side alone.

A finely carved wooden door, punctuated with stained glass windows, was flung open roughly by Sol as he reached it, and he did not bother to shut it again, leaving the massive slab of oak slightly ajar with a light flicking on within and spilling out across the threshold, closely followed by the sounds of rummaging. By the time Shadow reached the door, should she choose to follow him, she would have found the interior of the building's first floor to be a massive combination living, sitting, dining and kitchen area, separated by low pony walls with a hallway leading off to the right, towards a staircase and a handful of storage and washrooms.

Solomon was doubled over and up to his shoulders in a large fridge that sat in the furthest right corner of the kitchen, behind a small bar. He already had a fresh bottle of coffee liqueur tucked under his left arm against his bare and scarred chest, and was apparently searching for the components to make some sort of cocktail.

Upon closer inspection hidden at first behind the wall separating the kitchen from the side hall, gruesomely laid out upon the counter was Sol's right arm, apparently thrown carelessly down there upon the marble counter, judging by the awkward position that made it look like it was trying to claw itself up the wall.

As Sol straightened up, the right side of his body having been obscured by the door of the cooler, one could see the ruined remains of the limb to which that prosthetic had affixed. Ending in an glossy pink scar that bisected the entire appendage like a crooked seam, the wreckage of the former arm ceased just below the right shoulder, and like worms undulating through inflamed pink soil, hoses, tubes and conduits encircled the limb and could be seen bulging beneath the glossy tortured flesh, several of which were dangling obscenely like strips of spoiled flesh. He had another bottle tucked beneath that gruesome stump as he turned to regard his guest.

"Bathroom's at the end of the hall, clean out your burns, there's a medical kit under the sink. You can use the bath if you like." He grunted, his voice like a hammer to match the hardened temper of his face, his precious offense now replaced with cool indifference or at least a mask thereof.

He began mixing up another drink on the counter that separated the kitchen from the sitting area, looking awkward but also curiously adept as he uncorked the respective bottles, produced a martini shaker, some ice, and crushed up a handful of various herbs, all with only the use of one hand. It was odd how young he looked without that awful arm. He was still broad and powerful in stature, but missing as much mass as an entire limb to complete the picture, it was as if without it he were just a boy.

"Bedroom's up stairs... Good night." He added, as he finished aggressively shaking the concoction in the silver shaker, and began drinking directly out of the metal vessel as he threw himself onto one of the leather backed couches on the other side of the counter.

This post has been edited by Apathy: Jul 16 2016, 09:31 PM

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The wisest path to peace is to have a bigger and more terrible weapon than your enemy.
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At least that way you have an advantage when peace inevitably fails.
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