The Untrustworthy RogueBound with tailored leather gloves, designed with anonymity in mind--no prints, no trace left behind.The hands unfold a deadly blade--so playfully, almost carelessly quick, with such fatal precision.Eyes as cold and distant as the long-forgotten eighth pseudo-planet in the solar system, always watching without any whisper of empathy.“What do you think we’re fighting for?” a voice asks, uncertainty stinging the air.A quick silver flash followed by red. “I never really was on your side...”
Claude's Assessments ~ Part Three: Strange Girl"You possess a sort of charisma... One that attracts many to you." Claude said, characteristically adjusting his glassess. "Look at how they scamper after you, how they desire to be just like you. This is so very.... Interesting to observe."I just shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose...""Yet, don't you want to take advantage of their doting adoration? They are like flies, caught in your divine web of charismatic power."The way he likened me to a spider was flattering. "I suppose I could, and... I suppose I do, at least... The ones I don't like. But it isn't my sort of thing, I'm not that type of person.""Hm..." he murmured thoughtfully, "That would explain that odd purity of your soul, I suppose. You certainly are such a strange girl."
Claude's Assessments ~ Part One: Where's the Exit?"You silly girl. Dealing with demons and reapers is not a game." he pushed his glasses up irritably. "Now tell me why I am here.""Actually, I don't know why. This sort of thing just happens from time to time."He sighed again, then tried to locate a clock. "What time is it, and where might I find the exit?"Grell walked up behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders. "There is no exit, Claude dear. And for time, well... It runs rather strangely here." he grinned at the demon butler."You're here too, Reaper? I thought the girl just associated with you, not had you in her mind itself... Interesting." he sighed again, pushing his glasses up. "Fine, I suppose I shall get used to residing here." He began to make what appeared to be a spider web, while he mumbled under his breath, "for the time being, anyway..."
Descriptive ListsHe is not some gun-shooting, tailgating, tobacco-chewing, hot doggin', show boating, word-butchering ingrate.He is a computer whiz. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~I'm not a grammatically-incorrect, shallow-hearted, body-flaunting airhead in a miniskirt and too-small tank top. I am no ingrate, no vapid incarnation of popularity. I am not selfish, inconsiderate, nor am I an idiot by any means. I am not typical, not predictable, not able to be tamed by silly lies. I am not heartless, not fully antisocial, not forsaken. And don't ever think me normal.