Interview with the Demiurge - RP Mini-Event! ((O/A!!))

What would YOU wish for?

Unlimited POWER!	11.4%	[ 5 ]
Wealth beyond measure.	4.5%	[ 2 ]
Eternal Life.	13.6%	[ 6 ]
The return of a lost loved-one.	2.3%	[ 1 ]
A normal life.	2.3%	[ 1 ]
Knowledge!	22.7%	[ 10 ]
Wouldn't you like to know?	43.2%	[ 19 ]
Total Votes:			[ 44 ]

[Zeonis Mieriba]

As Red vanished from view, the young prince shook his head in disgust. His day grew stranger and weirder by the moment, and he could feel himself reaching the breaking point. Half of his face was covered in dried blood, and the pain from wound was giving him a massive headache. Zeonis sat against one of the trees in the clearing, and dug into his pocket to retrieve the small metal orb. Running his thumb over the grooves in the metal he relaxed himself and fell into a light sleep.

Red the Ambivalent

[Not Roen]

"Do you find me sadistic?"

Roen flicked his ruby-gaze to the chain of fire that had once been the Buxom Bandit's hallmark, his expression vaguely disdainful. Once upon a time he had tried to impress unto Rou the importance of a well-rounded combat education, one which did not include the use of this weapon. He had wanted her to learn the way of the sword, and acquire at least a semblance of proficiency. The results had been disappointing. She had not shown a knack for it, and he had not the patience to press. He had other concerns and demands on his time, and Rou was not required to be a fighter. Quite the opposite, he needed her to become less of a bandit and more of a ruler, someone who could at least help shoulder the burden of responsibility. In this, too, he had found her in want. Her's was a rebellious soul. It was her penchant for disobedience that was both endearing and maddening, and which put them at odds now.

Holding his hand out, the Outsider sent a mental-trill through the ribbon wound about his hand. From his fingers the ribbon grew and spread, twisting and writhing with slow, deliberate purpose. Elongating and lengthening, the ribbon became a handle, fabric became an elaborate crossguard, and gems shifted to find their places the eye-sockets of daemon faces carved into what was now a hilt. Dread-black and ugly, twisted steel straightened and tapered until at last Roen held a ribbon no more, but a sword. The runes along the flat glowed briefly with residual will, flickered, then died. Hræðilegr lay silent in the Outsider's fist. "I'd like to think you're aware by now that there's nothing sadistic in my actions. No, at this moment..,'' wrapping his fingers tighter about the lathed hilt of his blade, Roen lowered the tip until it was notched on the ground.

"This is me at my most masochistic."

He did not lunge at her with devil's tooth nor fist, but raised his other hand and extended his fingers, pointing them at the Buxom Bandit. Palm up, it looked as if he were beckoning her closer, fingers curled imploringly; but the air changed in subtle ways, alarming ways. An increase in barometric pressure with the Outsider serving as the epicenter; a sharp plummet of temperature; the smell of charged, crackling ozone. Hoarfrost began gathering at the Outsider's feet, small particles of ice that clung to the toes of his boots and the hem of his great coat, and electric discharge crept along his fingers, crawling over webbing and between the gaps. It was the last sight Ertai Vexic saw before being scourged by aetheric-pulled lightning; the last sight many saw before Oblivion took them.

Then he saw nothing for the span of a heartbeat, and when reality came into focus, the world was much different. Seated at a table among others, but prudently kept from general population, Roen found himself extending his spell-charged fingers across a table to Rou who sat opposite of him, and in the company of his peers - or at least those who would fight in the event. Shocked and not a little dismayed, the Outsider's grossly sensual mouth twisted into a harrowing frown, and he clenched his electric-crackling fingers, stifling his will until he felt power slipping away like mercury from the veins. It was an uneasy feeling, and it left him dry of mouth and short of temper.

Withdrawing his arm and sending a psy-pulse into Hræðilegr, Roen collapsed the sword into it's resting state - a gem studded ribbon - and proceeded to go about the tedium of gathering up his unruly hair and tying it back in a loose ponytail. He never took his eyes off the Buxom Bandit, however. Regarding her with nothing less than outright displeasure, Roen returned her glower and leaned back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he listened. The Demiurge had summoned them, a fortuitous thing for the Buxom Bandit. He glanced around, taking in faces, antics, various things of interest (which weren't many), and sighed. Roen closed his eyes and listened to the circus.

[GalaxyCommander]

Einar 'Son of Årud'

Bjornhold: Zero
ᚱᚢᚾᛖᛊ

Mead Remaining
fimm

Viking Arrows:
Sex

When Einar was at last finished with his chant he held for a moment knocking his chair back where it was supposed to go but not sitting for he had sat long enough. Rather Bjornhold was lifted and the axe haft lowered toward a certain man who had found his way to insult many of the others including himself. As he had been chanting it had made him think about how the man had also insulted the gods. Odin would not stand by idly while such an offense had been made if Einar was not to respond to it. Einar like most of his kind where rather communicative through action and expression before words. His eyes would widen a little and then narrow as if it was a child who had stepped out of place. Then however his eyes darkened with the look of death. That look of a man who had taken many lives. When a person saw such eyes it usually brought a chill to them. Or at least made them a little more conscious of something.
"Odin calls for your blood. I shall be the one who spills it. I will then tether your tongue into several little slips so that your befouling mouth can be a joke to the world as you joke with it."
Einar declared. He was calling this man to a fight. If this was what it meant to declare rivals then so be it. It would be done publicly in front of the others and from there things will commence further. If Einar where to die trying then this man would not just be a swagger of the tongue but that would be an impressive feat. Einar however did not remove the gaze of death. Rather he held it for many moments unwavering unblinking, and unmoving. He stood, his arm holding Bjornhold, as though he had benn petrified but as he stood the emotion of anger and dread only grew more tumultuous until those around could taste it in the air. The anger of a viking was nothing short to be played around with.

Slash Zinrai

The Sauce of Legend

[The Sauce of Legend]

GalaxyCommander

Stains whipped his head around, eyes nearly exploding from their sockets as his hands were in mid-spank of his scrumptious, taut buns. And by buns, I mean that sweet a** of legend. He scoffed and simultaneously threw up in his mouth all in one go, quickly swallowing back the half of week old chili dog he had eaten three hours prior to his sudden teleportation. Truly, it tasted just as good coming back up, then back down again, as it had tasted going down the first time, but that was besides the point. Dwarf Man had stood up, and he was, to the mercenary's complete surprise, not that short actually. "You're not even a little person!" He would've spat if he wasn't wearing a full face mask, his eyes bugging out as he pointed almost accusingly towards the axe toting miser. "You snaky dog! And here I thought we were chums. Regular peas in a ********' pod." Stains stomped his podium in half and smacked the remainder of it away like a two dollar hooker, immediately tripping over some of it as he fumbled his way towards the viking ********. He brushed away debris and dust from his suit as he stomped over, going so far as to put his face right up to the axe head that had been so menacingly pointed at him in the first place.

"You challenging me brah? I got balls bigger than your mamas appetite to gobble 'em up. I ******** Odin, in the mouth, for fun. Even slap his son Thor right in the package when I feel like it. Got valkyries beggin' to slob on this knob. I piss on the floors of Valhalla, SON! So what you gotta say to that, b***h. My lord and savior Jesus Christ died for my sins, God rest his mortal soul, so ******** you." Stains eyes set like twin viper fangs, poison nearly leaking out of the venomous stare he was giving Einar at the moment. He hated this man for some reason, just freakin' abhorred him with a seriously twisted, instantaneous hatred that could only be described as epic, hate at first sight hate-mance.

"We are so, rivals. First, I'm gonna slap you around 'till you beg for mercy, which of course I will not give. Mercy is for total pussies. Then I'm gonna find your sister, and make a ham sandwich featuring mayo, lettuce, some balsamic vinegar, my balls, and her boobies, and somehow implicate her mouth in the process but I'm still working that all out in schematics, you know, personal time stuff... But you get the picture, b***h!" Stains threw his hands up in Einar's face and snickered, all the while tilting his head to the side like a highly aware bird of prey, his neck muscles bulging erratically with the mere conviction of his vile statements, his body language like that of a semi retarded ape at best.


[******** best know! The Stains man don't play!" He turned, spinning off his heel to 360 degree flip off/ point at everyone in the room. "I can't wait to murder each and every one of you slippery, conniving, c**k sucking faggots. I will literally take personal, uncomfortable pleasure in making sure none of you get out of this tournament alive. Just because of this dickhead." A rude point back towards Einar, and Stains looked back, eyes still narrowed into nefarious slits. He leaned in dangerously close, his covered over lips nearly clipping the viking warrior's ear lobe. No one else could hear the next words the psychotic mercenary stated. These words were for Einar, and Einar alone.


"Personally I enjoyed your chant, and I think your outfit is pretty cool, but just go along with this ok? Didn't actually mean to disrespect your religion in any fashion, Myself being a practicing Catholic, I understand and contend to express my shared empathy for your taking offense of said words and actions, and apologize vehemently on account of such atrocities towards your respective religion. On the oft hand, don't make me look bad man. I'm just having a bit of fun. Theatrics and what not. I'm counting on you. You're already playing the part well, keep it up and I'll make sure you get a church or two named after you. Or something, alright I've talked too long, they might think something is up. Alright, three, two... "

Leaning back out Stains finished his half mumble loudly and with forced gusto,

"...And that's how I'm gonna ********' kill you, man!!! So think about, that!...Yeah!"

He awkwardly turned and stalked off, much like a rooster kicking it's feet at the dirt, brow furrowed in the best look of petulant fury that he could muster.

[SIash Ex]

[!]The Arcusan[!]
One…
[]~O~[]

True to form, the Wanderer had not chosen to wait around in the clearing; being pulled from his mental lock by Red's own anger.

Indeed, her command to observe patience had been far stronger than she could've known...binding Slash into place like some armored mannequin. The effect had been fortunate, in a way, as it had given him time to contemplate the sensation. Next time, he would be ready...

Or, so he hoped.

Regardless, as the unknown young man slumped against a nearby tree, Slash moved to reunite with the vanished archer. Not that it would require much effort to discern -where- she was...given the weird ways of this place...but their bond afforded him a very clear sense of direction.

So, as Red set out to find him...he would find her; rounding a turn in the path, and meeting the psion on the stairs.

"Do you suppose he will come?"

Another interesting quirk of their connection; no words needed wasting on explanation. As realization dawned in the Wanderer's mind, Red would see it...So to with the impressions she gave back. Slash was keenly aware of recent events, and seemed unperturbed by his own experience. Had it been anyone else, though?

The swordsman would have been far less forgiving.

He knew she could sense that, and his lips curled into an awkward smile; one, free, hand rising to sift through his color-shifting locks. Embarrassment saw the muted blue change; darkening into more of a phlox-like shade.

"My apologies...It is difficult to control these thoughts."

Not that he had ever needed the practice before, or could have anticipated the eventuality.

Red the Ambivalent

[04 Spriggan]

Descant, in a fully black cloak had been there but just... out of the way. Back of the stands, humming softly and yet making herself not a nuisance, managing to stay relatively invisible as far as anyone knew. She could've just been another servant in this place, if not for the fact that she was actually in a seat.

Her eyes continued scanning the area, seeing who was about, scouting for candidates. There were definitely a few good-looking people here, but two really caught her eye. One for the dark aura about him, and one for her choice of clothing-- or lack thereof, as the case may be, combined with her quite voluptuous body.

She didn't say anything to these people, however, there was no need to. One seemed to enjoy his own company well enough, and the other enjoyed the company of others. Perhaps in a minute or two she would engage one of them, or any of the other lovely people in the room... but for the moment, she observed and listen to conversation. It was a good thing, because things were being mentioned.

Cars... she didn't have a need for one, but knowing who she was fighting was interesting. None of these names were familiar, but all the same, right? Rivals... again, she knew none here, but that may change as time went on. Ah, but the wish, the grand prize! There were many things she wanted that she had yet to obtain... which might she settle on?

Her eyes turned upward as she observed the ceiling in thought, before settling down on the Demiurge again. A question sprang to mind.

"Why this... selection of people~?" Those who were still still interested in the back and forth between the host and crowd, and might be interested in observing the one asking the question, would see that she was an olive-skinned, light-framed lady whose facial features included lines on her cheek, green eyes with circles around them, punkish red hair (chopped on the right, long on the left), and rather large upper canines. There could be no doubt that it was those teeth that affected her speech, making her sound slightly airy, adding more flavor to her Greek accent. She also spoke with a bit of sing-song, managing to weave it in with her humming. "Do you know who any of us are, can do, might do or would wish for? Are you fine with any wish we may have, barring those you've already mentioned~?"

==
♫ Symphony of Souls : Mvt 1 "Calm"

x Leinhart x

Scalar Warfare

Glory Sieg

Slash Zinrai

[Red the Ambivalent]

New life.....⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘

яє∂

| | Location: | |

|Outside of the Mansion|

Even as Slash worked through what he was feeling, the new sensations brought on by the Imprint bond between the two warriors, Red was also trying to work through different sensations. It wasn't so bad with her, she was used to being able to branch her mind outwards to connect with other people but the difference was this link couldn't be turned off. It was ever present and Red could feel the struggles he was dealing with, trying to get used to such an odd connection.

As she rounded the corner she could feel the man heading towards her, not just through seismic origin but through that link. Curiousity tried to pry it's way through the anger, wanting to know more, to explore all the possibilities available with this bond with Slash.

She couldn't focus on it though.

"I don't know. He might, we have met once before and were supposed to fight but we were interrupted by Raven."

Red paused, watching him carefully. There was no need to explain herself, he knew very well the memories and emotions running through her head about Hartia. He was a good person, at least for the most part. Even trying to hide what he was thinking, the impulses that he felt when he was around her, she could pick up on it.

The Psion wouldn't fight Hartia alone, with a chance of losing, knowing since that terrible night back in Sigil she gave off a self conscious beacon to avoid any type of sexual innuendo through fighting. Red wasn't going to chance something so terrible to happen again. She didn't reply to Slash, the way her muscles tensed from that thought, that memory, as well as him being able to pick up on the majority of memories and emotions.

Words weren't needed to express her concern.

Blood was what she was craving, and the sensation wouldn't be diminished by her fears.

Arrows [15/15]
Seismic Sense [Active]
Air Manipulation [Not Active]
Ability points/Stamina [100/100]

Peccaminous Peregrine

Slash Zinrai

Zeonis Mieriba

⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙New beginning.....

[GalaxyCommander]

Einar 'Son of Årud'

Bjornhold: Zero
ᚱᚢᚾᛖᛊ

Mead Remaining
fimm

Viking Arrows:
Sex

Einar continued to hold fast while the ignorant man continued his prance. Several of the words this man used where completely unknown to him. Probably some sort of slang that the Demiurges power could not cross translate properly. Or maybe it did it just held no meaning in old norse. Einar was thoroughly convinced Loki was playing this man now like a tool in his palm. The man made no sense logically. This id not phase Einar. The gods had a death mark on this man. Einar would bestow it to him.
"The gods decree you die and be sacrificed. Their will be done by my hand."
Einar lowered Bjornhold at last and then watched the man for another moment and then turned to look at the others. He was ready for a great many things. He felt his blood tingling and the look in his eyes did not waver in the slightest. Einar would step back and wait for a few more moments before finally averting his death glare. Now he wanted to know if anyone else was wanting a fight with him. Although this was likely the only one he would declare. Unless he were to declare one of the many woman who to his eyes all looked like whores. Not all of the women did but any of those showing skin pretty much did especially the ones wearing just ribbons.

Slash Zinrai

The Sauce of Legend

[Scalar Warfare]

? - The Arcusan - The Great Hall

= Vessel =

Your Body, My Body...

--------------------------------------------------

If naught else, one thing was certain: Eli was enjoying the heck out of the feel of that taut, stretchy material hugging Gloria's curves, shamelessly sliding over further to run her fingers along the psion's side, squishing Ogelsby solidly between them. But, as with many things, her attention span couldn't hold on it for long, and almost reluctantly, she slipped a hand down to retrieve her own packet of fight information, and stared at it with a puzzled expression for several moments, casually lounging on the boy's shoulder with one arm as she leafed through the pages.

"Ummm. It says I'm... gonna be fighting in the Vault of the Sword God? Against... Errr-tayyy. What's an Errtay? Anyway, it looks cold... and icy... and dark... eugh! Why can't it be outsiiiide? I can't see the stars if I'm in a... dungeon! And I don't know how to use a sword! What am I gonna do with a sword?" The sorceress pouted, frowning at her paper fiercely, totally vexed by this development. She slipped her arm around Ogelsby's shoulder, resting her chin calmly on his head, and reaching around, showed him the packet musingly.

"Do you know anything about swords, Adorable Nameless Boy?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aetheric Essence
235

Active Spells:
None

Spooky Mittens

Glory Sieg

[Spooky Mittens]

And everything is suddenly made clear~
Ogelsby was at his breaking point as Elianna pressed her chest into him and Gloria pressing her chest against his bare legs. On the side of her chest where the latex dress didn't seem to cover most, Gloria might note that Ogelsby's legs either never had any hair on them to begin with, or that he waxed quite regularly. The truth of the matter was the latter of course, and even if he didn't his body hair would be the most awkward shade of bright neon orange like the rest of his hair.

Still though, his heart-rate was going through the roof right now, since he had really never had any kind of contact like this with women before today. He felt like his head was about to catch on fire from how brightly red he was turning, and it all seemed to reach it's apex as Gloria's arm reached down between his legs. Just the thought was enough, and suddenly Ogelsby's nose is bleeding like a fountain. He quickly tipped his head up and plugged his nostrils with a pinch, but the damage had already been done to at least his own clothes. He couldn't be too sure about Elianna's or Glorias, though assuming latex she would be just fine. He took the paper with his free hand of course, and his embarrassment only grew.

"Umbumbumbumb, I'mb uh~ I'mb so sorry"

He stammered out, his speech coming out funny because of his plugged up nose. His M's turning into some kind of weird M and B hybrid. His nosebleed shouldn't last all THAT long should it? In any case, the girls sat back up and looked at their papers. Ogelsby would flip his open by just jiggling his hand around while gripping a corner of the page. There he would see the current brackets. Torhild Lynrask. He thought to himself, inspecting the location next. Ice Chasm? What? He almost didn't catch the questions that came about afterwards. Gloria asking who they were fighting, Elianna questioning if Ogelsby knew anything about swords. He knew enough, he considered himself rather good, and he had once had aspirations to compete but had been disqualified from any competition due to his genetic modifications and origins. That struck a bit of a nerve to think about, in fact, and Ogelsby now felt like he had something to prove.

He decided to answer Gloria first.

"I'mb fighdingh (fighting) sombembody (somebody) I've never heard of."

Ogelsby would answer as he showed Gloria his sheet and pointed to his name and his opponent. At this point, his name would be revealed, just in time for Elianna to ask her question. So Ogelsby replied to the part about him being the Adorable Nameless Boy first. Now, Ogelsby was getting used to his nose being plugged and was taking extra effort to enunciate properly.

"Actually, I'mb quite knowledgeable about swords. What did you need to know?

My name's Ogelsby, by the way."

This was his chance to make an impression of course. Maybe he could make these women remember him for more than just his boyish good looks? Like maybe his tiny erection. . .

Scalar Warfare

Glory Sieg

[SIash Ex]

[!]The Arcusan[!]
One…
[]~O~[]

Realization would dawn on him, and clearly reflect in his emerald eyes; both orbs going wide in obvious shock.

Information passed so quickly from one mind, to the next...Slash knew the whole story as if he had lived it, but through the feelings of another. The unwanted ravages of a man in crimson armor, and the loss of a child she had never wanted.

Her body, again, taken from her control by a being beyond definition.

The Wanderer was as powerless as she had been, and felt her every...angry..ache as if they were his own. His skin crawled; jaw-clenching as the swordsman ground his teeth against one another. The words barely escaped his throat, so he stepped closer...forced to whisper under the loss of his own faculties.

"I am so, very, sorry Kelozi...Had I known...Had I even suspected..."

Some evils, it would seem, were universal.

Red the Ambivalent

[Red the Ambivalent]

New life.....⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘⋘

яє∂

| | Location: | |

|Outside of the Mansion|

The reflection in his eyes, the understanding he so suddenly was overcome with, it made her heart ache. Red hadn't planned on sharing such an intense memory with him so soon, didn't want him to feel the hole in her heart that was ever present. The situation with Hartia though brought everything to the surface, his hidden ambitions that were not so hidden to her re-kindling the memory she had fought so hard to repress the past months. Luckily for her though any interaction with the man that had brought her so much pain was either nonexistant or had been different, calm.

Red hadn't planned on facing him, but in the line of work they were both tied to within the UWP it wasn't easy to dodge such an encounter.

Either way, when Slash took a step forward and whispered his own apology to her she couldn't help but put a ghost of a smile on her lips and close her eyes for a moment. Shaking her head lightly in response, crimson orbs reopened with a different look. Her own sorrow reflecting, a sorrow plagued with self-guilt about the whole situation.

"No, don't feel sorry for me. We didn't know each other back then."

Pausing, Red lifted a sender hand to gingerly touch his cheek with her finger tips.

"This isn't your burden, I am sorry for acting so rash and forcing an imprint on you."

Her hand dropped to it's respectful side, the woman turning to see Zeonis off to the side slumped against a tree.

"The situation had been my fault as much as his. I made a mistake by putting trust in him, to agree to have a few drinks after our duel in the seclusion of a hotel room."

She trailed off, eyes softening as she walked towards the boy. Kneeling down next to him she placed her index and pointer fingers on his temple. She was no healer, but just to be sure he wasn't too mentally exhausted Red threw a mild probe to the forefront of his mind.

'The past is the past, it's taken me months now to get to a comfortable spot with myself. Being able to know that I can trust you...It's a huge step.'

Zeonis was only lightly sleeping, Red wouldn't be surprised if he woke up jut from her proximity. Sighing, she turned halfway towards Slash.

"He needs a healer, he seems to have gotten hit with some rock when that dragon landed."

She stood, turning fully back to Slash. It was an interesting moment, waiting to see how he would react to her words about the past.

Arrows [15/15]
Seismic Sense [Active]
Air Manipulation [Not Active]
Ability points/Stamina [100/100]

Slash Zinrai

Zeonis Mieriba

⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙New beginning.....

[Zeonis Mieriba]

Zeonis lazily opened an eye and flicked a rock at Red, letting them both know even though he was weakened, he was still conscious. Poking his tongue at his mentor he groaned and adjusted himself against the tree. He felt the probe go forth into his mind and sighed. Zeonis didn't like Red poking around in there, not after the first time. But for now he had no choice but to let her have her way.
"No...no healer. I'm fine....just need to sleep it off....the wound will close itself...some disinfectant might help...and maybe some food."

Digging the weapon into the floor, the young prince rose to his feet with a mighty groan. The few brief moments he had to rest gave him back a tiny portion of his strength. His eyes slowly turned blue, only to fade back to their golden color seconds later. For now the both of their auras were strong and healthy. Another burden off of his mind. Zeonis turned away from the both of them and began limping back to the mansion, dragging his massive blade behind him. "I'll go home and get some sleep...I'm sorry for getting in your away again."

Red the Ambivalent

Slash Zinrai

[Buxom Bandit]

Not Roen

Rou's eyes flickered to each wary uncertainty: frost that clipped at his feet and slicked the floor, chaotic volts of electric energy twisting around his arm, the fearsome blade that came from the ribbon she used to find so charming. Even within the short hours of training by sword, he'd neglected to use the World Splitter against her. The Buxom Bandit had seen it often in his company, but nothing felt similar to the dread of having it pointed at her. She masked her worry with solemnity, but could not meet the Devil's darkened red eyes, refusing to. Rou had endured his violence before, but it was incomparable to the way that was coming.

Her focus was clouded, bombarded by ego, rage, regret... fear. Had she chosen to opt for the sword, already Rou would likely be ferried over his shoulder with bruised, broken hands, dragged back to the gothic city of Patia beaten and humiliated. Favorably for her, she'd chosen range, and a few more moments' chance to spare her tiny, calloused hands.

But the shift in reality jolted her human psyche abruptly, taking time to adjust. Her eyelashes fluttered with rapid blinks, her breathing halted in shock as she saw the competition gathered around a table, space shared to meet with their host. Her own energy had disconnected with her whip, flames without life and the metal of the chains beginning to cool as they hung from her wrist. She recognized few, save for the Devil across from her. Rou's golden irises followed intently as he disengaged Hræðilegr, and partook in a sourly reluctant calm. With assurance that it was no longer needed, Rou withdrew a key from her vest pocket, unhooked her shackle, and returned it to it's proper storage. There was no need for weapons at this table.

Roen hardly needed weapons. Those eyes, those sunken red eyes of his, she felt them nearly burning holes into her skin. Why did he watch her so? Was it his wish to maim her, to teach her the lesson he threatened? Or was it that he was simply wished to crush her defiance? Neither theory quartered Rou any less discomfort under the Devil's scrutiny. The bandit snorted disgruntledly, turning up her nose to Roen's scathing glances, tossing her hair with the whip of her head to watch the Demiurge.

It wasn't long, however, before the host's speech became interrupted by errant clamor, juvenile ego that quickly wore through her already-thin patience. She wasn't here for their pride -- she was here for hers. With eyes cast to the Demiurge and hands placed upon her lap, Rou itched for a way to get even with the Devil, if only to call them square for his repressive demands. And there was one thing that made him squirm even more than injury to himself...

With hands hidden conspicuously beneath the table, Rou plied her middle finger to her thumb, flicking her finger gently. Fire came for her as she beckoned it, enough to light a spark that flew under the table to the bottom of Roen's jacket, embers slowly beginning to burn ash marks in the red leather, soon to be a hole as it fed, and grew. With any luck, it would start smoking in near a minute.

With a heavy sigh, Rou closed her eyes and pushed against the table, turned blasé at the turn of events. "I have better things to do than to listen to this foolishness," she grumbled, sliding out from her seat. The Buxom Bandit was swift on her feet, not sure of where she was going, turning around corners with little care other than just to get away. It was likely the Devil found her little surprise by now.