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Snippet #2304132

located in Ikebukuro, a part of Legends Blade, one of the many universes on RPG.

Ikebukuro

Ikebukuro is a place that has always been captured by gang violence, so much so that it is viewed as a normal part of day to day life here. Each gang having its own reputation and aims, making the city a kind of cinema for the civilians.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Amon Character Portrait: Kisa Alessandra
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Thousands of years tended to guarantee that nothing which ever happened to you was a surprise any longer, and Amon had learned to appreciate the monotony of sameness. Of course, perhaps to a human, his days would have seemed to have much variety, indeed; he had travelled the world, met people of all kinds, seen its greatest wonders and simplest joys. He’d been disconnected from it, then as now, though in his youth it had not always been the case. He had used to care once, about people and places and things, but now he merely acted from the same stale duty and obedience he had always known.

When he had first picked up the cello, it was like coming to understand the world anew, to look at it through different eyes. Her eyes, more properly, for it had been she that taught him this, though a hundred years of practice had given him more precise skill than she could have ever hoped to possess.

”I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” she’d said, seated before him and watching the movements of his hands with wistful eyes. ”It’s like you’re talking with your soul.”

He hadn’t had the hear tot tell her that there was no soul there for him to speak with. Still, even after she was long gone and he’d long run out of reasons to play, he did. Occasionally, passers-by would drop money atop his closed case, but that was not the reason he played. Still, he was not going to stop them; their generosity was better for them than it was for him, in reality.

His thoughts, wandering as they usually did during activities like this one, were brought back to the present by the sound of a voice: feminine, from the timbre. He glanced upwards, not interrupting the motions of his bow, held delicately in his bandaged hand. Though he was no longer surprised by anything, he would have to admit that it was not every day even he saw a lady so heavily-inked, the patterns a mixture of red and black, swirling over her skin like some kind of arcane script. Of course, if it had been, he’d have been able to tell what it said, but the effect was interesting all the same.

About half a word had left her when she turned abruptly and darted away. Amon caught the sight of what appeared to be a small pursuit, but it was not his business to interfere. Death was not allowed to play favorites, nor to assist directly in matters which he had not been ordered to take care of. He sensed, however, that it was not this woman’s time to die, and in doing so, he knew she would be fine.

A soft sound on the pavement caught his attention, and Amon looked down, feeling a slight bump as a metal cylinder collided with his foot, presently clad in a black leather boot. He paid it little mind at first, finishing the piece he was playing to a smattering of applause from those around before he stilled a moment and stooped, picking up the cylinder and examining it. The runes upon the surface indicated that it was food for cats, which was a bit strange. The woman had been carrying quite a lot of these. She probably wouldn’t miss one, but it seemed untoward to simply carry on with his day and ignore the fact.

Shrugging, Amon broke with his schedule for once and placed his cello back in the case with its bow and the several other items he kept in there, and slung the entire thing over his back, taking up the tin in one hand.

It was not difficult to track the woman’s progress, really, and the trail of unconscious bodies just made things incredibly simple. Amon hopped a fence or two, quite certain he was not currently being observed, and arrived at what seemed an abandoned warehouse shortly after. Tilting his head to one side, he caused a few errant strands of shimmering black to fall over his shoulder though he paid it no mind. He was unsure of the etiquette in situations such as this one; he did not want to get shot and then have to explain why the wound healed and he wasn’t dead.

Still, the direct approach was probably best, and he entered the building, unknowingly through the very same entrance the woman had used, which meant that he had to stoop considerably before straightening back up to his full height. How he managed to get his case through was perhaps more magic than engineering, but it made no sound, anyway. A short distance from his location, he heard the telltale signs of several cats, and the mystery of why she’d been carrying so much of the food was solved.

Amon approached from behind, allowing his feet to scuff slightly on the floor to alert her to the presence of someone else. Once he had her attention, he produced the remaining tin, rolling it across the floor to her. ”I believe you forgot something,” he said simply, then turned to leave.