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Snippet #2758156

located in New Death City, a part of Wonderlust, one of the many universes on RPG.

New Death City

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyrille Dior Character Portrait: Ash McDonnel
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Footnotes

  1. Collabo between Phantom and MaxwellH

    2018-07-08 18:18:10 by phantasms
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And then they lived happily ever after,
The end. :D


Lord Death always said that ending the reports like that devalues the serious nature of these missions, but this was one of those times that such a quaint ending was well-warranted. Maybe the emoticon was a bit much, but he did that to every essay, paper, and report he typed. Great thieves and superheroes had a calling card or signature, where does it say that Cyrille couldn’t follow this practice?

Cyrille smiled, revealing his ghastly canines, tapping the points to make sure they were still there. He always treated these reports as a joke, but now was a better time than any. Reports of a dynamic duo, a giant and a human-sized lizard. Supposed villains that just turned out to be delusional misfits. Why didn’t anyone say that they haven’t left their spot for weeks and that their shenanigans have not caused any casualties? Only thing told was, 2 individuals and trouble. Association fallacy is a bitch, ain’t it?

Cyrille pushed back, forgetting that the chair he was sitting on only had stubs where the wheels should’ve been, soaring backward with the grace of a swan with clipped wings and hitting his head on the wall. After laying there in this dejected state, he called for his partner who was so helpful that she has been playing on her phone all morning.

“Stop rotting your brain with that JPEG collection simulator and get me the milk carton from the fridge.”

Having spared a glance at the crashing sound, Ash was certainly impressed with her partner. Laying on the floor with a bruised noggin calling out for aid. Ah, it truly felt good to be considered as some of the most talented students when this was their daily life. With an audible groan, the girl pulled herself up from laying on the couch.

“I have to keep working on rotting my brain so we match more, I’m hard at work here.” Scratching the back of her head and yawning loudly, she certainly was in no rush. If he was asking for milk instead of first aid then he wasn’t gonna die. Probably. Actually thinking about it for a moment she really had no clue.

Ash pushed the sleep button and tossed the phone on the couch behind her. Lumbering toward the kitchen, then returning momentarily. Handing the carton to the fearless leader while yawning yet again. Looking toward the computer screen she noticed he had finished that annoying report they always have to do.

“So disappointed you didn’t get a real fight that you’re taking it out on the wall now? C’mon they lasted an entire two swings before they realized we were trying to kill them.”

Cyrille promptly got up, rolling to the side and rising from the ground, snatching the milk carton from his partner’s clutches. “You want a go? My rotting brain didn’t have too great of an effect on it.”

She was right in that aspect though. Cyrille did desire something worthwhile from their trip, or at least, some souls for Ash to eat. It seemed she was eager to cut them down despite their white flags. He was barely able to pull her back, Cyrille had to snatch her out of the air as she floated beside him, forcefully paused midway in her severing motion. After conversing until the sun came down, they realized that the two were biding their time roleplaying or LARPing to be more precise. The over-sized lizard was the gallant and brave knight Percival while the giant was the dastardly dragon Noryt Eolreideoss Rerdon Deophierrarth of the 2nd coming. They seemed rather enthusiastic, explaining in meticulous detail their backstories and the lore they created. The salamander even requested for Cyrille to teach him swordsmanship skills, and asked how he was able to get it to levitate like that. After refuting Ash’s requests to kill them multiple times, Percival and N.E.R.D II went off into the dawn. Most likely to find someplace else to resume their harmless revelry.

“You wanna proofread? Maybe got something interesting to add? Like how you almost killed both of them..after we established they weren’t hostile.”

While Cyrille went on she returned to the couch. Falling forward with an audible plomp from the cushions. With her face buried in a throw pillow, she took a brief moment to collect her thoughts. Then turning her head toward the redhead as he dusted himself off.

“I’m a weapon, I’m made to swing. Maybe you should get a stronger grip. Ever think about how lame it is that a meister lets his weapon swing itself?” Although from what Ash knew about the rest of E.A.T. that pair of girls probably had a similar thing going on. She picked her phone back up and held it to her face, reopening her game. “And after listening to them drivel on into the evening I wanted to kill them more than when I thought they were monsters. You wouldn’t even let me go to sleep Cy. Even I get bored and hungry.”

Ash truly hoped that if she just ignored that he had asked her to proofread and write that essay he would forget. Boy did she not want to do that.

After her obvious disinterest, Cyrille sighed audibly before hitting the send button. Biting the cap off the poor carton and chugging straight from it. “If you weren’t such a good puppet, I’d take a more direct approach.” Drinking to his own backhanded compliment, he shook the empty container and tossed it into the bin.

Cyrille walked over to watch her play her game, leaning on the back of the couch. “You don’t need to tell me, you’ve made me well aware that you have needs...besides..” He bent over and fiercely ruffled Ash’s hair. As a relatively short male, it was beneficial to his self-esteem that he poked fun at people who were smaller in stature. “You can’t sleep and leave your loving, caring, handsome meister to the mercy of the elements, right?” He ceased his deed before walking to the coat-rack and donning his jacket.

“We’re going out, Ash. Try to wear your clothes properly this time.” He scoffed at her as he waited by the door.

While it was almost indistinguishable from her regular expression, Ash was more dead inside than usual. That hair ruffling made her press the wrong button and ruined that turn she set-up. That self-centered brat had no idea his actions could have consequences. His lack of gaming awareness made tearing into him more pointless than planting fruit in sand.

Ash rolled off the couch, landing on all fours then throwing herself up-right. Her unbrushed, now ruffled hair flew through the air then slowly settled. Heeding Cy’s request, she looked down to analyze her clothes. Pull that sleeve over her shoulder, pull her shorts fully up and pat the wrinkles out. Her hair was still a mess but he didn’t ask her to fix that.

“If I have to wear my clothes right you have to not bite your thumb while we’re out.” Hopping to the entrance, she pulled her green jacket down. Staring Cyrille down as she very deliberately slipped it around both arms, and pulled the front down to ensure it was a good fit. “So where we heading boss?”

Opening the door for him, she waited for him to walk out. After he made his way past, Ash darted back in for a moment. Grabbing her red ‘scarf’ then quickly following after.

Cyrille cleared his throat, in the process of bringing his thumb to his teeth as he waited before stopping himself because of her earlier comment. “First..breakfast..then..-” The fuzz of the speaker answered his question for him. Requesting a group of students that happened to include both of their names. “..Well..I suppose breakfast will have to take a backseat..” Cyrille stomped off, a bit heated at having to wait for his precious mealtime.

He led the pair through the halls, looking back to make sure that Ash could navigate through the crowds of students while looking at her phone. Stopping at Death’s door, he acknowledged the pair that beat them to the room.

“Cleo..Gorilla..how are you ladies doing this fine morning?” He propped himself on the wall in a lackadaisical manner. He always was one to set sparks off as quickly as he could.