Roslyn Cross's Story

Roslyn faced her roommate Vincent Ferin, in a fighting stance that had been familiar to her since she was a child. She had practiced it many times with her father, and then with her guardian Bruce, during her sparring. And now she was practicing with yet another partner.
She had just found out earlier this week, that she carried the meister blood of her father. And was surprised when Bruce took her too see Lord Death, just a few weeks after she had arrived to Death Weapon Meister Academy. Honestly, she was not impressed, when she first heard that Vincent was her designated weapon. She had always expected her weapon to be a strong, tough looking man, but this boy looked like he was more fit to play in an orchestra or run a business than fight.
Nonetheless, Vincent, needing a place to stay and now her new partner, moved in with her, and they had begun training together, that is when she didn't want to throw him out the nearest window. And so far, she was not impressed, though, they had yet to practice as meister and weapon.
They had pushed the furniture of the living room off to the side to give them more room to practice. The duo slowly walked circles around one another, like one would do before a fight, to size each other up. With a smirk Roslyn stopped in her tracks, looked Vincent straight in those eerily beautiful gray, or where they blue, eyes, and said, in the most mocking tone she could muster, "Come and get me Vinny."

As the name-calling had begun, Vincent himself could barely refrain from holding in a sigh of annoyance. 'Vinny' was the nickname placed on him the moment he had been formally introduced as her official "Weapon". Nearly forgetting his manners at that very moment in the Death Room as Lord Death proclaimed it to be so..this..rough-looking girl was to be his meister. Still he was practically useless without his Weapon bloodline, so swallowing his pride he found himself moving in with his new partner. His grey eyes blinked slowly for a second as a cat would surveying its prey before taking a few steps forward toward his sparring partner. A faint smirk on his face as he stopped about a foot away, his chest nearly brushing against his shorter partner's fists..a dangerous move indeed. Yet, he did not plan on getting another black eye from those aggressive jabs on hers.


Running hand through his shaggy hair in an almost relaxed manner he said softly "Well, then Roslyn how will this little season end? LIke the others, you loosing your temper and giving me a black eye. Or will you finally be pushed too far and throw me out the window as I fondly hearing you threaten me with daily. Our personalities and backgrounds couldn't be anymore different, yet still your friend Bruce and Lord Death seem to see past that and assume we will be compatible partners.". His smirk widened like a cat about to snare a canary before whispering "So try not to loose your temper again now?". With that being said he quickly swept his right leg toward her postured stance hoping to sweep her onto the floor. While he did not have the actual advantage of formal training with combat, that did not mean he was not blessed in the dirtier ways of fighting. His favorite style of combat would of been throwing barbs at his opponent, resulting in temper flaring and unbalanced stances...this would be his first time trying this tact on his new partner. ~Just as long as she doesn't throw me out of the window..~ he thought worriedly. If they could never spar as eqauls, he did not see it how they ever be able to connect their souls as Miester and Weapon.

Roslyn sneered, she hated it when people fought dirty in sparring matches, though as far as street fighting was concerned, dirty moves were fair game. But she was not about to tolerate that in her own apartment, especially not from him.
Reacting with reflexes she wished she had when she was walking, Roslyn did an aerial(OOC, it's basically a cartewheel without using your hands, it is mainly preformed in dance, but I thought it was applicable XD) over his leg, narrowly avoiding getting hit in the head by his foot.
Regaining her balance as her feet landed on solid ground once more, Roslyn used the momentum to do a complete 360 on her heel, using the force to give her round house kick more power. But just before she was about to hit him, her foot stopped just millimeters away from his face. Her violet eyes staring fiercely into his gray ones.
At that moment, she began to wonder if Lord Death had really made the right decision pairing them together as weapon and meister.

Vincent's eyes widened as he prepared himself for the blow, his eyes connecting with hers for a moment. The intensity of her stare him feel slightly remorseful for...below-the belt move. Yet as her foot halted inches away from his face, he let out a quiet sigh and muttered under his breath "Well, at least I won't get a black eye this time..maybe only a bruised cheekbone from your foot." Slowly raising his hand to nudge the smelly weapon away from his face, directing it away from him with a gloved finger with an almost nervous manner. Physical contact with others was something he still had trouble with..the reason behind it was due to his Weapon blood and the nature of his form.

Fragile as he seemed his actual condition may of been more mental than physical. Every single touch from another person's bare skin on his own intensified the feeling of touch like a vibration would spread from the pluck of finger on a violin. Thus, it was his natural instinct to flinch away from a bare touch, wearing clothes lessened the sensation thankfully. It seems that the two were finally starting to understand one another...trusting one another would be key now. With a faint smile on his face he said "Trust fall", and shifted into his Weapon form. The violin itself was a dark oak with a strange shine to it like that of armor, that was the protective casing of the violin it, but increased its weight dramatically. Nearly impossible for the average man to pick up, none the less a fifteen year old girl as the souls of both meister and Weapon should make the Weapon feel as light as a feather. ~I swear if she drops me on this filthy floor...I may end up bruised or worse..cause a hole in the floor. The bow of the violin glinted brightly in the sunlight as Vincent's face reflected in the sharp string "Please be careful with me, I am a bit fragile as you should know". What he actually meant was I will strangle you in your sleep if you drop me...slowly, yet his manners prevented such violent words. That would be one benefit to the partnership, the bow itself was strong like that of a metal blade, and could be used an offensive weapon in the right hands. Now only time would tell, as Vincent chuckled nervously as he glanced down at the approaching floor.

Roslyn fumbled as she tried to catch Vincent, who had suddenly turned into his weapon form. She had to dive in order to prevent him from hitting the hard wood floor, and, while as entertaining as it would have been to see his face if she had let that happen,she wasn't that mean. Though at the moment, the only reward she had for her effort was and injury her chin in the process.
"Oh perfect, another bruise is exactly what I need," she thought.
She lifted Vincent up, the bow/sword in one hand, and the elegant black violin in the other. As much as Vincent could get on her nerves, he sure transformed into a beautiful weapon. She lifted the violin with ease, as if the weight was nothing at all.
The violin was larger than most she'd seen, though not by much.
Waving the bow around dramatically, she began to swing at an invisible enemy, acting as if the instrument was like any other weapon she had trained so diligently to use.
But, somehow, this time, it felt different. The way the bow swung, the way clung to the strings of the violin as if it were the leather handle of a shield. Everything felt so... familiar. Though this was the first time he had transformed into a weapon. She felt as if there was some kind of connection between the two of them, as if they had been friends their entire lives, and yet new and exciting, like meeting someone for the first time.
A genuine smile of joy dance across her lips as she gleefully continued to practice with the bow sword, that was her new friend Vincent.

A true smile appeared on Vincent's face as he felt the elation from his meister practically echo throughout his soul as the bow. The room would of have been spinning as he felt himself be flourished dramatically around the room. Yet, none of that seemed to matter as he felt his soul dance around that of his meister. As the emotions filled his own, as he felt the connection of their souls mingle once again. Now it would come to the true test, would she be able to play his strings. Shaking his head in annoyance at his self-doubt he quickly spoke up

"Please try and play me. I know I am not the best with words. Yet as your Weapon I feel I should be honest with what I feel my duties are to you" Vincent said softly, his grey eyes looking solemn as he stared at Roslyn.

Slowly he could his strings tighten as he began to flood his own emotions into them. Memories of his past, filled with regret, anger and sorrow. His current feelings of joy and wanting to protect the girl who now would play his songs. Perhaps this would be a new way of communication for them, when words alone could not express without anger. A trickle of fear slipped in as well, what could happen if others tried to break their bond. His own personality could cause difficulties as well, so many obstacles would have to be overcome. Would this be the start of a true friendship? Or would it end in sorrow?







((OCC http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNrs3K9j5_A song I had in mind))

Play him? The sentence had taken Roslyn by surprise. Sure she sang and played the piano, but she didn't know the first thing about playing the violin. But something inside her told her to trust him, to just play the tune, that, somehow, she would know what to do. Tentatively raising the bow to the strings, she began to play. The bow slid elegantly along the strings as her fingers went, almost reflexively, to the notes needed to make such a beautiful melody. Through the song she could feel joy and his want to protect her from whatever may come, filled her heart with a sense of fulfillment and true joy that had long since been absent from it.
But there was something more to it, though the song was beautiful, there was an underlying tone that seemed to poke through. An aura of regret, anger, and sorrow, hovered in the room as if like a dark aura. Roslyn could feel all these feelings eminating from the soul of her partner. All the feelings of his co mingled with her own, swirling into an overwhelming mixture in her soul.
She felt the regret, anger, and sorrow, shine through. Tears brimmed in her eyes, not for herself, but for Vincent. No one deserved to have this kind of pain within their soul. She had experienced all of this at the loss of her parents, she would never have wished that pain on anyone, not even the snooty rich girls she had seen around town, the ones who viewed themselves as if they owned the world and anything and everything could be theirs with a simple phone call to their Daddies.
But this, this was raw emotion. Something, no amount of money or social standing could ever fix. This was the pain that was a blackened scar on the soul, one that had molded Vincent into the sadistic human being he was today. This was the kind of pain that had corrupted an otherwise kind and loyal soul. This was the pain that needed time and someone who would be there for you through thick and thin.
Roslyn closed her eyes allowing for the music to crescendo, the feeling of hot tears as they slid down her face accompanied it. She didn't want Vincent to be in this kind of pain, the kind of pain she was in, and still was.
And then the music ended. For a moment, Roslyn just stared down at the bow and the violin in her hands. But, as her heart broke for the pained weapon, no, pained friend, in front of her, all she could think of doing was hugging the bow and violin to her chest as she began to sob.
Not for her own rediscovered pain, but for Vincent's.

Play him? The sentence had taken Roslyn by surprise. Sure she sang and played the piano, but she didn't know the first thing about playing the violin. But something inside her told her to trust him, to just play the tune, that, somehow, she would know what to do. Tentatively raising the bow to the strings, she began to play. The bow slid elegantly along the strings as her fingers went, almost reflexively, to the notes needed to make such a beautiful melody. Through the song she could feel joy and his want to protect her from whatever may come, filled her heart with a sense of fulfillment and true joy that had long since been absent from it.
But there was something more to it, though the song was beautiful, there was an underlying tone that seemed to poke through. An aura of regret, anger, and sorrow, hovered in the room as if like a dark aura. Roslyn could feel all these feelings eminating from the soul of her partner. All the feelings of his co mingled with her own, swirling into an overwhelming mixture in her soul.
She felt the regret, anger, and sorrow, shine through. Tears brimmed in her eyes, not for herself, but for Vincent. No one deserved to have this kind of pain within their soul. She had experienced all of this at the loss of her parents, she would never have wished that pain on anyone, not even the snooty rich girls she had seen around town, the ones who viewed themselves as if they owned the world and anything and everything could be theirs with a simple phone call to their Daddies.
But this, this was raw emotion. Something, no amount of money or social standing could ever fix. This was the pain that was a blackened scar on the soul, one that had molded Vincent into the sadistic human being he was today. This was the kind of pain that had corrupted an otherwise kind and loyal soul. This was the pain that needed time and someone who would be there for you through thick and thin.
Roslyn closed her eyes allowing for the music to crescendo, the feeling of hot tears as they slid down her face accompanied it. She didn't want Vincent to be in this kind of pain, the kind of pain she was in, and still was.
And then the music ended. For a moment, Roslyn just stared down at the bow and the violin in her hands. But, as her heart broke for the pained weapon, no, pained friend, in front of her, all she could think of doing was hugging the bow and violin to her chest as she began to sob.
Not for her own rediscovered pain, but for Vincent's.

Pity..wasn't something Vincent used to experiencing, much less being pitied by a girl with no blood ties to him. As warm tear drops dripped down the bow and violin, the heat warming Vincent's cold soul ever so slightly. It was an odd thing to be affected by someone he once had little interest in. Was this the legendary bond between Meister and Weapon, something that not even Lord Death would be able to reap? His soul danced along the notes of the melody as the last faint note came from the strings...still the teardrops were coming.

With a sigh, Vincent shifted back into his human form and found his chest currently being strangled...ahem hugged very tightly by his weeping..emotional..female..apparently not murderous, affectionate partner. His silk white shirt was getting soaked with salt water tears..nearly tempted to shove the clinging girl away from him just for that offense, not to mention he could feel the heat from her body against his sending goosebumps across his skin. It was an odd feeling being given a simple hug and not making him cringe away from the actual coldness behind it, this was..well a nice feeling. I hope she doesn't plan on making me her favorite tissue now.. Vincent thought with slight worry as he attempted to think of way to console the girl.


Women were always finicky, nosy, and rude creatures at least his Vincent's upbringing, his obligation to play the role of a dutiful heir made him suffer through many a gala and heavily perfumed buxom lying beauties just smiling through their false eyes. It was pathetic enough that he found great enjoyment in tearing down their insecurities, leaving them a weeping mess by the end of the night. Still this girl seemed to betray none of her emotions, at least not signs of weakness, maybe music was the key to unlocking her dainty side? Gently touching the top of her head with his gloved hand he said with exasperation in his voice "Please stop crying, I hate seeing you cry when I am not responsible for it..are you trying to ruin my favorite shirt now Rose?". With hesitance he began gently stroking her hair in an effort to at least try and calm her down..hopefully this tactic would work....

At the touch of Vincent's hand softly stroking her hair, and the sound of her long forgotten nickname Rose, one which she hadn't heard since her father had died, Roslyn lifted her head so that her still tear soaked eyes were level with his. She hadn't expected this kind of kindness from him, especially considering she was breaking his "no touchy" rule.
The sobs had dwindled down to breathy whimpers, she had let go of Vincent but had not moved from her position in front of him. Glancing down at his shirt, she now noticed what he was talking about. Her tears had caused a medium sized, dark ring in the center of his chest. With her palms, Roslyn began to wipe away the last, stubborn tears that still remained.
Glancing down at his shirt, she now understood what he meant. A medium sized dark ring had formed on his silk shirt from her tears.
"Sorry," she laughed slightly.
Walking into the kitchen, she got a paper towel for Vincent, hoping he could use it to resolve the spot quicker. Handing it to him, she resumed her position in front of him.
Silence filled the air once more, until Roslyn drew a single, shaky breath. "I know what it's like to be hurt. I may not know what has caused it, but I know the feelings I felt during the song were from your soul."
She stared into his eyes for to gauge his reaction before she continued.
"I know what it means to have anger, and sorrow, and regret all coincide in your soul. You let them all build inside of you, the questions and accusations spurred by these emotions all go unanswered or slowly begin to consume you from the inside out. All the while you hide your pain beneath a smile or a sarcastic comment. You throw yourself into whatever you're doing at the time, praying that that will solve the feelings, but they just won't stop. I know, trust me I know probably better than most what it feels like. But just tell me this one thing...." Roslyn paused as she felt a new wave of tears brimming in her violet eyes.
"What kind of monster or monstrous event happened to make you feel something so horrendous," Her voice quivered noticeably, though whether it was from the tears or the overwhelming anger that had begun to boil within her, not even Roslyn herself could know for certain.

As her sobs quieted much to Vincent's relief as he saw the ring of water stop increasing in size. Eyeing her wearily as he watched her dry the remaining tears from her face and disappear into the kitchen for a moment, returning with a paper towel in hand, gratefully accepting it from her as he began dabbing the dampness away from his shirt. A faint smile appeared on his face as he heard her mumbled apology from before "You are washing this after our little chat, you know that right...". His tone was teasing and a bit demanding at the same time as he struggled to get the chill of the damp water out his skin. Slightly leaning backwards as he found himself in her proximity as his..thoughtful Meister resumed her former position..thankfully not touching him this time.


As the awkward silence filled the air, both struggling to explain what happened a few moments ago. A silent sigh came from Vincent as she attempted to explain the incident, it was true that the song did come from a mingling his feelings that he normally would choose not to express. Blinking his eyes slowly as she finally asked the question he had hoped to avoid..what exactly made him the way he was and to talk about his feeling. With a small chuckle Vincent ran a hand through his hair before stating "My feelings are so conflicted due to my human nature as well as my Weapon blood. I have always been a sullen and bored child, even more so when my parents began realizing my talent. I doubt you have picked it up yet but there is reason for me to always be covered, many things I cannot even touch with my bare hands due to the sensation being so intense. So imagine living that type of childhood not able to feel the grass, toys, or even my own mother's bare skin without picking up an emotion. For example, when I was about five, I was observing my nanny make some type of baked treats and accidentally touched a warm tray..what may of been a minor burn for someone, but for myself it felt like a third-degree burn."

Cocking his head to the side in an almost curious way he stared back at the watery violet eyes that were threatening to break free once more.."So, I found another way to amuse myself, through manipulation of others emotions just with words. I cannot tell you the havoc I caused for the staff in my household. Yet, as I grew older I began becoming more withdrawn and..harsher you could say as I realized my duties to my family. To be the charming son to a well-off family, to play the game of nobles chess with stuffed shirts and whores..I found it even more entertaining ripping the socialites dreams of fame,wealth and love. When my family grew tired of my games, myself no longer willing their little pawn, left the game. Realize this, I was raised and protected with wealth all my life, I truly had no idea the struggle..normal people go through."

With the ease of a sunbathing feline he stretched his arms and stood up in front of Rosyln "You could say I have always been a sadistic bastard, my upbringing and blood just made it worse. I don't plan on being your white knight in shining armor ready to befriend every single stray you meet. That does not mean I won't do my duty as a Weapon though..besides if I ever try to find a new partner..I think you truly would throw me out that window". A small smirk appeared on his face as he thought of her finally accomplishing that goal..it would be a feat indeed.

With each word that Vincent spoke, Roslyn's heart seemed to break a little more, though her tears had finally seemed to dry. When he got to the part about not being able to touch his mother's skin, Roslyn visible cringed a little. At night, it seemed as though the warm heat from her mother's arms around her was still present, though she was the only one in the room. Roslyn closed her eyes a little, the smell of her mother's favorite perfume, lavender and honey, drifted up to her nose. But none the less, she sat in her tiny spot in front of him, soaking up every word he was saying.
It was a big step for him to do something like this, at least in the time that the duo had known one another, but then again, they were meister and weapon, they put their souls on display every time they fought together. Feelings that they would normally not share with others, would be blatantly obvious to either meister or weapon. Especially so when they would eventually preform the technique soul resonance. Or was this their first few steps into becoming true friends.
She watched the young man stand up, amazed not only at how small she felt still sitting on the floor, but also at the grace and ease that seemed to be behind all of his movements, if only she could say the same about his fighting. She listened as the speech ended with a smirk, something she had come to expect of the rich boy.
Taking a moment to let the words soak in to her mind, before she began to speak. With a quick exhale, she herself stood up so that she was once again eye to eye, kind of, with Vincent. Her only regret is that she wished she had done the move like Vincent had, she swayed a little, flailing her arms out on either side, in an attempt to balance her teetering body. She gave a sigh of relief as she was safely balanced and had not ended up on the floor.
"I don't expect you to be anything other than your sadistic self. And in case you haven't noticed, I don't exactly need anyone to take care of me, I'm a tough girl, I have been ever since I was little. But also understand, that I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You say that you're this horribly sadistic man, and while that can be undeniable true, I don't think that's the only part to you. I didn't just feel bad emanating from you, I felt good, happy feelings as well. You were happy, and you wanted to protect me, and I thank you for that. That song made me smile, as much as it made me cry. In my mind, you're nothing but one big cat onion. You have many layers to you, not all good, but not all bad, and that what makes you a flawed human. Just like every other being living on this planet at this exact moment. I just hope you know, that if you ever need help you can come to me, I hate it when my friends feel sad," with a dimple smile, Roslyn brushed past Vincent and began to make her way to her room.
Stopping she turned towards him. "But you are right about one thing. If you ever did try to find a new partner, I think I really would throw you out the window."
Smiling, Roslyn casually slipped into her room, grabbed her favorite murder mystery book, and flopped on to her soft, purple bed.

Vincent had to refrain himself from laughing at the clumsy antics of Roslyn, she was like a fish out of water when she wasn't focusing on fighting..or yelling at him for that matter. A faint smirk appeared on his as he watched her balance herself out and began listening to her own speech of friendship and her being a big girl and not needing someone to protect her. Cocking his head to the side with amusement as she mentioned him being an 'onion cat?'..he would have to look up that definition later..or just ask her. Yes, he was like every other human being in the world..flawed deeply so.


His eyes followed her with interest as she began walking toward her room, before chuckling quietly at the idea of her threat becoming real. As the sight of the door closing, he merely sat down on the couch leaning his head back against the plush cushions and felt the warmth of the sunlight hit his face. So this is what she meant by being an onion cat? he thought with amusement. His troubles seemed far away as he felt the dampness of his shirt slowly begin to fade away. Yet the stain would remain unless he got it into the washer in time. With a sigh, he left his cozy spot and practically barged into Roslyn's room without a second thought, threw his soiled shirt at her face "You still need to wash that shirt, so can you do it now while you are not...occupied". With that being said he merely went into his room snatched a spare shirt and returned within a minute before curling himself up in one of her blankets with a cheshire smile on his face "So, hop to it...please..". To add insult to injury he gave her a little wave off before settling himself on her cozy blanket, with a content expression on his face. Sadistic bastard indeed, one little heart to heart talk wouldn't spare her from his personal hobbies.

Roslyn felt a vein bulge in her head. What was she, his personal maid. Fumbling she threw the blinding, shirt away from her face, and provided her best death glare at Vincent, now lying on her own blanket, curled up just like the cat onion that she knew he was. Anger boiled withing Roslyn. This was so typical of him. They had, literally, just finished having one of the most heartfelt conversations Roslyn had ever experienced with anyone before, and he had managed to piss her off. She thought that maybe, just maybe, they had connected to one another on a better terms than wanting to kill one another. The thought of the duo even becoming good friends had planted its roots in her mind. But now all she wanted to do was kill him again. "He was probably just playing you like he does everyone else,", a small voice in her head urged, only fanning the flames of her already deafening anger.
"That's it, the cat is going out the window".
In one quick fluid motion, Roslyn wrapped Vincent tightly in the blanket he was sleeping on, so that only his head and neck were visible, and tied it tightly. Taking a second, longer blanket from her bed, she tied it securely to the second on, leaving a majority of the blanket out. Taking the end she dragged Vincent over to her window, pausing only briefly to open it. Cool, fresh air, and the mingle sounds of numerous people and machines below her drifted into her small bedroom.
Tethering the other end of the blanket to the post of her bed, that was near the opened window. She took a deep breath admiring her work.
Taking deep breath, she gave an innocent smile to Vincent, before she flung him across the bed and out the window, so that his head was aimed towards the busy streets below.

What was once a peaceful and happy sleep turned into a rude awakening as Vincent awoke from his cat-nap only to find himself tied up in his once cozy blanket, followed by a various pissed off Roslyn currently dragging his bed across the floor. With weary eyes he observed her continue setting up her murder scene..dear god was she truly going to throw him out the window? As he found himself out the window...thankfully it was open. Yet as the shock began to wear off, Vincent felt the cool air on his cheeks as he found himself out in the mid-air, snug as a bug in a falling rug.


With a panicked movement, he shifted into his weapon form and felt the air rush past him as the ground seemed closer and closer. A resounding thud came from the concrete as the heavy weapon hit the cement..followed by a dazed, and understandably pissed off Vincent. ~Really now was throwing me out when I was sleeping really needed~ He thought angrily as he began his journey back up to the apartment. Five flights of stairs and ten minutes later Vincent managed to open the apartment door, his clothes array and his hair fluffed up like an pissed off cat would look. With heavy footsteps he slammed the bedroom door open again before hissing in a low voice "Was that really necessary? You should understand my humor well enough by now!".

Roslyn stared at Vincent as he stood before her fuming. She hadn't expected Vincent to change into his weapon form, she had planned on just letting him hang there, to show him that she wouldn't take that kind of disrespect, and that when she made a threat, it wasn't all just empty words.
"I may know your sadistic ways, but I don't know your weapon transforming instinct pattern, my bad," she shrugged and went back to reading her book.
She wasn't really worried about him, in his weapon form, there were very few things that could physically harm him, and falling from her apartment window definitely wasn't one of them. She was sick of his attitude, she understood that he had a rough childhood, and that he was naturally a pain in the *butt*, but that was absolutely no excuse for treating her the way that he did.
Closing her book with a sharp bang, she turned towards him. "I apologize for what I did, but, you can't treat me like that."
Roslyn pushed past Vincent and began walking towards the door, grabbing her coat in the process. Pausing for a moment, she rested her hand on the doorknob and glanced back at Vincent. "I'm your meister, not your little play thing that you can order around and toy with it's emotions when you're bored. I was actually kind of hoping you viewed me higher, that you might actually see me as a human being instead of your maid and entertainment."
She paused staring into his gray eyes, searching for some sign that what she had said had some ring of truth to them, but she found nothing.
"But I was obviously wrong. I'm sorry for hanging you out the window," sighing, she turned the doorknob and slipped out of the apartment.

A trickle of guilt began sinking into Vincent's mind as he began to contemplate his actions..which were rather chil-..immature of him. In truth, the fact that Roslyn was putting up with antics was intriguing enough as it was fear-inducing. Nearly cringing at loud sound of frustration as he watched her slam her novel shut and continue to scold him like some type of naughty pet. ~Maybe I shouldn't of touched her bed in the first place..but she did promise to clean my shirt after crying on it...~ he thought trying to justify his...rude actions toward her in the first place. Yet, he felt his guilt grow again as she mentioned her being his keister, not just another toy for him to potentially break. Was their bond from earlier just a passing fancy? Did he really wish to never feel the joy and other emotions that came from being in such an complex relationship, to have someone else protect her in his place.

His contemplation was interrupted by the quiet closing of the apartment door..it sounded much louder than it should have. "Why can't everyone else just be a total bastard like me..it would be so much simpler to live with her like that. But no, I had to get stuck with a woman with a good head on her shoulders and a fist to back it up with." Vincent scowled irritably as the emotion known as guilt continued its prodding with a stick called a conscience. "Damn it!" Vincent snapped as he returned to his room for his own coat, a grey wool one that he was fond of. Its' soft fabric still was scented with a faint lemon, signaling it had been washed a few days before..Roslyn may have not claimed to be his maid, but had made no sign of irritation when he left soiled clothes in a pile. Had she picked it up while doing her own laundry. Perhaps she knew that he was a bit clumsy with household chores..clumsy being useless.. After buttoning the last black button in place, Vincent dashed out the door after his meister, all while trying to find the right words of apology.

After finally reaching the pavement and seeing the familiar coat of his meister he quickly ran ahead of her and spun on his heel facing her with his body, but more importantly his eyes. Rubbing the back of his head in an almost bashful manner he said "I apologize for how I treated you, I know you are a human being like myself. I suppose old habits do die hard. Is there anything I can do to make it up for you? Carry your packages around, hold an umbrella in case it rains? Although I don't suggest it but cook the meals this week... as your partner I should at least..try to share the household chores..". His voice was sincere enough, with a weak grin he said "Or perhaps I can just be your loyal bodyguard and make sure no ruffians attempt to accost my beautiful Meister on her stroll..just for the day of course. Unless you wish to turn me into your little lapdog?". Humor had been injected into his voice as he attempted to recall a charming personality..would it work on his clever friend though?

Roslyn had been surprised when she had seen Vincent rush out of the complex. But she could not keep the surprised look off of her face when he began to apologize, especially so after he offered to do the house hold chores. She had made the mistake of trusting him with a few before, and had decided, that for the safety of Vincent, herself, and every other living being in the apartment building, it was a lot better to just do them herself.
When he said the world beautiful, she had blushed a little, she wasn't accustomed to being complimented on her looks. She loved her Uncle Bruce, he was an excellent trainer and taught her well, but he was about as skilled with raising a teenage girl as Vincent was at cooking. She had long since learned that Bruce and her body image issues were not a good combo. The rule she had ridden out a good portion of her teens was, either don't complain to Bruce, he just gets flustered because he's afraid of saying the wrong thing, or just don't care how you, you're covered in bandages most of the time anyhow.
Roslyn gave a little giggle at the end of his apology. "So you do have a charming side when you want to."
"Thank you for the apology but honestly, the fact that you came after me to do so, is enough for me. I was planning on going to a restaurant a few blocks down, you're more than welcomed to join me, we can grab dinner there," she smiled as she showed the way to her favorite hang out place with the spine of her book.
Suddenly, there was a high pitched scream, and chaos erupted in the crowd behind them.
Roslyn felt her pulse quicken, in anticipation of the battle. Her breath soon matched her heart rate, as the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. There were few things in this world that sent her meister soul into attack mode, and she had a pretty good guess of what this one was.
"A corrupted soul," her gaze shot towards Vincent as the thought entered her mind, her violet eyes intensified by the icy adrenaline in her veins.
This was his call. there were certainly other more experienced meisters and weapons in the vicinity, and this would only be the second time they would fight as meister and weapon. She was ready to fight, that's simply how she had been raised her entire life. The question at hand was, was he ready to take on this fight?

A faint smirk appeared on Vincent's face as he watched his Miester's cheeks flush faintly at his compliment before scoffing "Yes, I was raised to be the pawn of a wealthy family you know. I once was forced to take lessons in order to become a sauce gentleman, easily sweeping young ladies much less talented than you off their feet." His eyes widened with surprise as she swiftly accepted his apology and a content smile grew on his face. ~Well I suppose even partners have their difficult days~ he thought as he felt his soul calm once more as it too felt the cheerful joy of his Miester forgive it as well. The calming atmosphere was split into as the sound of woman screaming ripped through the air.

Goosebumps erupted throughout his sensitive skin as he felt the tension of battle begin to fill the air. With a sigh as he felt the burning gaze of his Miester connect with his own grey eyes. ~This day just got much more difficult, I suppose that meal she promised me will have to wait until later.~ he thought as he gently ruffled Roslyn's hair in an almost affectionate "Now, remember kid just try and keep a calm head in this fight. Try to not tarnish me too much." With that being said he shifted into his Weapon form, and landed in Roslyn's hands. His strings tightened as her adrenaline began colliding with his own cool mindset.


With a grin on his face he declared "Alight now, let's give them something to really dance to their death. Right Rose?". His soul bounced around like a happy cat would chasing after a string, just ready to pounce on their target at any moments notice. Now it would be up to Rosyln to play the final march for this corrupted soul.

A wicked smile spread across Roslyn's face. Excitement raced through her veins as she held on to the bow of her weapon in one shaking hand, as Vincent rested gently on her shoulder, held in place with her chin.

She began to run towards the hideously deformed creature that was rampaging through the chaotic crowd. It was one Roslyn recognized from the take home book that all new students got. Nicknamed H.H.Holmes, he was once a well respected weapon, it had saddened her to see that the protruding, semi fleshy skull that sat between the broken halves of what appeared to have once been his head, was all that remained of a once seeming great man.

"H.H.Holmes," Roslyn shouted, her eyes an icy violet as she stared down the monster. "prepare to die."
The monster stared back with hungry fascination, as it took only a quick second before charging at her, it's blade like fingers gleaming in the sunlight. It speed was surprising. Roslyn dove to one side quickly, the blade cutting a deep horizontal, gash on her left side, a few inches above her waist. Pain shot through her, falling to the ground as her knee gave out. Blood dripped on to the ground beneath her.

"Crap," she cursed, glancing down.

No she couldn't worry about this, she was facing down a blood thirsty monster who wanted nothing more than to kill her and eat her soul. She couldn't die. She had to fight, if she didn't it would mean not only her own life, but most likely Vincents and Death only knows how many other innocent souls would be devoured by this beast if she failed. Taking a deep breath, Roslyn forced her wobbling legs to straighten her so that she was standing. Placing the bow on Vincent, she focused her eyes on H.H.Holmes as she stroke the first cord of the final song this thing would ever hear.

Her fingers flew as she played the Death March, which in theory should finish off the monster for good. She prayed that it would work, after all, this was the duos first fight, and while she trusted Vincent, the possibility of failure still lingered in the depths of her mind. Roslyn could feel her pain and excitement co mingle with Vincents surprising calmness and control in the situation. But there was something that had slowly begin to creep in as well, a frighteningly familiar feeling that Roslyn could not think of.

"Oh no," Roslyn thought, as she remembered where she had felt this feeling before. "No, please not now," she begged. She had felt this only once before, when she had lost control of her witches blood that she had inherited from her mother.

Closing her eyes, she felt as the of the pain and anger burned into a flame as the mixed with the magic. Her blood burned as the foreign power raced through her veins, dulling the throbbing sensation that emanated from the cut on her side. With a gasp, Roslyn eyes shot open, revealing two glowing orbs focusing intensely on the corrupted soul before her.

Taking a deep breath as Vincent felt the surge of adrenaline erupt from his meister, conflicting emotions could disrupt the flow of music resulting in a shoddy performance and an early grave for both of them. As the balance between their emotions settled into a easier flow as his strings began to vibrate with each finger stroke. His eyes widened as his focus was unsettled as the bladed hand of the monster ripped through the unguarded flesh of his meister, clenching his fists as he observed the crimson blood hit the cold pavement.

"Be careful Rose! You know I am horrible with medical aid.." He voiced his concern with a mask of sarcasm, truthfully were she to fall unconscious or begin bleeding out he doubted his basic knowledge of medical training would assist. Their only chance of survival if that situation would to flee or hope for reinforcements. His fears were eased as Rose straightened up from bent knees and began playing once more. With determination and righteous anger bubbling up inside, Vincent listened to the chords being played.


Flexing his own fingers within his weapon as he felt the chords of the song begin flowing in the form of invisible single strings of 'soul energy' started glistening faintly around himself and his meister. The strings within his Weapon were attached to to the gloves a single string connected to each finger. More web-like cords shimmering faintly like spiderwebs painted with morning dew, as the song began reaching it's climax Vincent began directly them toward the coal black soul of the monster before them. Twitching a single finger briefly the strings began connecting to the soul like a rope would around a doomed man's neck. With each string of the violin being caressed, the once tranquil strings began their work of slowly ripping the soul apart piece by piece it would complete the Death March.


It was taxing work conducting the strings to match the rhythm of the song being played, sweat began beading his forehead. A single slip of his concentration could result in a massive waste of energy, or the grim idea the strings turned on their violinist's soul. A sudden rush of foreign power flooded his Weapon, dramatically raising the temperature unexpectedly. Flinging up his hands in surprise, the fragile strings cutting into his fingers at the harsh movement. Ignoring the pain radiating from his fingers, Vincent felt the source of this strange power radiating from his meister, the notes of the song began becoming harsher and rushed. Smaller cuts along his fingers were the result of his attempts to keep his own frantic powers in check..a darker thought came into his head. He could theoretically give his neutral soul up to this Witch power..but at what cost? Hissing in irritation as in the distraction of his own pain, the soul strings had been cut by the power of the monster's soul which was clearly pissed off at the sneaky trick.

~I swear if this does anything permeantly to myself or the quality of my work. I am going to kill you Rose ~ Vincent thought as he flexed his fingers once more..slowly easing himself into the pool of burning power. It was a bizarre feeling to say the least, knowing that burning hatred and darkness could devour his own soul..yet it was held at bay. With hesitation he touched the dark matter with a gloved hand..only to be surprised the once black material had been changed into a blinding white color. A surge of dark power flooded his hand as he once again formed the strings within his hands wearily of the dark red strings that seemed to have fused with the fury of the new power. Now the once docile-looking strings seemed to take on an almost whip-like texture snapping out with each gesture and note.

~This is definitely a change I could get used too~ Vincent thought as the haunting melody of the song began to increase in pace. His white gloves becoming stained crimson as his fingers conducted the strings with startlingly aggressiveness. The crimson strings attached themselves not only to the kiesen soul but to the faded souls of the victims..being torn into like a carcass being ravaged by a pack of wolves. Within minutes the Kiesen's soul was utterly decimated ready to be torn into two..not to mention the physical body of the beast dripping with wounds from the internal impact of the strings.

"Now play the final note Rose!" Vincent growled with blood-lust clouding his normally polite demeanor. He wanted to see the creature bleeding on the ground..bones broken and shattering with each attempted movement. As his bloodlust rose, the strings tightened around each soul..steady flows of blood were flowing from broken skin of the creature...this was the truth of power of Witch blood.