Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20190205035159/@comment-25582638-20191202015908

Behind the swan mask, Brunhilde narrowed her eyes at the crime lord.

Cyzarine grew quiet as she glanced between Brunhilde and the white-haired man. But unlike her unmoving cousin, she had to put her hands behind her back to hide her anxious hands.

The main family had no knowledge that they had come to the auction, nor they were allowed to do so without permission and strict supervision. Cyzarine feared what could happen, but Hilda had something different in her mind.

She didn’t mind it when the man first mentioned the Bluthardts; she was too busy killing off the vermin earlier. But now that she had more time to listen, the unpleasant realization that this man was assuming that they were from that family, more so acting on their behalf, almost worsened her mood.

Technically, they belong to the Bluthardt family. The blood of the old tribes ran through their veins. But at the same time, they are also not one of them. Brunhilde had accepted that fact, long since she had given up to make amends for the mess of those before her and Cyzarine.

Hence, the name Bluthardt was nothing more than a convenient tool for her for dealing with other factions. That had been her job climbing through the ladder of thorns with a chain on the neck. But at this moment, she wasn’t waving that name.

They- she and the rest of the unit- were certainly not moving under their orders. One of the freedoms the Engelnachts had when the Bluthardts were too busy trying to gain access to Atlas and expanding their operations. Brunhilde was more than happy not to report all of her initiatives like some dog.

And there was also the danger of the Bluthardt’s Administrator discovering her brief skirmishes with Narreau’s forces. That would require pages of explanations and dozens of clowns to speak with.

What a drag. As if everything she had been doing was for them.

/”Hilda? How did he-”/

/”Later, darling.”/ Hilda lifted her hand and patted her cousin’s arm lightly, to which Cyzarine responded with a hesitant nod. The wooden planks creaked under her boots as she moved closer to the railing and looked down at the crime lord.

/”Bluthardts, you say? I think there’s an error in that assumption associating my group with that circus, Diaboli. Though perhaps I can’t fault you for not picking up the threads of information from the web that had become too entangled to br unraveled.”/ She paused, the eyes of her swan mask glimmered.

/”You may want to gather better information about your neighbors next time. Avoid looking like easy prey, and all that.”/

After correcting the man, Brunhilde spun promptly, her weapon clinking on her back as she walked back to Cyzarine's side.

/”Circus?”/ Wynston's voice resounded to her left. Upon glancing to that side, Brunhilde saw Halle helping her distant cousin walk with an injured, having climbed down the stairs and walking past Lustra and Dust. The faunus had his arm hooked around the bodyguard's neck.

/”I must say, I admire your creativity. But that's a very dangerous thing to do.”/

Brunhilde raised an eyebrow.

/”I see no problem speaking of the truth.”/

/”Are you alright?”/ Cyzarine cut in, stepping forward to greet the man as they stopped in front of her. She felt that interrupting their conversation was for the best.

/”I’ve been through worse. But thank you for asking,”/ Wynston said, his tone sounding gentler and respectful to her.

/”Why did you let him take you hostage?”/ Asked the young Bluthardt, /”You have could’ve freed yourself and killed him, right?”/

Wynston paused, humming in deep thought. /”Yes, I would've done it, but Swan wasn't in the condition to fight back nor I won't be able to protect her should the lizard aim for her as well. Having another battle under this circumstance is undesirable.”/

/"I see..."/

Brunhilde stared daggers at him. /”Tsk do I look like a damsel in distress to you?”/

/”Yes, well, no. A damsel in distress is an inaccurate term. I’m simply looking after my junior’s well being.”/

/”... I don't know if I should be thankful for that or regretful for missing the chance to shoot you right at your head.”/

/”I’m thankful for your kindness.”/

/”Hey, that's enough. Let's just go home already, okay?”/ Cyzarine said in a stern voice, getting the attention of her cousins. /"Our business here is done."/

Getting a unanimous agreement from the duo, Cyzarine pivoted, walking towards the direction of the motor launch as she spoke through the radio. /“Snow, we’re leaving asap.”/

/”Right behind you, my lady.”/ Came the prompt reply from the old man.

---

Whistling a cheerful tune to himself, the old man called Snow slipped the medical bag over his shoulder.

Tonight was a job well done. The three little scions were secured and there was no loss on their side, counting the wounded apprentices below the deck. The raid would be a great topic for the youngsters, especially the cocky ones who were stupid enough to break their formation, and that meant preparing for their next training.

After getting scolded by the Boss, that is.

Giving the deck and the remaining crew one last look, Snow sauntered past the forces of the law as he gave them a two-finger salute.

/”That was fun, kids. Let’s meet again next time.”/ He said, referring to their sting operation at the facility as he continued on his way, taking a huge, effortless leap over to the motor launch just as the soldiers had finished pulling the tow line.

The engine rumbled louder, the vessel began its slow retreat back to the open waters.

One by one, the lanterns on the boat turned black, leaving the area illuminated mainly by the moonlight. As the boat sailed away, its silhouette grew smaller and smaller, and the shadows of the night welcomed the Engelnacht back to its cold embrace.

The young Bluthardt had gone to the deck, glad to be back on a boat that wasn’t on the edge of collapsing, and removed her mask-helmet, letting her shamrock green hair flutter against the sea breeze. She leaned on the railings to take in the cool air around her. It made the hectic night felt a little bit better.

But it seemed that fate had other plans when Hilda came over with the following words:

/”Darling? We need to talk.”/

She hasn’t removed her helmet, Cyzarine noted. “About what?”

Pausing, Brunhilde removed her helmet to reveal her glimmering porcelain skin, and a lilac eye carrying a hint of uncertainty.

/”Lustra.”/