Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-24296957-20140301210623/@comment-24296957-20140303223708

Amet read Deryn's body language and tone. Gotcha.

"Well, Deryn...where do I begin?  From the start, I suppose.  When I first saw you, I thought you were stunningly beautiful. No doubt many of the boys here say or think that.  Hence, I know that doesn't phase you...or does it?" Amet watched Deryn's reaction to his first statement, amused. All going as planned, he thought.

He sighed. "But beauty has it's own flaws, however unique and beautiful in their own way.  Yours is that of a faunus, miss 'I'm-so-good-at-hiding-my-feathers'.  You jest be happy I don't report you.  Ever hear the word 'Kiyng' thrown around? I'm the heir.  No, this does not make me better than you." Amet humbled himself, turning his words from harsh and crittical to soft and flowing.

Amet sighed once more, shaking his head. "You may not be as keen on sharing the past, Deryn.  But I repeat my words - You're not alone with a dark past.  I can only guess how black your history is, but the same goes for you, miss.  I apologize for my rudeness." Amet bowed, a sign of respect towards Deryn. "I know you are powerful, Deryn.  Hence why I adressed you with kindness right off the bat.

"To continue on the word 'Kiyng'," Amet continued, "we were pro-faunus right activists.  We were there at all your rallies, even had a part in setting up these events.  We even went so far as to name our Dust shops in your honor.  Because of our continued kindness, this here sword was given to our clan." Amet patted his back, and drew Fenice. The brilliant red-gold sword shot up the a plume of flame, landing in his open hand.

"Potenza di Fenice.  Great sword, 60 inches long in total length.  You may think it's heavy," Amet shifted the sword to one hand, "but it's not. Lightweight alloy.  Plus, it can do something quite..intersting." He stood back from the pair, pushed the butt of the sword, and transformed the blade into it's alternative form - a rocket launcher. He hefted it over his shoulder. "This."

He changed it back to blade, and sheathed the sword. "I do not fight faunus.  I vow never to.  But I don't want to break a promise, Deryn." Amet smirked. "I get things done my own way.  That's what happens when you grow up in the denizens of Vale, Grimm almost ending you nightly.  Plus, when your sword flies out of your hand, you have to learn hand-to-hand on a pack of beowolves." Amet extended out his hand.

"Truce?"