Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-25019125-20150807160833/@comment-11588669-20150807235052

Nox had to stop himself, for the umpteenth time, from drawing his mask and donning it. He felt odd going into combat without it; that blank piece of metal had saved his life so many times. That thought had his mouth curling in a sneer, his eyes narrowing in distaste.

''Such reliance is weak. Stupid. It'll get you killed.''

With these thoughts in mind, he knelt slightly on the platform, waiting for perhaps the one thing he hated more than his tattoos.

Falling was such a bitch to him.

His weapons were left in their sheathes: He'd need his full concentration and hands to even land remotely safely.

Why had he decided to accept Ozpin's proposal?