A million faces, each a million lies \ For each and all a chrome disguise

[liberal_arts]

Who: Kasen Kanesada and everyone who wanted in on his situation + open prompts
When: during the investigations of Capablanca
Where: Various locations
What: Capablanca stuff + Job stuff
Rating: Kasen's brutality is likely to be in full bloom here.



[ one - gathering ingredients with Shin-ah ]

Ah, here we are. Here, lean in close. -Kasen motioned to his partner to observe their findings, a particular sort of mushroom presented to them as Kasen cleared some of the underbrush. They were definitely healthy looking, and seemed to match the description.-

You cook these with wine to create a particular sort of sauce, which I'm sure will taste delicious at the hands of our... perfectionist chef friend, don't you think? Let's be sure to get as many as we can, and then we can hit up the local streams for some fresh fish! -And he'd been smart enough to get an enchanted box, perpetually cold, to store the fish in.-

[ two - bandit rounding with Lapis ]

-For all Constance had been nagging them previously from the wagon, she was deathly silent now as the caravan was quickly surrounded by some rather bold bandits. Kasen didn't particular mind her ways, in all honesty, as he found himself admiring anyone that was as passionate about their craft as she was. It was the sort of thing someone so thoroughly mentally in tune with artists and creators could appreciate easily, he figured. And it was the silencing of that passion that had him most annoyed by their incredibly rude guests.

This hadn't been the first trip back and forth to Menchik, and these hadn't been the first bandits to attempt to rob the caravan only to be pushed back by various Hero escorts, but this was their first meeting with Kasen Kanesada, and one would not easily miss how unsettled some of them looked as they gazed at Kasen's face, drawing his sword with a strange.... quiet smile. He didn't seem like a hero at all. His aura was like something else... something not even human...-

Lapis-san, if you could please provide us with some cover. I have some inelegance to rid us of...

[ three - confronting the noir with Sion ]

-CRASH

The unfortunate gambler was tossed into the alley, not into a bin of refuse but right through it, the strength of the man having sent him flying monstrous in spite of the form it was all contained in. Panicked sounds bled between the man's breaths as he backed himself against a wall, reaching for a weapon that wasn't there, and eyes darting around for someone, anyone to help him. This couldn't have been a Hero, in spite of the uniform, he thought. No Hero would behave like this, right? This wasn't the sort of chivalrous arrest that he'd expected when it finally slipped that he was a Noir agent. They'd told him he'd be looking at prison, not... not this.

Kasen stalked, step by step, drawing his blade with a flat, cold look in his eyes. Sion was right behind him, but he hardly existed at the moment by Kasen's reckoning, his focus locked on that man.-

Inelegant creature... I wish I could kill you over and over for every single artist who lies buried now in this pitiful world... for every priceless creation you destroyed... I would sentence you to thousands of deaths, and leave you waking for all of them... -Kasen pointed his blade at the man, who was all but screaming now, eyes begging for someone, anyone, to stop this.-

[ four - Graupera - open ]

-It's late. The moon would be more visible in the sky if not for the distant clouds. Upon the ramparts of the old fort, eyes cast out to the sea as he hums a song to himself, a scroll and brush in his hands as he begins to slowly paint the scene before him, all in black ink, but still managing to bring out the dynamic display of Capablanca's city lights reflecting off of the waves. Those who were fortunate enough to hear it will recognize the song as Galatea's, a sure sign that Kasen had heard it himself.

He doesn't give a sign that he opposes company, but he doesn't quite turn to greet anyone that joins him either. Rather, after a moment's further humming, he only speaks after a long sigh.-

Do you think this world can be saved? Do you feel it even deserves saving?

[ five - Sciocchezza Street - open ]

-Well that hadn't been pleasant... good as he was, Black Lightning was still clearly better to enough of a degree that it was clear he had no hope of capturing her. In all honesty, he was fortunate to walk away in the condition he was in which... wasn't pleasant, to say the lease. Bloody, bruised, and nursing a clearly useless shoulder that had been kicked out of socket. Oof. But he at least still had his sword, and something else.

A picture. Of him. And several dead Noir agents around him, all admitted aids of the Palamede attacks, and the disturbing look of blood, brutality, and madness on his face. He... had never really looked in a mirror in one of his murderous hazes before, and he finds himself not quite sure to make of what he's seeing, or what to make of Black Lightning having such a photo, possibly more.

But more importantly, slumped in an alley in a slum like this, he was probably in more desperate need of a healer...-