[open] born to raise hell, born to raise hell

[odalinquent]

Who: A considerably smaller Nobunaga and You!
When: 11/21-11/27; I'll be using this as a catchall for the whole week.
Where: Prompts for now are @Caissa.
What: An angry ten year old with a gun she barely knows how to use decides to Make It On Her Own on the mean streets of Caissa.
Rating: None for now. Will mark threads appropriately in the subject header though, just in case anything comes up.



[1] 11/21; dusk

[As much as she wants to get right into the crux of the matter, lash out and demand to know what's going on and where she is...she can't right now. She refuses to seek help in a plain and straightforward manner, entirely mistrustful of the people around here simply by nature. For now, she needs to get her priorities in order; she's already covered herself up, but in lieu of actual clothing, she's merely wrapped up in some thin fabric she's carefully wrapped around her body into a makeshift, sleeveless top that goes down as far as her knees, a separate piece of fabric tied around her waist to hold it in place. They're...likely stolen, honestly.

And to avoid drawing attention, she's stashed her weapons elsewhere for now. She just wants something to eat, for the moment...so.

a) Congrats! You've just witnessed a theft which, were it not for you, passing bystander, would have been executed without a hitch. Nobunaga makes off with some fruit from an outdoor stall, hurrying off to enjoy her spoils. Maybe stop her if your morals are more on the scrupulous side.

b) Unfortunately, she's been caught in the act, but not actually caught. The stall owner yells for someone to intercept her escape, but Nobunaga darts and weaves in between the crowd around her with surprising athleticism. If you've decided to give chase, she tries to shake you off by ducking off into an alley ahead...

c) Or maybe you're just passing by a ten year old in a poor excuse for clothing, sat on the edge of the street and eating some fruit. The skins of what she's already eaten are to her left, while the remaining fruit she's yet to eat sits on the ground to her right. Linger too long and she might shoot you a glare, but that's about it. She won't say anything if you don't.]

[2] 11/21; night

[Well, when you're suddenly in an entirely different world in a manner not unlike some bizarre fairytale, your best bet at survival is to know what kind of place you've been brought to. Even she knew that. The only issue is that she's from a fairly tumultuous era in a wartorn land, on top of her own ornery and admittedly paranoid nature. She can't bring herself to just approach someone and ask for help, like some frightened, lost child...it may be an issue of pride too, on top of everything else.

So she waits. She waits until someone's by their lonesome in an empty street, using the cover of night to make her move as quietly as she can, and if all goes well it won't be until there's the sound of a click of a gun that the other person notices something's amiss.]

Turn around...slowly.

[The barefoot girl behind you isn't striking that much of an intimidating figure, sans the rifle in her hand which she is, unfortunately, holding up with one hand courtesy only of her strength granted via the class system. If she fires it like this the recoil would likely knock it right out of her hand; she hasn't had much time to figure it out...

But she somehow lacks the eyes of a child. Plain and simple brown eyes, but with the experience of three years warfare behind her. The eyes of someone who's taken more than her fair share of lives already.]

You're going to answer some questions for me.

Comments

[babbylon]

[]

Stop that at once.

[odalinquent]

...so where do I take my bath?

[Huh. Seems like she did what she was told and moved on immediately, isn't that great Gilgamesh.]

[babbylon]

This way.

[Gilgamesh makes to lead her...

...but then swivels on his heel and carries her upside down at the very last second.]

[odalinquent]

[oh my god wHY IS HE LIKE THIS WHAT KIND OF OLD MAN IS THIS]

N-not this again!! Put me down you shitty old man! Hey! Knock it off!!!

[FLAILING.]

I stopped, didn't I?!

[babbylon]

[No response... she's hefted all the way to the bathroom like a sack of potatoes.

It's a nice bathroom, at least. Cool, clean tile, golden fixtures, a pleasant smell—this room was undoubtedly looked after. With Nobu still slotted beneath his arm, Gilgamesh gets the water going and then proceeds to dump her into the tub.]

Take off your clothes.

[...apparently this was going to be assisted bathing.]

[odalinquent]

[As much as she appreciates the #aesthetic he has going on here, she's...

Well, rather than just strip (something her adult self would have absolutely no problem with) as she is now, Nobunaga draws her arms over her chest a little.]

...with you still here? [Squints...] I can bathe myself, you know.

[She doesn't really care if her clothes are getting wet the more the tub fills up.]

[babbylon]

[No response.

Take off your clothes.]

[odalinquent]

[no]

[babbylon]

[REACHES

FOR]

[odalinquent]

[the water level is now adequate enough for her to just

cup some water into her hand

and throw it in his face.]

I said I can do this myself.

[babbylon]

[Cool, but he's not moving. And actually...]

Have you something to hide, girl?

[odalinquent]

It isn't that strange to want privacy in a place like this.

[She frowns.]

You've been helpful, but you're still a complete stranger. You can't expect me to be comfortable with this.

[babbylon]

You're in my home. Under my roof, you abide my rules.

[Repeating:]

What would you seek to conceal from the eyes of Gilgamesh?

[odalinquent]

It's none of your business.

[She stands up; her clothing is soaked now, along with most of her body.

Firmly:]

If those are the rules, then I'm not taking a bath.

[babbylon]

You are frightened.

[Gilgamesh stares back at her, unblinkingly.]

Tell me why and I will go.

[odalinquent]

I am not frightened!

[She snaps back instantly, and loudly.]

What does it even matter to you? Is this just some depraved curiosity?

[babbylon]

[Calmly:]

We bathe together in my culture as a sign of affection. Is it not the same in yours?

[odalinquent]

...

[It's really difficult keeping this up with him. Back home, the wrath of Nobunaga even as she is now is something to fear. People know better than to cross her, if only for how erratic and dangerous she is.

But it's all pointless here. She can't really threaten this man, and beyond that she has nothing.

...]

...my body...is proof of all of the mistakes I've made so far.

I don't want you to see.

[she doesn't want anyone to see]

[babbylon]

[Gilgamesh shuts the water off and bends down, over the rib of the tub.]

Every scar tells a story. Every story contributes to a legacy. Weren't you aware? They are marks of pride, not shame—they are wholly you and yours.

[odalinquent]

...it's easy to say that.

[She tries to look at it that way, but...]

Seeing it that way is a lot harder.

[She'll learn in time, though.]

[babbylon]

That is the future that awaits you, Nobunaga Oda. Undeniably, you become one of the greatest Heroes of all time, scars be damned.

[With a cheeky smile:]

And I'd have many more than you, besides, if my wounds did not heal so swiftly. I am almost too blessed, in a sense.

[odalinquent]

...

[She can't help but be curious about it every time he brings it up. First it was being a great warlord, now it's one of the greatest heroes of all time? Her perspective isn't quite as grand yet, so she can't even fathom it as she is...

Still...

...Nobunaga undoes the makeshift belt she's wearing around her waist, tossing it to the floor. The top comes next, but she begins unraveling it instead, first her right arm, her torso, and then her left arm. Tightly bound and held on with her belt, it almost seemed to be a haori, but it seems she'd just gotten creative with the material she stole, instead. That's tossed to the floor on top of her belt.

Just as she'd said, her body is battle worn already, even at her young age. Some scars are shallow, perhaps a glancing hit from an arrow or the breaking of the skin on impact from a bludgeoning hit, while some run a little deeper. One of them was a stab wound, once, from the look of things. But only one.]

...I get it now. [She's speaking a little softer, and her next comment lacks the bite anything she'd said up until now has had.] You're just...a perverted old man or something.

[It was some last act of defiance, trying to be insulting. It just wasn't a very good attempt.

She sits down in the bath either way.]

[babbylon]

[If there were any doubts Gilgamesh pressed for this on account of licentiousness or wicked means, they are at once erased. Gilgamesh doesn't look at her like some sort of prize or idol, but rather like a watchful guardian. His eyes don't linger for too long on the old wounds, instead registering them and confirming what he has in fact already seen on a matured body. She may not be frightened, but it is clear she bears shame, almost unthinkable given her attitude as an adult.

What changed? he would ask, but he knows. It's the same thing that always changes: innocence lost.

Gilgamesh rolls up his sleeve and shows her a bright red mark of his own on his arm.]

Do you see this? At first glance, it appears to be a tattoo, but it is actually a form of brand, carved upon my skin by the gods.

[They are prettier than hers, certainly, but a closer examination will reveal they're all but dug into his flesh.]

They are all over my body. They are part of me, too. But my enemies fear me for it; do you know why?

[odalinquent]

[She looks to his brand for a moment and then to him, shaking her head.]

[babbylon]

Because they brand me not as a slave, a victim, a sufferer, a weakling, or anything else.

[He clenches his fist, setting the brand aglow.]

They brand me as a Hero, so all the world knows of my power, of my glory, of my absolute title as King—a title you will someday share.