Letting go of childhood (open)

[Emily Rochette]

Snow dusted the ground, fragile grass fingers poking thorugh, longing for the sunlight that now seemed lost to the day. Everything looked as if all colour had been sucked from it in the cold, save one corner of the large, outdoor courtyard. Red was smeared over the cream-plaster wall. Slick, crimson mud pelted the snow. A lifeless for lay among the sticky colour, his face frozen with terror, although, it was the only thing that seemed to resemble anything human. His body lay in several places, his organs still gurgling in the snow as death took them over, the grey-pink cut from his torso in several places.

A tune hummed through the air, the sound gentle as a mother's touch, but powerful as a warrior's cry. Pale fingers weaved together in a rhythmic dance over a thin, wooden flute. The song was a victory cry. Perched on a bench i the middle of the courtyard was the musician. A small, thin girl that could have been no more than 15. Her hair was braided tightly into two dark spirals, thin bangs linging her face. She wore only a thin sweater and skirt under an oversized, heavy trench coat. By her side rested a katana, the bloodied metal clothed with a tattered sheath.

The song finally ended its gentle cry and she opened her eyes to stare at the ground for a long moment. The flute slipped into her pocket as she stood and lifted the sleeping blade. she turned around and walked to the corner, crouching down and grabbing the disembodied head by its hair, holding it eye-level wth her. She sneered, her head cocked to the side as she memorised the expression. Even though he was well dead, the stench of fear still filled the air thickly. The girl gazed at him for a moment or so longer before drpping the head down and turning to walk away, waving carelessly over her shoulder.

"Adieu, Papa"

[Emily Rochette]

Emily made her way down the street, hugging at her coat against the wind. Placed securely inside a special pocket in the coat's lining was her katana, ready and waiting for whatever blood there was to spill. She neared a large entrance, guards and personell pacing in from of it. She watched them for a moment and grit her teeth, pulling a thin passport from her pocket. She walked foward to the closest gate and started to walk through, only to hit against the soft form of an arm.

"Hold on a minute, miss. We need identification."

Emily sighed and held out the small booklet for his inspection. She watched the man's eyes as he compaired the image to her face, before he placed his hand over top of it to make she she was unable to see the text.

"Name?"

"Emily Mercedes Rochette"

"Age?"

"16 in three cycles."

"..Why are you here?"

"I have a ticket for Coruscant, sir. And if you don't let me past, then I'll have to wait nearly a week to het off this frozen pile of sh-"

She was interrupted abruptly by the man, his eyes glaring at her. He paused a moment before stepping aside and she rushed past. Her feet hit hard on the metal floor as she ran through the wide hall. She wasn't about to blow this chance to get away from everything.

Within minutes, she was seated on a large ship, people bustling around her, trying to see out the window. She always wondered why they made such a big deal about watching a place they no doubt hated. Her eyes slipped shut and she let herself drift asleep for the trip.

[Miryan no Trunks]

*Leaning back in his seat, MnT hated the permanent empty feeling his back was left with since the loss of his sword.. It was like a permanent reminder of his weakness. True, he had the blade that Tempist had crafted for him, and it was a magnificent peice of work itself, but he'd had Damnation's Touch for longer than he could remember, long before he could even lift it. It was a part of him..*

*The sudden jarr that indicated the lift-off of the shuttle worked to remove such thoughts from his mind, replacing them of ones about the ship around him. It was fairly busy, but not exactly crowded. People were walking about, conversing with those they knew, ignoring those they didn't with as much efficiency as they could muster. The decor of the ship was cold and bland, lacking in imagination. It was as if the designers had ran out of time and money before reaching any sort of conclusion on how they would decorate, and decided to just throw in a few obscenely large windows. He could see how the view would be interesting for a while, but this trip would likely be more than a couple of hours, and the lovely combination of stars and black that would soon be accompanying their journey would grow tiresome before long.*

*Rolling his head back on his neck, an audible crack came with his attempt to work out a crick before it had chance to grow. As he did, however, his vision landed on a girl in front of him to his right who looked only a few years younger than himself. It was not just the fact that the trenchcoat looked like it should have been covering the form of someone near twice her size that caught his attention. Her aura had a deep ring of crimson running through it, and, after extending his senses somewhat, the distinct scent of blood was upon her, although no normal set of olifactory nerves would ever be able to pick it up. Whatever had happened to her, she had tried to clean it up, with some efficiency..*

"... Odd..."

[Emily Rochette]

Emily moved further into her coat, her dark eyes skimming through the cabin. Someone was watching her.. She growled absently and moved her hand to clutch the hidden hilt of the blade.

"Can I get you anything, miss?"

She'd barely even heard the voice, let alone the innocence in it, before her katana shot through the air, blood splattering over patrons as the head and body of a stewardess slumped seperately to the floor. Emily shoved herself to her feet as screams erupted through the air. She slipped the bloodied metal back into her coat and darted for the door, her fist smashing into the small keypad to send it open. Another, more crowded room looked back in confusion, a large man stepping in front of her.

"What the Hell happened back there?! Frell!"

Her fist sank into his gut as Emily shoved past the man, running through the crowded aisle to the next door. She repeated her actions, sparks shooting up from the keypad as the door shot open. The pilot of the ship stood and stared at her in confusion and annoyance.

"Hey! You're not supposed to be in here! Why-....Jesus Christ! What happened back there?!"

Emily calmly drew out the katana and let the tip press against the pilot's throat as she backed him toward his seat. Her eyes glared up into his before his took his seat. She hunched over the back of it, keeping the katana raised against his throat as she rasped into his ear.

"Touch down on the nearest planet.."

[Miryan no Trunks]

*Breaking into a cold sweat almost instantly, the pilot slowly turned and sank back down into his seat, taking up the controls again, all the while shaking nervously from the prick of the sword at the back of his neck. The girl stood there watching, as he set in the course for the planet. For a moment, it seemed he was going to try and break into conversation, a few "uhh's" and "umm's" squeaking out of his throat. He knew that the ships could run and land through auto-pilot, and that all he was needed for was to plot the course and monitor the sensors. If she knew that, then she'd know he was dispensible, and judging from the thick red that he'd seen on her blade when she first came in, it didn't seem likely she'd spare his life out of the kindness of her heart. However, before he could start to talk, he felt the tip press harder against his spine. She was apparantly in no mood to talk.*

*Fortunately, despite the ease of piloting the ships, all the pilots were still needed to be able to control them manually, if the need arose. This meant he wouldn't have to use the auto-pilot, and could instead just take it to the planet himself. It wasn't far away fortunately, and he could hit the silent security alarm. That way, when they arrived, they'd be stormed by guards who would take her down immediately. Surely her sword would be of no use against 50 well-aimed blasters.*

-----

*As the first blood was spilled, and the girl began her dash for the front, MnT stood up, and extracted the broadsword Tempist's Edge, named after it's creator and his apprentice, from it's sheathe on his back. The blade itself was silver, the metal mixed with brimstone and gemstone. This gave it the impression of shining of different colors when in the light. The grip was made of a steel mesh wrapped around the tooth of a rancor. And in the guard, a single rune was etched; honor *

*Walking through the pandemonium, the sheer presence of the sword warranted him a clear passage, as passengers had seen what happened the Last time a sword had been unsheathed on the ship. Quickly, he made it to the front of the ship, and stepped into the doorway of the cockpit. He reached forwards to tap her on the shoulder and get her attention, and opened his mouth to speak-*

*-But a frenzied passenger bumped into him hard from behind, and pushed him forwards, into the girl. Everything seemed to go silent just for a moment, as the last breath of the pilot gurgled out of his blood-filled throat.*