Roxanne of Love and Hate | Claymore (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lovedthedeadone) wrote2011-12-06 06:14 pm
lovedthedeadone) wrote2011-12-06 06:14 pm
008. [accidental video! also, transmitted from a foreign number!]
[You hear the clanking sound before the screen flickers on - the sound of a Forge scattering across the ground, its buttons colliding with the floor - first audio, then visual and now...]
[Now, you're staring at the arena - not such an unfamiliar sight. Currently, it's lit from above, and you can hear the screaming of the crowd, and yes - if you look hard enough, you can see them, too, standing and sitting, cheering or motionless. Hundreds of people, enjoying the spectacle. And what spectacle is that?]
[Simply this: A man and a woman, engaged in the bloody art of combat.]
[You may remember one - a man whose wounds heal even as he suffers them. Large, and strong, and vicious. You may, too, remember the other - a tall woman, blond with flashing silver eyes, her curls in pigtails. Roxanne - one of the silver-eyed women who call themselves... warriors, or soldiers. Claymores. Currently she is missing one right arm... which rests some feet away on the ground. As expected from such a wound, she is currently on the defensive, it seems.]
[...or is she? Look closer, read her face, if you can see it clearly enough through the blur of motion. You may see a glimmer of amusement. The edge of a smirk on her face. Did you notice it?]
[Either way, things are about to change.]
I think that's enough of a show.
[You can hear her, barely, through the roar of the crowd. And in that moment, she stops defending. Stops moving entirely... and brings up her blade to casually deflect the man's broadsword. There is a shriek of metal on metal, and the broadsword's blade dislodges from its hilt and clatters to the ground, yards away.]
To be honest... I'm getting a little bored with it.
[The man runs at her, rage flashing in his eyes... but in an instant, she grabs his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh, and flips him over her shoulder. He comes to rest right beside the Forge - close enough that you see her appear from seemingly nowhere, her sword pointed down held in two hands - two, where once there was one.]
It's not quite reattached, but it's good enough for--
[And then she notices the Forge, recording, recording... she raises an eyebrow.]
Oh! I don't know if that's allowed. We're not much in the business of free shows.
[A smile... and then she stabs the Forge through. The screen goes black.]
[Now, you're staring at the arena - not such an unfamiliar sight. Currently, it's lit from above, and you can hear the screaming of the crowd, and yes - if you look hard enough, you can see them, too, standing and sitting, cheering or motionless. Hundreds of people, enjoying the spectacle. And what spectacle is that?]
[Simply this: A man and a woman, engaged in the bloody art of combat.]
[You may remember one - a man whose wounds heal even as he suffers them. Large, and strong, and vicious. You may, too, remember the other - a tall woman, blond with flashing silver eyes, her curls in pigtails. Roxanne - one of the silver-eyed women who call themselves... warriors, or soldiers. Claymores. Currently she is missing one right arm... which rests some feet away on the ground. As expected from such a wound, she is currently on the defensive, it seems.]
[...or is she? Look closer, read her face, if you can see it clearly enough through the blur of motion. You may see a glimmer of amusement. The edge of a smirk on her face. Did you notice it?]
[Either way, things are about to change.]
I think that's enough of a show.
[You can hear her, barely, through the roar of the crowd. And in that moment, she stops defending. Stops moving entirely... and brings up her blade to casually deflect the man's broadsword. There is a shriek of metal on metal, and the broadsword's blade dislodges from its hilt and clatters to the ground, yards away.]
To be honest... I'm getting a little bored with it.
[The man runs at her, rage flashing in his eyes... but in an instant, she grabs his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh, and flips him over her shoulder. He comes to rest right beside the Forge - close enough that you see her appear from seemingly nowhere, her sword pointed down held in two hands - two, where once there was one.]
It's not quite reattached, but it's good enough for--
[And then she notices the Forge, recording, recording... she raises an eyebrow.]
Oh! I don't know if that's allowed. We're not much in the business of free shows.
[A smile... and then she stabs the Forge through. The screen goes black.]