Hashi
02-29-08, 05:47 PM
((Well I honestly don’t remember some of the events between the last thread I saved (Devotion to the Curse (http://www.failureverification.net/Hashi/DttC.html)) and when I stopped RPing, luckily everything before that I had saved to disc. So for argument’s sake she’s on [Summon 10.00] and has managed to avoid death in the interim. Since I want her long absence to be IC as well, this is my explanation of where she’s been this whole time. Part of this will re-cover ground from the thread Summon 04, which I never had a chance to finish to my satisfaction, though it will be considered a new summon and will in fact feature a different character. This quest also refers to events from The Devil's Revolt (http://www.failureverification.net/Hashi/TDR.html), with Valentina Snow, which unfortunately I don't have in it's entirety
[/end anal ooc explination]
[Solo]))
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Blackfield, Nighttime.
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Hashi was on the good side of Little Hell and she was wearing a tux. It was uniquely tailored to her curves and there would be no mistaking her for a man in it. It had been a gift from Kuro Jin’ichi, leader of the Black Dragons gang, after a gang uprising she’d been involved in quelling. Though, she’d spent most of it camped on her stomach on a rooftop, sniping runners while Valentina Snow had been a one woman army, wreaking havoc wherever she went. Not a fun memory for Hashi, she had no stomach for that kind of killing.
For once the djinn was stone sober and didn’t reek of beer or sweat. In fact, anyone close enough to noticed would have detected a faint scent of lilac and sakura. Her hair was meticulously brushed and styled and the djinn had actually taken care to wear appropriate make-up. She had even slipped a cosmetic case in her pocket to touch it up later in the evening. She actually stood straight with her hands folded behind her back; for once behave like a decent human being. Though she did rock form her toes to her heels a bit impatiently.
This was probably the craziest thing she’d ever done. More than fighting the Great Beast of the Abyss. More than becoming legal guardian of a half-tiger grand daughter she didn’t even know she had. More than ki… that thought faltered. No, that was still the craziest thing she’d ever done. So this was the second most absurd situation she’d ever found herself in.
It had all started when she’d returned to her apartment after her last summon. It had taken her a whole day to remember to go downstairs and check her mail. In the pile of fliers and junk mail and overdue bills had been a crisply folded, gold leafed invitation to a formal dinner, from Lileal Snow. Hashi and the assassin has a checkered history, mostly involving Hashi being a bitch to protect her own interests while Lilael got drunk and angry and threatened to shoot her in the face, or elsewhere, next time she showed her face at the assassin’s door.
There had been nothing personalized on the invitation, besides the name. It wasn’t the kind of place that Lilael frequented and the only reason that Hashi could think of for the assassin to be there was if she’d been hired to be there. Why she had invited Hashi, the djinn couldn’t even begin to guess. Still, she hadn’t seen Lilael since that whole mess with Valentina and the gangs. They hadn’t parted on good terms. Especially since Valentina had threatened to rip her throat out with her bare hands if the blue haired girl dared to hurt the assassin again, physically or emotionally. Though, Hashi hadn’t been around Blackfield much over the past six months or so, there had been a flurry of summons that had kept her away from Little Hell for any decent length of time.
So Hashi had decided to accept the invitation. She’d dug out the tux Jin’ichi had given her, actually gone to a salon to have her hair cut. Invested in some make up that wasn’t years old and crusted over, the djinn didn’t usually bother with cosmetics much. She had even bought some new black dress boots with three inch heels, for once leaving her well-worn combat boots in her apartment. It was probably the most dressed up she’d been since her wedding night.
The dinner was in one of the dining rooms of the famously expensive Breckenridge Family Hotel and Convention Center. The main building was cavernous, with glass ceilings that allowed plants to grow inside, two whole wings of the building were devoted to tranquil indoor gardens that had more greenery that just about the rest of the city combined. A single night’s stay cost more than what the average Joe in Blackfield made in a month and a half. The absolutely palatial presidential suite cost something closer to a year’s salary. Just this dinner was going to set Hashi back more than she cared to admit.
Standing just inside the richly carpeted room, beneath the brightly shining golden chandeliers, the djinn felt horribly out of place. It didn’t help that it seemed most of the severs bustling back and forth were better dressed than she was, and carried themselves easier. They belonged here. A tattoo artist from outskirts of Satan’s Circus did not. But she was not going to leave. She had come down here to apologize to Lilael for treating her so badly the last time they had met. And that was what she was going to do. She was not going to leave.
Until she felt a familiar pull…
Fuck! Not now, not now! Of all the horrible timing. Turning to a nearby empty table, the djinn snatched up a napkin and pulled a pen from a pocket inside her jacket pocket. She hastily scribbled out a note on it; in English, which was unfortunately her weakest written language. She knew what she wanted to say to the other woman’s face but she had no idea how to phrase or spell the things that came to mind, so she kept it simple. She agonized for a long moment on how to sign it but she could already feel herself growing thin as her new master handled her bottle. She didn’t know how long she could hold out. So she went for quick. Unfortuantly in her hurry she signed her name in kanji. She didn't have to to rewrite the note, so she had to quickly mark it out and put the roman spelling down.
Lilael,
I came here to say I’m sorry for acting very badly. Sadly I have no time to tell you this myself. So this note will have to do. I am sorry. Forgive me, Lilael. I do not know when I will see you again. I miss you.
Love,
http://www.failureverification.net/Hashi/sig.jpg
~Akai Hashi
Shoving her pen back in her pocket she walked up to the maître d', interrupting a sycophantic conversation he was having with a woman in a ermine coat. The grey haired man with eyes of steel looked angry but his manners were too deeply engrained for him to outright insult, not that Hashi gave a damn at this point.
“Lilael Snow is expecting me give her this with my apologies.” Hashi said, rushing the words into a single breathless sentence. She shoved the napkin note at him and almost ran out of the room. She hurried down the opulent corridor, her face pinched into a look of concentration as she fought the call of the summon. It didn’t take her long to find a door marked Employees Only and duck inside. She pressed her back to the wall and closed her eyes, unconsciously holding her breath as she lost her battle with the curse and faded out of existence.
[/end anal ooc explination]
[Solo]))
-------------------------
Blackfield, Nighttime.
-------------------------
Hashi was on the good side of Little Hell and she was wearing a tux. It was uniquely tailored to her curves and there would be no mistaking her for a man in it. It had been a gift from Kuro Jin’ichi, leader of the Black Dragons gang, after a gang uprising she’d been involved in quelling. Though, she’d spent most of it camped on her stomach on a rooftop, sniping runners while Valentina Snow had been a one woman army, wreaking havoc wherever she went. Not a fun memory for Hashi, she had no stomach for that kind of killing.
For once the djinn was stone sober and didn’t reek of beer or sweat. In fact, anyone close enough to noticed would have detected a faint scent of lilac and sakura. Her hair was meticulously brushed and styled and the djinn had actually taken care to wear appropriate make-up. She had even slipped a cosmetic case in her pocket to touch it up later in the evening. She actually stood straight with her hands folded behind her back; for once behave like a decent human being. Though she did rock form her toes to her heels a bit impatiently.
This was probably the craziest thing she’d ever done. More than fighting the Great Beast of the Abyss. More than becoming legal guardian of a half-tiger grand daughter she didn’t even know she had. More than ki… that thought faltered. No, that was still the craziest thing she’d ever done. So this was the second most absurd situation she’d ever found herself in.
It had all started when she’d returned to her apartment after her last summon. It had taken her a whole day to remember to go downstairs and check her mail. In the pile of fliers and junk mail and overdue bills had been a crisply folded, gold leafed invitation to a formal dinner, from Lileal Snow. Hashi and the assassin has a checkered history, mostly involving Hashi being a bitch to protect her own interests while Lilael got drunk and angry and threatened to shoot her in the face, or elsewhere, next time she showed her face at the assassin’s door.
There had been nothing personalized on the invitation, besides the name. It wasn’t the kind of place that Lilael frequented and the only reason that Hashi could think of for the assassin to be there was if she’d been hired to be there. Why she had invited Hashi, the djinn couldn’t even begin to guess. Still, she hadn’t seen Lilael since that whole mess with Valentina and the gangs. They hadn’t parted on good terms. Especially since Valentina had threatened to rip her throat out with her bare hands if the blue haired girl dared to hurt the assassin again, physically or emotionally. Though, Hashi hadn’t been around Blackfield much over the past six months or so, there had been a flurry of summons that had kept her away from Little Hell for any decent length of time.
So Hashi had decided to accept the invitation. She’d dug out the tux Jin’ichi had given her, actually gone to a salon to have her hair cut. Invested in some make up that wasn’t years old and crusted over, the djinn didn’t usually bother with cosmetics much. She had even bought some new black dress boots with three inch heels, for once leaving her well-worn combat boots in her apartment. It was probably the most dressed up she’d been since her wedding night.
The dinner was in one of the dining rooms of the famously expensive Breckenridge Family Hotel and Convention Center. The main building was cavernous, with glass ceilings that allowed plants to grow inside, two whole wings of the building were devoted to tranquil indoor gardens that had more greenery that just about the rest of the city combined. A single night’s stay cost more than what the average Joe in Blackfield made in a month and a half. The absolutely palatial presidential suite cost something closer to a year’s salary. Just this dinner was going to set Hashi back more than she cared to admit.
Standing just inside the richly carpeted room, beneath the brightly shining golden chandeliers, the djinn felt horribly out of place. It didn’t help that it seemed most of the severs bustling back and forth were better dressed than she was, and carried themselves easier. They belonged here. A tattoo artist from outskirts of Satan’s Circus did not. But she was not going to leave. She had come down here to apologize to Lilael for treating her so badly the last time they had met. And that was what she was going to do. She was not going to leave.
Until she felt a familiar pull…
Fuck! Not now, not now! Of all the horrible timing. Turning to a nearby empty table, the djinn snatched up a napkin and pulled a pen from a pocket inside her jacket pocket. She hastily scribbled out a note on it; in English, which was unfortunately her weakest written language. She knew what she wanted to say to the other woman’s face but she had no idea how to phrase or spell the things that came to mind, so she kept it simple. She agonized for a long moment on how to sign it but she could already feel herself growing thin as her new master handled her bottle. She didn’t know how long she could hold out. So she went for quick. Unfortuantly in her hurry she signed her name in kanji. She didn't have to to rewrite the note, so she had to quickly mark it out and put the roman spelling down.
Lilael,
I came here to say I’m sorry for acting very badly. Sadly I have no time to tell you this myself. So this note will have to do. I am sorry. Forgive me, Lilael. I do not know when I will see you again. I miss you.
Love,
http://www.failureverification.net/Hashi/sig.jpg
~Akai Hashi
Shoving her pen back in her pocket she walked up to the maître d', interrupting a sycophantic conversation he was having with a woman in a ermine coat. The grey haired man with eyes of steel looked angry but his manners were too deeply engrained for him to outright insult, not that Hashi gave a damn at this point.
“Lilael Snow is expecting me give her this with my apologies.” Hashi said, rushing the words into a single breathless sentence. She shoved the napkin note at him and almost ran out of the room. She hurried down the opulent corridor, her face pinched into a look of concentration as she fought the call of the summon. It didn’t take her long to find a door marked Employees Only and duck inside. She pressed her back to the wall and closed her eyes, unconsciously holding her breath as she lost her battle with the curse and faded out of existence.