brigitte_fitzgerald * Beautiful women... full hips... ity-bity waists... big tits... So many of the women here, I note, whores. Like, what do they think guys want them for? A good conversation? Doubted. They want a nice squishy place to put their cocks. Pathetic.* One again, in the scarlet ink that wells from the white, bone-shaped pen. She always wrote, never bothering to meet any of these Ayenee men or women. She was a waste of their times. She wasn't beautiful, her breasts couldn't be defined by the loose, thick black/green sweater covering her torso, or through the large, tan/brown trench coat that makes her seem larger than she really is. Nope. Not Brigitte Fitzgerald. She wasn't sway-y or perk... Just... there with her long, tasseled and slightly puffy brown hair. |
Kuzusu_Zenshou -Pauses within approach to this massive tavern like establishment... though in a way felt presence he could tell that this was not the port of entry he so required in this time of need.. if only, this was perhaps one of those whereby places that all the scum of Ayenee hung out these days... he might as well be one of them though.. -
brigitte_fitzgerald * I swear... These women of these bars, taverns, inns and clubs are nothing more than what I see downtown... Flashing their shit like they-re Sharon Stone or something. Half of them are not anything near Sharon Stone. They should put something on... Or large that their ass jiggling as much as their chest is |not| a good thing... Tell that to them and they think you're jealous... Right, like I'd want to be fucked so much I whistle...* she wrote as she mused, idly pressing her legs closed at the knee. The only bit of skin that wasn't her hands or head revealed was her knees, which were only show between her knee-high black boots and her knee-length red and black plaid skirt. She still was a bit dirty. She told Pam that she was spending the night somewhere and didn't get a chance to shower... or shave. She still smelled all right, it's only been two days since she bathed, but her hands were smeared with dirt, which she smeared scratching her sweat-damped cheek, leaving a three-finger smear of dirt along her nose and cheek.
Kuzusu_Zenshou -crimson orbs dash across a cause way to entry as fingers nimbly partake of the metallic structure and cause the knob to turn in a counter clockwise motion... uplifted spherical viewing instruments paused within fragmented complexes as he rethought his current plight.. a smile pressed to the edge of his lips as but a thought nudge the door open to allow him to enter.. -
brigitte_fitzgerald Odd, a girl, no older than eighteen, seated upon a corner table, her backside at the edge of a tabletop and her black boots propped to the table that her tattered, old black back-pack sits 'pon. She didn't look to the dancers or did she look to the men drinking at the bar. She only sat, alone in the dark corner, blocking away the music from her thoughts as she looked down to her old, yellow-paged diary. Many ways was the girl nothing more than an outcaste among outcastes. She was a human. A child of eighteen Turns... Though young, the time when a girl should be exploring her possibilities and setting off into her life. * I'd rather wait it all out in our...* she scribbled out the word 'our', *|my| room... A hopeless breeding ground...* She let her emotionless, cold ebon brown eyes slide over her words, frowning.
Kuzusu_Zenshou - fingers press to oaken surface older then this tavern itself… Crimson orbs dashing over to a black face set somewhere near the corner of this fine establishment.. neon lights glistening in the foreground as an old man submerges his head and allows it to rest in the setting of a bow... He turns within stance, leaning his ass end against the counters edge. His other arms falling before his chest in a manner somewhat befitting to his grace... -
brigitte_fitzgerald She was drawn into the words of depression filling her journal. She was even more depressed than when Ginger was alive. At least then, she had someone to plot suicide with. She couldn't even get the guts to kill herself anymore...Too many meds. too many antidepressants that made her loose her chubby weight, though it was impossible to tell she was slightly skinny under her large, hot sweater and trench coat. She heard nothing before the tap at her shoulder knocked her off guard. She'd been jumpy since the werewolf left at her in her basement. She leapt to her feet, which were soon tangled in the backpack and her chair. She gasped and fell, letting out a grunt as she landed on her hands and knees on the floor, the chair clattering with her. A few drunks laughed as the pen rolled along the floor, the contents of her pack, which was only an empty water bottle, about five bottles of prescription pills, some aspirin, a pack of cigarettes and a Zippo lighter... as well as an instant-developing camera. She turned her head, her puffy brown hair falling along her flushed face ash she looked to the man behind her. He touched her.
Kuzusu_Zenshou -down cast eyes watch as a writing instrument rolls to a stop near the lining of his organic/metallic boot... a lifted gaze is set to the female who has just lost her steed and fallen face first into the musky tavern retreat. A shake of the head is given in grace as a knelt figure, such as himself, pressing phalanges about the copious structure, retrieving it within his digit.. -
brigitte_fitzgerald She noted the pain shooting up her spine from the bite of the dirty floor skinning across her bare, naked knees. The bite was felt, stones tearing, skinning her knees to force blood to seep slowly, harmlessly along her kneecaps. Who touched her? Her ebon and brown eyes darted along behind her, but not a soul was seen. How... weird. She thought soundlessly before another voice spoke to her from the forward most area of the tavern. She tilted her head back, not bothering to push herself from her hands and knees before she took a notice of the large... almost mechanical being standing before her. Was he going to seduce her and leave her for dead like the damned Naga thing? she wondered bitterly before she gently pushed herself up, already dirty from her falling in the dust yesterday, so the dirt and blood on her knees was the least of her worries. She held out her firm, dirty right hand for the bone-shaped pen, immediately down casting her eyes from the amazing being before her. A cyborg? Or could it have just been a simple suit of armor? Either way, if it desired, it could and would kill her. She knelt slowly, cautiously to pick up her chair and backpack, her paintly, slightly round lips pursing a bit as she waited.
Kuzusu_Zenshou -within his bent and articulated approach the old man pauses within lament as his fingers relinquish the hold they one sought over the pen, and allow the object of grace and possible poetry, to fall nimbly into the fingers of fallen female.. the spherical ordainment pulses within a fragmented instant, hushed by the surrounding garb, which presses once more to this orbic structure in order to hide its eerie glow from onlookers.. -
brigitte_fitzgerald Her eyes lacked the normal gleam and shimmer of a woman of Ayenee. They soft orbs were just void of whatever emotions that one could hide: Pain. Hate. Anger. Love. Happiness... all of them... those eyes just an empty shell of a pathetic human girl. She tucked the pen into her bag, slowly, but shoving firmly, placing each fallen article from the floor into her sack once again. She didn't stand back up until she had even her journal in the worn leather bag. Then, finally, she pushed herself up on her booted feet. " Pride? How can I injure it? I don't have any..." she said calmly, no anger, or pain her voice, but a pang of self-pity along her low, monotone words. She looked back to him, heaving to tilt her head slightly to look up at the man/machine that spoke to her, that aided her in retrieving the only thing that she had to think of her sister... besieges the piercing she got shortly after Ginger's demise.
Kuzusu_Zenshou -a furrowed ocular ridge retraces the words spoken by the feminine grace as fingers probe within the wiry mesh of his cloak, hidden to the world within this point. Eyes gaze downward glanced, partitioned and evenly set, pressing daintily poised processes of crimson hue into the air in refuge. The man retracts a foot fall more... -
brigitte_fitzgerald No effort was made to move backwards, nor in any way move away from the being that stepped back from her. " Maybe some of us don't care..." she mumbled as her head downed again, looking, wordlessly to, both her own black boots, as well as his gleaming metallic coverings. What could one say right now? Truthfully? Nothing. She didn't speak to many people and she sure didn't care for pride after all she went through. Have people had worse? Of course. She grew up, until she was fifteen anyway, with a very unhappily married parents, a sister that she looked up to and shared everything with... And suicidal thoughts. Other people had far worse than what she went through, and Ginger knew that. That didn't mean she cared.
Kuzusu_Zenshou -how strange that one so small would find her self without the simplistic rituals of pride. The guyver like being nodded to her fair words, still hidden in guise behind his cloak, though the rudimentary glances of organic like flesh and fibers may have retracted his safety within anonymity, but for the present point in time he wasn't concerned.. -
brigitte_fitzgerald She frowned a bit more fully, her round, paintless lips pressing downwards at the corners to voice her slight emotion. The very emotion that never touched her lips. " Why have pride when it will only get you hurt? Life isn't bad? It's not good either." she says after a long pause. She didn't really enjoy how she couldn't see his face through the material of the hood. Shadows and darkness. Sounds a lot like Fitz-face over here. She was very hot, near the verge of a heat stroke as her large, bulky sweater over her tank top was still covered by her thick brown trench coat. It was a wonder how she didn't pass out in the large, hot tavern. her dirt-smeared face was still shined with a delicate mist of sweat, causing a bit of her slightly puffy brown hair to caress and stick along her cheeks and forehead. She swallowed weakly and peered around the large club, glancing to Gage, then towards the woman before looking back to the hidden Guyver Unit before her. What did he want? To mock her lack of self pride and respect? Or did he have more in planned?
Kuzusu_Zenshou - a mind reaches out for a filament of hope within a torrent of hate.. Possible applications of such greed pressed firmly into his psyche as he glanced downward at the fallen female... fingers caressed a chest plate, as the summonsing in the third layer of the primary medallion continued to fiercely combat that spiritual clarity of Zenshou... He would not let the "Revyug" have its way... -
brigitte_fitzgerald though Brigitte wished only seconds before that he would lower his hood, when he did, she regretted it. He was even less human-looking that she had though, or dare say, pictured him to be behind his cowl and shadows of darkness that only moments before lingering along the helmed face of the Guyver Unit. What was he, really? He wasn't human, at least with how he expressed his odd, mechanical vision to her suggested. " I'm not lying," she found herself telling him as she looked away from his face to naturally bow her head. " I don't care about pride." she said truthfully, wishing Ginger was there. She would most-likely just flip out at the creature and get herself filled though. Brigitte kept her head bowed at the natural angle to stare at the floor between them, gentle, puffy waves of her brown hair drifting along her miat-covered cheeks. The heat of her heavy clothing, though it was warm outside, and even warmer in, made her sweat under the clothing, along her spine, neck, arms and even her face. Brigitte. Little Brigitte. She needed to be kicked... or something to get her out of her never-ending rut of depression and self loathing.
Kuzusu_Zenshou -oh how the day had gone to hell and back within a moment of disarray. He pivoted within foot falls, facing her once more. His visage of anonymity bloated and far fetched within this instant. She knew he was not one of these normal folk, who scurried about the world as though it was coming to an end at the next moment... And yet she didn't run, though she did hide her face.. -
brigitte_fitzgerald She didn't exactly fear him, she just had no trust. Why should she? She had no reason what-so-ever to trust the being before her. He was human under the mask, right? Under those garbs of metal and the like.. Under the cloak... He was human? She mused soundlessly as she kept her head bowed a bit. " without Ginger... There isn't much to live for." She stated truthfully as she looked to her fallen journal. She stepped forward before crouching slowly to scoop the torn, black-covered, notebook. A scar along the palm of her right hand revealed, it was intentional, most likely with a knife, years ago, but the pale flesh was still raised in thin, spidery lines of riddles and slashes at the meat of her palm, nearly touching at her thumb. She retrieved her journal, straightening to stand again after a pause. Would he kill her for saying what she just did? She nearly hoped he would. Nearly.
Kuzusu_Zenshou - a momentary lapse in judgment, to invade ones private thoughts was not something done lightly, and yet he had just done this without hesitation. He shook his head lightly, placing fingers nimbly across the fabric of his cowl, retracting those tattered fibers to reveal the face, the monstrous visage of a Guyver Unit in full bloom... he was of the prime type, one known as Sakari. A beast that had been known to slay entire armies in his day... -
brigitte_fitzgerald Without so much as a word, the girl straighten fully, the blood and dirt caked to her knees, disappearing into the depths of her black laced combat boots. Combat? Brigitte? No.. She was weak. she could have been strong, had she even attempted to care for herself, what she did... what she said. She allowed her dark, dead eyes to trail to the odd vision before her. It was a helm, as she had expected. A helm or an alien. How could she know what a Guyver Unit was? She had no idea what it did, the thirst for blood, or death that it always wanted to satisfy. She knew no such thing. She felt dizzy and fought the urge to sit down... or pass out. Waves of shivering heat continued to wade across her over-dress figure, but she did not loosen her trench coat, but tightened it against her breast. So warm. Every part of her body was damp, even the roots of her fluffy hair. " Do you want something? 'Cause... Whatever..." she mumbled, swaying only slgihtly before planting her feet firmly.
Guyver_Sakari -perhaps this wasn't the best course of action.. she had come to her feet without fear, and her own offset aura had been showing the tantalizing displays of possible interactions with such beast of this like in the past.. he shrugged within his own reassesses of thought as his angst over his current predicament seemed to settle in within this momentary flicker of the moment.. -
brigitte_fitzgerald The song flashed through her mind as she idly amused the song that forsaken within her brain. A cold song. one she listened to continuously at home while hiding in her bare bedroom, listening to her mother and her new boyfriend either having sex or her lecturing him. *They can make things worse for me. Sometimes I'd rather die. They can tell me lots of things, but I can't see eye-to-eye. Well, I know they know the way I think. I know they always will. But some day I'm gonna change my mind.. sometimes I'd rather kill.* Why did that song drift along her mind at that moment? Maybe because the creature seemed to stare right through her though those deep, stiltedly orbed eyes. Her eyes roll lightly as he reached to his forehead. She was dehydrated and over-heated. She was starting to loose the battle of keeping her mind clear of the heat. * blood stains. Speed kills. Fast cars. Cheep thrills. Rich girls. Fine wine. I've lost my sense, I've lost control, I've lost my mind.* The smear of dirt on her cheek seeped a bit with the mist of sweat, the thin layer of mist causing her pale chin to gleam in the multi-colored lights of the hot club. " You need me? no.. You need my help? Yeah. Right." bitterness licked off her tired, cold voice.
Guyver_Sakari -she had spoke the words coldly and softly within their resort of tone.. how strange such a lithe creature would retract and even speak to something as horrid as this unit.. even with the revyug tugging at the back of his semi conscious state, he was unable to realize that perhaps this was not the best course of action.. though he continued forward with those plots and plans he had lined up within the past momentary lapse of time.. -
brigitte_fitzgerald Now what was he doing? A gun? no.. something dressed like that didn't need a gun to blow her brains out, splatter them across the wall behind her and end her pathetic life. She only stayed for one reason and one reason alone. She was hella curious at what he wanted her to do. In went his hand to his cloak... out came him holding... what was that? a box? She eyed it curiously, the first emotion touching her eyes. Confusion. She raised her dirty right hand slowly, almost trying to touch the odd object. " Um... I can't do that. I'm not anything special like most in this place... Uh... I can't help you." She looked at him liek he was out of his mind. how on Earth could she, Brigitte Fitzgerald, help him rid the word of evils? If he hadn't noticed, she wasn't a picture of health... or a big creature either. She was even short, five feet six inches tall. She swayed again, this time closing her eyes as she reached the point of near passing out. Dehydration wasn't her best pastime. She reached her left hand back, pressing it to her table to hold herself on her feet. Her right hand closed her large trench coat as she shivered, getting a chill from the warmth. " Um... sorry?" She almost asked after the long pause after her words. didn't mean to disappoint him.
Guyver_Sakari -a hand held tightly to the unit as though it was ultra powerful weapon from some far off universe.. as is the case, it was.. a shiver of remorse filled his rather over sized heart as the tiny node located within the center of this fleshy construct, blinked.. not once, not twice, but thrice.. compelling fabrications of relative reality had not prepared him for this.. perhaps it was not the revyug that lead him to this far off place, -
brigitte_fitzgerald Okay, that didn't look to friendly. Her dark eyes widened, did she show fear? Yes. fear oiled along her pale features, glinting across her dark eyes as the odd tendrils pulled the Control area towards her. " Get it off me!" she would have struggled, had she remembered how to move. This was scarier than when Ginger transformed into a werewolf. She was terrified. Not only did the thing just grab her, but it was moving towards her face, at least she knew Ginger was a werewolf. She had no idea what-so-ever what this thing planned to do to her. She lost her footing, and stumbled back into the table as the Control Medallion lined itself with the centre of her forehead, pressing to it. Her gasps of complaints and nervous mumbled ceased as it covered her face with the odd object. She managed to land hard on her backside, unfeeling to the pain that shot up her tailbone. She was running out of everything. She tried to claw at the covering over her face, tried to scream. |anything|. nothing came out and she felt it soon latching to her, coiling about her figure completely. If she was scared now.. it could only get worse, right?
Guyver_Sakari -this was indefinite.. the plausible cause of this malfunction of morality seemed disturbing, and yet something he truly recalled from his past.. 500 or so years ago he had triumphed over evil along side the mighty strides of the Guyver Strike Forces, vanquished those torrents of devil like entities that so boldly refereed to themselves as Guyver.. he shook his head, -
brigitte_fitzgerald She couldn't remember breathing as she clenched her eyes to the point where she saw red swimming along her darkness-covered vision. It was everywhere... covering... everything. Brigitte laid on the floor, having forced to lay backwards on her back as the ..."thing" coursed it's long tendrils over her figure. She could feel the pangs of pain, not knowing it the Unit was causing it, or if she was just feeling whatever she normally voided out. She blacked out, at least her mind did, she had no idea what was happening, only surrendered to the darkness behind her eyes as the tendrils ventured inwards... her mouth... her nose... every opening they could find to force themselves inwards towards her inside.
Guyver_Sakari -never had vision of grandeur past through his conscious reflections.. before he was but a mere servant of the torrent of force that washed over ayenee.. a pawn in the greater picture.. then this.. the world passing him by and only the little people left to defend.. the fall of the guyver over 500 years ago, and the rise of the revyug.. if only he could have stopped it.. -
brigitte_fitzgerald Brigitte was completely out. To the Guyver unit that controlled her, She was only the host, a completely defenseless host. As Brigitte remained in her tranced unconsciousness, the Guyver completely its first boost after transforming, redesigning the young girl for it's uses. The ways it needed to be part of her. Perhaps, in time, Brigitte with feel the power that the Guyver gave her... She'll desire to learn more... live.. not just exist in the word. The Guyver was on it's feet instantly, without any of the scrambling the clumsy girl held. Grace, perfect precision and stride as it stood. Twin sensory Orbs spun and glided along their tracks as it took in the environment. The dancers.. the drinks and the other occupants. without a word, it tensed, bending it's arms at the elbow before it bounded forward towards the first person it could see. It didn't hesitate, nor did it seem frantic or lost. It was destructive. It finally had a host. Where was it headed? well, at the present moment, lest it was stopped, it bounded towards Angel McKenzie, not even noticing the other Guyver, which was sure to stop it. Black pressing, elongating at the elbow of the 6'5 Guyver . Frequency Swords growing to a little over a foot...
Guyver_Sakari -for story that was beyond the point of being pathetic.. perhaps the slumbering beast has awaken at this point in context.. perhaps the Guyver had thought itself great enough to challenge others around it.. all that could be said for sure was that it was moving quickly in the direction of the poor little female form poised before it.. Sakari had to act quick if he wanted to stop this deviant tormented soul from skewering this poor little lithe form.. -
brigitte_fitzgerald So close. so close. It noted as it ran through the tavern towards the small girl, the soft, metallic-like Control Medallion gleaming against the helm-like mask of the Unit's face. Quite small compared to the large, male-formed Guyver speeding towards her. Over a foot shorter and slender, naturally a woman's build, though Briggitte would never have fit into the suit on a normal day. It changed her shape, didn't it? Forced together all that baby clothing to conceal her in the powerful armor. The Sensory Orbs swished along their tracks as she ran forward, toes barely touching the hard floor as she raced towards Angel until the other Guyver nearly surprised her, throwing her backwards, hard by the punch to her breastplate. within seconds, though, even after the recoil of the punch, the guyver was on guard, turning it's attention from angel for a moment to stare at Sakari. The blades protruding from its elbows humming lightly, vibrating as she readied for an attack, not at all caution she would have been with Brigitte in even slight bit of control. She leapt forward, flying at the Guyver that easily could over power her. her right arm bending, the blade attached to the elbow slashing towards the Guyver's breast plate as she came down, careless as she knew she stood no chance.
Guyver_Sakari -fingers flesh and a blur of motion.. guyver react at speeds beyond even human comprehension at this point, and sakari was no different.. his punch had injured the poor little thing,. knocked a few ribs loose or something of the sort, but this was not enough.. it would surely heal almost instantaneously.. it would be back on its feet and ready to strike once more.. -
brigitte_fitzgerald so fast. so Powerful. The Guyver missed this power, this freedom, but the other stood in its way of carnage. The first blood. It felt the humming, vibrating blade slice through the other Guyver Unit's arm, tearing the poly morphic flesh open, gashing it quite deep. Fatal for a human, but only a way to slow the guyver for a few seconds. Seconds are all Guyvers need. So fast, so strong. The punch was half dodged, by the Unit spinning on it's left foot, thrusting it into a light twirl, but still, taking a blunt sock to the right side is it's rib cage. ribs pop, snapping in the soft body of Brigitte, and the Guyver flew back, colliding with the wall and breaking through it. The force was amazing to watch. Two Guyvers fighting was a show in itself. Speed, strength, regeneration. Within seconds, the ribs were being mended and the human within let out a light groan as the pain awoke her. her eyes opened, gaze through the Guyvers in a daze before the yell of the other jolted her awake. The Guyver had just regain balance before Brigitte panicked, causing it to fall backwards towards the lake, splashing into the deep surface. " The Hell is happening?!" The girl shrieked.
Guyver_Sakari -this could be a trick, life in itself seemed poised to constantly fool one if he wasn't watching out.. a warrior unit was something revered, yet this one was manipulated by TheGuyversWill, it had undergone the transmutation into the control class breed.. a tool of mass fascism. meant to control the bereaved, meant to control the Guyver Strike Forces.. yet that evil had passed, and in his legacy the Revyug came to be.. -
brigitte_fitzgerald The air was released from the mouth area in a large puff of ventilated air, cooling the system that housed the girl. Brigitte was scared, more scared than she had been while crawling through her house after ginger murdered Sam. Falling down the stairs as she felt the weariness of the Lycanthrope change over take her. She only spoke through the connection due to the Guyver loosening a bit, the soft colors of the suit glinting along the water of the lake she stood in. She spoke, but it worked, the Control Medallion responding as the blades along her elbows shortened, remaining to their normal, small size. (( What... did you do to me?!)) Her voice was breathless, on the verge of passing out again, but she did not call off the suit. She didn't even know how.. or what it was. She bowed her head a bit, though the sensory orbs whirled in their tracks atop her head. (( What is this...?)) She asked a bit more calmly.
Guyver_Sakari -eyes flickered dashes of crimson pouring freely from their copious centre's... slits faceted and readied for this perhaps false sense of sympathy and compassion.. fingers held tightly within grip as power amplifiers redivided portion of graviton particle fields, stabilizing the mass of the unit to a rudimentary form.. -
brigitte_fitzgerald she was doing.. decent? She still stood in the water, the firm, dark brown and ebony color of the unit almost perfectly matching the girl's eyes within. She stepped forward slowly, not at all having that shuffling, slouched stride that she had when they first met. only hours before. " I suppose... A Guyver? Why the hell did you give me the power.. the thing.. to even harness power to dis--...Just.. Why? you don't even know my name." she says, her voice still that cold, monotone voice, but she explored the suit with her large covered hands, admiring each small joint on the black and brown suit, the curves of the female figure that she now possessed in the suit. " I.. will it change me... if I get out of the suit? I mean.. I'll still look like me... |Can| I get out of the suit?" she asked lightly, listening to the soft whirling of the sensory orbs in their tracks.
Guyver_Sakari -slits placed within the complexities of the moment fixated upon the tiny physical form of the guyver presented before him.. questions… questions . they always have questions.. he never asked such remarks of his predecessors, merely accepted the gift and moved on, thinking him self to great to receive training in any form.. that was his way though, a destroyer of destroyers, -