May 4, 2023 12:48:13 GMT
Post by Izanami Ryūzaki on May 4, 2023 12:48:13 GMT
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[attr="class","adrie-lyric1"]For Goodness Saké
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[attr="class","adrie-lyric2"]Some drink to remember, others to forget.
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[attr="class","inner-finally"]Izanami found that good saké was a luxury these days, especially with Neo-Tokyo being as unsafe as it was. At least the Korean peninsula was largely unaffected by the global upheaval, and had plenty of Japanese expats. Herself included... Cheap saké was better than no saké, which explained the bottle on her table and the cup in her hands. Izanami took a sip, eyes closed as she reflected on things as of late. Whole world had turned upside down overnight... and yet she'd kinda wanted that. In a way, it had given her the freedom being a rich socialite could not. Freedom from expectations, freedom to make her own way in the world.
Despite sitting alone, Izanami's table looked rather cramped. She wore her D.R.A.G.O.N. frequently, the cybernetic exoskeleton becoming something of a second skin. She could remove it easily enough. Well, no, she couldn't. Its command core was buried in her chest, next to her heart. Removing that would kill her. But deactivating the armor and sending it into sleep mode was as easy as thinking the command. Yet... she'd grown used to D.R.A.G.O.N., it had become something of a companion in her travels.
Two enormous metallic dragon heads rested at either side of the table, spilling out into the aisles. One gnawed on the mangled body of a goblin like a dog with a favored chew toy. The other was perked and attentive, as if listening to an unspoken conversation with its master. D.R.A.G.O.N. had a personality all its own, split between the two heads of the suit. They whispered thoughts into her mind, filling her thoughts with flashes of emotion and desire. It was by far the most difficult part of the entire ordeal to get used to. D.R.A.G.O.N. was ravenous, compulsive, destructive, and savage to a fault. It desired little more than to crush, kill, and consume, sometimes not in that order. 'Rip and Tear' was their mantra, along with class' own passive.
It was a simple motto, that perfectly encapsulated the armor's purpose. Kill and consume, assimilate new data and absorb the strengths and abilities of whatever it was her metallic maws devoured. To this end Izanami's goals had become to fight the greatest monsters, slay the most powerful beasts. Integrate their might into her own, push her D.R.A.G.O.N. to the edges of its limits. In doing so discover her true potential. She did not know how much of her private thoughts the armor could gleam, seemingly little, if anything, as it never offered abject protest to her daydreaming. Though any time she openly expressed thoughts like anger, frustration, bloodlust, or fury it was quick to agree. It made it difficult to tell where the line blurred between autonomous and subservient. Perhaps it was simple that D.R.A.G.O.N. was both?
Izanami took another sip, still grappling with her own thoughts. The bar she was at was a cramped hole in the wall, a popular stopping point for people arriving in Seoul via waypoint. It was exactly the sort of place she'd never have dared be caught dead before. But nowadays, she fit right in. A weary soul looking for a roof over head, a stiff drink, and an hour off her feet before trudging back out into the cold and rain to whatever the future held. Izanami refilled her glass, one of her maws looked at her expectantly. She sighed and poured half its contents down the steel jaws of D.R.A.G.O.N.'s left head. If it had a tongue, it would have licked its nonexistent lips. Izanami smirked, taking a another sip of her drink and people watching the strangers going about their day.
Despite sitting alone, Izanami's table looked rather cramped. She wore her D.R.A.G.O.N. frequently, the cybernetic exoskeleton becoming something of a second skin. She could remove it easily enough. Well, no, she couldn't. Its command core was buried in her chest, next to her heart. Removing that would kill her. But deactivating the armor and sending it into sleep mode was as easy as thinking the command. Yet... she'd grown used to D.R.A.G.O.N., it had become something of a companion in her travels.
Two enormous metallic dragon heads rested at either side of the table, spilling out into the aisles. One gnawed on the mangled body of a goblin like a dog with a favored chew toy. The other was perked and attentive, as if listening to an unspoken conversation with its master. D.R.A.G.O.N. had a personality all its own, split between the two heads of the suit. They whispered thoughts into her mind, filling her thoughts with flashes of emotion and desire. It was by far the most difficult part of the entire ordeal to get used to. D.R.A.G.O.N. was ravenous, compulsive, destructive, and savage to a fault. It desired little more than to crush, kill, and consume, sometimes not in that order. 'Rip and Tear' was their mantra, along with class' own passive.
It was a simple motto, that perfectly encapsulated the armor's purpose. Kill and consume, assimilate new data and absorb the strengths and abilities of whatever it was her metallic maws devoured. To this end Izanami's goals had become to fight the greatest monsters, slay the most powerful beasts. Integrate their might into her own, push her D.R.A.G.O.N. to the edges of its limits. In doing so discover her true potential. She did not know how much of her private thoughts the armor could gleam, seemingly little, if anything, as it never offered abject protest to her daydreaming. Though any time she openly expressed thoughts like anger, frustration, bloodlust, or fury it was quick to agree. It made it difficult to tell where the line blurred between autonomous and subservient. Perhaps it was simple that D.R.A.G.O.N. was both?
Izanami took another sip, still grappling with her own thoughts. The bar she was at was a cramped hole in the wall, a popular stopping point for people arriving in Seoul via waypoint. It was exactly the sort of place she'd never have dared be caught dead before. But nowadays, she fit right in. A weary soul looking for a roof over head, a stiff drink, and an hour off her feet before trudging back out into the cold and rain to whatever the future held. Izanami refilled her glass, one of her maws looked at her expectantly. She sighed and poured half its contents down the steel jaws of D.R.A.G.O.N.'s left head. If it had a tongue, it would have licked its nonexistent lips. Izanami smirked, taking a another sip of her drink and people watching the strangers going about their day.
KAY OF PIXEL PERFECT
