It's Café not Coffee! (Open)

Damn it all, damn it all to hell! The rest of the guys could go get their heads blown off for all she cared. They dump her in this s***y country in this stupid city, and for what? Just so they don’t have to deal with another one of her episodes. Well f*** them! The proverbial steam of rage fumed up from Café as she made her way down the streets of Bellmuse. Somehow she had to make it up to the school, the one in the mountains, by tomorrow.


As usual she wore a pair of cargo pants tucked into her combat boots, above that she wore a plain black t-shirt covered by her tac-vest then her favorite jacket. In big white letters on the back it said “Police.” She had gotten it off some cop during a scuffle with the local law. Man the look on that guy's face when he saw that the person who had just taken out twelve cops was just a fourteen year old girl. And it was even better when she put her gun up to his head, pulled the trigger, now he’s dead. Priceless. On her back Café carried a duffel bag full of her other items, as well she carried a nondescript hard case in which the trench gun resided, loaded and ready.

A cigarette hung from her mouth as Café walked through the streets of Bellmuse city as the sun hung over head, it was about noon by now. Just great, now she had to find an airship or something up to the school. Sure she was technically the right age to be attending an academy like this but why in the hell did she have to? She could have spent the rest of her days doing what she did best, mercenary work. But NOOOOOOO she had to go to school, “Get an education” as butch had said “make friends, do stuff a girl her age was supposed to do.” Yeah right, like that was going to make her any better, she was f****d up and that was that.

The quiet afternoon streets were a new-found pleasure of the don. His ties with the schools severed, well... he assumed them to be, the cannibal was free to roam the streets while all those unripened vessels nestled within and wrestled within their classrooms. He couldn't say he missed those rooms. So confining and boring. He'd stare at the clock over the teacher's face... or throw the clock onto the teacher's face, he forgot.

In his hands resided a small tub of strawberry ice-cream, a small plastic shovel in his hand. Scooping the sugary substance into his mouth as he wandered aimlessly. The streets lay rather barren at this hour, it was a weekday and a work-time of course. A few stragglers wandered the wide streets... nothing that scared him in all honesty. He was far too busy burning his retinas on the sun.

Who put it up there... did it break like the moon? Could he break it like the moon was? Who knows, science maybe but probably not. They had tried to pick him apart before, only to end up with a few less fingers. Can't science with less fingers you know. They had been quite lovely though...

Suddenly, the don was sprung from his thoughts when he smacked into the back of another's body. With a resounding snap his shovel, digging into a particularly frozen piece of his desert, snapped in two. A hunk of the cold cream flew forward, leaving a pink glob on the back of the jacket the person was wearing... a jacket with an all too familiar word written on it. A word that he had dealt with all too often in this body.

With a resounding crack from his knees the Don, Errante Carne took two big steps back, "We always did describe them as that pink animal... I wish they had taken someone else's pink though..."

His weapon was hung loosely from the belt on the man's black dress, the handle of which would be just visible to the alleged officer when they turned around.

The person before Errante seemed to go through a fit of varying emotions, not that he really noticed. The gangley boy was far too busy staring deep into the heart of his spoiled ice-cream. He reached in his anorexic right hand, scooping out a decent proportion of the remaining substance. He arced his neck back unclasped his fist, allowing the pinkness to drop into his mouth. He swallowed it... it was too warm. He didn't like that. Not one bit.

"Officer person doesn't seem to quite get it. Does officer person not know yet? Is officer person new? Or is this some kind of joke, set up by officer person's friends?" His eyes were still to the sky, "No wait... officer person doesn't have any friends. No officer people have friends, just the goods and the bads. That's right, yes. They think I'm a bad, don't you know? You should know..."

Icy eyes finally lowered to the prey, his head barreled forward and stopped less than an inch from nose meeting nose. The stench must have been overwhelming. The smell of viscera and strawberry didn't tend to mingle well. The Don brought his tongue along his lips, removing the excess icecream.

"You don't seem like the other officers though do you? You don't look... as dumb. You don't look... as blind. Maybe there is hope for the officers who know my doors, telling me what is and what isn't... in their strange point of view."

Moving up from her eyes the boy caught sight of fluffy blonde hair... such fluffy blonde hair. He very much wanted to touch it, blonde was his fifth favorite after all. Well... that made it sixth worst but still.

A skeletal hand reached up to tease the front of her locks.

"Oooh? That's not a bad grip for one of you you know... but your hair looks so fluffy. I just have to touch it, you know? It's like... It's like a cat you see. The cat want's pet, your hair wants pet. Don't you see? Silly officer can't see," The boy brought his other hand up, attempting to grasp at the girl's hair once more. He wasn't paying very much attention however... he knew it was likely that she'd stop him again. Oh well.

Errante tilted his head to get passed the nose, eyes still locked with hers as he drew closer still. He was... ever so curious. This one... this one didn't look to bad. He was fairly sure he could stomach this one... but could he really defeat this one? She did seem strong in her arms... didn't seem quite stronger than him, but strong in them.

"Do you know how you taste? Your smell is smokey, not so sweet. I wonder if you've drank at all... that's usually a factor. If you won't tell me I'll just have to check myself you know... I'll show you something in exchange for it though."

For the briefest of moment's Errante's eyes flared purple, the colour of his aura. What appeared next, face to face and arm in arm with the girl, was entirely up to her personality and fear. He couldn't help but smile slightly, knowing fine well of the devastation he was about to cause. Meat that had been scared and beaten properly always tasted the best...

The boy's tong flew forward like a spear, aimed to graze her right cheek.

Well... she's better. Better was a rather loose term for the Don however, even a minor improvement could be regarded as better. As her face drew closer to his he lowered his semblance, icy eyes once more catching her own purple ones. He drew back a pace, a pout on his face as he pondered.

"What I see, and what you see, are still probably different... that's not a bad thing, but they are different. I think I'm fine with that, I'm probably fine with that. If you at least drink it you'll be fine and you'll probably see it eventually, so I guess that's okay. It should be okay, for now anyway," He took a half step back to her before pausing, recalling something from long ago. Something he'd forgotten.

The Don took his right hand and, without even looking, brought it onto the tip of the sword at his back. The red was began to flow, oozing from his hand like the remaining drips in a nigh empty can of beer. Knocked sideways onto the curb. He was just about to begin it when he realized... this one was taller than him. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. Well, it might in the long run, but for this...

Errante brought his bloody right palm up, attempting to draw her eye, he then swung his left leg straight to bellow her kneecap; "If you want to do this right you've got to kneel you know, otherwise my hand might get tired."

Regardless of if she did or not he then brought his blood hand to her face, the same neutral expression lacing his own, "Take a drink. You know no two have the same colour, but no two taste the same you know? Even if you have drank before, this will taste quite different to what you had last."

Those who remained in the streets had begun to flee.

She drank from the palm, Errante circling the neck as she did. Enjoying the lavish licks as the blood trickled from his hand. Well, he enjoyed it briefly. She didn't drink nearly long enough. The Don scowled, staring down at her as she sorted her bag. Blue eyes piercing the back of her head like daggers. She hadn't even commented aloud on it, tsk tsk.

He brought forth Ragnarock from behind himself, whipping the sword twice to remove his blood from it, before bringing the heavy black blade to the girl's shoulder and rested it there. With a simple flick of the wrist he could discombobulate her or perhaps even deal some spinal injuries. Needless to say the blade was heavy and with little effort he could turn this into a very not so fun time.

"What do you want from this world and how do you view it?" The usually whispy voice of the Don grew hard before he continued, "I see it like a crane game, one of those ones you get around the docks. Where people pt in coin after coin in the hopes of winning a worthless prize. Can you understand that yet? Or will I have to teach you further... explain to you the fruitless endeavors you partake in and the easy way to solve them... take your time before you answer. It decides quite a lot actually..."

"Fear is like a train you know. How the tracks work? A train can't move in all dimensions, it's stuck to the tracks, you know? Putting your gun there like that, it shows that fear, you know? It looks like it controls you, train-tracks. That's a good name for you..." Errante paced, not half a step and he was already out of line for the gun's barrel and at a point it would be difficult to aim her weapon. That or she'd have to switch to the shoulder with no weapon on it. "Fear is like a train in another way though, if you crash the train into something it will usually die. You've got to make your trains leave the tracks for anything to happen though. My train has left the tracks, you look like you're stuck in the station."

"Simply adding another card isn't the right way to go about changing things, you'll get caught out. Dragged away.You need to cut off people's hands and take their cards. Throwing a wrench won't do a thing. You've got to use it, twist it. Turn it. You've got to work it." Errante let his neck crack, "Crane games are far better you know. It's far easier to cheat one of them right. You don't hit the box to make the right toy fall into place, no no. You break the glass and get it all, not a single toy. All of the toys. Do you understand me? It's not cheating if there are no rules. Do you see that? There are no rules. What you're doing shouldn't be out of badness, it should be out of what's not wrong to do. It should be free will. You know?"

"You seem to see it as doing something wrong for the sake of doing something wrong though... tsk tsk... I might have to fix that."

His sword still rested on her shoulder.