Post by millia on Nov 6, 2007 11:05:50 GMT -5
==========Undisclosed Location==========
"Ding dong the Archer's dead is it?"
"He was replaced as per wishes of our associate, it seems Mr. Lavitz's work was not fast enough for our benefactor."
"Lavitz... he was useless, I will suffice much better for the job."
"I should hope so Millia, there are not many choices upon us left. He's run through seven Archer's now, Legacy is not far off. Make sure you fulfill all of his needs."
"... Of course."
She closes her eyes slowly as the sound of her comrades footsteps begin to trace away from her. Leaving her alone with her thoughts, disturbing as they may be. Her fingernails, sharp, tap against the table in front of her. One by one in sequence, from pinkie to thumb. Lavitz, decommissioned. She stands up with a heavy breath, her long blond hair waving as she takes each step. She clenches her fists with a low crack of her knuckles as she does so. It seemed before his... departure, Lavitz had managed to fulfill one of the primary jobs. Jamie Dourif had been contacted. If he did his job right, then Millia's card should have been left behind. She hated, hated, HATED the plain white cards Lavitz had used.
Taking out one of her own she stares at it, the pitch black surface. The silver text embossed on it, raised slightly. Her fingers wrap around the surface of the card and slowly crumples it into a heap of a ball before hurling it with considerable force against the ground. She despised this job, how could you not. Being needed to actually aide people that he wanted her to? Millia was not a lap dog by any sense of the means, she would make that perfectly clear soon enough. Grabbing her battle gear off of the table she begins to get all huffy as she strips down out of the usual Archer garb. Millia was in a different class than Archer, her garb was not white. It was black. That didn't matter right now though, she wouldn't be in it. Her dark skin slowly gets covered by the tight, white fabric. She HATED wearing white, it made her feel.... contained. Slipping on the very short half jacket, she fastens the flowing unique pants of the outfit. A thin belt keeping it against her hips. Grabbing her sword... sword, a weapon. She slides it into the slot on the back of her jacket.
"Hm.... So Lacey would be the easiest......"
End.
"Ding dong the Archer's dead is it?"
"He was replaced as per wishes of our associate, it seems Mr. Lavitz's work was not fast enough for our benefactor."
"Lavitz... he was useless, I will suffice much better for the job."
"I should hope so Millia, there are not many choices upon us left. He's run through seven Archer's now, Legacy is not far off. Make sure you fulfill all of his needs."
"... Of course."
She closes her eyes slowly as the sound of her comrades footsteps begin to trace away from her. Leaving her alone with her thoughts, disturbing as they may be. Her fingernails, sharp, tap against the table in front of her. One by one in sequence, from pinkie to thumb. Lavitz, decommissioned. She stands up with a heavy breath, her long blond hair waving as she takes each step. She clenches her fists with a low crack of her knuckles as she does so. It seemed before his... departure, Lavitz had managed to fulfill one of the primary jobs. Jamie Dourif had been contacted. If he did his job right, then Millia's card should have been left behind. She hated, hated, HATED the plain white cards Lavitz had used.
Taking out one of her own she stares at it, the pitch black surface. The silver text embossed on it, raised slightly. Her fingers wrap around the surface of the card and slowly crumples it into a heap of a ball before hurling it with considerable force against the ground. She despised this job, how could you not. Being needed to actually aide people that he wanted her to? Millia was not a lap dog by any sense of the means, she would make that perfectly clear soon enough. Grabbing her battle gear off of the table she begins to get all huffy as she strips down out of the usual Archer garb. Millia was in a different class than Archer, her garb was not white. It was black. That didn't matter right now though, she wouldn't be in it. Her dark skin slowly gets covered by the tight, white fabric. She HATED wearing white, it made her feel.... contained. Slipping on the very short half jacket, she fastens the flowing unique pants of the outfit. A thin belt keeping it against her hips. Grabbing her sword... sword, a weapon. She slides it into the slot on the back of her jacket.
"Hm.... So Lacey would be the easiest......"
End.