ENTER TEAM KEFKA
Franz Castle is having a good day.
The third best part was that he wasn’t bloodstained. None of it spattered on his clothing or Prussia’s thanks to the aprons they wore and the gloves. There’s still a faint taste of it in his mouth where he licked his thumb while appreciating the screams.
Screams, yes. That was the best part of the day. He hadn’t realized the sort of creative talent Prussia had for hurting people. They’d went into the warehouse together, Franz with his warmage make up and Prussia in a bright uniform clumsily adapted for a child under his apron and Ruwach shimmering over the ground, unseen. ‘We’re lost,’ he’d said, ‘my son was going to a birthday party and we brought the limbo pole and the paint supplies and what is that?!”
One guard turned and was crushed in Ruwach’s folds. The others were too surprised to noticed Prussia grabbing the ‘limbo pole’ and using it to shish kebab two more while Franz turned another to poisoned pulp. Between the three of them, the guards were soon dead.
The other best part of the day was opening the box they had been maneuvering into their car and taking out the finely painted shield. Bronze and painted red and it smelled like ashes and smoke and as he touched it, touched and let his power take hold and drain out until it really was ash in his hands, he felt fire shimmer through his nerves and down his flesh and he twisted and the dead men turned to ashes under his heat, ashes and crumbling bones and he crushed those with more fire. He took his apron and gloves and Prussia’s and burned those too until there was nothing left. Then he and Prussia and Ruwach left, the former with a strut to his step and his halbard now collapsed and sheathed on his belt and Ruwach around his shoulders like a giant shawl. Comfy.
Second best-second best was this easy get away. The men wouldn’t be discovered for days. He changed make up in a truck stop bathroom, something with red highlights and shimmery instead of the opaque mask of stars and arcs. The people here call it feminine and wussy but-butbutbut-mages always hide their faces and he is fire now and it makes him look weak (but why? Women were better spellcasters historically, they were on par with men back home) and a weak man was not one who helped kill ten and maybe he’ll pretend to be a woman next. It would be a good disguise. Between the comments he’s gotten about his rainbow jacket and red camo, he suspects he’s already halfway there.
This bus is-bumpy. Prussia--no, he should call him Gilbert now that he's not wearing that bloodthirsty smile--wanders up and down and asks people prying questions and begs for candies, the little brat-and Franz smiles. It’s good to see his country taking after him. Ruwach flutters on his shoulders and keeps him in a warm, carpet-y hug while he waits.
It’s half an hour to the store for supplies for their cabin, by bus. Franz can wait. He has his notebook full of little notes about the city-written in his shorthand, dotted with doodles of ideas and sketches-and he has Ruwach on his shoulders and he has Prussia to watch. He giggles. He has a feeling that this day will just get better and better.
The third best part was that he wasn’t bloodstained. None of it spattered on his clothing or Prussia’s thanks to the aprons they wore and the gloves. There’s still a faint taste of it in his mouth where he licked his thumb while appreciating the screams.
Screams, yes. That was the best part of the day. He hadn’t realized the sort of creative talent Prussia had for hurting people. They’d went into the warehouse together, Franz with his warmage make up and Prussia in a bright uniform clumsily adapted for a child under his apron and Ruwach shimmering over the ground, unseen. ‘We’re lost,’ he’d said, ‘my son was going to a birthday party and we brought the limbo pole and the paint supplies and what is that?!”
One guard turned and was crushed in Ruwach’s folds. The others were too surprised to noticed Prussia grabbing the ‘limbo pole’ and using it to shish kebab two more while Franz turned another to poisoned pulp. Between the three of them, the guards were soon dead.
The other best part of the day was opening the box they had been maneuvering into their car and taking out the finely painted shield. Bronze and painted red and it smelled like ashes and smoke and as he touched it, touched and let his power take hold and drain out until it really was ash in his hands, he felt fire shimmer through his nerves and down his flesh and he twisted and the dead men turned to ashes under his heat, ashes and crumbling bones and he crushed those with more fire. He took his apron and gloves and Prussia’s and burned those too until there was nothing left. Then he and Prussia and Ruwach left, the former with a strut to his step and his halbard now collapsed and sheathed on his belt and Ruwach around his shoulders like a giant shawl. Comfy.
Second best-second best was this easy get away. The men wouldn’t be discovered for days. He changed make up in a truck stop bathroom, something with red highlights and shimmery instead of the opaque mask of stars and arcs. The people here call it feminine and wussy but-butbutbut-mages always hide their faces and he is fire now and it makes him look weak (but why? Women were better spellcasters historically, they were on par with men back home) and a weak man was not one who helped kill ten and maybe he’ll pretend to be a woman next. It would be a good disguise. Between the comments he’s gotten about his rainbow jacket and red camo, he suspects he’s already halfway there.
This bus is-bumpy. Prussia--no, he should call him Gilbert now that he's not wearing that bloodthirsty smile--wanders up and down and asks people prying questions and begs for candies, the little brat-and Franz smiles. It’s good to see his country taking after him. Ruwach flutters on his shoulders and keeps him in a warm, carpet-y hug while he waits.
It’s half an hour to the store for supplies for their cabin, by bus. Franz can wait. He has his notebook full of little notes about the city-written in his shorthand, dotted with doodles of ideas and sketches-and he has Ruwach on his shoulders and he has Prussia to watch. He giggles. He has a feeling that this day will just get better and better.