twiststheblade (
twiststheblade) wrote2006-06-01 09:22 pm
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Angels: Act One.
The door opens onto a room, not small, not large. Bare, pale walls that could be made of paper, but aren't. There is a window, shuttered against the sun, pale light struggling weakly in to lie in stripes across the wooden floor.
The bed(futon) hasn't been made, white sheets tangled and draped half off onto the floor.
The only splash of colour in the room comes from a vase containing a single spray of yellow flowers, which sits atop a simple lacquered chest. Also atop the chest is a single, dog-eared book, titled 'Koshoku ichidai onna', and two small brown glass bottles, safety capped, labelled in japanese.
Miho steps noiselessly through the door, one finger to her lips, although of course she doesn't have to remind the others of the need for caution. She's all in her habitual black - soft jeans, well broken-in boots, tightly laced, the usual short-sleeved shirt and a loose kimono jacket over it all. There's a knife at each hip, and one at the small of her back. She has her forearm sheaths, as usual, and the bandolier of shuriken. There is a knife in each boot. No swords. Not. . . yet.
I can do this. It's not different than any other place. And I'm not alone. I don't have to be alone.
She raises her eyebrows to Goldy, and tilts her head to the door, a deceptively heavy affair, locked from outside.
The bed(futon) hasn't been made, white sheets tangled and draped half off onto the floor.
The only splash of colour in the room comes from a vase containing a single spray of yellow flowers, which sits atop a simple lacquered chest. Also atop the chest is a single, dog-eared book, titled 'Koshoku ichidai onna', and two small brown glass bottles, safety capped, labelled in japanese.
Miho steps noiselessly through the door, one finger to her lips, although of course she doesn't have to remind the others of the need for caution. She's all in her habitual black - soft jeans, well broken-in boots, tightly laced, the usual short-sleeved shirt and a loose kimono jacket over it all. There's a knife at each hip, and one at the small of her back. She has her forearm sheaths, as usual, and the bandolier of shuriken. There is a knife in each boot. No swords. Not. . . yet.
I can do this. It's not different than any other place. And I'm not alone. I don't have to be alone.
She raises her eyebrows to Goldy, and tilts her head to the door, a deceptively heavy affair, locked from outside.
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She slowly moves the tool upwards, an inch at a time, scoring a vaguely straight vertical line. "It looks like this may take some time. So... um... chat amongst yourselves."
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"My mother loved honeysuckle. It was her favorite,
(and mine)
Father said. He told us that much."
She treats the flower with more reverence now, offering it to Miho.
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Then, she takes a seat on the end of the futon, watching Goldy cut through the window with the same odd smile still on her lips.
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"Hey. If we're doing flowers, I want one too. We are a team."
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"I don't think these are marigolds, but I'll give you one when we get outside."
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She slips her fingers under her legs, actually sitting on her hands. Not twitching.
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She catches it as it topples in, and removes it to one side.
"Okay. We're good to go."
"Ladies first," she says to Alanna with a smirk.
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"You've got me by a technicality," she grumbles good-naturedly. "Last one in, first one out."
Sobering, she quietly crawls through the hole with more grace than most would credit. Once on the other side, she moves to the left and keeps a watchful eye on the peaceful looking garden, hands ready at her side.
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She waits for Goldy to make it through the hole before leading the way across the gardens, soft boots carefully noiseless on the gravel.
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She's not quite as stealthy as the other two, and her boots do crunch the loose stones a little. But it's hopefully lost in the steady drum of rain on the roof or in the more arhythmic dripping from the gutterways and vegetation.
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Following Miho, she turns her face into the breeze, scenting the air like a hound. On any other occasion, she would find the garden delightful.
A noise sounds nearby, and in the blink of an eye, Alanna has a dagger ready and waiting, eyes trained in that direction as they continue.
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A bit further along the meandering walkway she spies a security camera positioned at the corner of the building. But their little leader seems to have them moving at a perfect lag behind its sweep. Goldy trusts this is the case anyway.
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It's tall, but it's not insurmountable.
Smiling like the proverbial cat that caught the canary, she pauses just before they reach the wall, stooping to run gravel and dirt over her wet hands.
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"I am most definitely not," she admits, suddenly feeling a bit porky.
She reflexively sucks her stomach in while knitting her fingers together, and stoops to allow Miho to put her foot in the makeshift stirrup.
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A slight scuff of her boot against the grass to get any dirt off, and a light push off Goldy's hands, and Miho has a grip on the top of the wall. A twist, and she's lying flat on her stomach, feet hooked on either side,under the tiled top.
She makes a long arm, reaching for Alanna, as the second lightest.
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Almost clear. Walk in the park.
She tries to climb as well, rather than let herself be lifted. But her slightly less sensible boots don't get much purchase on the stonework, and they end up scrabbling around for most of the ascent. It is quite certain that her team mates know exactly how much she weighs by the time they heave her to the point where she can grab the top edge and fend for herself.
She looks a bit sheepish. "Sorry. It's slippery."
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"The guard building is that way," she murmurs, pointing. "And this is where we can't avoid them. But if we're quiet and you follow me - and I mean exactly, feet where my feet go - we should manage to miss most of them."
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Goldy gets a disparaging glance. However, Alanna's curiosity gets the better of her.
Softly, "what's a wedgie?"
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She doesn't yank hard however. It's not enough to overbalance the knight or cause any real discomfort.
"Multiply the force of that by ten, and you've got yourself a wedgie," she declares informatively.
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Her eyes never stop moving though, watching for movement. She knows it'll come, she's just not too sure when. She doesn't know the patterns of the outer guards.
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"You'd best be thankful I wore undergarments today."
Smirking, she gently shoves Goldy off the wall and drops down immediately after.
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