( it's probs for the best you write the starter anyway since i know literally nothing about RWBY—case in point, i just had to google the canon name... )
[ Pyrrha’s patrol often took her to the more questionable corners of Random Jamjar City, complete with questionable NPCs milling aimlessly. Only a few hours of day - if they’re good, if the City’s programmers and architects on high deem so, using only a compass known to them - before night swallows again. With it, threats are woven into the brick walls, the paved streets, the flickering lampposts. Back home, she had been a Huntress-in-training, so it made sense to Pyrrha for her to Protect (capital P) and Serve (capital S) to the best of her ability. To this day, a foe hasn’t been able to get a scratch on her.
That’s not to say she isn’t wary, in these webbed corners. The hair on the back of her neck prickles, as it would for anyone, when a child’s unearthly giggle comes just so close to her ear. Turning and finding nothing there only makes it worse. Amid the grouping of NPCs, teeth bared and eyes narrowed in mistrust, she spots another Transplant - like her, a foreigner, tugged by the programmers into this strange world. It’s not hard to spot one another if you know what to look for. The very air longs to reject them, after all.
But this isn’t a safe place, and that’s what goads her into speaking. At six foot nothing, with her javelin and shield strapped to her back, Pyrrha hardly looks compromised - but can the same be said about him? ]
Excuse me.
[ Her tone is even and elegant, as ever, with not a hitch raised. ]
It’s awfully late. [ Late, in this incident, is code for dangerous. Behind them, NPCs begin to stand, their eyes firmly on Odin and Pyrrha. This is not a place the two of them are welcome. ] Would you like me to escort you to the nearest train station?
[ The thing is—this imposing, inhospitable world with its brainwashed denizens is so familiar to what Odin has grown up knowing of TITAN that he could almost joke, “Just like home.” But there’s little humor to be shared here, so the quip goes unsaid and unappreciated. Days pass, marked only by his continued lack of progress in gathering information. Eventually, he’s forced to put aside questions of his purpose in the city in order to focus on more pressing needs: Scavenging for supplies. That’s precisely what he’s doing when he notices a redheaded woman approaching; for a moment, his hand tightens protectively around the duffel bag he’s carrying, as if he expects her to try and take it. ]
Wh-what?
[ Wary, he eyes her in blank confusion before he registers the sensation of unfriendly stares boring into the back of his head. Understanding dawns, and he nods sharply to the young woman, shouldering the bag. ]
Uh, y-yeah. P-p-…probably for the b-best, anyway. Lead the w-way.
[ The smile she gives in response is encouraging, but rather understated. Born of politeness, not of anything genuine - she’s far more restrictive with people she doesn’t know well. Her hands remain in place, a twitch away from her weapons; his bag, whatever is in it, goes wholly ignored by Pyrrha. She isn’t about taking from others what they have worked for.
She starts to walk. It’s a slow walk, and could be mistaken for one of ease. It’s not. Very aware of the footsteps behind them, Pyrrha knows running only makes it worse here.
Conversation, when it comes, is awkward. She fumbles for words. ]
It’s a... —nice night, isn’t it?
[ An equally awkward smile, made more of plaster than warmth, to match her clumsy attempt at idle chat. ]
[ Her smile is returned only with the beginnings of a faint, unimpressed frown; having spent a lifetime being patronized, he registers the otherwise innocuous look for one of condescension. Despite this, he offers no protests before falling into step with her. Odin’s own strides, a product of his height, are somewhat stumbling initially as he adjusts to the slowed cadence, but soon he is shoulder-to-shoulder with Pyrrha. Under normal circumstances, he would have wordlessly given her point, would have trailed behind her if only slightly to ensure he could keep an eye on her as well. These are not normal circumstances, and he does not wish to be the first caught by the city’s denizens.
When she speaks, he just shoots her an incredulous glance out of the corner of his eye. ]
N-no? [ he disagrees waspishly, the word emphasized into a challenge. ] You’re k-kidding me, ri-right?
[ He has a point. Pyrrha is well versed to physical danger and can generally compartmentalize a threat in one side of her mind and appreciation of the scenery in the other part. The stars are bright, not dampened by the city’s cheapened neon, the air warm and breeze soft. Pyrrha could close her eyes to appreciate these things and still be alive when she opened them, but not everyone here has that advantage. Her smile dissolves, becoming more calmly neutral. Her usual state is a tepid sort of politeness and she defaults to it now.
Jaune would know how to make conversation, she finds herself thinking blithely. ]
Well, I suppose, circumstances aside…
[ ‘Kidding,’ as he put it, isn’t one of her strong suits.
Reaching one of the abandoned check points proves a blessing. As soon as they’ve cleared it, Pyrrha gives a tiny twitch of her hand. With it, the metal gate behind them closes shut, softly and seemingly of its own volition. ]
[ Whatever caricature of night exists beyond the skyline of this cold, unnatural city, Odin clearly does not care for it. He scoffs at her response, shakes his head once in mild disbelief, and then he is moving on from the subject. The material of the duffel bag hisses as it slides over the top of the gate. ]
H-how…how’d you do th-that? [ he demands once the gate has clicked shut, having noticed the small gesture. ] Did y-you signal…someone?
[ Somewhat ill at ease now, he peers around their immediate surroundings as if searching for her partner-in-crime who could possibly be controlling the gate. ]
[ Although Pyrrha’s modus operandi is psychological advantage through lies of omission, she can’t actually bring herself to give mistruths to this young man when he presses the issue. That and, if he stays distracted for much longer, they risk being discovered once again. ]
No, it’s only my Semblance. [ And then, adding, because the connotation of that word might be foreign to him: ] I have magnetic abilities.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I don't know what this is. ):
That’s not to say she isn’t wary, in these webbed corners. The hair on the back of her neck prickles, as it would for anyone, when a child’s unearthly giggle comes just so close to her ear. Turning and finding nothing there only makes it worse. Amid the grouping of NPCs, teeth bared and eyes narrowed in mistrust, she spots another Transplant - like her, a foreigner, tugged by the programmers into this strange world. It’s not hard to spot one another if you know what to look for. The very air longs to reject them, after all.
But this isn’t a safe place, and that’s what goads her into speaking. At six foot nothing, with her javelin and shield strapped to her back, Pyrrha hardly looks compromised - but can the same be said about him? ]
Excuse me.
[ Her tone is even and elegant, as ever, with not a hitch raised. ]
It’s awfully late. [ Late, in this incident, is code for dangerous. Behind them, NPCs begin to stand, their eyes firmly on Odin and Pyrrha. This is not a place the two of them are welcome. ] Would you like me to escort you to the nearest train station?
no subject
Wh-what?
[ Wary, he eyes her in blank confusion before he registers the sensation of unfriendly stares boring into the back of his head. Understanding dawns, and he nods sharply to the young woman, shouldering the bag. ]
Uh, y-yeah. P-p-…probably for the b-best, anyway. Lead the w-way.
no subject
She starts to walk. It’s a slow walk, and could be mistaken for one of ease. It’s not. Very aware of the footsteps behind them, Pyrrha knows running only makes it worse here.
Conversation, when it comes, is awkward. She fumbles for words. ]
It’s a... —nice night, isn’t it?
[ An equally awkward smile, made more of plaster than warmth, to match her clumsy attempt at idle chat. ]
no subject
When she speaks, he just shoots her an incredulous glance out of the corner of his eye. ]
N-no? [ he disagrees waspishly, the word emphasized into a challenge. ] You’re k-kidding me, ri-right?
no subject
Jaune would know how to make conversation, she finds herself thinking blithely. ]
Well, I suppose, circumstances aside…
[ ‘Kidding,’ as he put it, isn’t one of her strong suits.
Reaching one of the abandoned check points proves a blessing. As soon as they’ve cleared it, Pyrrha gives a tiny twitch of her hand. With it, the metal gate behind them closes shut, softly and seemingly of its own volition. ]
no subject
H-how…how’d you do th-that? [ he demands once the gate has clicked shut, having noticed the small gesture. ] Did y-you signal…someone?
[ Somewhat ill at ease now, he peers around their immediate surroundings as if searching for her partner-in-crime who could possibly be controlling the gate. ]
no subject
No, it’s only my Semblance. [ And then, adding, because the connotation of that word might be foreign to him: ] I have magnetic abilities.