Noir

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About Noir

  • Rank
    Virtuosic Marauder
  • Birthday April 1

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  • Alias
    Jhin of the Opera
  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    The Virtuoso's Canvas
  • Interests
    Anything related to Art.
    Literary art, reading and writing.
    Music, particularly piano and computerized, non-lyrical pieces.

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  1. Orin and Debronee Slumped, black and blue from all that over-exertion and wounds, Debronee barely found in him the will to move or speak, his voice hoarse as he panted for breath on the ground. The left half of him felt as it it was being forcibly torn off, as Debronee struggled almost soundlessly against the pain, managing only faint breaths and occasional grunts in response if it intensified. He kept the arm stationary on the side of the wall, attempting to keep it straight so as to not strain it as much. "My arm...isn't dysfunctional, if severely harmed..." He managed. Nor did it seem they would chance upon any reliable means of medication, at least without a miracle. "Perhaps our only respite is that we managed to escape, if only barely. As to how they found us...it's likely they either spotted us on the roof, or our fellow Servant possesses some extreme form of clairvoyance. That I had underestimated, perhaps. I...do apologize." Struggling to get to his feet, Debronee knew the two couldn't spend too much time here. Their assailants would surely examine the area, knowing that they couldn't have escaped such an attack completely safely. "Can you...move? Staying here isn't the best idea. There's no telling if whomever attacked us will come here...in search soon." Eleonore and the Twins Adhering to Jack's request, and satisfied and the twin's findings and execution, the French-native sat behind him on the motorcycle, slightly relieved that they now had some form of reliable transport. "So...where do you suggest we search? I'd gather we have some time for the night..do you two have any suggestions?"
  2. Deb "I wouldn't call their plan elaborate, exactly, or at least as far as we're informed." Debronee then eyed Tesla's items on her desk. It seemed that he had caught her in the middle of something -- but why that pocket watch, of all things? Inching closer to have a more clearer look, the boy confirmed his suspicions -- in that he remembered that the pocket watch on the desk indeed belonged to that of Wallace's father. "What are you doing with this?" He asked, "Is it yours? Some inherited keepsake? I remember Mr.Everford having this at some point, but...if it is indeed his, what are you of all people doing with it?"
  3. Deb Debronee remained consistently restless in his room on the dimensional train, walking around in paces to exercise and try to relieve most of his restlessness. Grabbing and nibbling on some spare refreshments, sadly, did little to calm him as well. Debronee disliked waiting or resting unless he was tired, and given what he and the rest and the group had been doing previously it came as no surprise that he was far from wanting to take a break, especially given the little speech he had also given during the previous meeting. He recalled being allowed to move around the train and went out of the room in search of something to entertain of soothe him. Spotting by several rooms, he knocked on the door and opened one randomly to find Tesla within the room he had entered. Perhaps talking to someone would do the trick, especially under the given circumstances. Debronee was usually one to acquiesce to rules and circumstance, but in this case, Debronee couldn't wonder but question the reasons for such little action when their priority was to search for Wallace. "So...." He began, somewhat awkwardly. He didn't dislike Tesla, but he wasn't fond of the sentiment of greeting this person with a smile, either, perhaps as he would anyone else. "What are you up to right now? And what do you think about...all this? You know, this train ride, the earlier meditations. Don't you think we're taking things a little too slowly?"
  4. Venus “Fortunate you are, perhaps, in that regard.” Venus nodded, as he retrieved an item from beneath the chest area of his cloak, a distinct clinking sound resounding faintly as he removed the ruby accessory. It was of a rare, polished ore, its surface, etched into that of a rose, glistening in the light of the room. Holding his gaze on the item for several moments, he felt a twinge of melancholy surge within him as he recollected the sentiments that came with what he held in his hand. “Even living with my family's gluttonous ways, and despite the approval I could garner not from them, there was the faintest light amidst those dark days even under the spotlight, light that was more than enough to illuminate beyond my performances in my otherwise hallowed world. Cliche as it may sound, perhaps fate is the only answer to how I met her. Never did I imagine romance to enter my life in my career of acting. She was a new dancer in my ranks, at a glance naught but just a pretty face until we interacted more, and soonest enough she became the finest star in my performances. We sought to beautify all in that we did, in our life or serving and entertainment, in the bed of roses we lived and were to relive again and again. That was our life and vow, the faintest, happiest moments in my life that had ensued. Yet even despite our glory in the theater we sought respite from our families. I was the finest star of the finest town, and she, a mere performer. To even allow our union would be the joke of the town -- the disgrace of the Tireur family, something my parents would not think twice to reject. But I didn't care. We had an elopement planned, for whence our time on the spotlight would be over, and us together at last, free from the shackles of society and my family. Or so I'd thought." “I was to give this to her that night,” He continued, “I was ready for an eternity with her, even if it meant running away, even if it meant throwing away all I had earned and possessed. But she never came, and when I lost too long – well, several hours of contact – with her, I knew something was amiss. I searched endlessly, across the halls, the opera houses, many another hour I searched, until I found her dead – my angel, lying within one of the old opera houses, her purity stolen, her form bathed in blood, her expression unreadable. I didn’t need to think of her murderers, the perpetrators, or why anyone would want such an angel of a person dead…who else would benefit better from her death? Who else would have seen her as a threat to the source of their wealth and fame that they had maintained for so long, like the finest but most poisonous wine drowning the drinker in its taste?” It was the last straw for the artist, as it would come. With his beloved’s death the faintest shred of reverence and love for his family existed no more. He remembered waiting, sparing not his parents, his brothers, nor even his young, innocent sister, as one by one he drove bullets down their heads soundlessly in their sleep, staining their individual beds with their sanguine. And the grief he had bore as a result of his greatest loss, his failure to protect her, and be with her. “My family lived to take all from me but never give, and they took her. They took more than they could claim from me. I did not hesitate to kill them back then – but then I learnt that they themselves did not commit the deed. To this day I am in search of her killers still, which delved me deeper into the darker shades of society -- the political undergrounds, the illegal trades, the black society. It was there I scavenged and searched, the finest assassins, the dirtiest of the dirty, the richest of the rich, scum of which were worse than even that of my...former family, even at a glance. It was then I realized that to find whomever murdered my love, I would have to do what I did on the stage as well -- I strove to be the finest in acting. So I began working in the dark society an assassin for hire, where I learnt of weaponry, smithing, and many other aspects of the underground community. But even as I drew closer to finding the ones that had killed my beloved, I was unsatisfied. I lived in a world of responsibility and not passion, and I knew that something had been lost, almost irredeemably so... "You see, the day my family perished under my hand, I had realized that I had once broken my promise to my dear. I had vowed to only beautify with my work even with without her presence, and the death I had dealt firsthand was....unprepossessing. So unappealing. Nor did my love leave this world as beautifully as she had desired," His teeth clenched and his skin prickled from the memory of his lover's death, as he retreated the ruby rose back into his cloak. "The stark truth burnt into me then -- death is ugly, no matter how it would come to befall a person, be it of the wrinkling state of old age or the repugnance of murder and blood. But who had said it had to be ugly? What if there was a way that, even in the vile, inevitable, gruesome state of death, something wondrous could be found in its wake?" His words were followed by a sudden chuckling that grew fiercer as it continued, and one could notice the artist's expression darken into a gaze, bearing an insanity strong enough for one to imagine the mouth twisted in an equally mad smile. "Many have asked why I wield this idiosyncratic paintbrush in hand," He said, addressing the weapon he had hidden in his cloak, taking care not to remove it as to not excessively intimidate her, his tone rising amidst his stupor. "Signature to my own craft and that of no one else. Why fuss, people have asked? Why kill with such expense? Such fastidiousness? Why care for what the corpse entails as long as the life leaves the body?Some think of killing a pastime. Others consider it dirty work. Some see it a sport -- I, on the other hand, see it an art. And art it is indeed with every bullet it fires, delivering a demise far greater than any gun or weapon could deal. Every body a canvas, the bullet its paint, and my dear Whisper its paintbrush. It took long to refine a weapon such as this, and again I found myself truly performing. I kill to appease as much as to serve, much like I did on my stage...and eventually, my finest performance when I finally find whomever had killed her...!" Unable to hold in his emotions upon illustrating too much of his story, the chuckling grew to a more ominous laughter, not knowing when it would cease... Even in the shadows dealing death, Venus had sought to uphold his promise to his beloved -- and in his own twisted, meticulous way, he entertained both the people above and below, spreading beauty in his acting and in his killing.
  5. Venus “So, where would I begin...” Pressing his fingers to his chin in thought, Venus wandered back to his memories of the distant past, in the time before time he was exposed to the art, before he wielded the instrument in his hand, before he wore the mask on this face. “You could say I was born to a family where most would deem me exceptionally lucky. My birth family, the Tireurs, were of an affluent heritage, the owners of several gold mines in my homeland and beyond. But such esteem from wealth was not what I had sought. It was an effortless title worn upon our heads like crowns, as the family had simply inherited that for generations, much like how our great ancestors had once claimed the mine for their own after finding it merely through sheer coincidence and luck. Little of what the family had was earned -- it was served on a silver spoon, and served them such wealth did, for amidst a life of luxury I found everyone around me spoiled with the finest of finery, not settling for anything less. And yet amidst such a way a living and the leaf-green envy and reverence I knew it would garner -- I was unsatisfied. I lived with servants who did as they were told, as if I was the instrument and they were the players, as if I was an ornament polished daily for show, wealth being my only quality. What I wanted was to be respected rightfully -- I wanted to live, to live a life where I did something, and did something that was rightful of applause and respect. And what but a thing, I had once wondered -- would I want to be respected for? Out of sheer coincidence I was invited to theater, a commonplace venue of entertainment for the nobility like our family, wherein the expensive seats, and finest actors warranted the exclusiveness of the wealthy in their presence. And thus I watched -- people on stage that lived, lived lively manners, and lived to entertain and serve. I was not blind to the fact that such skillful performance took practice like most did. I was not blind to the efforts that took place that warranted the applause at the end of the performance, and it was then I had found my answer -- I wanted to be like them. To appease, to gratify, to please. Live was worth living when one lived in the pride of helping others -- a sentiment I envied many a serving maid or butler for, as much as they would say otherwise. I remember my family’s disdain of my preposition – the nobility lived to be served and not to serve, this remained fact, as it had always been for many years, even at an age where I was free to decide my own path. The gold mine would perpetuate our wealth for far too many a year, only serving to shackle us from actually getting up on our own two feet. They did not stop me, however -- they could not stop me. I paid no heed to their scornful ways. I learned in secret the arts of drama and theater, enraptured by the various exposures I was given, from music, to painting, to prose and dance. I learned with my soul -- and, admittedly, with the family's abundance of wealth, so massive that my parents paid little heed to what was taken and left -- everything I needed to know, everything I wanted to know. But I didn't seek just to be on that stage, if only once, if only simply to perform, if only just to appease, be it of whatever scale I was given or asked for -- I wanted the front page. Be it a heritage of my familial greed or my own obsessions towards this compulsive work -- I wanted the tip the mountain. I wanted to be a star above all others, a single artiste so great one cannot hope to parallel. And thus my efforts bore the finest fruits as my debut earned me the fame and fortune I had desired -- and then on, I got what I sought, respect from what was rightfully deserving of it. Critics praised me in any paper, and even to move around in public became difficult. I rose through the ranks swiftly, my fame spreading at every corner, until I even made my own theater, had my own crew and sets. In that short time of development, I had grew to be the finest star available, my influence expanding beyond our city and beyond, which only fueled my capabilities to perform. It all seemed perfect; but what bothered me most was that my efforts only served to fuel the greed of the family, knowing that the city's finest actor was of their heritage, another bragging right, another shining jewel in their crown to boast over. My once beloved family only continued to shackle me through and through, until..." He halted, knowing that his voice had grown bitter as he recalled that memory , as he took a breath to calm himself, knowing that he did not want to perturb the young lass with his story. "Pray tell-" The artist's voice suddenly plummeted from it's previous prideful tone as he lamented, "Do you know what it's like to lose a part of you? To lose something -- or someone -- idiosyncratically precious?"
  6. Orin and Debronee The cannon fire continued to bombard the area of which the Master-Servant duo had continued to run away from; Debronee had attempted to hustle towards the nearest buildings available for cover, but he was a moment too late as Orin caught himself off balance from his grasp, face dragged on the floor. Immediately startled, Debronee did his best to regain his grip on his Master and flashed forward to regain his footing, attempting to run faster than he had never before -- running for dear life in a situation so dire was the only thing they could do, as his temporary relief was cut short when another cannonball surged toward their direction, narrowing missing a direct shot on the two. However, shrapnel from the blast had struck Debronee's left arm as his grip caused his Master to tumble once again, eliciting a painful groan his hand hung limply, bleeding as a result of the blast. "Hang on!" The situation now forcing him to carry his Master with his remaining hand, the strain and pain on the now crippled Servant escalating as he continued this struggle in running away with his Master in seated awkwardly on his shoulder, as he urged his Master to hang on as tightly as he could. Forcing himself with as much strength as he could muster, the Assassin continued in his unpropotitious circumstances a race against time, now or never. As their distance from the ship continued to widen, the scale of the cannon fire seemed to dwindle to less threatening levels, but Debronee's sprint had yet to cease. Only after reaching the edge of the northeast vicinity of the district did he and his Master fall and slump upon the cold, hard road. Puffing for breath out of the extreme exhaustion and the wound on his left arm festering still, the duo's only solace was the mere fact that they had narrowly escaped the assault.
  7. Venus "Ah, that it would be that you'd sit out what had ensued previously," Venus replied. "Though since we're both here, perhaps it is a sound time for us to...pick up our conversation from whence we left off," He tried to soften his gaze, knowing that it came across as intimidating at times, even when shielded from the hem of his mask. "I take it you remember? I believe I was to...illustrate my part of the story until someone intervened in the middle...may I presume you're alright with resuming our conversation?"
  8. Venus Having been cooped within walls for the majority of the fiasco that had ensued before things had settled down, all the artist knew of what had concurred was something that pertained to new arrivals of allies, elected leaders, and other riffraff. Things that while originally a person with flair for art himself would have interest in, Venus had decided to keep off for the time being. Complexity was of an essence the artist favored, but there were limits the artist himself had to respect. Venus' attentions suddenly returned to the corner of the room, where he spotted Hiroki -- whom he remembered as the first person whom he had, amongst the group, willingly removed his mask and revealed the deformity that laid beneath it, having found a natural affinity with her, the similarity of which the two wore a facade of their individual sort, masks or shells that sheltered the soul that was tucked in beneath. He had wanted to continue his conversation with her had he not been rudely intervened by the entrance of a certain someone; and even despite the long time that passed without them acquainting more from whence they had halted in the ballroom, the mildest interest toward her had lingered -- and the fact that she seemed unoccupied furthered that interest, given to him by this coincidental opportunity. "Alone here, Hiroki?" He bowed to her in greeting as he approached her, "Well, I would suppose you would find some natural affinity with the armory. What have you been partaking in during...well, what ensued previously? Were you involved in any significant way in all of that?"
  9. Orin and Debronee Just as Debronee and Orin arrived at their location, Debronee peered into the distance to spot a glowing light surging towards them, growing larger...and larger...and larger...and- Debronee quickly shattered his focus from what he was looking at. He had no time to think. "Get out of the car -- Now!" Not bothering if he would as if he were implored to, Debronee hustled out of the car and lifted (the admittedly slightly heavier than average) Orin off his feet, before dashing off into the opposite direction of the fire as fast as he could. Given his enhanced speed, he covered quite some distance in the matter of seconds he was allowed for respite before the blast would make impact, but he himself was ensure if it was enough to outrun the vicinity of the blast... Eleonore and the Twins Relenting to their suggestion and finally feeling relieved that the twins had stopped squabbling, Eleonore nodded in agreement. "Very well. I will put my trust in the both of you to do your best in this war, starting from now. And...thank the both of you. For being my Servants." She did not understand the reason behind this sudden sentimental gratitude; she simply felt it was apt, perhaps in part with her more gentle nature, as she delivered such kind words before preparing to follow them in search of transportation.
  10. Orin and Debronee "That I know not of assuredly," Debronee answered, changing into his spiritual form, making it hard to perceive that there were two beings on the vehicle. "Though I wouldn't be surprised it's related to a particular Servant of any sort. Likeliest would be Rider, but it could be something else unorthodox. Or it could be an entity of its own. Regardless of what it may be, it's certainly a beacon for attracting attention." Eleonore and the Twins Eleonore sighed. She knew that it was a necessary compromise, but she was relieved to know that her Servants knew how to ride a vehicle, as Eleonore herself had travel limited to being driven for and public transport. "Oui," She said, "Do what you must to find means of personal transportation. Just promise me not to attract too much attention. I'd rather not get accused for vehicle theft."
  11. Venus Venus attempts to aid the group in their advance by firing Whisper's artistic bullets at the closest number of hostilities available that attempted to mess with the team moving forward. Kino Noticing Navin's group being surrounded by hostilities, Kino and Enma follow up with Death's Breath and a basic attack, respectively, as a surging wave of their spirits lunge forward to silence the mass, attempting to bring as much damage and aid to them as possible.
  12. Orin and Debronee Seemingly satisfied with his Master's decision -- though mildly inconvenienced that his Master lacked his own vehicle -- Debronee set out to search for a suitable car, without rousing too much suspicion. Roaming the district from where he was first summoned, Debronee also tried to familiarize himself with these surroundings, even if he had the presumption that his Master didn't seem like the type to stay in one place for long, if was to resort to plunder to accomplish simple transport in this war. Regardless, after a few minutes of scavenging -- with Debronee realizing the district was rather poor and impoverished -- the Assassin found a car, illuminated under the light of a flickering road lamp in the middle of the street. Judging from the dead silence, it was likely that no one was there. I've found one, Debronee telepathically conveyed these words to Orin, Go east from where you are take the road winding right -- then turn left into the alleyway. A car under a lamp will be there. I'll come over to guide you along the way. Eleonore and the Twins "..." Eleonore fell silent at the twin's rebuttal, not knowing if she was more intimidated or irritated. Sighing, she steeled herself and addressed the twins yet again. "From how I've interacted with people, two people don't break into arguments when a person of authority asks them a question," Eleonore began, "But...please. I'd really rather not the both of you get into arguments whenever I do something as simple as ask a question...what if this happens when we find a Servant, hmm? Putting this aside, I think it's best if we made sure we're not surrounded or anything. Do any of you have the ability to check if any hostile forces are nearby?"
  13. Orin and Debronee Debronee followed Orin the roof of the building, surveying his surroundings keenly, before replying to Orin on his findings. Surprised to find a glimpse of what seemed to be a massive airship north from where they were, the Assassin quickly directed his Master to its direction. “I think the better idea is to go anywhere but there, unless you fancy a slugfest,” Debronee pointed towards the direction of the airship as he divulged the sentence, “Though it wouldn't hurt to check it out, maybe. Whoever's doing this knows not what subtlety is, I'd say, so it wouldn't be a surprise that others would head there as well. Though as for me, it is of little concern at best, however, as unless I fight, other Servant shouldn’t be able to sense me. An idiosyncratic trait of an Assassin, as it were.” Eleonore and the Twins Sacre bleu, Eleonore thought…she might be in for a less favourable start than she’d thought of these pair of Servants fought with each other more than together. “Um, excusez moi?” Her voice escalated for moment, though as soon as she caught the twin’s attention, she returned to her timid tone, “Please stop fighting over…trivial things like this. I’m sorry if my questions bring back not-so-fond memories, but that doesn’t mean you have to squabble…”
  14. Orin and Debronee Debronee resisted the urge to flinch at his Master's presumptions of his own inadequacy, but hit his tongue before the thoughts of contempt towards his admittedly out-of-shape master began to fester. “Sad to say, no.” Debronee replied, truthfully. While he had a grasp of directionality and could pinpoint the directions of other Masters, he did not have the intelligence to cook up a sort of mental map or any sort, nor was he fully familiar with the information of the War’s battleground the first instance he appeared here. “That I do apologize.” The tall man then cut to the chase after exchanging the awkward pleasantries, “Well, then, Master, your orders?” Eleonore and the Twins Eleonore composed herself again, befuddled and slightly intimidated by the twins’ quarrel. Regardless, she calmed herself as they gave her their names. “Very well – Jacques, and Nic – do apologize for the especial name, as it is how it would be pronounced in my native tongue, which is French…” She addressed Jack, knowing that she was only accustomed to pronouncing the name in her own mother tongue. “And I’m sorry for…what I said earlier,” Her tone turned sheepish, seemingly embarrassed at her not-so-great start for sparkling conversation. “It is relieving to hear you fight more than kill, if only for my sake..." Her thoughts began to drift off, though she quickly returned to their final question at hand, "I think I've known you two well enough thus far, and I hope to work well with the both of you. To introduce my capabilities, please do consult me when either of your are injured, as I-" As she paused her sentence mid-way, she extended a hand which then glowed a luminescent blue, exuding what was mana, mana that contained a warmth meant to aid and heal, "have the power to heal injuries better than most. If we're going to work together, I think we should have some organized rules and strategies...we shall embark on our journey as soon as this is finished but, erm...I know this sounds strange, but can the two of you promise me to never act violently out of any accord until I deem it appropriate? I am sorry to be a rather soft Master...but as much as I have resolve in this war, taking lives...hurting others..the whole thing still takes time to settle in, and I hope that it can fade bit by bit as we progress, but not in a too..rushed way..." The means for summoning the two of them disgusted the kind-hearted girl enough; she knew she needed to be strong, however, but would ask that her Servants strengthen her with her, as well.
  15. Orin and Debronee A man was summoned forth from what remained after the ritual, a towering, lean figure dressed in a diaphanous black from head to toe. Orin could not see his face beyond a purple eye, the single facial feature that he allowed vision from the spiked masked he adorned, defying too his long hair of an odd silver and gold coloration. From beneath his hidden arms behind his poncho there were traces of armor-esque plates on several parts of his body, and a sleek, though larger than most, blade of unknown origin hung from his waist, running down his right shin. One would presume he would be human until they noticed the sharper, pointed ears, hidden like hares in his grassy field of messy hair. For a man seemingly summoned out of thin air, he seemingly knew why he was there. His head brimmed with purpose; his right hand remained locked on the sheath of his blade the instant he had appeared. What a purpose a man would have with a sword in hand if not to fight? “That it would be that you are the only one here,” He eyed Orin attentively, a gaze that almost seemed intimidating, but solemn and acquiescent, even behind the shield of his mask. “I take it that you are my Master. In that you would perhaps be aware of why and how you had brought me here, and your purpose in this War akin to my own. My name is Debronee, and I am at your service as your sword and shield, to the very end.” Eleonore and the Twins “Oui,” She began, “That I would be, though I had not imagined that I would have gotten…a pair of Servants,” Eleonore managed, remaining in her disbelief of the fact that she had summoned herself two servants rather than one. She imagined how much the odds were in her favour having chanced upon these two by luck… …Though she too wasn’t entirely comfortable with a pair of servants that were odd in their attire, slang, and most of all, she had summoned herself Berserkers – she had summoned Servants that were heavily contrasting in their demeanour to her own. As much as she had steeled herself to fight in this war, she had wanted to partake in it in a more…humane way. And these twins certainly weren’t the type to play nice. “My name is Eleonore,” She bowed, an odd thing to do for a Master. Most of her surprise was now gone, deciding that the benefits outweighed the issues. “Eleonore Lefebrve. And please, if you find the name difficult, call me Elen. I would prefer it if you addressed me by my name rather than Master, as I do not forsee myself locking you two in a house or…anything of the sort, I’d hope. Enchant-“ She unconsciously returned to French before she realized they would probably not understand the language, and immediately corrected herself. “I’m sorry, I mean to say I am…pleased to make your acquaintance, and I consider myself very blessed to be in the guard of two fine gentlemen such as yourselves…” She did her best to be polite, not knowing that her face obviously defied her sincerity at the lattermost statement, but blessed was indeed with her choice of Servants in this war, come what may. “Fighting can…come later. I do not think anyone is particularly near right now, and heading to the next districts to roam would take a lot of time, as I’m not good with distances…So…can you tell me more about yourselves? Can I call you two by name?”