Welcome to The Duality of Man, an original animanga role-play that features numerous supernatural creatures. Unfortunately, these various species have distanced themselves because of the war that occurred thousands of years ago, plaguing some with eyes that only see their dualism. While others meddle themself with their differences, two groups fight, each attempting to eliminate the other in for their definition of worldly peace. These two groups of the Terror Response Syndicate (TRS) and the Assembly of Phantoms (AP). With individuals fighting merely over their differences, it brings uncertainty to the outcome of this war.
We happily accept all role-players as long as they obey the rules and are capable of meeting our word count of 50. This does include those who are unfamiliar with this style of role-playing. The staff of The Duality of Man are willing to happily help those who are new to the role-playing world so they feel comfortable on site. Feel free to message the staff if you need help, they can be found here or in the site Discord and will gladly answer questions alongside calm concerns. If you have any suggestions we would love to hear them; guests may use the support board as a suggestion area as well. Should you decide to join, may I say welcome to the site and we all hope you enjoy your time here.
Yours Truely,
The Staff
season
Summer 2022
Heat has broken through into a glorious summer. The snow has entirely dried through the spring, leaving to the brilliance of the warmer months. Terror activity has risen as people are brought out of their homes, leaving the TRS in a position of consistent work. Each are attempting to maintain victory in the endless struggle for power.
With April, an activity check has arrived for members to do! Please post on the AC and tag all your accounts, including WIPs and OOC accounts. Failure to post on this AC will result in your accounts being marked inactive or deleted. Please note, due to a late start, the due date for this check has been adjusted for one time and one time only.
There were benefits of a 17-credit semester– although the workload hadn't hit her yet, but sometimes you needed to bend the rules; sometimes it was a slow day at the office, and if your superiors knew your last name, this semester could see you on a bus pulling into North District, sliding out of your seat with your face still in your phone.
Hitting the street, Asami danced between the bags of an airport-bound family and a hair-splitting businessman, she righting the suit's hot coffee in his hand before squeezing through the rest of the way: down the crosswalk, scrunching her nose at the smell of exhaust until sidewalk transitioned into campus field, open on her right. She caught the pole of a street sign and spun around it. SCHOOL. SPEED LIMIT 20.
In her hands, Asami's cohort was yelling at her. She supposed this was even for abandoning her to the event full-shift, for an holiday she or near anyone else in Gaia-forsaken first world didn't even celebrate; with a grand prize that spelled food poisoning if she could even get a chance to look. It was funny until they sent back an essay with "responsibilities" in the first sentence. She decided now was right to check her roommate ad.
She slipped between two girls coming from History (Professor Levi had a distinct scent.)
Asami made enough money as a secretary to pay rent a bit uncomfortably, meaning the only things left were her tuition, her phone data, and that faraway, romantic dream of her own car. Even without Miss Saki's soft "suggestion" to do so, Asami leapt at the chance to shift from underneath her clan's affluence if even a little. But she needed a roommate . It came at the expense of pride, she admitted; her first year in university, she had a single room and loved it. Nobody cared when she smoked. Nobody whinged about her music.
If she was going to settle for a roommate– Asami signed an acquaintance without looking up, her street maybe a quarter of a mile away– it couldn't be the expectation regardless of her parents; Lorsette was a beach-town: everyone was hot. Hourglasses figures, long hair, and immortality: perfect skin, beautiful singing voices... She would die. And she was raised among men and chaos anyway since she was pried out of an alleyway.
Truthfully, Asami thought her app made her out as an asshole. She cringed at the wording of herself as "combat-experienced." She hoped the word-of-mouth impression she'd made around her campus and around Town Hall had been differently; Asami was dimly reminded of one classmate – the tall guy who smelled like doxepin – and wondered what apprenticing with the TRS was like, if rent would ever be a concern then, was worth being a prig. Then again, it was hard to tweak her marketing when she didn't even know her audience. Asami never considered herself the presumptuous type, nor one to fail to get along with different types of people.
"Boo." A lady at the mailboxes jumped as Asami sidled past. Arriving at the apartments, she started up the stairs to her landing.
The only things she asked of a roommate – the ad stayed concise here: Likes dogs but no pets. Can deal with hair. Male, preferably gay. I'll do the cleaning or we can split it, it's w/e. Pay rent or die.
She bumped into him, quartered in by the extents of stairs and the wall of the hall. Re-centered harshly, the girl clasped her phone against her chest with her eyes looking wild over the man with a look of purposeful wind-strewn to his hair, his deep-auburn wings, and his implacable scent that sent Asami immediately on edge– like two fragrances, both separate and simultaneous, one wild and one human, but only by comparison.
Again, Asami would bawk at the idea of being the presumptuous type. She knew women like that at the office and hated them. And she hated surprises. With strangers, it was the lycan's instinct to pin them down immediately.
She blurted out: "Angel- no, nephilim! Shifter! ...familiar?"
(( Wow you can tell when it's my first post of the day because I just can't shut up ))
Late night posty. I hope it is alright! Bell boi thinks he is hot shit and is being a drama llama.
[attr="class","bgtk-lyric2"]back street fight is looking for trouble
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Bell was ecstatic to say the least, borderline obsessive over the prospect of gaining a female roommate. A rooster was nothing without a hen, and his little two bedroom, one bath coop was certainly lacking a feminine touch. Golden eyes wandered over the wanted ad for what had to be the seventh time in the span of twenty minutes. [break][break] Likes dogs, but no pets. [break][break] He could run with that. Maybe. Personally, he didn’t mind if she liked those nasty, smelly beasts. Perhaps they could just agree to disagree? Bell disliked canines in general, but not enough to push a presumed dog lover away. He honestly hoped she was just one of those people who liked dogs but for whatever reason chose not to have one. Although, the thought of having his apartment decked out with pug posters, poodle figurines and those stupid puppy calendars made him cringe. Bell wouldn’t be able to add much to a drawn out conversation of bedazzled leashes and doggy purses, but he could start an argument on whether or not a chihuahua should even be considered a dog. [break][break] Can deal with hair. [break][break] Well, that is fucking weird, but he could roll with it. Bell's overactive imagination would conjured up an image of a woman with long flowing locks, like Rapunzel. That was fine and all. He just hoped she didn’t shed as bad as he molted. It would be a shame to find hair and feathers strewed around the apartment during the fall. Did he really have room to judge? Bell was quite desperate for a roommate this point. A TRS salery could only take him so far when it came to living on this side of town. And he certainly wasn't going back to that dinky little shack on the westside. Hell, he briefly considered rooming with another male, his very being fought him tooth and nail over it though. The more he thought about it, the more his lips curled at the prospect of another man moving into his territory. Oh, well, there was no reason to ruffle his own feathers with stupid what-if scenarios. [break][break] Male, perferibly gay. [break][break] Ha. [break][break] I'll do the cleaning or we can split it, it's w/e. [break][break] Nice. Now he could have the little hen to do the chores while he did whatever, because he really wasn’t into sharing chore duty. He’d clean up his own messes, but not hers. If she offered to clean he’d let her do it on her own. Perhaps he could convince her to wear one of those low-cut maid outfits, the ones with the little pink bow? The thought made him grin. [break][break] Pay rent or die. [break][break] This part actually made him chuckle. [break][break] Combat experienced [break][break] This was the hook that reeled him in and ensnared him in a steel trap of sheer curiosity. And, honestly, this was the main reason he responded to this application to begin with. What good is a hen if she can’t handle her own? This woman had to be something truly spectacular to mention this in a roommate application. The image of a fit woman with a big ass and nice tits came to mind. His grin only grew. An innocent sparing match could always turn sensual. Yeah, he couldn’t wait to meet her. [break][break] Fresh air sounded nice, so he chose to wait for her in the stairwell. [break][break] It was with a light skip in his step and a delighted hum that Bell approached the edge of the stairs that led up to his apartment. With one confident stride forward, Bell flexed his wings open ever so slightly, enough to catch a bit of breeze as his body left the landing. It was just enough to carry him without touching a single step on his descent. Boots hit the middle landing with a clap as his hum evolved into a whistle. With a swift heel-turn, that he’d executed many times on this very spot, he spun around and smacked right into someone. It had been a miscalculation on his end. The silly familiar wasn’t exactly paying attention. A deep “hrmp?” reverberated from his throat as collided with the stranger. They were small enough not to knock the wind out of him, but just tall enough to make his stagger. The unexpected touch left his body rigid. Those crimson feathers of his flared slightly with a bit of annoyance and perhaps some lingering anxiety. (He was a prey animal after all. There was a small part of him that was always on edge.) He glared down at the culprit, expecting to see some ruffed up looking delinquent staring back at him. Instead, he saw what appeared to be a child standing there, gawking at him with big round eyes. Okay, maybe she didn't look like a child, but more like a much older kid, teen at least. Where the hell did she come from? He hadn’t seen her around before. She definitely had a face he would remember too, with big eyes, delightfully pudgy cheeks and fine snow white hair. Adorable. Cute kid or not, he didn't have time to deal with her. “Watch where you are goin-” He was cut off as the smaller female began to speak. [break][break] Angel? The very word summoned a large toothy grin from the familiar. With his devilishly good looks, and magnificent wings, how could she not think he was an angel? This vain animal knew he was a fucking gorgeous specimen, a true sight to behol-No. The very word cut through his ego like a knife. No? Bell gasped, his breath caught in his throat. Nephilim! He flinched. Oh, now he was really hurting. His wings drooped like the ears of a defeated animal. The confident grin that was plastered on Bell’s face twisted into an uncomfortable grimace by the next word. Shifter! Did he really look like one of those feral shits? Her words cut him deep, real deep. With a last-ditch effort to regain his composure, Bell crossed his arms in front of his chest and tipped his head slightly. With an intense stare he dared her to keep going. Familiar? His golden eyes narrowed and lips pursed as she guessed right. Finally. With a tilt of his head, he cut his eyes away from her, averting his gaze toward nothing in particular. “Well, there ya’ go, kid.” The familair’s tone was purposefully condescending. He declined to offer her a smile as he continued, straight facing it with fluffy brows raised he said, “Congratulations! You hit the nail right on the fucking head.” This was nothing more than a petty display of his exorbitant sarcasm, a hostile nature that was adhered to his genetic code. It was just a small taste. If she decided to press him further she’d surly get a mouthful of his obnoxious persona.
Immediately, something was wrong from the word "angel." Asami thought it might have offended the bruiser, though doubling-back only seemed to put her at his mercy, from point blank, glaring down at her from a seven-inch advantage. Yikes. Asami's hairs were standing on end. Although she maintained her apologetic expression, she took a step back and away.
The man's build and posture, plus the indubitable edginess, led Asami to wonder whether he was ex-military; a pig; a TRS big-shot, off-duty or even undercover. There was the superciliousness as he tossed in a "kid," a dig, that she felt drain her previous guilt in favor of something more measured. She was at least positive of a generation gap, inwardly cringing at what looked like mowing goggles to top off this living epitome of dad fashion.
She said, "'s all the angels I've seen are..." And immediately began to struggle and stutter and gesticulate all over the winged man. Asami settled with, "They don't have colored wings."
"I mean, I don't really care. You could be a mermaid, I wouldn't give a fuck. I'm here for a roommate ad?" She rushed the last part.
Ideally, from her tone of voice and straining, boggling eyes and all-around flagrant mounting frustration, Asami could come across too busy for tea-time with a shell-shocked psychopath.
And there was a purpose of her stalling (Asami realized) because she finally placed the second-scent. He was some domesticated breed of gamebird - the benefit of a brother with tree-hugger tendencies was an exposure to things like this. Animals, otherwise, Asami would only consider the taste of. In fact, it became hard in that moment to sustain taking the man seriously in spite of their height difference.
She could really go for a rotisserie sandwich right now from Crescent Moon. Maybe the raw options at the Asian place on campus? She hadn't eaten since that protein bar after the gym...
Asami could fight the bias all she could, but the little lycanthrope wore it clear: a predator's indifference.
[attr="class","bgtk-lyric2"]back street fight is looking for trouble
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Now that she mentioned it, Bell couldn’t recall seeing an angel with colored wings. The maintenance fellow at the TRS building and the woman down the street, who would fly her annoying schnauzer to the park, both had snow-white wings. “Fair enough.” [break][break] In Bell’s mind, an unseen pecking order had been established when the white-haired female took a step back. If the familiar were a wiser man he would have dropped the bully act long before it came to that. But, whether he wanted to admit it or not, this was just another one of those rooster things that he let fly. However, what she said next would have him singing to a different tune. A roommate ad? Bell cringed. He was beginning to realize just how harsh he was being, and to his new roommate no less. (This was what the guys down at the bar meant when they said he had a stick up his ass.) The way she stuttered her words and frustration in her tone would tell him that she had just about enough of his bullshit. It was a shame he was far too stubborn to apologize. [break][break] Bell regretted not asking for pictures before he accepted her application. Maybe he wouldn’t have made a total ass of himself if he had. Hell, who was he kidding? She could have rolled up in a limousine, been decked out in gold, wore a neon sign that said: Hello, I'm your new roommate, and he still would have reacted with the same amount of aggression. It was just in his nature to be a brute. Bell gave an exasperated sigh, what a shitty way to start an introduction. The rooster would loosen up a bit. After all, it would be a shame to scare her away. Bills needed to be paid one way or another. [break][break] “You’re my new roommate, huh?” Bell uncrossed his arms, assuming a more relaxed position. “I’m not gonna lie, I was expecting someone a little more…” Someone with a little more ass and bigger tits? Perhaps a woman who actually looked liked she was combat experienced? Bell was expecting a robust Rhode Island Red, but instead got a small Cornish Game hen that acted like it had taken one too many caffeine pills. The man shook his head, waving his previous comment away with, “Ah, never mind.” Whatever, so long as this woman didn’t skip out on rent she would be fine. She was a little hen, but honestly that was a good thing. Her small stature would mean more room in the apartment. With his wings, a little extra space was a blessing. She looked like she took care of herself too. That was a plus. [break][break] “My name is Bell.” The familiar extended a hand for her to shake, as if she would reciprocate at this point. He wouldn’t be too surprised if she decided to smack him instead. “Like you guessed, I’m a familiar.” His golden gaze softened, pushing out the intense stare that it held before. “A Thai Game rooster to be precise. Ya’ know, one of those fighting birds.” A light smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he tried to figure out what this woman was. His brain went to work, picking apart her appearance piece by piece but came up with nothing. Even with his keen eyes, he just couldn't put his finger on it. However, there was a little voice in the back of his head, one that would tell him he needed to bear his spurs and chase his new roommate away. Why? He had no fucking clue. A spark would start a slow burn of anxiety that gradually suffocated his thoughts with the fear of the unknown. Bell’s eyes told him one thing, but his instinct told him another story. Bell drew the short straw when it came to supernatural senses. His nose was lackluster at best, and a good pair of eyes were just about useless when it came to telling the difference between a human and a dangerous supernatural with a convincing glamour. No matter how hard he tried, a prey animal like him could not hold a candle to a predator's senses. But, even still, he could tell that there was something off about this woman.
There was a pocket of optimism, Asami's stammering not seeming to come back and bite her, then a period of restless silence that left the girl's frustration mounting like bile. A period of restless realization; he was so casual about it– "Oh, hello, girl nearly half my height, it appears we'll be sharing a room together. Please don't mind by toxic-ass attitude and the fact that I'm, like, minimum forty years old..." She was utterly positive he was lying, he was at best mistaken, and she couldn't give this winged terror the benefit of the doubt. The way he uncrossed his arms. The way he relaxed his stare and how his eyes wandered casually– intently, over her and her figure so she failed to find the boundary between the soldier going at-ease and exhibiting a patent... disappointment.
Asami ran rigid and cold. The only thing relaxing on her end was the clench of her jaw. She spat, "I'm sure it was tactful," in response to his waved-off comment. "Super tactful."
She didn't take his hand, glowering.
"I knew you were a chicken. I smelled it all over you."
"You want to know what I am, Bell? I can give you a hint." Asami pinched her cheek and pulled back to reveal canine teeth, tapered ends long enough to compete for space. She continued: "I'm like, sixty-five-percent muscle, at this point; it's a third quarter moon tonight, and I can already sense you coming. So I'd watch where your eyes go."
It was hard for Asami to withhold when she was offended. She was listening to herself and letting her mouth run the encounter for her matched dangerously close to the attitude of her under-thought ad. The thing that had got her here. Whether the spiel "worked" or not – if there was a real intention to it other than self-expression – there was the feeling a future Asami would be embarrassed to death by whatever this forced "badass" act was. Asami was a good kid, she had to remind herself, inclined to shut up. Not act alpha. And now she couldn't play off the entire encounter as a mistake.
If Bell maintained the offer, Asami would shake his hand with limp detachment and withdraw quickly from there. She relaxed her own wild stare and introduced herself bluntly: "Asami Saki." Stifled the disclaimer necessary for work encounters: Just Asami, please.
By now, the lobby room was gaining a sense of familiarity. The surrounding stairways carried the mixed and faded scents of varied people. Everything else was washed out by the outdoors leaking through from the nearby open entrance. Otherwise, it was a limited space with a low ceiling excepting the stairs leading to the next floor. Leading to Asami's future, probably– she repressed her panic at the idea, in her own moment of realization. She was clearly in the worst timeline.
Another late night posty. I hope it is alright where I ended it. Let me know if I need to change anything.^^
[attr="class","bgtk-lyric2"]back street fight is looking for trouble
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The corners of Bell’s lips curled into possibly the fakest smile he had ever mustered in his one hundred odd years of existence. A fluffy brow twitched. It took everything in his power not to go ape-shit the moment the word chicken crept from the younger woman’s mouth. This turn of events was unexpected on his end. For a brief moment, their roles were switched, and he hated it. She was so meek before. His words appeared to have awoken the beast within her. Bell was one to push buttons, too bad he picked the wrong one to mess with. This partnership was off to a sour start as it was, and all because an idiot couldn’t keep his perverted assessments to himself. Bell made his bed, now he’d have to lie in it. It was a shame this wasn’t a bed of roses, but one built upon sharp teeth and claws. The she-wolf showed her fangs. Her wicked teeth looked about as lethal as Bell’s spurs. [break][break] Third quarter moon?Lycanthrope!Shit. [break][break] So, there was some animal in her after all. Not just any animal either, she was a predator. Judging solely on her appearance, Bell would have never guessed this lithe girl was one of those mighty lycan-mutts, as he would call them. Great. Here he was thinking he was going to live with a dog lover not an actual dog, one that was beefed up enough to kill him if he wasn't careful too. Her rather strange Ad made sense now there was some context to it. Lycans were a nasty bunch. Bell was internally kicking himself, regretting not to have been a bit more proactive with the roommate search. Instead, he stupidly let his other half think for him. [break][break] There was no turning back now. The fear of being late on his bills (and being alone) was what cut Bell down to size, albeit, reluctantly. The animalistic look in the woman's eyes faded by the time she shook his hand and introduced herself. Her words were loud and clear. Hopefully, he wouldn’t wake up one day to find Miss. Saki’s jaws around his throat. That thought lingered in the back of Bell’s mind for a moment before he pushed it away. Suppose that would only happen if he didn’t keep his trap shut? Well, if that was the case, he’d be dead by sundown “For fuck's sake...” With an eye roll the familiar slipped his hands into his pockets. Bell was the one that poked a sleeping lycanthrope, he should be lucky he still had a face. “This is starting to feel like the beginning of a bad joke.” He mused, shifting his weight slightly. Bell just hoped she didn’t have a craving for chicken when the full moon came around. Speaking of which, that would be something he would have to ask her about. A grueling interview would have to wait later. [break][break] Tipping his head slightly he spoke, “I suppose if we are done with the not-so-pleasant pleasantries, I’ll show you the coop.” Bell turned to head back up the stars, only stopping momentary to see if his new roommate was following. He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the metal railing before speaking again, his tone was a bit more lighthearted this time around, “You’re lucky I'm a nice guy, Miss. Saki. I know a lady needs her space, so the master bedroom is yours. I moved all of my shit out of there this morning.” It was like a rooster to give to a hen first and take his share later. He figured Asami would need a little extra space, not that he was trying to get anything from her at this point. In reality, Bell did this for the smoking hot bombshell he thought he was getting, his new roommie did not have to know that though. Anything to get into the she-wolf's good graces and off her menu. If that meant taking the smaller room then so be it. “Don’t make this ROOSTER regret his decision, ‘ight?”
At some point, Asami could have expected the levity the man would take to the situation. She noted a forced quality in his smile; when he spoke again, it was in barbs, jabbing at her, testing her. She didn't so much as snort at the recognition of a "bad joke." And she supposed it was lucky for him: Asami was, more than before, resistant – additionally reluctant, unknowing if she was supposed to lead a conversation or pose an pseudo-interview (to her chagrin.) As she followed him stiltedly, Asami kept her eyes level to Bell's, once he turned around, and then on, unwavering, on the back of his head.
A wind-strewn blonde mop with no visible signs of greying; the big wings, not the pussy imp-type you threw glamour over and forgot about. The initial questions Asami's indifference had grown over resurfaced as she loitered at the base of the staircase. When Bell had descended on her, her instincts shrieked 'Baby Boomer,' but she also picked up something younger... hot-blooded... enough to assume he was immortal, but not enough to trust that theory outright. Could familiars even be immortal? And, actually, it could be important to know whether he had a pact or not. Did he expect a pact from her? Familiars weren't a self-sufficient race of people, in Asami's experience. They lived to serve.
She realized it with his offer: it was that, disguised as a decree of generosity. Without any protest or argument or even an indication of interest on Asami's part – she just blinked – essentially, she had gotten what she had wanted. She liked space. She appreciated distance, even from the beginning, from any roommate.
Asami was being served. It could be the familiar in Bell, but more shocking and oddly exhilarating was the idea her rant had "worked" on him. He was scared of her. And then, this awkward meeting didn't feel so much like one.
She maintained the hard look though a smile played on Asami's face: in combination, she was exuding waves of smugness. Slipping around Bell, in a blink, she preceded him on the staircase. With higher ground, she didn't have much to say, really, but she was ready to at least attempt the room tour. "Whatever you say, chicken."
(( get it chicken bc he's scared of her and he's a bird-man ))
Oh lawd. Rule 2 is flawed AF but he is too dumb to realize it. lol
[attr="class","bgtk-lyric2"]back street fight is looking for trouble
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Who knew abhorrent lycanthropes could come in tiny, adorable packages? Hapless experiences would lead Bell to believe that all lycans were burly, monstrous men that reeked of a foul wet dog smell. Bell could swear, on his life, that lycan’s stench was strong enough to put a person on their ass for a solid five minutes. These supernaturals were less than pleasant to be around, enough to make Bell turn his nose up at the idea of living with one. Asami, however, was flipping his expectations. She certainly didn’t resemble the usual lycan-mutts Bell had the unfortunate pleasure of running into and, as far as he could tell, she didn’t carry that nasty dog stink. [break][break] It was the uncomfortable silence that tore Bell from his thoughts. The young lady did not give a single peep, or even a reaction for that matter. For a moment, Bell thought his words hadn’t reached her. She merely stood there, staring up at him with big round eyes. At least she wasn’t flashing her fangs at him anymore. Bell would brush it aside and look away, all the while, cocking his arsenal of stupid jokes. He was getting ready to hit her with a What’s wrong, cat got your tongue?, when a gust of wind ruffled his feathers. It all happened in the span of a second. Asami went from the bottom of the stairs, past him, and to the top of the next landing before he could utter a single word. Bell's golden eyes lingered on her form for a moment, almost in disbelief. Every fiber of his very being was telling him either fight or get the hell outta dodge. Asami was fast, too fast. She could have easily taken his throat into her jaws if she wanted. He wouldn’t have realized it either, not until it was too late to do anything about it. Bell was certain she could have him on the floor and gone in less than a minute. [break][break] The way she looked down on him, like a predator, it made his blood boil. Untamed smugness radiated off her like a toxic wave, he could feel it. It made the feather on his wing shudder with anticipation for a fight. He wanted to do nothing more than wipe that damn smirk off her face. [break][break] She prodded him, once again, with the word chicken. Bell set his jaw as his mind came to the startling realization that he was no longer the apex of his household. A dangerous new animal was in his sanctuary now. Despite their height difference, Bell would bet this little lycan would wipe the floor with him. (Not that he would ever admit to his shortcomings. He'd sooner die than do that.) The familiar's powers were certainly not up to snuff; he had his old master to thank for that. Perhaps if Bell had a full clip at his disposal could take her on but, as he stood now, he was far too watered-down. No matter how the familiar tried to spin it, he was essentially at her mercy. [break][break] Bell would hold a straight face. Although, the familiar had never been good at poker, even if he managed to keep his cool, his wings always gave away his hand. "Easy, fido." He called, as he continued up the stairs at a leisurely pace. Getting angry only seemed to feed the pooch’s confidence. He would need to try a different tactic, the familiar had a few up his sleeve. "I can show you the difference between a chicken and a rooster, sweetheart.” As soon as his boots hit the landing, he huffed a low laugh. "But, you're gonna have to buy me dinner first." His condescending tone lingered throughout the sentence as he lassoed in a toothy grin. [break][break] “I’ve got a few ground rules to cover before I let you inside.“ Bell once again crossed his arms in front of his chest as he turned his back to the apartment door. With one swift motion, his right leg crossed over the other, and he leaned back against the wooden frame. The familiar’s deep red wings flexed slightly, adjusting for comfort. “Rule number one...” Bell held up a single finger for emphasis. “Don’t touch my stuff. I don’t care how combat experienced your tiny ass is-I’ll break your fuckin' fingers if you touch my shit.” He would try to downplay her abilities, in an attempt to get a leg up on his sharp-toothed competitor. His golden eyes would lock onto hers as he went on with his list. [break][break] “Rule two...” Bell flicked a second finger up to accompany the first. “I’ve got a balcony, don’t lock it. I like to fly in instead of taking the stairs. We’re, like, three stories up, no one is going to break in.” [break][break] “Rule three...” This time an extra finger went up by accident, making the total four. It took Bell a second to realize it before correcting his mistake. His grin faded for a moment as his fluffy brows furrowed with annoyance. He then continued with an, “Um...three!” Bell decided to just put his hand down after that, tucking it back under his arm. “I’m not a fucking maid. Make sure you pick up after yourself, rover.” [break][break] With both brows raised he finished with, “Any questions? Concerns?”
"Easy, fido," and her attention rolled off the bombshell petrified in amber on his face to the open roof leaking daylight from the top of the staircase. Sightseeing only exposed the space in minimalism and grey, modern and more modern with any idiosyncrasies of the neighbors, her combing the space out of sheer disinterest, showing through their taste in welcome mats and teeny-tiny signage, like "Bless this mess" type of beta-material. Thereby making this the perfect location; this apartment could house an entire mafia and not draw a cop's second glance. And she wasn't even at gangster level. The complex itself was walking distance from the bus station and even closer to campus. It all came down to her roommate.[break][break]
Asami was throwing signs at a neighbor's security camera. Chicken-Man moving in one, out the other on his own wavelength of bullshit. She felt her invitee level on her in some mock "serious business."[break][break]
Asami turned around. She glided towards him. She drew a finger under her nose and sniffed, facetiously, hard. Grinning like a shark, she half-fibbed, "You smell terrified."[break][break]
She took in that whole hen-feed-and-grit scent – not necessarily dirty, just evocative; he preened, and he postured, and she was ultimately conflicted on the level of threat in this man. She still didn't know what he did. He– she didn't know if she could have friends over. Did she even care about having visitors? What were the type of people that could stand this flavor of douche bag?[break][break]
Emotions were ambiguous, arbitrary vibrations, and they came off of him with a consistency that left Asami no more informed than staring into his face. So there weren't a lot of advantages to him, especially because he was still talking. It just felt really good to be a Big Bad Wolf. It felt amazing that someone actually knew and that it mattered to them.[break][break]
She forgot what part of the tirade they were on, so she started off at her own terms, turning her poised indifference to the door like it was a painting in a museum. Lazily, "This place looks boring as hell. If it makes you feel better, I'd probably spend more time out than I would with you.[break][break]
"What do you do anyway, Bell? You retired? You work at home?"[break][break]
She tried the doorknob. "This bitch unlocked? You seem pretty confident. Guess the security's pretty tight here."[break][break]
[attr="class","torchic-notes"] she really said a month----
[attr="class","bgtk-lyric2"]back street fight is looking for trouble
[attr="class","bgtk-post"]
You smell terrified. [break][break] Getting called out for his bullshit was a hard pill to swallow, especially for an overly confident cockerel like Bell. There was a disheartening weight to her words that brought him down a peg, though he’d try his best to hide his insecurities behind a stone-faced scowl. The audacity of this woman was on another level, it left him seething with a bad taste in his mouth. [break][break] This was what he got for yapping away. There wasn’t many people who could put up with Bell’s excessive droning. If he adhered to subject he was passionate about, the man could go on and on, often without pause. Asami’s deadpan expression spoke volumes as she carried her attention to the door. It didn’t take long for him notice and snarl. “Are you even listening?” [break][break] The familiar could already tell this lease term was going to be a long and painful one. Their personalities clashed like oil and water. Was it even possible for prey and predator to even live together without issue? There would always be some level of distrust from his end, mainly because he could not tell what this woman was thinking half the time. She seemed terrifyingly unpredictable, but that could just be the nature of the beast. The longer Bell was around this tiny terror the more his mind began to put together pieces of a dreadful puzzle that he didn't want any part of. Too bad there was no backing out now. [break][break] Asami would lessen the blow to by admitting she wasn’t going to stick around the coop for long. She found the place to be dull. There was a part of Bell that certainly was relieved to hear that. “I think that would benefit us both, rover.” The wolf probably had places to go, people to see. Then again, would that mean she would be bringing home bad company? What if this little shit had a pack!? Bell mulled on this momentarily before his attention was pulled toward a round of questions. [break][break] “What?” Bell looked hurt by the mere mention of the word retired. Hell, he’d scoff at the thought of aging in general. Though, this was a harsh reality he’d have to deal with until he found another immortal contract holder. “R-Retired? Do I look that ol-” He caught himself mid-sentence. With eyes narrowing, he continued, “Don’t answer that!” [break][break] “I’m a security guard for the T.R.S.” Bell would hope his words would hold some bearing, anything to get a leg up on this situation. Though, with this punk he doubted that. When she tried her door he merely shrugged. “Eh, security around here is so-so.” He’d admit while gesturing with his hand. “Nothing really happens on this side of town.” [break][break] “What ‘bout you, short stack?” Bell chuckled at his own little joke. “You must have a pretty good job to afford living here, huh?”
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