A shudder full of repulse flowed down her spine as displeasure fixed itself upon her lips in the form of a disapproved sneer. She hadn’t missed hearing those words and for them to occur now instilled a sense of foreboding.
"Oh God, don’t tell me he’s back…”
She pleaded with the heavens above, a show of theatrics not uncommon when it came to her. She’d give the shirt off her back, every ounce of her hard money; even life itself if it meant his presence would remain scarce in her life.
"I am aware that my clothing does not make me obvious. That is the point, since a spy should not be obvious. What I mean is, people do not remember me. By people, I mean those who are supposedly my friends. People act as though they do not know me, even if they were seemingly friendly the day before. Worse still, they are friendly once they remember, but it worried me that I could be forgotten as easily as someone might forget to get milk."
”You don’t forget to get milk if you like it.”
Implying that he wasn’t as well liked as he seemingly wished to be. A hard truth that he may very well be aware of. Rolling her shoulders in a shrug she truly had no help for him. Nothing about him screamed identifiable other than those godawful bugs. Even then, his dull way of speaking coupled with his tendency to dip off into a rant with that dull way of speaking… She found no surprise in his admittance.
"It was one question, not twenty. Sorry for making it so hard for you when the world has forgotten that I exist." He did like Karui; she was a good friend but sometimes she was too absorbed in herself. "I suppose I should be happy, but it seems I am not worth remembering to most people."
Could be because they have no clue as to what you look like… At least that was her observation from a spectators point of view. Unaware that his thoughts painted her as a selfish girl.
“Well look at how you’re dressed.
You don’t actually scream ‘Hey look at me.’ “
"Stop evading the question Karui. Did you forget about me?"
"Geez, what the hell is this, twenty questions?
No, you’re too weird to be forgotten in all honesty.”
She found it a little hard to forget about a person who wields bug as an offensive and defensive weapon.
[/Lame at guessing games.] WHO IS DIS?
That u luv the Sas
We talked about this already.
"Is it true that I have been forgotten?"
"—I feel like that’s something that happens to you very often.”
Question successfully evaded.
"You’re right about that, I’m not the sociable type. But I have to figure out what kind of person you are, before I just let you join. Sabertooth is a guild that focuses on individual strength, even if we have focused on friendship a bit more. Maybe if you stopped panicking that I’ve been able to read you, perhaps you’ll realize that you and I are similar. I too joined this guild because of the individual nature of the members."
He had been a lot like she was once; individualistic to almost a fault and very violent. Time in the guild had mellowed him out a bit, to the point where he appeared bored most of the time. But if anything, that was just because he hadn’t found many challenges outside of facing guys like Jura or Laxus. The ace of a guild was something he almost regretted becoming. Almost.
"Anyway, I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves. I’m Orga Nanagear, Sabertooth’s ace mage. Now, if you’re done acting like a tiger that thinks its in a cage, show me some of your magic."
Friendship. The very word brought visible detestment to her carefully blank features. A scowl twisting her lips, knitting her brows, and darkening her eyes a fraction. What good had friendship done her? Not much through personal experience and she had no intention of devoting her life to it. Tolerance maybe but friendship? Highly unlikely.
Which was why she outright refused to acknowledge any similarities in their persona’s. So what if she was something he once was. That merely meant something had changed him and she had every intention of allowing that very something to walk right on by. She liked the way things were, the solidarity of relying on no one but herself— it fit like a hospital glove. Tight. Allowing nothing to enter and nothing to exit.
She scoff, dismissing it all. Past thoughts, current annoyances, his previous statement. All of it was shoved back into the recesses of her mind, likely to be brought back through subconscious thought.
A simple answer as the cloak was parted as an arm dove for her right hip, producing a sword’s hilt. It was absent of a metallic blade, its appearance far from impressive until she forced a calculated amount of power through it. Lightning rippled and arched into the form of a small blade. She found no need in fleshing out the big guns then and there, That would be a true waste of power she had every intention of saving until she needed it.