♛ refer to the list above for active muses. ♛ post "calling" one of them out — you can do so by putting their name in the subject line! ♛ can be informal/formal/comment spam/crosscanon/explicit/whatever tickles your fancy! ♛ feel free to make up a scenario at the start, or wait to see where things go.
Eda was never a sword lady, always a gun or some sort of another firearm chick. In her logic, why bother with all that training if in dead-ass serious life or death situations all it comes down to pure skill instead of how powerful the tool is? Nah, she prefers bullets thank you very much. (Plus, she was never trained in swords. Maybe knives, but she's rusty at it.)
But Travis offered to teach her how to wield a Beam Katana which is a pretty unique weapon in the sea of assassins that use custom, extremely unique weapons. (She refuses to get into that sweat-inducing latex for 'wrestling' training, which she's sure it's just an excuse to grab all on her.) For all intents and purposes, Travis shouldn't be a person that knows how to use a weapon like this without slicing his own face off. But somehow... he uses it well.
He knows how to dodge pretty well. She smirks at him, backed into a wall by her kick.
"You know, I assumed that was all you knew how to do with this."
He bounced off the wall, staggering forward off the impact a step before leaning back and up against it. The beer still half full in one hand, and one of the older versions of his arsenal of light up death blades in the other. Not only was he very well versed in the handling of these weapons, he was equally well versed in fighting against them.
"Well, you know what they say about assuming things, right?" He taunted, tipping the bottle up to his lips before lifting one of his feet and planting it to the wall. Pushing off from it and coupling it with a quick upwards swipe to try and throw her guard off, and let him twist away to the side, and back to an open ring.
So to speak.
"Something about assholes. And you and me. I think it ends in anal or someshit?" Travis was always mouthy. Always a piece of shit. Turned out, when the fighting got going, that only ramped up too.
(no subject)
But Travis offered to teach her how to wield a Beam Katana which is a pretty unique weapon in the sea of assassins that use custom, extremely unique weapons. (She refuses to get into that sweat-inducing latex for 'wrestling' training, which she's sure it's just an excuse to grab all on her.) For all intents and purposes, Travis shouldn't be a person that knows how to use a weapon like this without slicing his own face off. But somehow... he uses it well.
He knows how to dodge pretty well. She smirks at him, backed into a wall by her kick.
"You know, I assumed that was all you knew how to do with this."
(no subject)
"Well, you know what they say about assuming things, right?" He taunted, tipping the bottle up to his lips before lifting one of his feet and planting it to the wall. Pushing off from it and coupling it with a quick upwards swipe to try and throw her guard off, and let him twist away to the side, and back to an open ring.
So to speak.
"Something about assholes. And you and me. I think it ends in anal or someshit?" Travis was always mouthy. Always a piece of shit. Turned out, when the fighting got going, that only ramped up too.