10-08-2015, 09:01 PM
Ururu’s skeptical grin that she had going up until now peeled off her face. The man was a complete total stranger. This just wasn’t the typical disregard for Orphans that Ururu was used to and had come to expect for years. No this was different. Hell she could remember every time someone ever yelled at her and in all those times they had been justified.
This however wasn’t.
This man seemed wrong.
She had already seen him talking to herself.
Hell, again, she did that and she knew she had the supernatural equivalent to multiple personality disorder. One persona of which was borderline sociopath. But even He never behaved like this. He had standards.
Ururu missed the confusion on Desco’s face as her own blood went cold; that the vitriol that was practically foaming from this man’s mouth, that he was subjecting her to. That was unacceptable. Whatever he was doing was apparently dangerous, in a crowded location, outside a place without any form of equipment or stationary table to support efforts of working on apparently a precision device. And he had all but openly blamed the three of him for his own stupidity.
A device that given from his reactions could go off from someone accidently poking it with a feather. As if it were made of nitro glycerin, in liquid not gelatin form.
His stupidity caused her own face to warp emotionally into something darker and much older than what it appeared. Dark enough to not belong on a fifteen year old’s face, let alone the face of a nine year old which she currently occupied. Her entire body bent ever so slightly for combat, the loose portions of her hair falling in front of her eyes though it didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.
Killer intent, not much of it but enough that Hikaru was ever so slightly worried, not that she bothered to stop her. But she could identify that sense across the network as any other shinobi likely could if any existed here.
Ururu glared at the man with something akin to disappointment and disgust. Her tone however was stained with something that sounded like hard won arrogance rather than petulant overconfidence and a tad bit of bitterness.
“That wasn’t very nice Onii-san.” Ururu said glancing at his lower extremities for only second before her eyes moved to reassert themselves the scarf obscured face. “Does Oni-san have an inferiority complex or is he just compensating?”
Her eyes then darted to the partially deconstructed to the gun at hand, getting even more an eyeful.
Her mostly free hand twitched ever so slightly with chakra as she felt the need to ready if her claws were to be needed. Hard to tell but something told her that starting a fight here wouldn’t be a good idea… at least with this face.
She would only have one chance if she did this now. The device was more complicated than she expected which meant more liable to break with the right impact. But that pickaxe on him was something she was more worried about. If he was used to wielding it, at this close of a range it’d be the more effective weapon.
That is if he could switch to it fast enough.
The muscle mass alone bespoke that he could do it but it didn’t give away how effectively or at what speed.
“The question is though” Ururu continued with a carefully played pause, even as her eyes took him apart, stripping him in more ways than one, “is why Oni-san would be stupid enough to field strip his weapon in a crowded area while it’s loaded.”
She sneered slightly as if even giving him that much respect was a platitude.
Her entire demeanor had shifted from one of childlike curiosity to that of someone used to crushing the most disgusting and dangerous pieces of human refuse the world could give her. She found him wanting. The shift was obvious to anyone who could see her plainly and most would likely have been shocked at the speed it happened.
Ururu found she wanted to ruin this man if his corruption was deeper than what it already appeared to be. And if deeper… well then it was a blight that needed to be removed from this place.
This however wasn’t.
This man seemed wrong.
She had already seen him talking to herself.
Hell, again, she did that and she knew she had the supernatural equivalent to multiple personality disorder. One persona of which was borderline sociopath. But even He never behaved like this. He had standards.
Ururu missed the confusion on Desco’s face as her own blood went cold; that the vitriol that was practically foaming from this man’s mouth, that he was subjecting her to. That was unacceptable. Whatever he was doing was apparently dangerous, in a crowded location, outside a place without any form of equipment or stationary table to support efforts of working on apparently a precision device. And he had all but openly blamed the three of him for his own stupidity.
A device that given from his reactions could go off from someone accidently poking it with a feather. As if it were made of nitro glycerin, in liquid not gelatin form.
His stupidity caused her own face to warp emotionally into something darker and much older than what it appeared. Dark enough to not belong on a fifteen year old’s face, let alone the face of a nine year old which she currently occupied. Her entire body bent ever so slightly for combat, the loose portions of her hair falling in front of her eyes though it didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.
Killer intent, not much of it but enough that Hikaru was ever so slightly worried, not that she bothered to stop her. But she could identify that sense across the network as any other shinobi likely could if any existed here.
Ururu glared at the man with something akin to disappointment and disgust. Her tone however was stained with something that sounded like hard won arrogance rather than petulant overconfidence and a tad bit of bitterness.
“That wasn’t very nice Onii-san.” Ururu said glancing at his lower extremities for only second before her eyes moved to reassert themselves the scarf obscured face. “Does Oni-san have an inferiority complex or is he just compensating?”
Her eyes then darted to the partially deconstructed to the gun at hand, getting even more an eyeful.
Her mostly free hand twitched ever so slightly with chakra as she felt the need to ready if her claws were to be needed. Hard to tell but something told her that starting a fight here wouldn’t be a good idea… at least with this face.
She would only have one chance if she did this now. The device was more complicated than she expected which meant more liable to break with the right impact. But that pickaxe on him was something she was more worried about. If he was used to wielding it, at this close of a range it’d be the more effective weapon.
That is if he could switch to it fast enough.
The muscle mass alone bespoke that he could do it but it didn’t give away how effectively or at what speed.
“The question is though” Ururu continued with a carefully played pause, even as her eyes took him apart, stripping him in more ways than one, “is why Oni-san would be stupid enough to field strip his weapon in a crowded area while it’s loaded.”
She sneered slightly as if even giving him that much respect was a platitude.
Her entire demeanor had shifted from one of childlike curiosity to that of someone used to crushing the most disgusting and dangerous pieces of human refuse the world could give her. She found him wanting. The shift was obvious to anyone who could see her plainly and most would likely have been shocked at the speed it happened.
Ururu found she wanted to ruin this man if his corruption was deeper than what it already appeared to be. And if deeper… well then it was a blight that needed to be removed from this place.