Description: Setsuka and Drake--two perhaps polar opposites--literally bump into each other in the park--and Setsuka displays that she can in fact be sociable when needed.
After yesterday, Drake's been given a lot to think about. Perhaps too much, even. So for the time being, the young supermodel is all out of sorts, perhaps even so far as distressed. So to alleviate this tension, Drake's decided to take a stroll through the park under the bright sun. No clouds in the sky, but there's a fair breeze blowing to keep people cooled off out here. Overall, the day's pleasant enough. Were it not for the proverbial stormcloud over Drake's head, anyway.
At the moment, the teen makes his way along a path, boots clunking against the ground. His hands are mostly stuffed into his pockets, save for thumbs hooking on the edge. At the moment, his dark amethyst eyes are trained on the ground before him, looking rather lost in his own mind.
Supermodels? Don't know anything about 'em. Setsuka probably actually -could- be a supermodel. She's beautiful, but there's something that keeps people from suggesting it to her. It could be the sword... or maybe it's the look in her eyes. Not that she looks murderous, or crazy. Not outright. She looks almost normal, in fact. Beautiful enough to draw stares, it's only those who meet her gaze that look away--those eyes... the blue of them. There's something subtle about her eyes. Something just a touch wrong.
Like Drake, this young woman is pacing along, aimlessly; if there's anything else keeping the random stranger from approaching her, it might be the short Japanese-style sword that is currently hung off her left side, gripped lightly in her hand as well.
So enraptured with musings of the past few days is Domino that he doesn't even realize another person is walking along as well. Much less that they're headed opposite each other, likely to intersect. He doesn't notice her beauty, nor her provocative dress, nor the sword that hangs at her side.
All he notices are a few stray pebbles in his path. And these? These he listlessly kicks aside as he walks.
So all that said, he sure as Hell doesn't notice the imminent collision.
Drake simply continues walking, until suddenly, there's a feminine body appearing in his vision. By that point, there's no time to deviate off course. He simply slams into the girl, and full on, unless she manages to skirt around him. Regardless of the severity of impact, Drake takes a few quick steps back and immediately offers a, "Sorry-sorry-sorry!"
Well, she's perhaps slightly more aware; however, that does not mean she can avoid. Or perhaps she chooses not to completely avoid. Her little half-step to the right lets her spin gracefully, absorbing most of the impact and staying on her feet. Immediately, her right hand slides to the hilt of her blade--but she hesitates, just the slightest. This ia a public venue, after all, and just out and out slaying someone for an insult of that caliber hasn't been done since the feudal era of Japan.
Her icy blue eyes raise, and she fixes on the handsome teenager; her left eyebrow quirks, just a touch, and the right side of her lip quirks upwards just a touch, to match--the effect gives her a smirking look. "You might want to watch where you're going, kid..." She probably doesn't -look- appreciably older, but she is older... and she'd call him 'kid' anyways. "There're better ways to meet girls, after all..."
"Didn't mean to-.. kid?," Drake asks, giving her a perplexed look. He's not been called 'kid' since his time with the Atlantic Islands Wrestling Federation - and then it was meant as an insult. With this woman? He isn't sure what to make of it. So instead of going off the handle in typical professional wrestling manner, he simply maintains that confused look for a few seconds.
Nevermind that technically, he -is- fairly young still.
"That's no joke," muses the model. Amethyst eyes trail from her face to her clothes, all the way down to the boots. They then finally trail back up to her face, and he cocks his head slightly to the side. A couple stray bangs drift over one of the eyes, giving him a coquettish sort of look. "All the same, sorry 'bout the bump. My fault entirely. I usually prefer meeting a lady all proper like, maybe flavored with a kiss on the hand." He pauses a moment, eyes lowering again - but this time deliberately to the sword. "Ceremonial or functional?," he asks out of the blue.
Well, it -is- kind of insulting... just not as a direct insult. Setsuka enjoys that confused look, simply because it's rather precious. Her smile grows wider, and somewhat more predatory--honestly, it's the way she is and she doesn't ever turn it off. Good to see that he didn't just go off the handle--control is important. In her younger days, she probably would have attmpted to kill him for something like that bump...
Instead, she adopts a surprised look, raising her eyebrows. "Mmm? Oh.." She chuckles. The sword, right.
"It's a family heirloom... the last thing I have of my family, almost..." Which is, in and of itself, quite true.
"But it is quite functional..." The hand gripping the blade relaxes away from it, though she keeps it in her left hand, that hand wrapped around the scabbard just under where the hiltguard is.
"An unusual question... why do you ask?"
"I'm jumpy around sharp'n pointy objects," Drake admits easily. His eyes drift to the sword, and seeing that she isn't gripping it -quite- so aggressively, decides to relax a litle more. Still, her hand is wrapped around it. It's a little nerve-wracking for him, apparently, visibly tensed. The lack of shirt does little to help hide such telling signs of tension in the muscles, looking almost like a tightly-wound spring coil.
Still, Drake wears a pleasant smile when his dark eyes lift back to her face. "It's a little different, seeing someone walking around with a sword," he observes. But then he quickly adds, "Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it's -weird-. Walking around with a giant oar is weird. Walking around with something -meant- to be a weapon is just your style - I can understand the want for protection in a place like this.
There's an awkward break in his speech then, and Drake's brow furrows.
"Not that the park itself is dangerous. Unless you're crazy allergic to birds'n joggers. But.. I meant the city."
"Oh, it's odd. I suspect less than one percent of the population of the world even knows how to use a sword properly, much less carries one around... at least... visibly." The pronouncement is delivered rather casually... he's not wrong about her grip, though it is the kind of grip that can be re-acquired instantly, especially given her training in iaijutsu and battoujutsu. Her posture is similarly relaxed, the opposite of his.
"A place like this?" she echoes, glancing around the park. "I don't see anyone dangerous here..." she trails off, then smiles slightly. "Well, maybe one." Casually, the blade is tilted, the scabbard pressed up against the underside of her forearm, the grip changed so that her thumb is laying along the spine of the scabbard.
"Like the ancient samurai, I believe in the adage of never drawing my sword unless I intend to use it," she remarks, "though I always like to have it... handy."
"Glad that I don't see steel, then," Drake jokes uneasily. "Either way, you've got nothin' to worry about from me. I'm a decent enough sort, give or take a bout of clumsiness, apparently." It's obviously an attempt to ease the air, but considering she looks about as laid back and casual as can be, it's probably mostly just for his own benefit.
"So.. that's a pretty fancy dress, Miss," Drake says, attempting to divert the subject from the dreaded "sharp and pointy object". "Not exactly jogging clothes, and I have a hard time believing that's what you wear to relax'n be comfortable. So what's the occassion?" Along with this question, Drake offers up a bright, friendly smile, all tooth-pinging and such.
I don't worry," replies Setsuka; her left arm lowers to her side. This has the effect, combined with her grip, of essentially 'hiding' the blade from Drake--perhaps that will ease his worries, some. Her weight resting more fully on her right leg, she shifts her left outwards a little, putting right hand on hip and jutting her hip that direction a little, for balance.
"Oh this? This is very comfortable," she says, with a faint smile. Some of that predatory sharpness is fading from her eyes--it's unlikely she's going to have to fight him right now, although she can certainly see, with her trained eye, signs that he is, in fact, a fighter.
"But, to be honest, I wear it because it looks good. I don't go out looking -bad-." As if she could--well, okay, she probably could. But, she doesn't. "It's comfortable, it looks good, and it is designed so that it won't tear if I have to fight... it's perfect."
Drake seems to appreciate the gesture of pulling the sword more out of vision, and just as he was visibly tensed, he appears to relax again. Her response on her clothing even gets a bemused grin from him. "Really? I can get behind that idea. Same reason I'm decked out as I am." Arguably more or less conservative than her. That's a thought that amuses him to no end.
Still though, her assessment earns her another look-over. "Functionality and comfort. The ideal outfit. Gotta say, though, it still looks really nice. Could function for a gala, even."
Setsuka, meanwhile, is filing away all the tidbits that she's getting from Drake's actions--the outright admittedness of fear around sharp objects, the way he tenses and relaxes... all useful information, if she ever engages him in a fight. That wonm't be today, but someday...
A soft chuckle, that passes lightly from her lips, "Well, it could. Though I suppose at most galas they would protest the blade... not that would stop me," she replies. In fact, she -has- gone to parties with this very dress on. It's also well-treated to resist bloodstain, which can be -very- important.
"But, really, there's no reason to look bad, ever. I'll never understand those who do go out looking bad..."
Drake's downfall in this situation would seem to be a lack of assumption or caution. Though she seems to give off an edgy air about her, she possesses a distinct advantage over his senses: 1.) She's female, and 2.) She's attractive. Some tendencies just die hard. If ever. So the thought of being scrutinized or 'played', in a sense, never crosses his mind. Instead, she's just entertaining conversation. Well, that and eyecandy.
Besides, he got a chuckle out of her. That's a good thing. Right?
"Are you kiddin'? In Southtown? Where beauty pageants involve a fight?," asks Drake, mirthfully incredulous. "I hardly think they'd look twice at the sword! Still, even if they did, I don't think they'd like the idea of getting cut up any more than I would." He then pauses a moment, then grins all the more. "F'real. By the way, the name's Vyril. Drake Vyril. Most know me as Domino."
And out comes the right hand, palm turned upwards instead of aside. No normal handshake, this one.
Oh, she's not -playing- him. She has no agenda for Drake--he isn't a target, and she doesn't just start random fights. At least, not yet. She's firmly in control. This is just how she is, really. "Mmm... this is true... but most of the population aren't fighters..." She sweeps her right hand outwards, towards the rest of the park. "That's why we're so popular... we give them something they can't get, anywhere else..."
Turning back to Drake, as he extends a hand. Her gaze falls to it, and she seems to consider, just for a moment, before putting her right hand in his. "My name is... Setsuka." That's it, just one name. Like she's famous.
"You have to wonder about that, given some time hanging around here," Drake remarks.
The hand, once presented, is studied for a moment, as if it'll give some insightful look into Setsuka's mind. Whatever he's gleaned from it, he simply smiles and turns his hand over underneath hers. His thumb lifts to gently settled across her fingers to taper them downwards. He then, if no resistance is given, lifts the hand upwards while his head tips forward, aiming just a brush of his lips against its back, little more than a ghost of a kiss.
Following this, the dark amethyst eyes lift from just over her hand (assuming he still has it) to look her in the eye. "The pleasure's mine, I'm sure."
The hand is just a hand; the kiss to it draws an amused smile from Setsuka. As if she knew what he were planning and had decided to humor him. "Of course it is," she says, lightly. It may be the most normal thing she's said during this encounter at all. Once Drake is done with his show, she returns her hand, putting her right arm across her stomach.
"I take it, Mr. Vyril, that you are yourself a fighter? What else do you do?" It sounds like idle talk, but is it? In all probability it is--it's an innocent question, of course... something to move the conversation along.
Drake has to snicker softly at her agreement, and unable to resist, he winks an eye at her. Really, the situation has gone from tense to somewhat fun. Pleasurable, at any rate.
Her question, however, gets something of a stunned look from him. "Oh. You don't recognize the name Domino. At -all-," he assesses, sounding disappointed. "That's a shame. Yeah, I'm a fighter. Started in professional wrestling, moved into street fighting.. been trying to work both since." His left thumb hooks his pocket, right hand lifting to extend his index finger matter-of-factly. "But! I'm also a supermodel. Been doing -that- almost as long as I've been getting into fights."
"A model, hmm?" Well, she can see it; he is handsome, after all, even if a bit young for her tastes. And probably not into the kinds of things she would be into if she were remotely a sexual being... no, her tastes are... different. But she's okay with that.
"I suppose that explains the jitteriness around blades... it wouldn't do to wreck your career with a scar..." Then again, that might be fun, too. Suddenly, she's re-appraising him--something about her sadistic side wants to see, maybe, how he'd react... and then something starts beeping. "Ah... excuse me."
Reaching behind her, she slips a small cellphone out and gazes at it for a moment. "I'm afraid I have to go, Mr. Vyril. But it was quite... entertaining... meeting you." With that she turns, whistling softly, walking off... probably to do a job.
Both hands then set to his hips, an easy, painfully oblivious smile set on his face. "Yeah, likewise. Have a good day, then, Miss Setsuka~!," he calls after her pleasantly. Once she's headed off on her way, Drake begins walking again - only now with a forward look and an overall uplifted demeanor.
Log created on 15:30:44 08/02/2008 by Setsuka, and last modified on 10:44:34 08/16/2008.