video ; open ; 25th metal

[godsays]

[ A glimpse can be caught, perhaps, of a small, funny-looking rabbit in the background. ]

Does anyone know how to make metal vests or armor... very small? And flexible, like chain mail.


[ spam ]

[ Periodically, Zane can also be found in CTS, beating the shit out of various imaginary enemies through a fighting method that looks suspiciously like hopping around like a mad cricket.

He can also be found in CES, taking the rabbit for a walk.

Or the greenhouse, where he's working now. ]

Comments

I have way too much fun CTS-ing

[routemistress]

[They're human - probably - tall, blank-eyed men whose skins are so heavily tattooed with maps, pictures and whorls of alien script that each one is a living illuminated manuscript. They're nearly seven feet tall, nude and glistening with oil and sweat. Each one carries a scimitar and a little round shield. Iris is gleefully wading in with her twin sabres, parrying and lunging and ducking and occasionally headbutting, elbowing and tripping in approved barfighter fashion.]

Oooh no, love, it's - oh no you don't, sunshine!

[She drops to evade a two-pronged attack so that the scimitar-slash aimed at her strikes sparks off another one's shield, rolls, aiming a swipe at the second one's ankles as she goes, and scrambles to her feet behind him.]

...designed to be more fun for two. I thought I'd come see you. Ooh, be'ind you! I just thought I'd come watch you do your stuff. That all right?

[godsays]

[ He honestly hadn't thought of inviting anyone else along. Probably something to do with his at-heart discomfort with the violent side of him; he loves it, he loves the blood and the death, and he hates that he loves it. It's part of being a Mistborn.

Maybe she would understand. ]

It's fine.

[ He gives a sharp Steel-push to the scimitar wielded by the man behind him. He doesn't have to look back to see it; he can sense it behind him. He uses it to propel himself forward, feet into a shield, snatching a sword away and spinning to slice it across a man's throat.

He moves like a dancer. He is graceful, unleashed. ]