π§ππ π¨πππ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fallenfavored) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ascendedverses2025-08-21 01:07 am
fallenfavored) wrote in ascendedverses2025-08-21 01:07 am
. . π³ππ πππππ πππππ (Solo / Open RP )
There was something off putting about the fate of seeing a body lay lifeless. Caked in blood. Given up the ghost. To see a thing so often, would dull the senses., you'd think. But no, his empathy was not gone. No, his prideful smirk of justifying the means of awful persons breathing their last, had not left either.
Still. .
Such moments were somber. Even for one who heralds from a more darker disposition of existence.
Knelt down, the sound of a bag ruffled off his shoulder, and a tool is pulled from it's compartment. Long yet slender, sleek in design, but simply just a pole from first glance.
On his back, the Jian that held his most coveted secret, and a visage...veiled by the shadow of his hood.
He's finishing a commission. No more, no less. Standing upright..his dull gaze takes in the visceral sight.
π²πππππππππ ππππ:
πππππππ: π½ ππππππ.
ππππππ: π³πππππππ
πΎππππππππ: π»ππππ π» π²πππππππ
π°πππππππππ: π²ππππππ ππ ππ ππππππππ. π³π πππ πππππ ππππππ ππππππππππππ.
πΏππππ: π·,πΉπΏπΌ,πΊπ»πΆ,πΆπΆπΆ π ππ
Moving had it's challenges. But the Wuzong operated no matter the location.
To work.
The sleek pole shifted it's end point to a mop like head. His waistband held a spray can that was filled with a special liquid. It's practically water, but it's medicinal aroma begs to differ. Spraying down around the bodies caused the crimson aftermath to grow slick and malleable..thus mopping away to absorb it with sheer ease.
This process was irregular, but precise. Quick, yet done with the utmost dexterity. Angles were sprayed and swiped the moment they came in contact with the black mop. The floors, the walls, the desk (or what's left of it) all the way down to the soles of the once living's shoes.
Not a trace of blood to be found, or left, minus the bucket that would hold the rinse of the dark red ichor his tool would squeeze out.
Now, for the bodies. Bags are pulled from his pack, small but shifting growth with a mere tug of a string. Stretched to ease them all up in their respective body bag, and rolled into a pile, altogether.
"7 bodies in 20 minutes." Checking his phone at the time. It'll be a while until the owners of the establishment returned. Some gang in Soul. A hit was put out, and an assassin answered. Their main quarters are now forfeit, but that's not his problem. He's just the cleaner.
Tapping the 'confirmed' button over the commission. He takes a picture of the body bags, and sends it. Soon his payment will come through, but now he has to seal the deal. The Cleansing. And so this is where things get interesting. Even for Xue Ying, he found that the Wuzong had knowledge of arts and techniques no normal mortals could or SHOULD possess. This lighter for starters . As he clicked it on, it's flames glowed a brilliant, icy blue hue. Lighting the corpses on fire was to ensure the utmost lack of evidence. Nothing else burned, but the bodies. It was perhaps...not normal, for a mere human to see. But to him, these corpse devouring flames were another tool slipped into the human realm by some devious demonic entity, or mythical being. But he has no evidence of that, just a hunch, really.
Not staying a moment longer, Xue Ying finds himself trudging outside. It's midnight. And he's already finished. How did things become like this? How is he able to keep this going? He dreads thinking of the Mythic Beast research he'll conduct tomorrow. His sleep pattern is all messed up, not to mention, he's applied to be bodyguard for VIPs. With..no real luck, on that front. Anything to do..'this' less. But that's how life is. Well, his life.
Chilly hands keep to his pockets while he keeps his head down. Hopefully, no one questions the sword along his back. But it's so quiet..surely he'll run into no one, and he can go home and sleep..
Still. .
Such moments were somber. Even for one who heralds from a more darker disposition of existence.
Knelt down, the sound of a bag ruffled off his shoulder, and a tool is pulled from it's compartment. Long yet slender, sleek in design, but simply just a pole from first glance.
On his back, the Jian that held his most coveted secret, and a visage...veiled by the shadow of his hood.
He's finishing a commission. No more, no less. Standing upright..his dull gaze takes in the visceral sight.
π²πππππππππ ππππ:
πππππππ: π½ ππππππ.
ππππππ: π³πππππππ
πΎππππππππ: π»ππππ π» π²πππππππ
π°πππππππππ: π²ππππππ ππ ππ ππππππππ. π³π πππ πππππ ππππππ ππππππππππππ.
πΏππππ: π·,πΉπΏπΌ,πΊπ»πΆ,πΆπΆπΆ π ππ
Moving had it's challenges. But the Wuzong operated no matter the location.
To work.
The sleek pole shifted it's end point to a mop like head. His waistband held a spray can that was filled with a special liquid. It's practically water, but it's medicinal aroma begs to differ. Spraying down around the bodies caused the crimson aftermath to grow slick and malleable..thus mopping away to absorb it with sheer ease.
This process was irregular, but precise. Quick, yet done with the utmost dexterity. Angles were sprayed and swiped the moment they came in contact with the black mop. The floors, the walls, the desk (or what's left of it) all the way down to the soles of the once living's shoes.
Not a trace of blood to be found, or left, minus the bucket that would hold the rinse of the dark red ichor his tool would squeeze out.
Now, for the bodies. Bags are pulled from his pack, small but shifting growth with a mere tug of a string. Stretched to ease them all up in their respective body bag, and rolled into a pile, altogether.
"7 bodies in 20 minutes." Checking his phone at the time. It'll be a while until the owners of the establishment returned. Some gang in Soul. A hit was put out, and an assassin answered. Their main quarters are now forfeit, but that's not his problem. He's just the cleaner.
Tapping the 'confirmed' button over the commission. He takes a picture of the body bags, and sends it. Soon his payment will come through, but now he has to seal the deal. The Cleansing. And so this is where things get interesting. Even for Xue Ying, he found that the Wuzong had knowledge of arts and techniques no normal mortals could or SHOULD possess. This lighter for starters . As he clicked it on, it's flames glowed a brilliant, icy blue hue. Lighting the corpses on fire was to ensure the utmost lack of evidence. Nothing else burned, but the bodies. It was perhaps...not normal, for a mere human to see. But to him, these corpse devouring flames were another tool slipped into the human realm by some devious demonic entity, or mythical being. But he has no evidence of that, just a hunch, really.
Not staying a moment longer, Xue Ying finds himself trudging outside. It's midnight. And he's already finished. How did things become like this? How is he able to keep this going? He dreads thinking of the Mythic Beast research he'll conduct tomorrow. His sleep pattern is all messed up, not to mention, he's applied to be bodyguard for VIPs. With..no real luck, on that front. Anything to do..'this' less. But that's how life is. Well, his life.
Chilly hands keep to his pockets while he keeps his head down. Hopefully, no one questions the sword along his back. But it's so quiet..surely he'll run into no one, and he can go home and sleep..