Emiko and Peaches rock the DWMA

Emiko here :)

…It was an old building, and it had character: the peeling chalky yellow paint, the water damage on the bathroom ceiling, the English Ivy clinging desperately to the old brick wall. It was just another roof over my head, but I’ll still miss it. I always miss things like that. The stupid little stuff that made the place just tends to stick.

It would seem that change is constant for me, no matter were I go.  In all honesty, I hate it, but beggars can’t be choosers after all. I have tried to outrun my problems in the past, but that never really works out. I always lose in the end. I thought that this would be over by now, after everything I’d done and everything I’ve seen.

I thought wrong.

I’m running again, from another person who’s screwed me over. I can never make things personal, for a variety of reasons, but the main one being my constant change of location. I guess it comes with my mercenary lifestyle. A Sword for hire, you show up, you do your thing, and when the cash stops coming you move on. But I do make things personal, and I tend to pick the wrong kind of person to trust.

You’d think I’d learn by now.

Hell, I though I’d learned by now.

But I’m out for a shitload of hard earned coin, and really pissed off. So I Haven’t learned.

AT ALL.

So I guess it’s off to another new town, right? It’s what I always do. But then again, that hasn’t turned out so well.

There’s this place called Death City. It’s in Nevada. Looks like my kind of town: really dark and gloomy, a pile of various identical-looking buildings with white walls and red roofs in the middle of the desert. Anyways, call it fate, but somehow I would up here, hopefully to stay for a while.

Probably.

Maybe.

See, I was walking along the long, winding, cobbled streets, looking for a place to crash for the night, and with lots of stairs, and nooks and crannies there are plenty of options, but I decided on sleeping on this stack of newspapers. And, I couldn’t sleep, like, at all. So I start rooting through my makeshift bed for something to read. Lo and behold, I find this poster for this school, called DWMA.  Sound familiar? That’s because it’s the legendary Death Weapon Meister Academy, it’s were they train freaking Death Scythes!! And just my luck, right at the top of the 'pile' of buildings is the DWMA.

So that’s my plan in a nutshell: Enroll and Concur. I guess when I found Death City things sort of clicked. This isn’t anywhere near the life I once had, but I’m not going to repeat my mistakes again. The whole Sword for Hire thing brings shame to my family name; I wanted out eventually, when I had enough coin to live comfortably…

But now I just want out….

“…Sooo… yeah, that’s pretty much it…”

I look up at Lord Death, waiting for his response,

“Well kiddo, that’s quite the story you got there.” He says at last, “Emiko, was it?”

“Yessir!”

“And, you want to join the academy?”