Post by Ruhe Krieger on Dec 3, 2022 2:06:05 GMT -5
Facing off against what was a relatively pronounced and powerful Quincy known as Asmoskon Masurao in the files, she had recovered swiftly from her wounds after medical treatment and was once again in the rank and file of the Vreich. A soldat, she found herself rather complacent in her role, in the rank of private. Though, she could tell that she was already beginning to reach a new level. A new precipice of power that she was just beginning to tap. Day by day, she felt her unique powers developing into a foreign power. She had after all already been granted that "gift" that lay dormant within her.
The young blonde found herself training in her privacy. Usually farther off from those fellow recruits, and she showed a slow advancement, at least to the open eye. Yet, when it came down to prowess as a Quincy, she had already advanced leagues with the short period of instruction she had, as well as her own personal trials and tribulations. The Emperor's blood boiled inside of her, and she could tap into powers that showed perhaps she was chosen.
Blut. Her schrift. She had earned the attentions and apparent praise of two Sternritter, if not for her blatant skill and ability, then at least her potential. In truth, the attention she garnered had made her feel alive, flattered, and she was starved for it. She thirsted for the praise and admiration she never had, and yet, she feared such affections. After all, it was something that she really didn't know. How could she voice her insecurities? What could that possible leave her? Little Ruhe might have been a child, but she was a Quincy first. She was a soldier first. She was the Emperor's tool and instrument.
That was enough. She could grow and develop at her own pace. Though. It became clearer that with the passing of time, the Emperor's chosen were becoming more and more scarce. His Sternritter's ranks thinned more and more by the day. Though perhaps that was because it was his will. Perhaps they were no longer needed for their grand schemes or plan. Or perhaps his standards were only continuing to rise with the passing of time. Who knew really? Perhaps the Emperor favored the meek, ill, and the distraught. She formed her bow in her left hand. The oddly thick and blocky bow she was still used to forming.
Was there a point in pretending in this farce?
The young blonde found herself training in her privacy. Usually farther off from those fellow recruits, and she showed a slow advancement, at least to the open eye. Yet, when it came down to prowess as a Quincy, she had already advanced leagues with the short period of instruction she had, as well as her own personal trials and tribulations. The Emperor's blood boiled inside of her, and she could tap into powers that showed perhaps she was chosen.
Blut. Her schrift. She had earned the attentions and apparent praise of two Sternritter, if not for her blatant skill and ability, then at least her potential. In truth, the attention she garnered had made her feel alive, flattered, and she was starved for it. She thirsted for the praise and admiration she never had, and yet, she feared such affections. After all, it was something that she really didn't know. How could she voice her insecurities? What could that possible leave her? Little Ruhe might have been a child, but she was a Quincy first. She was a soldier first. She was the Emperor's tool and instrument.
That was enough. She could grow and develop at her own pace. Though. It became clearer that with the passing of time, the Emperor's chosen were becoming more and more scarce. His Sternritter's ranks thinned more and more by the day. Though perhaps that was because it was his will. Perhaps they were no longer needed for their grand schemes or plan. Or perhaps his standards were only continuing to rise with the passing of time. Who knew really? Perhaps the Emperor favored the meek, ill, and the distraught. She formed her bow in her left hand. The oddly thick and blocky bow she was still used to forming.
Was there a point in pretending in this farce?