Kidd and Stocking
The Page Sisters all look at you around the same time. Hillary rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to Stocking, but Priscilla and Robin look at each other. Priscilla shrugs, and Robin turns back to you.
Of the three, Robin was the leg-breaker and skull-cracker, so it falls to her to deal with you. "Sure. If you can find Atticus Murphy, we'll answer all your questions." As she speaks, the lenses of her glasses go all swirly and hypnotic, and you find yourself drawn into them, unable to look away. Slowly, the tension leaves your frame, your muscles relax and a calmness settles over you. She just hypnotized you. "Is that alright with you?"
Hypno-glasses really work. Who knew? Sure, you could break out of it if you… really… wanted to.
An enormous figure joined the Japanese Witch. The warrior was at least six feet in height, and wore a lion's fur cloak, sturdy leather bracers, a strong looking bow hung over his back, a pair of gauntlets which hung over his belt with a buckle of yet another lion, and little else. His features were noble, with a powerful lantern jaw, his eyes a clear sparkling blue, and his shoulders wide. His hair was a rich burgundy, with a spit-curl, and he was almost ridiculously top-heavy.
The tale of Hercules was a strange one, in that he was not his historical counterpart. In the days he lived the term hero had simply been applied to anyone strong enough to force the world to adapt to them. Their were no expected behaviors or moral standards to uphold. Mr Revise, however, had found that to be utterly . And so, Hercules had been updated to meet a higher standard of behavior, and given a new, more appropriate legend. Except, as a consequence, he had never got around to performing any of the deeds that made him in the first place, and so to fill the void Kratos had come into existence to kill everything Hercules had never dealt with himself. Leaving yet more work for the editor to deal with.
"I admit I am diversifying, however my expertise has always been in matters of… death." Light said softly to Misa, stroking her hair absent-mindedly while she lay there, a contented-look on her face. It was doubtful she was really listening to his words, but Light liked to speak to her as a way of vocalizing his thoughts, and she liked the attention.
"In light of that, consider the psychopomps, who amongst the shinigami are those that guide the souls to their rightful place after death, and maintain balance in the netherworld. Unlike the others, they are more human then spirit, indeed spend most of the time as mortals, and receive their orders impersonally. If I could tap into their dispatches to leave messages of my own…"
"And how would you control them?" Ryuk asks. His tone isn't curious. It sounds tense, and a little challenging.
"I have my ways." Light replied mysteriously, with a small, secretive smile. "Are you worried, Ryuk, how close to you I am becoming? Do not be afraid. But a Brittanian saying comes to mind. One about omelets and breaking eggs. How ever do you expect me to build a new world while leaving the old one unchanged?" Light strokes Misa's hair again.