Potential (Priv, Krieg)

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The woman sighed as she ran a hand through her choppy red hair. Her crimson eyes roamed slowly about the shabby establishment, her manicured fingertips tapping idly about the rim of her shot glass. Kami, these people were pathetic. All around her, stumbling drunkards laughed and danced and wasted their lives completely. Beside her, a man lied drooling against the bar, his eyes half open but his mind far from conscious. It was only noon.

Her glossed lips twisted into a scowl as she glared at the tavern's occupants. Why was she here, anyway? It wasn't as if she had to calm her nerves over this. The kid was a newbie, eager to learn, and she had chosen to teach him on a whim. She wasn't nervous by any means, not angry, not stressed. She just hoped he was different from the others who tried to join her world.

Every day, some new recruit decided to waltz in and assume they could win it all. It seemed like it was always the same; half flickered out in the 1st months, too pressured by the planet to stay or too scarred by its inhabitants. The other half was in it for the long haul. They were the arrogant bunch, the ones who got by on corruption and imaginary strength.

Then, there were the rare gems, valuable as diamonds and just as uncommon. They were the ones with potential, but they were few and far between.

Maybe that was why she was drinking. Chances were, he wasn't one with potential.

Kami, she hoped he had potential.

She was perfectly steady as she slid off the stool, unaffected by the alcohol save for the slight relaxation dancing in her limbs. Navigating the pulsating crowd was easy, and she soon found herself outside, finally rid of the pub's smoky stench. She leaned against the brick wall, closing her eyes at the sun that warmed them. A soft breeze ruffled her hair, and she was glad she had dressed for the weather.

Her shirt was a dark scarlet, tight-fitting and somewhere between spaghetti-straps and tee-shirt style in sleeves. Her form-hugging black pants stopped half-way to her knees, flexible for easy movements, and her combat sandals were securely strapped on. Her hair was loose, billowy, but ti was only long enough to frame her jawline and neck. All in all, it was about as comfortable a training outfit as she could get in this weather.

The 28 year old woman fidgeted slightly, moving the sheath of her sword from jabbing her back to jabbing her waist. On her opposite hip was a second weapon, one she had picked out as a gift of sorts to her new kohai. He couldn't fight unprepared, could he?

She opened her eyes, irises fierce and determined to mold this kid into something worth her effort.

"Kami," Vixen muttered, "where is that brat?"

[English Backsword, /31.5in blade length, with 7.5inch handle not including bumble]
He walked down the street with haste in each of his steps, rushing his way to his appointment. The winds gusts blow against his skin and through his long messy white hair with a couple of strands going down his face in the middle of his dark orange eyes. He reaches the corner of the street and looks around for the correct destination to head. His long black coat and scarf also blowing in the wind as he begins rushing to the bar, getting more and more frustrated at himself for being so late especially knowing who it is he’s meeting with doesn’t help with that. He getting closer to the bar but then sees a girl with bright red hair standing in the front looking irritated with her sword sheathed on her back.

“Dam” Rouga whimpers to himself. He slowly approaches her.