Acclimating to a New Habitatw

This manor he stayed in was rather large for his tastes. When he stayed somewhere, he preferred a dingy shack or other small residence. He was a dog of RIOTE now. He owed them to a degree, but he still didn't like any of them. Which is why he chose the Attic. He was offered his own private room with delicate furnishings and what not, but it made him feel soft and weak. Strong individuals only needed the skin on their backs, and the tenacity to shed blood whatever the cost.

That was what he was now. His humanity was extinguish the moment he agreed to let himself become a chimera. He could toss aside human conflictions like sympathy and kindness, and only drive forward on primal instinct. He thought and walked like a man, but craved like a demon. Putting out his cigarette in the ashtray next to him, he went back to work tinkering and fooling with his arsenal. All he requested was a workbench and a mattress. Guns, explosives, and all kinds of ordnance lined the walls of the deserted attic. It was what his paycheck went to back when he defended his country.. Despite having been a dog for those Aerugese, he defended them from unseen threats, and they tossed him aside like nothing. They would get theirs in due time as well..

The light on the workbench was the only thing that lit the decrepit attic. The dying smoke haze from the cigarette was slowly diffusing, as he couldn't smell it any longer. He reached over to grab a flathead screw driver as he sighed. His red duster was hung up on the wall, and all he wore was a wife beater, sage green pants, and black military boots. Setting down the screwdriver, his focus locked onto his new arm, as it glistened in the light. It was a deep, vibrant blue, with black spots here and there. Just like a poison frogs. This time however, the new found flesh had grown up his arm. Before it was at the elbow, but now it was halfway up his bicep. It pained him, his mortal flesh screaming in agony at the newcomer, the monsters he let inside of him. But that was what had to be done. He was weak before. He realized that humans were weak, and their spirits couldn't keep up with their fragile shells. Sighing, he brought his hands up to his forehead, resting his head in his hands as he leaned over the table, deep in thought. His mind was full of anger and bliss, and he didn't know what to do..

Tatyana was rather bored and misplaced in the mansion. In fact, of all the RIOTE members, she was the least RIOTE of them. She much preferred staying with Tanadra in Rouen. After all, there she didn't feel strabge emotions like what she did at that moment. Her eyes closed and she sighed heavily. This was all nonsense. Shoes were made to be filled, but truly did she need to fill the ones made by her father? People expected her to be 'evil' to be corrupt and crazy and so, everyday she put on that mask of darkness. The mask hidden under another mask of confidence and mystery. She was unknown to even those she'd been around for months and even the ones she'd gotten to join the cause were just above her in their moves.

Like Shinku. He'd gone from a suicidal man to a homicidal man in the snap of fingers and yet Tatyana was still lost as to who she even was. Not that anyone really cared, anyways, but it WAS troubling to her. Was she only born to just repeat the same actions of destruction and earn looks of distaste from others? Yet in the mansion, those who knew WHO she was, were all too-respectful like she was some kind of princess. Tatyana was no such thing, in fact she was far from it. Though a girl always longs to be one at some point, it wasn't attainable for her.

Her feet led her today to CHECK on said new recruit. It was more courtesy than anything, but Tatyana knew damn well to put her walls up before speaking to him. She'd seen Shinku tear people apart with ease and she wasn't ready to fall into pieces. She knocked on the door. Then, she awaited a response.

Knocking. Shinku difn't turn around in his seat at his work bench to see the door. He chose the attic for a multitude of reasons. For starters, it could hold the most guns, well, at least the multitude of ordnance that Shinku personally owned. Two, it was dark, quiet, and isolated. And three, it reminded him of home. The third reason made him sick.

Home.. Was any place a place he could call home? He had dived too far down in hell to be welcomed much of anywhere. So who could be knocking?  He decided to see who it was. " Come in.." Turning back around to the bench, Shinku went back to putting on the upper receiver of a SCAR H, waiting to see who would finally dare and speak to him.