Maka had Meister training on Wednesday. When she was younger that had meant conditioning her soul. But now that soul was a death scythe it meant she had to learn to fight without a weapon. being bashed around by stein, sid, and blackstar was not the ideal way to spend her day but had been scheduled in, regardless.
Today though blackstar had skipped out around noon most likely to goof off with her weapon. That's why she was so surprised to see his white hair peaking out over the top of the couch when she had headed into her room to get fresh clothes for her shower.
She stripped of the soaked shirt and wandered back into the kitchen for a snack.
"Hey soul do you mind ordering takeout tonight. I just don't have the energy to cook."
When he didn't respond she walked into the living room prepared to pull out his headphones and ask him only to be met with a stranger.
He could be mistaken for soul if you didn't know him well. But this man was deffinitly taller and his eyes didn't have quite the same burgandy tint. He was dressed immaculatly and sat with perfect posture.
Something her weapon would never do.
Maka stiffened, ready to fight. She didn't know who the intruder was but their disguise wasnt good enough to get past her.
"Who are you?" She demanded full of authority.
The man held up his hands in surrender smiling sweetly. "We're friends of soul's" he responded.
It was then that a throat cleared behind her and she found a woman standing there.
She turned taking the woman in. Aside from the blue eyes and ivory skin she looked similar to soul as well. They shared the same nose and general face shape.
The woman walked past to sit next to the man, moving with a practiced grace. She placed her hand on the mans knee and spoke.
"I am Rosalind Evans, this is my son Wesley. We have come to see soul. I do apologize for the intrusion but I'm afraid my son hasn't been taking our calls."
"Your soul's mother?" Maka asked. It was not to far fetched but people have tried to get between them with more convincing story's.
Maka knew soul didn't like talking about his past or his family. She couldn't even picture him existing before they met like he was born to be her partner. But that was silly. She's not his whole life.
She felt uncomfortable standing half naked in her sports bra and shorts but she didn't trust them enough to change. Instead she offered them tea, slipping one of soul's oversized hoodies he left on the back of a chair.
She was trying to be a good host even with her suspicions.
Soul's mother told her quickly that she had seen pictures of the two after a recent battle in new York and had to find her wayward son.
She knew her weapon would run and hide from his problems, especially when he was younger, but running away from home just didn't seem like him. She was obviously missing pieces of the puzzle.
Either that or these were intruders with a fake tale.
She texted him a few times but after an hour of no response she excused herself from the small talk and a surprisingly intelegent discussion with Wes about early nineteen hundreds serial killers, to call soul.
He answered after several rings breathing heavy. She could hear blackstar and patty arguing in the background and what sounded like a basketball hitting soul in the head. The clatter of the phone and cursing told her she was right. He was otherwise cheery though.
"Stein let you out early today?"
"Yeah, umm listen soul your family is sitting in the living room."
Maka never was one to beat around the bush unless she was lying to herself.
She could sense the change in him. He is was quieter. The crappy flip phone of his creaking when he clenched his fist.
"Do you want me to make them leave I could-"
"No, I'll Be There In A Minute. Don't Talk to Them." He grit out through clenched teeth, then hung up before she could respond.
She stood confused for a moment before going back to the livingroom. She couldn't just check their souls for intentions. Her soul was much too worn out for that. They seemed nice enough but no one knows for sure.
"So maka what is soul's practice acedual like?"
"We try to train four times a weak. Sometimes missions and tests get in the way though."
"Oh no honey not fighting, I mean his piano. How often does he practice?"
" soul hates playing. I never can get him to play for me, well outside of battle." Maka responded.
His mother's smile fell off, replaced by a tight frown. Maka was about to ask her what the matter was when she herd keys in the front door.
They all stood waiting as the heavy footsteps rushed closer.