Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater!
I own my OC, Jamie Elliot and the OC Raissa Olive who will be an important and main character at the second part of this series. (I'm making it three parts!)
Thanks to all you reviewers, favoriters (I am aware of its not word status :D), and those who click on this for alerts!
And now. . . A w-w-word from Kid!
Kid: (Look of pure evil) "Get the reviews to 88 or die."
LDTK (Me): "He was the one who threatened you. . . And me. . . So please do!"
Attention Warning!: This chapter will have more pertinence towards the sequel.
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39. The Hiro's Weapon
After months and months of growing accustomed to DWMA, Jamie strolled up the steps and into the building with ease. At six in the morning with black circles under her eyes, in her pajamas, with Mr. Wiggles, Jamie Lenore Elliot slide down the hall. Lord Death had called her to help him with something that had a lot to do with the first mission she had ever gone on, the one in France.
The little Miss Elliot couldn't help but hum the song that she and Kid had danced to that night, as she pushed open the giant red door and strode through the guillotine hall, tripping over her nightgown and duck slippers.
Standing on the upraised cobblestone was Lord Death, Spirit (for once), and a very familiar face. The French royal princess who had been under attack that night at the soirée of the Palace of Versailles.
"Princess Raissa," Jamie bowed politely, "It's good to see you again."
The white-blond, icy blue eyed, dignitary curtsied in her white sundress, eyeing Jamie's appearance with distaste, "Miss Elliot, Lord Death here was just informing me that you think I am a weapon and not a meister?" it was more of a question then "why you" then what Jamie thought. The very tired meister nodded and walked up the steps to stand beside the European.
"Your soul is very strong, and definitely weapon. How you could not tell is news to me!" the young Lady Death shrugged after saying, folding her arms across her chest, squeezing Mr. Wiggles. Raissa nodded slightly, "Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to test that theory. Which is why Seigneur Mort has called you here."
Jamie nodded once again as Spirit advised Raissa. "You have to focus your Soul wavelength into the center of your being. You should turn into the weapon your soul is most. . . Well . . . Like I suppose." Jamie was surprised to see such sound advice from Maka's father, she'd have to tell the ashen-haired, green eyed girl later.
Raissa nodded and closed her eyes, exhaling and inhaling like she was some kind of yoga instructor, then, finally, a flash of white surrounded her and she transformed.
She was a snow-white machete on two ends of a staff.. A delicate, silk cerulean ribbon swathed everything but the blades, and jasmine blossoms were attached to loose strands of the material.
Jamie caught her in her hands, only to be shocked at their souls unbalance. Dropping on the floor, Raissa flipped back to human form, rubbing her head irritably. "Tromper! Be careful next time!"
Jamie rose an eyebrow, "Tromper?"
Raissa rolled her bright eyes at her, "Enfur, it means fool! And enfur means hell. I am French you know, its my first language." Jamie nodded and tapped her own head, "Ah ha, I so knew that."
Jamie helped the disgruntled machete-staff girl up and they turned to Lord Death. "Who will be her meister?" Jamie asked, "There's no one in this school I know who is open for that position." Lord Death's mask, which had been duck taped back together while his new one flew in, trembled again.
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Meanwhile. . .
The former, longest wielder of Excalibur in the 21st century, sat on the steps on the school early, because he really had no friends, or anything better to do. He ran a hand through his blond hair, and stared intently at the waking up of the sun with his light green eyes. He was the only meister without a weapon.
His name was Hiro.
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Yeah, I'm sticking a French Princess weapon to this sad little meister ^.^ I am so nice, yet evil.
Translations
Seigneur Mort: Lord Death