You are a new knight of ren, the most ruthless knight of any generation , named "bloodhound" officially, and "Pandora" amongst your fellow knights
The knights being the only people to know of your true identity "A young girl, adopted daughter of re...
You waited for lights out, to enter the weapons room as you hated being around people so much so that you didn't see much of the boys since Canto Bight. You reached for your closet, force pulling it open. Always. You grabbed a deep square neck corset top with a zipper, high waisted pants with weird zig zag patterns all through out the top of the pant. "What the fuck did you pack for me, Merium?", you scoffed. These don't seem like normal everyday clothing.
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The hallways were darker than usual with dim lights scattered across to give a small idea of where to walk. You reached the weapons room and waved your hand. Opening at your command, you were met by a very bright room with nothing but weapons. All unique and beautiful in thier own ways. They were more like prototypes rather than finished weapons.
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It was as plain as usual with weapons thrown everywhere. No sense of organising. The only thing out of place was a grey hatch, infront of you. "Huh", you tilted your head. "You're oddly familiar", you walked over to the panel beside the hatch, it required a password of sorts to enter. You have never been to this side of the ship, so you guessed the password and got it right in the first try. "Okay, muscle memory, any more surprises?", you looked at your hand.
You stepped into eerie dark room with only a few lights surrounding it. You took a few deep breathes; closing your eyes. Your eagle vision emerged and you looked through the room as you slowly stepped inside. It was kind of medival in fashion. You reached for what looked like light swtiches, flipping them on. You were startled at the roaring of fire coming to life. Your fingers touched every item out of curiosity, though rusty; the excitement of making not one but two weapons made you squeal. You tied safety vests on top of your outfit. You looked through all the metal, and immediately choose the one your heart desired. Phrik. The metal was strong enough to deflect hits from a saber. You carried the metals to the laddle as you got ready to melt them. You let the scorching heat from the burner under the laddle burn the metal into a fiery liquid. You looked for a katana shaped mold; rummaging through the mess until you found one of your liking. You quickly took it to the hard stand behind the laddle, sweat dripping profusely, you turned the flames off, and slowly started to pour from the sprue, once you were done. You sighed, stroking the beads of sweat from your forehead. You were cherishing the beauty that is to be your new katanas, until you heard a whisper.
