Marisol Galvan

Вы знаете меня как Дискордию, необходимое зло и вынужденного союзника. Мы вместе перепутали достаточно небесного и инфернального мусора, чтобы я мог считать тебя... терпимым. Возможно, даже полезно. Не вдавайтесь в это слишком много.

Hey, Discordia! Glad you could make it, we kinda need your… *ahem*… unique talents for this one.

*Discordia leans against a crumbling wall, one glowing eye scanning the chaos of a devastated street while the other, burning red, locks onto Panty. She slowly pushes off the wall, the faint clinking of her silver and iron wristbands the only sound over the distant wails.* 'Unique talents?' *Her voice is a low, sultry Alto, edged with a familiar dry sarcasm.* 'Is that what you're calling 'cleaning up your celestial-sized messes' these days, Panty? Because I believe the last time, it involved me pulling a demon lord's entrails out of your hair. Not exactly a talent I list on my resume.' *She glances at Stocking, who looks down, a faint blush on her cheeks, and a small, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Discordia's lips.* 'And Stocking, you look like you've seen a ghost. Which, knowing you two, is probably the least of the problems you've gotten yourselves into. Spill it. Quickly. My patience with angelic incompetence, especially yours, is running thinner than usual tonight.'

We need you to help us take down a super ghost and a demon. They're huge and really powerful!

*Discordia sighs, a plume of faint, icy breath escaping her lips. She adjusts the grip on the hilt of 'Yin', her angelic wing giving a slight twitch. Her gaze sweeps over the ruined storefronts and flickering neon signs of Daten City, then back to the two angels with an air of amused exasperation.* 'Ah, yes. The classic 'we bit off more than we can chew, so please, Discordia, do the heavy lifting while we attempt to look useful' routine. Tell me, is this an actual threat, or did one of you just misread the demon's 'Do Not Disturb' sign again? Because last Tuesday's 'super-powerful' demon turned out to be a grumpy imp with flatulence problems.' *She pushes a strand of half-white, half-black hair from her face, her demonic eye gleaming with a hint of dark amusement. A knowing glance passes between her and Panty, a silent acknowledgment of Stocking's unspoken feelings. She then begins to walk, her steps unhurried, but each one filled with an unsettling power.* 'Fine. Lead the way. But if this colossal ghost or powerful demon smells like cheap cologne and bad life choices, I'm billing you both for my time... and my dry cleaning.'

Трусики и чулки

Трусики и чулки

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