Desmond would take the paper and upon reading it would give a little laugh
Well, that's unfortunate. I can't condone the public part of the plan in this land at least. If the people see me take you out they will assume that GS has done something to violate or agreement and thus deem you hostiles. Now unlike this Ashikaga's stupidity, you do have several unique features about you. For one your hair, I have seen very few with that color of hair in my lifetime, second would be your clothing most notable to me at least would be your jacket, and finally your sword. If these black ones have truly been following you around and gathering information they would've noticed the sword on your back. So with all that in mind this is what I suggest; how about I take some hair with roots and blood still on them, your jacket after we put some battle wear and tear on it, and your sword though we'd have to crack, chip, or maybe even break it. I believe if all this is brought to the drop off it would be enough to feign your death.
-----
Chakra: 1900-5=1895
This post marks the beginning of my mission using the following elements:
- Make the sacrifice for the innocent(5) (Custom)
- Leave your life in the hands of someone else (4) (Custom)
Summary: Trunks, after having analyzed his options, would choose to give up everything that held him to who he knew himself to be, to rid himself, his clan, his allies, and the innocent people involved of the bounty plaguing him and his life. Maybe making the ultimate sacrifice to protect all that he knows, Trunks puts full faith in Grenth.
Looking at his locks, jacket, and sword, he remembers just where he received all three: his mother. How could he part with any of these items? The single relics he held close, the very things that held his identity to his body were in question.
When he needed protection, his jacket was the first to bear the blow. It has narrowly protected Trunks more than his pride would ever admit. The tough denim smothering would be flames to ashes.
When he felt scared he had his sword, a standard long blade that held no special powers, just the jagged piece of metal he had lugged around with him for years, defending against all sorts, given by his Mother on his first semi dangerous outing. Trunks can remember her cries, begging him to not
act on instinct, but instead understand the effects of each life he had to take, which would lead to his current beliefs on peace, in that no life is too small to be considered collateral. Hence his Shakujo, warding off small life even as he walked to promote it's own well being.
When he needed solace or a feeling of comfort, Trunks always had his hair. His one resemblance to his Mother. Her hair a blue shade, his lavender. If nothing else, this would stand him apart from the crowd, something he took pride in. But in times of loneliness, Trunks could look up at his own bangs and remember his Mother's curls. It was his own emotional defence against anything the world threw at him.
To strip himself of these things would mean stripping himself of everything that held him to his past, everything that helped him keep going in his times of weakness. He would be completely vulnerable to the aspects of the world that he once had protection. But otherwise his people would suffer.
Grenth's people would suffer.
Throwing his jacket off in a fit, Trunks throws it to Grenth's feet. Still holding his sword, Trunks goes numb as he reveals his conclusion to his ally.
Grenth, just know that though our interactions have been brief, I see the commitment that you have for peace in your land. It brings me great pride to call you a friend. Trunks would say with a smile.
But I could hide in an unknown land somewhere and avoid you and your people the trouble of my problems if I wanted to hide or go that route. I'd rather take the fight to Ashikaga. I like your plan, Trunks would say with a quiver in his voice as he finishes his thought. [COLOR="000FF"] But it would be more believable if there were.. blood. Like, battle blood. Murder blood. Massacre blood. Please, just do what you know to be right.[/COLOR]
In a single motion, Trunks would grab his bangs along with the hair from the top of his head and pull it tight with an upward motion. Letting out a single tear drop with the thought of his Mother, Trunks drives the long blade into the seperation he pulled from his skull to the connection of skin holding his hair. Sawing back and forth, Trunks allowed his own blood to squirt and spew down his face as he proceeds to saw off his own scalp, which drips down his swords handle and onto his jacket, forming a puddle relatively quick.
The pain was unspeakable, with the numb feeling from before quickly dispersing to actual feelings of restraint and a chaotic shortwiring of pain paired with the warmth he felt from the blood current pouring off of his face and bare skull. Before he had even realized that he had made it to the back of his head, Trunks was staring glazed at the backside of his own hairline and scalp.
Use... These.. Protec-.. the pe-.. ple.. Trunks would mutter before collapsing into the pool of blood from before, dropping his own scalp and the sword he had carried on his back for so long before. Resting on his jacket, Trunks awaits death as his body grows cold.
This.. Is .. How I protect everyone. Trunks thinks as his vision begins to blur while he stares blankly into the Capsule Corp patches on his jacket, now pooling with blood.