Announcements: Universe of the Month! » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newbies » RPG Chat β€” the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Presuppositionalism » Aphantasia » Skill Trees - Good, Bad & Ugly » In-Game Gods & Gameplay Impact » Cunningham's Law » The Tribalism of Religion » Lost Library » Game Theory » The Hidden Void » Removing CS From an Indy Universe : Solution » On the Matter of New Players and Orphaned Plays » STOP BLAMING US FOR RPG BEING SLOW! » Polytheism » The Game of Life » Just War » Science and Philosophy » The Bible as Literature » Humans in the MV. Questions and thoughts. » Surviving the post-holiday apocalypse. » SL: 1097 Bestiary of Monsters »

Players Wanted: Looking for roleplayers » A Fairytale World in Need of Heroes & Villains! » Are You a Crime Addict? » Wuxia RP » Looking for roleplayers » New Realistic Roleplay - Small World Life Ω©( Β΄ο½₯шο½₯)و » Mentors Wanted » MV Recruiting Drive: sci-fi players wanted! » Veilbrand: The Revolution » Gonna do this anyway. » Looking for Kamen Rider Players » Elysium » Looking for roleplayers for a dystopian past! » Revamping Fantasy Adventure RPG, need new players » Here, At the End of the World (supernatural mystery drama) » Seeking Role Players for a TOG Based RP » so I made a Stranger Things RP idk why not come join » LFP - New Roleplay » Gifted/Mutant individuals escaping the gov » Spaceship Zero! A retro horror sci fi RP with rayguns :D »

0
followers
follow

Mariko Kimura

"All we see or seem is but a dream within a dream"

0 · 588 views · located in Fae Realm

a character in “Aes SΓ­dhe”, as played by Cloud

Description

ImageMARIKO KIMURAxxxxxxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
β—’
β—’β—’ n a m e : xxx mariko kimura

β—’β—’ a l i a s : xx marixx kiko

β—’β—’ b i r t h p l a c e : xxx singapore

β—’β—’ a g e : xxx 21

β—’β—’ s e x u a l i t y : xxx bisexual

β—’β—’ e t h n i c i t y : xxx japanese

β—’β—’ r o l e : xxxhalfling xxxillusionist

β—’β—’ o c c u p a t i o n : xxx fashion design studentxx

β—’β—’ p r i m a r yxxp o w e r : xxxillusory

β—’β—’ s e c o n d a r yxxp o w e r : xxxdream walking

β—’β—’ t h o u g h txxc o l o u r : xxx#80AB90

β—’β—’ d i a l o g u exxc o l o u r : xxx#989E93


x
xxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxx


β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ you are not wrong, who deem


Imagexxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
xxx
xxx
xxx
xxx
xxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
xxx
xxx
xxx
xxx
β—’β—’ a p p e a r a n c e

A xxx blunt fringe does not entirely mask the soft features of her face; full lips, expressive eyes, and smooth cheeks. She is undeniably her mother's daughter, from the tone of her skin to the cut of her jaw. A miniature version of the older Kimura, with only a small birth mark on her hip to set them apart. Her hair style speaks of an attempt to look older than Mariko's two decades of age, to become part of the fashionable scene she surrounds herself with. Make-up enhances her aesthetic, highlighting the curve of her lids or the shape of her lips. She likes the bold looks; dark lipstick and cat eyes, rarely choosing to go without.

P a i n t e d xxx skin in the form of a handful of small, artistic tattoos decorate her body. A water-coloured figure on the left thigh, no larger than her palm, bares the resemblance of a summer court sprite - a creature of her imagination according to humans, a common fae any halfling might see. The next artwork found on her pale skin is a single snowdrop flower and it's stem, curved on her rib cage. The third tattoo is found on the middle digit of her right hand, hidden between the fingers; roman numerals of the day she was born (VII), her half-brother (IX), and her mother (XIV). She has piercings too, a few in her ear usually dressed with hanging gold or studded silver.

S t y l e xxx Mariko favours draping layers and simple sun-dresses, the type you find in small second-hand shops or designer boutiques. She makes many of her clothes herself, inspired by whatever takes Mari's fancy, be it a pattern on some material, or a runway skirt in a magazine. She has an eye for the latest fashion, and knows which to attempt and what to avoid depending on what might compliment her slim frame and 5'5" height.


β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ that my days have been a dream;


Imagexxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
xxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
β—’β—’ p e r s o n a l i t y
C a r b o n xxx copy of her mother in appearance, but in personality, Mariko Kimura was her own person. Independence came during long nights alone while her mother worked or entertained, and longer mornings when her mother would cry out for hangover cures before bending the light shade to concentrate on her work. Mariko was forgotten, but never abandoned, a second place to her mother's work ethic. Mari sought relationships with others, and though her social circle was never wide, the quieter Kimura took solace from those she called friends. She still does, even if age has offered her a louder voice and bolder personality. Though Mariko will never be the loud centre of a group, she likes being in the group and trading witty jokes with her peers.

O n c e xxx Mari was the voice of reason among her friends, the reliable adult in her one parent home. Yet, as responsibility shifted from her shoulders and back to her mother's, Mari was able to breathe. Maintaining a balance between spontaneity and saving for a rainy day, she attempts to live in the moment while still planning for the future. She's less likely to be forcefully dragged to a party or out of her comfort zone these days, with age and confidence no doubt helping to boost her willingness to explore. Laughter bubbles easily to the surface, conversation flowing with long friends and strangers alike.

D r e a m s xxx of designing clothes were cultivated from a young age. Inspiration came not only from the human world, but the glamoured fae she pretended not to see. Mari's passion never suffered from shyness, with pride and determination encouraging the halfling to pursue her passion. Though a privileged uprising made Mariko less prepared for the realities of the world - paying rent, cooking alone, etc - she's a fast study when she needs to be. She works hard too, never expecting anything to be given to her. There are echoes of her mother's workaholic nature in the half-fae. Though, sensitivity surrounding such a comparison is apparent. Defensive tactics kick in if Mari feels attacked; she closes in on herself and stays isolated, preferring to avoid any potential issues rather than face them head on. They bottle up inside her instead, an unhealthy mess of issues that she promises will be addressed one day.


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ yet if hope has flown away


ImageImagexx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
xx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
β—’β—’ l i k e s

oversized sweaters xxx flowers xxx big earrings xxx sunshine xxx whalesxxx tattoos xxx strong coffeexxx little cacti in tea cups xxx sketchingxxx rainy daysxxx younger guys xxx her cat, Peachxxx travel xxx take-out nightxxx netflixxxx polaroids xxx ice skating xxx sleeping with excessive pillows xxx noodles xxx yogaxxx silky dressing gownsxxx freshly made bedsxxx good cocktails

β—’β—’ d i s l i k e s

smokingxxx weak coffeexxx gym rats xxx toads xxx frogs xxx hangoversxxx brandy xxx rumxxx basically any brown spiritxxx flyingxxx long plane ridesxxx kids on planesxxx rush hourxxx war movies xxx getting lost in dreamsxxx smell of nail polishxxx fast fashionxxx rocky boatsxxx the Rocky moviesxxx soap operasxxx cold teaxxx crying in sad moviesxxx she's an ugly crierxxx xxx


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ in a night; or in a day,


Imagexxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
xxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
β—’β—’ s t r e n g t h s

D e s i g n xxx and drawing have always come easily to Mariko. She takes after her mother in that sense. If there's pencil and paper, her fingers tingle with the desire to pick up both and sketch.

S e w i n g xxx a fashion designer, at least a student one, would be greatly amiss to not learn how to sew. Thankfully for Mari, she has long mastered needle and thread. She frequently crafts her own clothes with the use of her prized sewing machine.

C o o k i n g xxx with her grandmother was always a fond time for Mari, and though cooking alone was a new experience, she's found that she enjoys the activity and the meals that come from it.


xxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
xxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
β—’β—’ w e a k n e s s e s

P r a c t i c a l xxx knowledge such as changing a tyre, sorting taxes, or knowing who to call when the power goes out is not ingrained in the young woman. She relies very heavily on youtube videos when needing to do anything beyond boiling water.

A v o i d a n c e xxx is Mari's method of dealing with conflict or personal issues, leading to an unhealthy bottling up of her emotions. She knows that not dealing with her problems directly leads to big explosions, but some habits are hard to break.

O v e r - s e n s i t i v e xxx there are times when a well-intentioned comment can veer off course and Mari will take it the wrong way. She can build up her defences too quickly, and tune out what is meant to be constructive criticism.


xxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
xxx
xxx
xxx
xxx
xxx
xxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
xxx
xxx
xxx
xxx
xxx
β—’β—’ m a g i cxx&xxequipment

I l l u s o r y xxx sounds and visions may be distorted at Mariko's hand, creating false sights and noises in the empty space. These deceptive images hold no solid form, and only last as long as Mari's concentration, if that. In theory, her mirages are only limited by her imagination. In practice, at first attempt they're limited by lack of experience and poor training, and will be restrained in size and length of stay.

D r e a m x w a l k i n g xxx takes Mari into another's dream, where she is drawn into their subconscious thoughts while her own body slumbers nearby. Thus far, she can only walk into another's dream when asleep herself, and only may reach those within a certain radius of herself. The danger is of getting lost, drifting from dream to dream, only to wake with a scream from somebody else's nightmare. Not that Mari recognises foreign dreams as such, instead believing her sleeping visions to be entirely her own.

E q u i p m e n t xxxa small sketchbook filled with ideas and quick drawings of things that have caught her fancy, and usually a bauble of thread in her pocket which she constantly forgets to put in her sewing kit.


β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ in a vision, or in none,


Imagexxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
xxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
β—’β—’ h i s t o r y

H i k a r i xxx Kimura was won by the whispered promises of sweet lips and the temptation of a man not of her world. Though he never spoke it, she knew in the way he made her heart soar. When he left, she had only Mariko as a reminder of her affair, and even then her daughter held little of the fae in her appearance. Work became Hikari's love, and Mari was raised essentially by her grandmother for the first few years of her life.

W h e n xxx Hikari's work took her back to Japan, Mariko and grandmother followed. Though at times her mother struggled with an alcohol addiction, her work never slacked and money was therefore never an issue. Mari's grandmother doted on the girl too, and encouraged any and all skills the young girl might taken a liking too; ice skating, cooking, sketching. It was the last which would eventually take Mari away from home.

D e a t h xxx took Mariko's grandmother when Mari was ten, leaving the young girl feeling more isolated than before. Her mother might have fallen deeper into her alcoholism had she not met a man in the same year. He would become Mari's step-father several years later, and help to return Hikari back to the warm individual she once was. A baby brother was introduced to complete the family, and though Mari missed her grandmother, she was not longer isolated without her.

E i g t h t e e n xxx and fresh out of high school, Mariko set her sights on fashion schools abroad. A single year of study turned into a full degree spent in the United States. Living in the protective shadow of her mother's wealth had not prepared Mari for living alone. She managed through the good will of her friends and youtube videos, but for a time her dirty clothes were regularly taken down to the nearest dry-cleaners, and her friends were regularly woken with calls for help.

T r i p s xxx home are infrequent but revered, where Mari delights her younger brother with tales of fae dressed as fantasy. Only her grandmother knew of Mari's sights, and how the young girl would giggle and point out impossible things. By the time Mari's mother paid her enough attention, Mariko had long since learned to hide what she could see from humans. She takes inspiration from them though, dreaming up clothes that speak of the wondrous beings masked from human's vision, only occasionally wondering why she, of all people, can see them.


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ is it therefore the less gone?


c h a r a c t e rxxs h e e txbyxxxlayla
f a c e c l a i mxxxyuka mannami
p l a y e dxxb yxxxCloud

So begins...

Mariko Kimura's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orhien Naena Character Portrait: Amaya Kyotsuki Character Portrait: Mariko Kimura Character Portrait: KazimΓ­r Ε Ε₯astnΓ½ Character Portrait: Aurora Kinski Character Portrait: Ryu Se-Ri Character Portrait: Alize MorleaΓΊ Character Portrait: Cullen Lawrence Character Portrait: Kelvin Woods Character Portrait: Petunia Griffin Character Portrait: Illyana BΓ‘rΓ‘ny Character Portrait: Ryu Yeong Character Portrait: Tae Jeong Character Portrait: Lilith Averescu
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Layla
Image

▁ β–‚ β–ƒxxxH I G Hxxxxxx ▁ β–‚ β–ƒxxx31/12/17 : 1100xxxxxx▁ β–‚ β–ƒxxxW H E R ExxxW O R L D SxxxC O L L I D E
xxxxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
xxxx
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x

xxxxxxThe moon released its cold, blue breath. Her sisters followed; speckles of starlight coming to life across the cold expanse overhead. And like a milky way on earth, the faelights that hovered untethered to mortal devices illuminated a path deep into the woods. Human passersby steered clear of the forest that emanated terror and demise, ushered away by a cleverly crafted glamour.
xxxxxxThose that dared venture into the sprawling canopies and distant shadows would find a mirageβ€”an illusion that broke like water when prodded. And through this unseen wallβ€”magic. For on the final night of every year, exiles and Fey without allegianceβ€”or "freefolk," as was polite to call themβ€”gathered in the fringes of New York City to celebrate the end of the earth's rotation.
xxxxxxThrough the veil were colours unseen by the human eye. Beads of light hung from the branches of ancient trees, their fingertips caressing the tips of faerie wings. A river snaked through the celebrations, spelled to bubble with a thick and cloying liquid of darkest gold.
xxxxxxFey danced to music that swelled like waves and descended in waterfalls. An alluring flute murmured its tune from the fingers of a sylph, urging lost humans to dance their worries away. Until their feet blistered, bled, and broke.
xxxxxxThe couples and groups twirling to the symphony were immune to such temptations, as they, too, had been forged of impossible things. A little blue boy giggled in his mother's arms as she twirled him 'round and 'round, her lips peeling back to reveal small, pointy teeth that could shatter human bones. Another girl blushed, her skin morphing into the emeralds and mahoganies of the trees behind her as if she could disappear into the belly of a trunk.
xxxxxx"Oi, watch it!" shouted a manβ€”who was also a goat. Thankfully, from the waist down. He glared over his shoulder at the rather ordinary looking fellow stumbling past him. The subject of his distaste grunted and waved his mug of honeyed tea, its contents sloshing over the sides and between his fingers.
xxxxxx"S'ry," he murmured, scrunching his nose. Suddenly, a sneeze erupted from him, the strength of it tossing him backward into a crate of candied apples and lifting the skirts of some wayward ladies. They squealed, sending of breath of frigid air that melded his hand to his mug.
xxxxxx"Oh, come on," he groaned, rolling onto his side and falling to the dirt. He blinked. And squeezed his eyes shut. Opened them. Closed. For surely, he must be mistaken. Or inebriated.
xxxxxxFor through the thicket of bushes and leaves, a set of ruby orbs peered into the revelry. But before the man could yell, the redcap scuttled away into darkness, leaving only a murky memory in its wake.

▁ β–‚ β–ƒ β–‚ ▁


xxxxxxAmaya peered through the lens of her microscope at the bronze watch on her worktop. Joji hummed overhead, the tremble and thump of his synth filling the old antique store with contemporary music. Amaya exhaled to his croon, and wiggled the burnisher into the bezel of the old watch.
xxxxxx"Hey grand- Shit!" A cacophony of tumbling wood and smashing metal followed his expletives, ending with the sharp punctuation of his pained wail. "Ow, ow, ow!"
xxxxxxAmaya did not look up from her work as she said, "That's $6,410 worth of priceless artifacts you just knocked over."
xxxxxx"My femur! My femur!"
xxxxxx"Is decidedly less valuable," she murmured, slipping the watch's crystal face over the dial. "What are you doing in my shop, Ishaan?"
xxxxxx"What most people do in shops? Buy things?" Ishaan emerged from behind a glass cabinet stuffed with various deadly instruments and one too many skulls. "Though I can't imagine how anyone finds anything in this place. When was the last time you organised?"
xxxxxx"It's organised."
xxxxxxIshaan looked around him at the various texts and materials littered throughout the store, all of which seemed to have been placed without reason. A cluster of feathered pens sat beside a fraying Jack-o'-lantern; a pile of rare manuscripts were poised precariously atop a sealed bottle of indiscernible liquid; a frightening puppet with only one eye hung beside a brilliant chandelier of molten gold.
xxxxxx"Right," said Ishaan.
xxxxxx"Well?" Amaya prodded. "Out with it."
xxxxxx"We need Pandora's Box for the New Year's celebrations."
xxxxxxAmaya lifted her head to pin Ishaan with her black stare. She raised a brow. "Do you?"
xxxxxx"Well, yes. Obviously. Because I just said-"
xxxxxx"It was a rhetorical question."
xxxxxx"Oh."
xxxxxxMoments passed, the silence interjected only by the soft ticking of the watch Amaya held in her hands.
xxxxxx"Soooo..." Ishaan began. "Can you do it?"
xxxxxx"Yes."
xxxxxx"Will you do it?" he clarified.
xxxxxx"What happened to the box I gave you last year?"
xxxxxx"Uh..." Ishaan smiled sheepishly. "We broke it."
xxxxxx"How?"
xxxxxx"Gertrude was gassy."
xxxxxx"That literally explains nothing."
xxxxxx"Gertrude is part orc."
xxxxxx"Oh. That explains everything." They shared a slow nod of understanding. Without warning, Amaya stood, wiping her hands on the cloth strewn over her chair. "Don't break anything or I'll sell your organs on the black market to make up my losses."
xxxxxxAmaya glided between the mountain of objects seemingly without care as Ishaan tiptoed behind her. She ducked, disappearing into a narrow passageway that opened up to reveal a marginally wider door. She twisted the handle and stepped in.
xxxxxx"You don't lock it?" Ishaan asked.
xxxxxx"Why? Would you steal from me?" she replied.
xxxxxx"N-no. Geez. Of course not. Please stop looking at me.”
xxxxxxA flood of cold air greeted them. Colder even than the Winter beyond the store's four walls. The room glowed with an eerie blue light. This was Amaya's real collection. The priceless Fey objects and relics beyond the innocuous storefront that declared this place the Home of Intangible Things.
xxxxxxPotions swirling with incandescent hues perched on shelves etched with ancient runes; a wiry potted plant emitted an eerie glow in a corner; a book whose cover shifted with every minute hovered within a glass dome. Yet Amaya ignored all these as she approached a box the size of her palm. She lifted it, peeling back the velvet cloth that encased it.
xxxxxx"Here," she said. "You'll owe me a favour for this."
xxxxxx"Yeah, yeah. I know the rules. But," he chewed his lip, "we were actually hoping for another favour from you. Could you, maybe, attend the celebrations and call upon the box yourself? Its sister was so unruly last year. We had no idea how to get it back in once we'd opened it."
xxxxxx"Put three objects of personal value into the box and call-"
xxxxxx"Yeah, we got your instructions last time. But those rascals inside are hard to wrestle."
xxxxxx"You'll have to pay extra."
xxxxxx"Already on it." Ishaan waved his arm. "My sister has a gem from one of the late king's crowns. So, deal?"
xxxxxxAmaya tilted her head, fixing him with her stare. "Deal."

▁ β–‚ β–ƒ β–‚ ▁


xxxxxxThe box held within it collective memoriesβ€”whispers of another time before the courts had been forged and anarchy reigned. Four powerful faeries had gathered to forge an alliance, carving into a map the lines of their rule. The Courts embodied the balance of the natural world. The seasonal courtsβ€”Summer and Winterβ€”would share the earth's cycle, shifting their power to reflect changes in the climate. The courts of Dark and High would create chaos and maintain order, so that the world would not fall into excess. A High Lady or Lord would command each court, with their mates at their side.
xxxxxxAmaya stood at the centre of a clearing, where a crowd had gathered in anticipation of the night's ritual. The midnight hour neared.
xxxxxxA strand of alabaster hair fluttered into Amaya’s line of vision. She beat her papery wings and the small gust that followed lifted her hair from her face. Her off-the-shoulder dress swished around her ankles, their opal colours changing in the dim light that emanated from the faelights.
xxxxxxAmaya paid her audience no head as she twisted the box’s moving parts, spinning the sundial leftward untilβ€”like a setting sun that had met its endβ€”it was eclipsed by a silver moon. She spun both ends of the box until the flourishing green tress met its barren twin on the other side.
xxxxxxPandora’s box unlocked.
xxxxxxA burst of red light blinded the Fey, and when it retreated, a chorus of cheers rose from them. Scarlet figures of smoke and vapour danced above their heads, wielding small swords and spinning in skirts that left faint trails behind them. The musicians began their symphony.
xxxxxxAmaya tilted her head upwards to watch the memories unfurl, her eyelids fluttering shut against their brilliance. The glow of the figures bounced off the crescent moon on her forehead, the curved mark scattering the colours into a kaleidoscopic dance.
xxxxxxSuddenly, a small red dancer turned and screamed.
xxxxxxAmaya's eyes snapped open. She turned as the people forged of red smoke raced with a fervour, screeching as they fought to return to their box. Large figures of flesh and bone rose behind them, their forearms encased in metal, their faces cloaked in armour. They wore the uniforms of the High Court's royal guardβ€”a legion sworn to protect the faerie on the throneβ€”but their magic did not solely belong to the High Court. A faerie with a swarm of straw-blonde hair threw a column of flame into the throngs of Fey fleeing the woods.
xxxxxx"Give us the Halflings," called a woman in copper armour. "And we might consider granting you exiles and traitors a merciful death."
xxxxxxAmaya had stilled, enraptured by the woman's familiar form, and the emerald eyes that peered from the slit in her helmet. Airell. The girl had been her friend, once. Or as close to a friend as one could find when one was imprisoned in a tower.
xxxxxxThe luck fae had warned her of this. KazimΓ­r Ε Ε₯astnΓ½. He had told her of the late king's downfall and her role in his child's resurrection. He had said with some mirth that she owed him a debt. He had saved her life, he'd claimed. When he was just a child, and she the prisoner of the High Lady of the Dark Court. She had not wanted to believe him, but she did remember him. The small boy with smaller antlers who had come to her cell and offered her luck.
xxxxxx"Feykiller," Airell intoned. "I did not expect to see you. Today must be my lucky day."
xxxxxxAmaya turned and ran.
xxxxxx"Fleeing again, are we?" Airell called out. "Where is the Blood Moon our keepers worshipped?"
xxxxxxAmaya darted between the trees, whizzing left and right until Airell's flames vanished behind her.
xxxxxxA little blue girl collapsed to her knees. "Mama!" she wailed. "Mama!" But the Fey around her did not stop. They had become cruel in their haste to survive.
xxxxxx"Hold on to me," Amaya barked. She wrapped her arms around the small girl, who clung to her with a grip that was unexpected of such a small creature, and ran.
xxxxxx"This way!" she called out to the faeries fleeing aimlessly through the woods. "There's a path that leads out of the forest into a human Walmart and cave on the way should we need to hide. Follow the trees with the crawling vines and blue flowers until you near a small ravine. Quickly. Quietly."
xxxxxxThe Fey stumbled through the darkened woods, a petite Summer faerie emitting a tentative glow to illuminate their path. Amaya looked over her shoulder to see the faeries who had stayed behind to fight the invasion, and those who were sprawled on the ground. They were much too still.
xxxxxx"Found you."
xxxxxxAmaya twisted, flinging the small child forward and into the thicketβ€”better bruised than deadβ€”as Airell lobbed a dozen black arrows toward her with nothing but a thought.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mariko Kimura
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Cloud
Image

XXxX

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

      "Is this alcoholic?" Mariko asked, a sceptical gaze examining the golden liquid being poured into her cup. Or, the cup that had been forced into her hand by an enthusiastic fae covered in bark - skin or clothing, she couldn't tell.

      "The finest honey this side of the financial district." The fae declared with a voice that sounded like creaking wood.

      "So, not human alcohol?"

      "Why would you want that garbage?" The creature drew back their bottle of honeyed liquor, as if offended at the mere mention of human drugs. With a stubborn shake of it's body, green wings sprung from it's back. Small pieces of bark fell from the appendages, as if moulting an old layer, before the tree-like fae sprung into the air. Beady eyes took one last look at Mariko, before, with a click of its tongue, the fae flew off to the other side of the clearing.

      "Sorry!" Mariko called after him, flapping a hand uselessly at his receding figure. With a sigh, her gaze returned to the cup in her hands. A sniff of the liquid revealed the heady scent of sweet honey mixed with unnameable spices. Her mouth watered at the thought of it, but she knew better than to drink a strange fae's drink. Instead, Mariko passed it off to a nearby fae who nodded in thanks. What she needed was to find Ily and Tae.

      Any other human might have felt out of place among a fae gathering, yet Mariko had known of fae and seen them her entire life. As a group of fae passed, the tips of their caps only just brushing her hip, she barely blinked. Nor did she startle in surprise as a 10 foot giant with fireflies darting around her head lumbered past. She'd seen larger. Mari could never claim to know much about the fae, her knowledge was merely scratching at the surface of an ocean's worth of knowledge, but the sight of so many strange and beautiful beings did not shock her.

      Still, finding the pair of humans she shared this strange world with would make her feel a lot more at ease. For that reason Mari pushed through the crowd, glancing over heads or between towering legs in her search for them. Above her head figures of smoke danced and told stories of centuries past. They were spellbinding, and drew the mortal's attention easily. Her gaze followed the twirling skirts and glinting swords, before landing on a figure standing beneath the cloud of motion. Was that...?

      A scream.

      Her attention was pulled once again, and this time Mari felt her heart begin to pound as armoured guards with weapons in their hands stormed the party. Mariko had no notion of who they were or what they wanted - halfling was shouted above the screams of the fleeing fae. Suddenly, her earlier sense of belonging, of lacking disbelief at so many bizarre beings, evaporated. Mari felt like the intruder, and as the crowds turned and ran, she joined them.

      Screams from behind her spurned her on, pushing away thoughts of burning legs and gasping breathes. Mariko had skillfully avoided running since finishing school, but adrenaline and a will to survive kept her moving. The running fae began to thin out as some took to the sky and others turned down dark paths. Mari ran blindly forward, hoping that her direction would take her back to the human world. Surely the car wasn't far?

      The first sense to warn her of the guard in pursuit was her hearing; the solid sound of metal hitting the ground. The second warning was the spray of dirt as the guard's weapon upended the compressed earth where she had been standing seconds ago. Mariko screamed as the next swing of his sword came much closer, the girl only avoiding serious maiming thanks to the root that caught her foot and sent her flying to the ground.

      The earth did not greet her kindly. It was hard and cold at this time of year, and the impact send temporary pain echoing up her arms. Fleetingly and somewhat ridiculously, given the situation, Mari cursed the fact that she would dirty her new shirt. The thought was quickly pushed away in favour of more pressing issues, and - no doubt causing more worry for the small part of Mari's mind concerned with the condition of her clothes - she quickly rolled to the side, avoiding the falling edge of the soldier's blade.

      It was as she was rolling that Mariko felt a tug at her mind, the tips of her fingers tingling with a strange, other-worldly sensation. Motion rolling in the opposite direction caught the edge of her sight - white, like her own dress. ( 'You'll need stain remover to get the dirt out of that' ) Dark eyes glanced to her left, beyond the blade calling for her head, and found herself looking into a mirror.

      'No... Not a mirror' For half a second the world stood still, as Mariko stared in shock at the perfect image of herself staring back at her. A perfect replica, down to the combined emotions of fear and bewilderment clearly visible. She did not know where it had come from, or how, but the questions had barely had time to form before Mariko was again turning her focus towards survival. She rushed to her feet, knowing without needing to look that her copy was doing the same. Mariko ran, darting towards the cover of trees to her left, while she could feel her replica running to the right.

      The girl had never believed in luck, but as she glanced over her shoulder to see the soldier turn to follow the replica's image, she sent a prayer up to any deity listening.

      Mariko didn't see the guard's sword slice uselessly through the hologram image of herself, nor did she entirely understand what had happened, but she knew the replica was gone like she knew her own palms were bruised and her knees were stinging. By that time, though, she was far enough away to escape that soldier's blade, and could only hope that luck, or some other force, would help her if any other killer fae turned their gaze her way.