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Mikael Camael Samaet

I am for one purpose, and that is to serve the Church.

0 · 625 views · located in Manus Luna

a character in “An Elegy in the Ashes”, as played by JokerofSpades

Description

Mikael Camael Samaet
Image


Theme Song: Doubt and Trust - Access

GENERAL INFORMATION
Role: (Ignis/Tenebrae/Terra/Lux/Caeli/Aqua) Lux
Nickname(s)/Alias(es): The Sanctioned Apprentice. Angel is the most prominent, or Camael (who, is in fact, an angel. Irony!!!)
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Love Interest: This isn’t actually needed~or is it?! :O


APPEARANCE
Height: 6'3
Weight: 175 lbs
Build: Medium-Standard
Eye Color: Blank Hazelnut
Hair Color: Really, Really blonde.
Scars/Tattoos/Piercings: Onto his back the writings of the Following have been branded - words in a different and difficult language, that was used by the people of old (think of it as our Latin). Tattooed on each palm, along with the back of his neck, are three different insignias of the Following of the Great Mother. He also had his fair deal of scrapes and scars and such.

Description: Mikael is a very built man, very tall and lean from his constant training exercises with the church and their guard. Fat is a sign of weakness to Mikael, as well to his trainers, so he keeps it off by eating just enough to keep him going for the day - he is not, however, under-eating. His skin is porcelain, for it doesn't seem to be able to tan nor burn (that may be because of the clothing he wears, but I digress). This fair skin of his is terrible for blocking out the scaring on his body, regardless of how small they may be. Mikael's body is also quite lanky for a man his size, as even though he weighs a very healthy amount, it all seems to go to his lower body, leaving his upper body to fend for itself. Having said that, Mikael's arms are not skinny by any means - they are just slightly smaller than what most people would expect from a man that stands quite a bit taller than the average man.

His face is quite angular, but it has a few soft spots to it - for example, while his chin and jawbones are very pointy and angled, his cheekbones are softer and rounder. His cheeks are very pale however, which brings out his dimples when he smiles. His eyes are, as stated, a Hazelnut, but they are a very dull, blank colour. Many have often wondered if he is going blind, but he dismisses their thoughts. His ears are somewhat small and highly angular, giving him an elvish look when you can actually see his ears. His nose is a little crooked from training, but doesn't look out of place on his face. His mouth is thin, along with his lips. Now, for the most prominent part of Mikael's body: His flowing, golden blonde hair. Many of the women in the church have complimented it, even saying that he was gifted with Angel's hair, which is the only reason he gets away without having to cut it short like the rest of them. It goes where it pleases, never being able to be controlled by anything other than a cowl over his head.

Preferred Clothing: The clothing in the picture is inaccurate, for that is a highly modern picture, and quite risque for one of the church. In reality, for casual he wears this (the man in the picture is his late uncle) His combat boots stay off of his feet however, and he normally wears normal shoes for the time period while in the church, or nothing on his feet at all. When in the church (since they believe even his casual clothes to show too much), he wears a flowing black robe, decorated with golden symbols of the following, as well as a larger hood to cover his face, which is customary for many of the priests and Followers.

Each one of his silver rings has words of the Church inscribed on each, words that Mikael refuses to translate for the public. On his wrists are long bands of cloth for unknown reasons. He does in fact own that yellow/orange sweater, but it stays in the room he was given by the church.

MENTALITY
Oddities: When waiting for anything, since Mikael isn't as patient as the priests have told him to be, he fiddles with his amulet until he is moving again. He is also a restless sleeper, and at least half of his nights Mikael can be seen wandering around the church trying to momentarily let sleep over take him once again. Mikael will also quote books and/or music extremely frequently, for he finds it extremely hard to convey his thoughts.

Skills: Following orders would probably be Mikael's best skill, at least to the Following. He has it ingrained in his mind to do exactly as the church tells him to, no questions asked. If their is ever a doubt in his mind, Mikael will believe it to be a sign that he isn't ready for the task, so he will mull it over during training.

Work Ethic: Mikael has an amazing work ethic, getting any numerous tasks done before most can finish their sole objective. His approach may not be the most elegant, but he gets the job done effectively, especially at...

Search and Destroy: Mikael has been trained since he was old enough to stand to do the church's bidding, especially the dirty work: finding those 'Gifted' and either capturing or killing them (the latter only if he must). He is renowned throughout the city as Angel, who punishes the unworthy. While he gained this title without knowing of his Lux origins, it made it easier when he could control Light.

Fears/Phobias:
The Fear of Being Mislead - his most recent and prominent fear, Mikael is slowly starting to see the other side of the church, of what he has done, and fears that the church may have been misleading him.
The Fear of Darkness - Being a kid of Lux, this fear has been with him permanently. He will constantly light a candle, turn on the lights, anything to keep light in the building at all times.
The Fear of Being Useless/Having no Purpose - His largest fear of all time, Mikael has always felt the need to be useful to the church to have a purpose. Without it, Mikael fears that he will become a burden to the church and they will cast him onto the streets.
The Fear of Death - If Mikael died, nobody would be there to care for little Abby.
The Fear of Failure - If he fails, he slowly becomes useless.
The Fear of Insanity - Recently it seems to be knawing on his mind, and Mikael believes most if not all Gifted to be insane. He does not want insanity - he kills it.

Likes: Abigail, The Church, meditation, texts of ancient lore, training, completing missions, his Headphones, classical music.
Dislikes: lies, the Gifted, junk food, darkness, insanity, talkative people, failure, insanity, Discordic, the Cleansing.
Hobbies: Studying, training, caring for Abby, S&D, playing the organ.

Personality: Summing up a case like Mikael is extremely difficult, but the short version? He is a driven man who will do anything for only one person, one organization, and one higher being.

Mikael is very conservative, and usually keeps to himself. He rarely speaks out, and when he does it sounds more like a chant from church than speech. He also grew up in a place where speech wasn't at all very necessary, so it is somewhat broken when he speaks one on one, unless it is to Abby. Mikael also has an extremely difficult time voicing his thoughts in any situation, as his brain is more hardwired for combat and faithfulness, not understanding another. To combat this, he will frequently quote songs and such to convey points and reasons, which has made him a little aloof to most others - at least, that is how most people see him. However, he is highly protective of his niece Abigail, who just like him, was abandoned to the church at birth by his eldest sister. Almost every action he makes, he does for her and to make sure she is alright - for she was born blind. (However, she has amazing hearing abilities, beyond human, and can function like anybody else most of the time.)

However, Mikael has a truly dark side, and that is during missions. When his feet step outside the church, he becomes an entirely different person than the humble assistant of the priests. He becomes a top-notch killer and kidnapper, driven by the force of the Great Mother to capture all those tainted by Discordic and Cleanse them. While he may not entirely enjoy the process of Cleansing, he finds it necessary to keep Discordic at bay from the world. He truly believes that what he has been doing his entire life is a necessity, although he does regret taking the smaller Gifted children quite immensely. He finds it much easier to bury the capture victims in his head if they put up a fight and resist than cry for their mothers. That pains him dearly, for he does not know his mother, and feels like the little child he is taking is himself. This has made him very reclusive about discussing his missions with Abby, who doesn't fully understand what or why he is doing what he does. This also makes his meditations much more painful, for if he cannot erase the memory of the capture, it haunts him for weeks until he can.

But wait! There's more! Since he has captured, killed and humiliated many folk and Gifted throughout his life, he is slowly beginning to doubt the Church and their mission. His history will explain in much more detail, but he is starting to doubt that what he is doing is for the greater good. Confessions have become extremely hard for him ever since he found out himself that he was talented in the ability to control not only light, but electricity as well. He then broke his sacred taboo of lying to the church at 18, and it continually haunts him the more he lies. Since his entire psyche is based off of the trust of the church in him and his usefulness, he is slowly slipping into the madness that he fears and hates most. In the end, Mikael wants to confess his new found abilities to the church, especially his uncle, but he fears the results if he does. So instead, he does what his uncle and the church say to the letter, and worry about himself while not working.

COMBAT
Preferred Weapon: Mikael has an a massive amount of weaponry that he could choose from, but his most prominent weapons are his two swords.

Power(s):
Photokinesis: The Control over Light
Electrokinesis: The Control over Electricity & Lightening

Abilities:
Photokinesis
Angel's Wings: The only 1 of 2 abilities he can get away with without raising alarm by his Uncle or the Church, he manifests the light around him to create beautiful, nearly transparent wings of white light so that he can fly.
Divine Speed: The other ability he can get away with is moving at a ridiculous speed. It may not be nearly the speed of light, but at top speed he cannot be seen - the church believes that he can teleport, so to speak.
Harmonia's Embrace:Mikael can become a source of light, glowing like a lantern

Taboo Moves Using these moves would arouse extreme suspicion in his abilities, so they have been marked taboo by Michael.
Angelic Cloak: Mikael learned to bend the light around him to make himself completely invisible.
Wrath of Harmonia:Mikael draws the photons of the air around him, and explodes them outwards, creating a massively blinding light (think flash bang, only more explosive)
Discordic's Light:Named for the horror that was instilled on Mikael after using it, this move absorbs the light out of everything in a certain area, making it unable to see and pitch black. Not even the light of the sun could pierce the veil.
Light's Manifestation:Mikael can harness the photons in an area and solidify them, creating objects and weaponry.
Judgement of the Angelic: Mikael, upon contact with a person's face, can permanently blind them. The most useful move to him while on the job, his uncle still doesn't understand why the Gifted he brings back are sometimes blind.

Electrokinesis (Note! All of these moves are considered Taboo my Mikael. Using them would be disastrous.)
Jolt of Purpose: Being struck by lightening revitalizes Mikael
Heathen's Spark If need be, Mikael can attach himself to loose wiring and fire electricity at another object. Highly useless against enemies, for most gifted have a higher tolerance to pain than a mortal man.
Pause of Silence: Mikael can stop the flow of electrons in an electrical device, turning them off. However, this move only works on one item at a time, and works best when he is attached to it.
Reconnaissance of Angels: When attached to an electrical outlet of some form, he can turn his body into electrons and travel through the outlet to another. Very dangerous, as he has no conscious thought except to get to the outlet that he previously decided.

Fighting Style: After 9 years of fighting people that are Gifted, Mikael is an 'Anti-Gifted' specialist. He is extremely agile and quick, and has been ever since he first started. Now, since he grew quite a bit, Mikael tends to be more tactical and swift instead of just quick on his feet. He analyzes his opponents in a matter of seconds, using his ability to remember novels to his advantage of memorizing techniques used by his opponents. Even without his Lux abilities, he has been highly trained by many men - his uncle especially - to be stronger, faster and smarter than a Gifted, regardless of their Chaotic, Discordic-enhanced power.

He has little to no long ranged abilities, however, for he is utterly pathetic with a bow, gun, or any other form of long ranged weapon. He would rather see his enemy than shoot them - which is one of the reasons they haunt him.

HISTORY
Relationship Status: Single - And fairly sure he isn't allow to be anything else.
Family:
Father - Maximilian Samaet
Status - KIA
Mikael never new his father or mother, but from what he heard from his Uncle Julian, he was lightening quick and one of the best Sanctioned to ever live. That meant he had to fill those shoes.

Mother - The Gypsy Maria Kidman
Status - MIA Presumed Dead
Again, Mikael never knew his birth mother at all. All he knew was that she was a gypsy, a heathen, and Mikael's father fell for her beauty and seduction. After giving birth, she secretly snuck away into the night while Max was on the mission that would kill him.

Uncle - Julian Samaet
Status - Alive
A Sanctioned, Julian and the church raised Mikael to become a Sanctioned, just like his father. Not one for humor, Julian was quite the slave driver and made sure he has been taught properly. He continues to do so, even though he is growing suspicious of Mikael's growing abilities.

Half Brother - Hadrian 'Who Cares' Lilian
Status - Everyone Wishes him Dead
Mikael knows nothing about his older half brother, and the church is set on keeping him like that. In truth, he is a rebellion fighter who has a habit of sleeping with too many women. Hence..

Niece - Abigail Lilian
Status - Injured, but Alive
Born blind at birth, she is barely 6 years old but a bundle of joy. She was left at birth with Mikael, a note simply stating 'She's your problem now - H-B'. Since then, Mikael has taken it upon himself to raise her like she was his own - on top of the extremely tiring training and such.


Personal History/Background: Mikael's story is full of stuff most people would rather not know, but it must be told.

Mikael was abandoned to the church where his Uncle Julian was in charge. His father had recently passed away fighting a Gifted, and his mother thought of him to be a burden. So, right from birth, Julian decided that this little orphaned sprout would become his apprentice at being one of the hardest jobs in the Church - a Sanctioned, those who perform the Cleansing of the Gifted to release them from Discordic's evil and chaotic clutches. So, from the get-go, the kid was nursed into becoming a very dangerous man. Thing was, Julian didn't want to turn him into a normal Sanctioned, those who waited for the HEA to bring the Heathens in. No, Julian and Maximilian (Mikael's recently deceased father) were renowned for capturing their own Gifted to perform the Cleansing on.

At age 5 Mikael's training began, and it wasn't a friendly training to warm him up as he got older. Julian started ruthlessly, forcing him to memorize passages of texts that praised the Great Mother Harmonia, and more hours on training the mind and brain to capture/kill Gifted. The routine for Mikael was simple, yet highly straining and complicated: Before the sun even thought of rising, he was up for early morning meditation on the words of Harmonia and the Church. When the sun finally began to rise, it was time for Morning training session, which was highly grueling and painful - Julian refused to baby the boy, so he would injure and crush his spirits until he got it right. After a 5 minute lunch, it was back to training until supper time. The only time of day that he could relax, right after supper Mikael would usually practice the organ, which was what the organist taught him as well. He thoroughly enjoyed it, and especially enjoyed the organist's bubbly temper and attitude. After his hour was up, evening meditation would take place until the moon was high in the sky, and then Mikael would finally be allowed to have some peace before bed.

This continued for 10 years of his life, with little let up. At 12, he was finally allowed to catch his first Gifted and watch the Cleansing ceremony. Afterwards, Mikael prayed that he wouldn't be too affected by the horrific sight that he had seen in there. The Cleansing made him fear for his life, but he had a deep, unmoving faith in Harmonia and the Church, so he pushed those thoughts from his mind and continued his training. When he was 15 years old, however, a newborn showed up on the doorstep during Mikael's free time with the organist. When he opened the door, he was surprised to find the little girl sleeping soundly there. Orphaned children weren't uncommon for the church to receive - many foolish parents gave up their children - but what he was surprised by was the fact that there was a note addressed to him on it. After confronting Julian - who had no idea he had a Half Brother, or so he said - Mikael made up his mind that he would care for the child. Training became a little less taxing because of this, but was still grueling. While he trained, the ladies of the church would keep the girl happy, but Mikael gave her - whom he named Abigail - the most attention.

Through Abigail however, he gained the knowledge of his powers over light. See, it wasn't until she was 1 year old that Mikael realized she was blind. Call him an idiot if you will. Through helping her through her day to day activities, he gained an appreciation for his own sight, and that was when it hit him. He knelt down and touched his palm against her forehead, and for a moment her eyes worked, and she could see. It was only for a brief moment, but enough of one to make him realize the horrors of what he could be becoming. Mikael already had his abilities to grant himself wings and speed, but nothing such as this. Through his time on missions, he took longer than usual to test out these new powers as they came on the Gifted he fought, with horrifying yet incredible results. When his 18th birthday arrived, Julian confronted Mikael about the length of his trips and the rumors he had been hearing about him. Mikael did what will haunt him forever - he lied and said he knew nothing of what his uncle had said. Julian appeared satisfied, however, and left him alone to wallow in his own misery and treachery.

Since then, he has forbidden himself from using his Lux powers ever, but it becomes increasingly more difficult as time passes - his fear of darkness had grown, and he resisted the urge to always carry a lantern with him. Regardless, he keeps his cool around Abigail, for he makes sure she is kept well. Mikael is worried that she may be thrown onto the streets if she doesn't have a 'use' for the church, since Julian wasn't the most understanding of Sanctioned. So Mikael keeps his head down, and protects Abigail at whatever the cost.

OTHER: Uh.. well... uh... He likes the colour yellow?

So begins...

Mikael Camael Samaet's Story

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Character Portrait: Nicoletta Ardente Character Portrait: Elven Tacitra Character Portrait: Mikael Camael Samaet
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Mikael Samaet, the Angel.

5 hours.

The maximum amount of sleep Mikael was allowed every night for the passed 16 years. If he was ever allowed to sleep in for a few minutes longer, he would fear that his uncle had been killed in the night and jolt awake at the exact time Julian would walk in. Sleep wasn't something that came easily to Mikael, especially when your fear of the dark slowly grew with each passing sleepless night.

This morning was no different. He awoke around 4 in the morning, having gone to bed a little early last night to make the most of his 5 hours. After he quickly showered and dressed in the traditional robes, he meditated in Harmonia's room, where silence was enforced with a sharpened blade. Training would always take place at dawn after a small snack, and he would train until supper with only a break. Free time came afterwards, meditation, then bed. To many that looked on at his lifestyle, this sounds like a version of Discordic's hell to those that are lazy, something that a follower of the church should not be subjected to. In reality, Mikael had grown accustomed to the grueling lifestyle, and found the simple, boring lives of the common folk to be just that: dull. He couldn't stand not doing something at all waking hours of the day, and his mind would probably wander into dark thoughts if he did. To keep himself 'sane' - especially to keep his mind off of his new Gifted powers - he continued that schedule to the fullest. Sure, as he slowly climbed the ladder of age, life slowly began to relax, but Mikael continued to keep himself busy. At 21 years of age, he only had a few years left before he would become a complete Sanctioned and possibly be reassigned to another church. That was, of course, if his uncle did not retire, but that seemed highly unlikely. The man loved his job too much.

So, instead of training or meditating, Julian decided to torture poor Mikael by taking a leave of absence - along with all of the trainers, leaving him in charge of the church's Cleansing for an entire week. The notion alone of not being able to train was horrifying - for his uncle told him strictly to take the week off and get to know the church better (odd statement to a man who rarely left). It took him half of yesterday to find something hard working to do besides practicing the organ for hours on end, listening to his music, reading or playing with Abby. No, instead he found himself useful by running errands for the church, getting the necessary groceries and doing a little reconnaissance while he was out. A few certain Gifted were starting to become a nuisance, but last time Mikael had heard, the HEA were handling it. Crossing their paths for the 9th time would probably not be a good idea, so he decided to only survey and look.

Going out that morning, he hadn't expected the city to be so full of life on a day such as today. He was wearing his casual clothing for the day - a cloak with a hood, the sleeves barely making it past his elbows. It hung open, revealing a simple black shirt underneath. Normally he would be shirtless, since he felt like the shirts restricted his movement, but after the last time he was out with just his cloak on, Mikael knew better. Not many appreciated his stomach showing, even though he did not believe it to be that well kept (low self esteem, what's that?). Regardless, his blonde hair hung out the sides of the hood, flowing everywhere when he walked, only restricted by the headphones that were plastered onto his ears. Primitive things, and probably the only thing Mikael could really call his own, they continually played organ music and some classical as he walked through the crowds. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Even though his face was somewhat passive, he kept that blank face that the people on the streets knew all to well from the Angel, so as he passed people they would simply veer away from a little. Not like he was parting the crowds, but nobody dared to touch him. Those who got close enough to touch him were simply dodged by Mikael - he didn't like touching anybody.

Regardless of this, he went along his way with the same determination as he always approached jobs: the faster the better. Efficiency was his game, so every job had to be completed to the best of his ability, yet also within a quick time frame. Funny how after he had grabbed some of the food supplies (he simply handed the food stand man, who was a chubby little ogre, his slip of paper so he didn't have to talk) he was distracted by an odd sight. While the streets were busy enough, he caught notice to a young lady who had seemingly run into a lad at least 4 years younger than himself, if not more. As he slowly neared on them - they were in front of him - he couldn't help but be confused by society and their reactions to each other. So is this how society acts? Just run into another, and act like nothing really happened? Interesting.

It was then that a novel caught his eye as it lay in the puddle of mud. Instantly, Mikael put a scenario together to understand the situation: Boy is reading while walking - highly stupid - and runs into girl carrying too many objects while the... uh... Discordic-spawned humans? In any case, they both run into each other for neither of them is paying attention. Or maybe she was watching, but couldn't avoid? He continued to run the ideas as he finally made his way to the novel and picked it up from the mud. His eyes widened a little as he noticed that the title was in a familiar ancient text that he had read back at the church. Ignoring the other two instantly as they talked of mortal things, Mikael flipped through the pages quite quickly, memorizing anything that he could from the text that hadn't been wrecked. He was a little to the side of them, so Mikael figured that one of them noticed him pick the novel up, but he cared not. His right hand flipped through the pages while his left hand had set down the groceries to hold up the book.

And the people still avoided him.

The setting changes from manus-luna to Finitor

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Character Portrait: Nicoletta Ardente Character Portrait: Elven Tacitra Character Portrait: Mikael Camael Samaet
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Mom was not going to be happy with her for this, oh no she was not. The mis-delivered package was now officially damaged, the goods within the box ruined beyond salvaging in the slightest . . . which meant that it was likely that mom’s store was not going to be able to get its textiles without some hassle. This was why it was that she never was called on by Csilla to do anything in regards to the shop’s dealings and doings, because her mother knew her a klutz, in this single case though, the only reason that Nicoletta had to come to her mother’s aid was because there were no other options, nothing else that could be done. The bolts of cloth were too numerous to be handled by Momchil and Amalia alone, the baking goods had been too heavy for either of the two humanoids to handle. . . . Almost too much for her to lift and carry.

It was that Nicoletta remained where she was, knelt on the pavement as people walked by her, the twins and the person she’d knocked shoulders with, simply staring at the box and its broken, split contents, a disheartened expression over her features. The blonde’s mind was completely separate from the surrounding world, as she wasn’t even thinking about the fact that she had not only ruined someone else’s goods, but that she had run into another person for the love of the Goddess. Her train of thought was set on one track, and it wasn’t derailing for much of anything at this point. . . . She didn’t even notice the death glare she was at the receiving end of.

In the meantime, both of the twins had their crimson gazes set upon the black-haired boy whom was partly responsible for the situation at hand. Both brother and sister remained quiet, as they believed it was not their place to speak when the circumstances involved here were between their sister and the yet-to-be-named stranger in the jumper.

“Well, excuse me Madam," the venom-laced words caught hold of Nicoletta’s attention though, despite the fact that her focus had been so upon the mess made at her knees. That downcast expression did not leave her features though, even as she pulled her head upward, her eyes near-unwillingly leaving the sight before her to look up at the one whom had spoken. It took the girl a moment to realize why his words had carried such bitterness, and such an edge. At first, she had been confused, but when she understood who he was, her eyes widened in realization, as she came to comprehend the fact that she hadn’t at all said anything to him after nearly knocking him over.

He stood, right above her as if trying to loom overhead as an ominous figure. Like he was trying to strike some . . . dark, morbid fear into her, to make her fear for her life it felt, the way he was. . . . Nicoletta could feel an air about him that bespoke of loathing, for her, because of her clumsy accident, for running into him as she had without so much as offering an apology after it happened. Instead, she had gone and stared at the mess of things which she had become responsible for by word of her mother. . . . Even if she were caught up in something unfortunate, undoubtedly going to be chewed out by her mother for being so careless, she still should have offered this boy her apologies, at the very least. And because she had failed to do so, he was hovering above her, holding onto some sort of seething, quiet fury that sort of reminded Nicoletta of an angry, buzzing around while trapped in a jar. There was something to be afraid of, but it was somewhat contained.

The fellow teenager had stared at Momchil and Amalia for a moment, seemingly unsure of the two. In return to his gaze, the twins simply stared back, a disinterested, almost detached sort of expression overlaying their childish, colorless faces. Both boy and girl stood side-by-side, hands at their fronts, one overtop the other. His eyes traveled to the box on ground, the contents spilled, and back to the twins, who continued to silently, and almost creepily, stare right at him.

He began to bite on one of his nails, before he spoke again, his voice this time filled more with puzzlement, and confusion instead of complete malice for her it seemed. “Madam, if you are going to carry merchandise to heavy for yourself, why do you not ask your siblings, Mister and Miss, here?” Nicoletta’s own eyes flittered over to both Momchil and Amalia, who turned to look at her. There was no hint of questioning upon their faces, but then, those two were nigh unreadable children . . . you could never guess what was going to come out of their mouths or what it was they were really thinking—if they were thinking anything at all, that is. “Are Mister and Miss not your siblings, Madam?” he suddenly asked, revoking his earlier assumption it seemed as he tilted his head.

There’s a question I’m not at liberty to answer. Yep, I think of them as my siblings, but no, they aren’t really my brother and sister. Nicoletta thought with a sigh, shoulders drooping as she was reminded of the sour truth behind those two, how they came to be with her family in the first place, and the fact that the two were not human to begin with. Though, the detail wasn’t even important anymore, not since the two were more or less like family as matters were now, they were loved and accepted by herself, Vicente and her parents. However, that bit of thought brought Nicoletta back to the matter at hand, the damaged goods, the ingredients and cooking utensils. . . . Mom was going to be very angry about this. There was no doubt about that one. Right . . . mom. She’s going to verbally kill me; I swear if she were a Gifted, I bet that her powers would have something to do with the ability to imprint words on people, or to actually be able to inflict harm. a small laugh came from her, along with a sigh.

It was with this that the blonde turned her periwinkle-colored eyes back up to look at the person who’d gone from seeming like a snake poised to strike, to someone who was beginning to detach themselves from the situation in a sense. She was owed something of a display of one’s temper for how careless she’d been, but it seemed that she might avoid the worst of what this boy could dish out. “I blame you completely, Madam, for the loss of my book, though you can blame me for the destruction of your. . . . things.”

Nicoletta let out a loud and exasperated exhale of a breath, a tiresome look on her young face. Yes, that was some signage of him possessing maturity and sense. The fact that he did realize that he himself could be tacked with the blame for her breaking her ‘things,’ as he’d put it. . . . One of her small hands came away from her lap, as her eyes glanced over at the same time, and found itself set upon the nearby brick and stone wall of a building. With a small groan, Nicoletta was ascending to her own feet. She needed to offer her apologies to him at the very least. . . .

But, it was as she was opening her lips to speak that she found another voice speaking before her own, cutting her off. “Our sister Nico is indeed at fault for the ruin of your literature . . .” Amalia spoke, her eyes trailing over to the blonde, whose head snapped up, her eyes upon the girl, Nicoletta’s face was beginning to redden.

Momchil offered a bow, “Certainly so, she is. We must offer you our sincere apologies on the behalf of her, and her dear antics.”

“Yes, we must.” Amalia agreed, dipping herself into a polite, and slightly creepy, curtsy in time with her brother’s bow. “Please, forgive her for her carelessness, for she is clumsy and prone to accidents such as these quite often, you see. . . .”

Following the ending of Amalia’s sentence, Momchil attempted to speak again, ready to continue on with this—only he was cut short by a noise from Nicoletta, whose cheeks were cherry red in embarrassment. “Momchil, Amalia, that’s enough out of you two! Stop speaking as if I’m completely incompetent!!”

At her words, both the albino twins reverted to their normal stances, leaving behind the bow and curtsy. They turned to their flustered sister, faces still as passive as ever. “But sister Nico . . . we only speak the truth about you.” Momchil replied, his voice eerie serene.

“And, incompetent is surely what you may be labelled, as you were unable to even make an exchange of goods for Mother at her request. . . .” Amalia finished what it was her brother had to say, only making the girl at the receiving end have an even redder face, her expression completely and totally flustered.
“I-I, j-just stop talking!” she ordered, almost pouting.

In unison to her words, came the dual reply of, “Yes, sister Nico.”

From Nicoletta came a weary sigh, those two were. . . . They had turned into quite the snarky things in the last year; that was for sure. A had came to her face, as she shook her head tiredly back and forth, turning back to the boy to whom she owed an apology. With her face still red, she drew her hand down back to her side, and with a sincere look, she placed her own hands at her front, and suddenly dipped her front half forward before uttering a quick, “I’m sorry.” Hastily enough, she was standing back to her full height, looking at him. “I am to blame for ruining your book, honestly, I apologize. I was distracted, trying to read a poorly-written address on the box’s label, and I didn’t look ahead of me while I was walking, and well. . . . It’s not an excuse or a reason, but, that’s why it happened.” She sighed; a hand wound up set on her hip another scratching the back of her neck as a mindful expression took hold of her face. “There’s not much I can really say or do to try to make up for this incident, except to offer you a replacement, or for me to attempt to replace it, if that’s possible. . . .” she trailed off, not even sure if that was possible.

It depended on the actual text he’d been reading when they’d ran into one another. “As for what I was carrying, well . . . that stuff didn’t even belong to me, those thing were wrongly delivered to my mother’s shop, and I was supposed to be taking them for an exchange, for what we were meant to be getting.” A breath came from her, “To put it simply, no matter how I try to handle this, my mom is not going to be happy with me.”

Nicoletta kept her gaze on the dark-headed boy the entirety she babbled on, and only glanced away from him when it was a new someone entered her field of vision, seemingly having a go at the half-ruined book that had gotten the boy in the jumper almost acting like he had poison in his words. This new person was a he, and could not have seemed more opposite from whom she had been giving an apology. And . . . he looked to be dressed in the robes of those who were of the Following. Understanding that made Nicoletta visibly tense up, a sentiment of discontentment overtook her demeanor, and the air about her small form became fiercer, almost blazing off her like a fire. Her expression became grave, her thoughts and feelings toward the Following were rigid and defined, ever since the detainment of her sister some years ago.

The way she viewed anything that had to do with the Following of the Great Mother, or Harmonia, Discordic . . .any of that crap, frankly it all infuriated her. What they claimed, and said, and did, even to innocent children who were four. . . . It was sickening to her, upsetting to the point it made her stomach churn. Nicoletta said nothing though, she knew better, she knew the risks it ran.

Momchil and Amalia, though, they kept themselves quiet as instructed by their sister, but the two had their gazes locked upon the robed man, he was new, and perhaps the most interesting thing around now. And, Nicoletta, forcing a harsh bit of air into her lungs, quickly turned her eyes back to whom she was apologizing to, the feel of her person had changed, and it was reflected when she spoke. “Look, just tell me what it is I can do to relieve your anger or annoyance about this, I’ll do what I can.”

She was trying as hard as she can to keep herself contained, to lock away that anger of hers for the man who was of the Following, but there was no denying the fact that Nicoletta’s anger could be felt by anyone who was the slightest bit perceptive.

The setting changes from finitor to Manus Luna

Setting

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Character Portrait: Nicoletta Ardente Character Portrait: Elven Tacitra Character Portrait: Mikael Camael Samaet
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Elven Tacitra


“Our sister Nico is indeed at fault for the ruin of your literature . . .” The frilly, younger girl spoke, looking at her sister. Ah, so they are related. Elven thought, glancing from the girl to the boy.

He seemed to be bowing, which caused Elven to tilt his head. Most people nowadays weren't as polite in speech as he, although he tended to insult people rather than compliment, or apologize. , “Certainly so, she is. We must offer you our sincere apologies on the behalf of her, and her dear antics.”

“Yes, we must.” The twin sister curtseyed in time with her brother, their faces not changing to show any emotion. Maybe it was because of this why Elven decided he rather liked the two, more than the blonde staring at the two from the ground. “Please, forgive her for her carelessness, for she is clumsy and prone to accidents such as these quite often, you see. . . .” It was then and there when Elven blanked out, studying his nails with some interest. Ah, siblings. he thought, a short sigh escaping his lips.

"I’m sorry.” He turned to see the source of the voice in mid-bow, albeit a quick one, and a short fuse started flickering from where it had left off. “I am to blame for ruining your book, honestly, I apologize. I was distracted, trying to read a poorly-written address on the box’s label, and I didn’t look ahead of me while I was walking, and well. . . . It’s not an excuse or a reason, but, that’s why it happened.”  The girl scratched her neck, her tone changing slightly from before. “There’s not much I can really say or do to try to make up for this incident, except to offer you a replacement, or for me to attempt to replace it, if that’s possible. . . .” Her voice became gradually smaller and Elven let out a short laugh, though his anger was slowing building up. 

Why was she apologising so? He had apologised and taken half of the responsibility; if anything, her items were of more value by far, although the text he had held was rare and also banned by The Following for having a few sentences against them. In actual fact, the author used the word 'following', and since it was so ancient, he wasn't referring to the group in any way. Even so, he was holding a book which he would almost never find again.

And now it was slowly being engulfed by mud.

Elven's blood-red eyes flickered to the girl, who was once again explaining her actions and slowly starting to make Elven yell at her. “As for what I was carrying, well . . . that stuff didn’t even belong to me, those thing were wrongly delivered to my mother’s shop, and I was supposed to be taking them for an exchange, for what we were meant to be getting. To put it simply, no matter how I try to handle this, my mom is not going to be happy with me.” Elven blinked. Those weren't hers? How strange, considering how distressed she seemed when she dropped the objects on the floor. Most would feel that way about an object they'd cared for and liked, like a necklace or something. Yet. . .

Elven noticed the never-ending stare he was getting, as if being examined, and he self consciously grabbed at his jumper, clenching the material into his small fists. He felt unsafe and insecure, glancing at the two twins who were staring at him to. The jet-black haired boy turned to follow the girl's eye of sight, seeing something odd.

A member of The Following, crouched down by a puddle of mud, was holding his discarded book in his hand. That man was a member of the Following. Sir Uncle Gamion said that was why he got away with everything. Elven's hands started fiddling with his scarf, distracting himself from anger.

His book. In the hands of a member of The Following. Something he had touched, liked, read several times was in the hands of The Following. He'd lost his sister because of them, and even after death, her death hadn't found justice. Elven's fingertips brushed against his katana, 'Sister'.

And then the fuse went.

Yes, Elven heard the girl say something in a balanced tone. More apologies, it seemed, but his hearing was numb to her, to the world. He could instantly feel suppressed anger from the girl next to him as he plunged his hands into his jeans' pockets, stalking over to the robed man flicking through the sullied book. He towered above him, though only because the man was crouching, and leant down. He bent over so he wasn't crouching in any sense of the word; no, he bent his upper body down and his face was close to the robed man. "Good Afternoon, Sir." His voice, laced with venom, was calm and composed, though the hatred behind it was obvious and stuck out like a sore thumb. 

Elven stood back up to his full height and quickly placed his foot under the book in The Following-man's (Elven's new, personal nickname) before kicking upwards and knocking it out of his hands. It landed on the floor by him and he backed away, before running in and kicking it into the crowd tactfully. It was kicked along rather quickly by unsuspecting pedestrians. Elven smirked wickedly. 

"I am sorry, Sir. I do believe, however, that book was banned and I was reading it for the sole purpose of burning it to ashes when I was done, Sir. I do hope you will understand my decision to dispose of it before someone saw you with a forbidden text." The boy's dark expression matched his tone; a nonchalant smile. However, his eyes flickered anger like sparks on a fire and he picked up the box of baking goods.

With a determined, unquestionable expression, he turned to the three. Hopefully, he'd remember their names. "Well, Madam Nico, it was pleasant running into you here but I do hold myself responsible for breaking and smashing the goods. Just tell me where you were heading to. Mister Momchil, Miss Amalia, would you be so kind to lead the way?" He turned away from the robed man so his face was in the other direction, facing Nico, and mouthed "Elven.". The look he gave her was, unmistakably, one which told her to go with him and keep up the pretence of friendship, or at least acquaintanceship, and he looked at the twins with sure eyes. "We had better get going."


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Character Portrait: Nicoletta Ardente Character Portrait: Elven Tacitra Character Portrait: Mikael Camael Samaet
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Mikael Samaet, the Angel.

Mikael was off in a different world it seemed, not caring about what was going on around him, not caring if both of the two teens that had run into each other had now stopped talking and were now looking at him with hatred. All that mattered in that moment of time was the interesting, ancient text in front of him, one that he was slowly beginning to recognize. Mikael had always been a type of collector of sorts back in the church, taking books that were supposed to be banned and burned and keeping them in his library. His excuse, as he told the other Followers honestly, was that he wanted to know more about the people that were outside the church and get a better understanding of the world to help solidify his faith. It took a while, but they allowed it. Ever since, his room has been piling up with old texts, novels, poems, stories, and more. This one especially intruiged him, for he only had about half of the book itself at home, so if he could buy it off of the citizen for a decent price, Mikael would be quite happy.

However, the little moment of bliss was yanked from him in quite an interesting, yet highly saddening way. For starters, he felt that somebody had come extremely close to his face, but he ignored it. Faintly, through his headphones he heard a very distasteful 'Good Afternoon, Sir, and was going to turn and address this new person that spoke to him, but before he could even think to react, the book flew out of his hands by a petite, feminine looking shoe. It was then that Mikael finally focused in on what was going on around him just as the shorter boy kicked the book into the crowd of people. Mikael's we trained eyes watched the book be kicked by others as his face visibly saddened with a hint of sourness. While he could have easily sped himself up and grabbed the book, Mikael wasn't the best for refocusing from one objective to another. Same went with his ability to focus on one situation to another. Since this was not combat, he wasn't allowed to adapt as naturally as he wanted to.

He pulled the headphones back a little to hear the boy completely, and the tone used by the teen was dreadful: It sounded as if the boy was calling out Discord himself to speak in foul undertones underneath his own speech. While his ears picked up this easily, Mikael never once looked away from where the book had gone. The kid had originally done him a small favor by having that book on his person, yet he now had made his job harder. Suppressing his own annoyance, he tuned back into the kid once more.

I am sorry, Sir. I do believe, however, that book was banned and I was reading it for the sole purpose of burning it to ashes when I was done, Sir. I do hope you will understand my decision to dispose of it before someone saw you with a forbidden text." It took Mikael a while to recognize the easy lie in the sentence. It was a slow realization, one that burned within his core and slowly made its way to the surface as the kid went over to assist the girl. For the first time, he finally looked at the two of them, each one having some reason for giving him their malice-filled look. However, he could not stand lies. Sure, that made him hypocritical, but he buried that thought instantly. He didn't need something as pitiful as his own self confidence stopping him. Mikael finally stood up to his full height, easily towering 2 heads over both of them. His eyes, although a blank hazelnut, steeled in a glassy way: Not entirely focused on one person, but still hard. He wanted to say something, but as always, his brain was better at focusing in combat then focusing in society.

"Try Honesty." Was all he could say with his baritone voice. It was a little raspy from the fact he didn't use it as much as a normal civilian, but still worked fine enough. His hood was pushed off of his head by a light breeze and the weight of his headphones, which still played a soft, melodic tune. The breeze was cool to his bare forearms, but his left fist was in a tight ball covered by his glove, anger coating it. Mikael looked away once more, his brilliant blonde hair covering a bit of his face as he did so. He couldn't see the book anymore, but he was sure to find it, regardless of how long it would take. Groceries could be re-bought, a book that priceless could not.

"You cannot hide your lying eyes." Mikael's eyes got a little softer, tinged with sadness but still angry and glassy. "You had no such intentions, so don't lie." He looked at both of them then, looking back and forth between the feminine looking boy, and the shorter girl. They both had this air of power around them, and familiarity for some reason as well. Mikael knew that he could have seen them on a mission or trip, but that wouldn't trigger such a feeling of 'I know them from somewhere...'

Regardless, he tore his eyes away from both of them, and visibly relaxed his tense body. He needed to get moving, he was wasting time trying to assist people: it always went this way. He would do something, a few citizens would get either annoyed or scared, and nothing would get accomplished or gained. Harmonia made the life of a Follower especially tough when it came to public relations. Mikael knew first hand that the people really didn't like him that much. They wanted to blame the thing they could see, instead of which they could not. It made blaming somebody easier when they were seen doing something that they didn't overly like. Regardless of this, he strived to do his best for Harmonia, and that meant not appealing to the people, but to her.

His body turned slightly and he leaned down to grab the groceries that he had left on the ground. If he started soon, he could find the book and get back to the church before arousing suspicion in Abigail. It was soon to be game time, and he certainly didn't want to miss that.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Nicoletta Ardente Character Portrait: Elven Tacitra Character Portrait: Mikael Camael Samaet
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She and the twins watched him, the black-haired boy in the jumper turn his attention onto the member of the Following who had in his hands, the book which she was responsible for ruining. He wasn’t happy, the aura he carried was one of a quiet anger, one that he was containing—much like herself it felt. Nicoletta’s eyes went from him to the man in the robes, as she said nothing, but held herself back, keeping herself as calm as possible by clenching and unclenching both of her hands into small fists at her side, sometimes allowing such tension to build up there that her fingernails nearly pierced through the skin in the palm of her hand. Almost leading her to bleeding. If it kept her from lashing out, from losing it, then she could handle a bit of pain, and a bit of blood.

At least, it seemed as if she were not alone in how she felt toward this robed man. The bitter sentiments dwelling within her seemed to be similarly carried in the boy too warmly dressed near her, as he tugged on his scarf. I wonder what his story is with the Following. her mind wondered a bit, I know my reason, and I know that I’ll never be able to let go of it. Whether or not you can call my hatred justified, it’s still going to stay where it is. But, I can’t let it consume me, regardless if I want it to or not. A soft sigh left her lips, as she did her very best to compose herself, to keep the fire within her bones contained, no matter how very much it stirred about. No matter how much heat formed inside of her, she could not let it come out, she could not show herself as what she was, she couldn’t lose control of it. Not ever, if she did, and she hurt someone, then she would only become an example.

The Following wound wind up using her as an example to prove the point they always claimed, that Gifted were spawns of Discordic, nothing but people whose hearts had been tainted by evil beyond the realm of mortal comprehension. They would say that she was weighted down by sin, by corruption . . . when that was far from the truth. Nicoletta knew what the Following claimed was entirely false, if all Gifted really were held down by the weight of evil, or tainted by Discordic, then she would have only the desire to incite chaos, to hurt others. And . . . that was something she didn’t want.

Even with all my anger for the Following, even if I detest them down to my bones, I still don’t want to be responsible for hurting someone else. It’s damn stupid, and it contradicts a lot in my person, but I don’t want to hurt someone else. Nicoletta took in another breath, focusing herself, and calling her mind back from the depths of anger and embitterment. It was as she did this, that the aura she carried, the one of a raging fire that was in the midst of being contained, managed to be soothed a bit. I’m not consumed by my powers, or my hatred. No matter what the bastards might’ve done to me and my family, I won’t hurt anyone for it.

Opening her periwinkle eyes again, Nicoletta managed to hold it back and shove all of it back into the deepest recesses of her mind. For now, her loathing would remain where it belonged, in the depths of her soul. In the time that she had been doing this, Momchil and Amalia had drawn their gazes to her, their expressions remained ever passive, unreadable. Nicoletta didn’t know what they could possibly be thinking, but she would never know, would she? That was part of the fun of having the two humanoids around her, they weren’t very predictable. . . . And from her lips slipped a small, but contented sigh. So . . . she was more or less screwed for the day as far as it went, the task her mom had given to her had gone wrong, and she’d completely botched it up. There was no doubt that Csilla was going to have a cow about this, the sundries’ shop wasn’t going to get its textiles, and it was her fault.

Yep, there were definitely more important things to do than for her to make her focal point on her dislike for the Following.
Simply, in the end, Nicoletta found herself giving a little, nervous smile to her ‘siblings.’ This caused the two of them to cast their glances back to the other situation Nicoletta had detached herself from shortly, so that she could garner her composure once again.

The dark-haired teenager she’d been apologizing too, regarding what had happened was standing over the Follower who had the ruined book in his hands, trying to loom above him it seemed. Even if the blonde, hooded man was hunched down in order to read the text, Nicoletta could tell that the tactic taken by the boy in the jumper wasn’t going to do much good—the Follower looked like he was indeed of a taller stature. Intimidation wasn’t going to work well . . . or at all. “Good Afternoon, [i]Sir.” she heard the familiar tone in his voice, the hidden venom, the snakelike hiss that came along with the utterance of the word ‘sir.’ It was composed, and contained, but obvious.

Hearing it herself, it made Nicoletta grimace—taking such a tone of voice with someone of the Following was . . . dangerous, to say the very least. And when it was that he kicked the mud-covered book that’d been ruined from the man’s hands, Nicoletta audibly gasped, as her eyes widened with shock. Undoubtedly, there were not many people in Portum Animas who would dare be so bold about how they felt regarding the Following. Okay, he’s . . . crazy. she thought, swallowing back the urge to say so aloud. Momchil and Amalia remained ever passive toward the situation, they didn’t comprehend the boldness of that action, of how very iffy it was for one to do such a thing.

“I am sorry, Sir. I do believe, however, that book was banned and I was reading it for the sole purpose of burning it to ashes when I was done, Sir. I do hope that you will understand my decision to dispose of it before someone saw you with a forbidden text.” The tone of his voice was . . . bone chilling, to say the least. It made an uncertain expression flitter across Nicoletta’s features. His lie was as plain as day with the edge his voice carried. Even if he shared her feelings regarding the Following, hating them . . . he was being reckless about it. Even if she had a tendency to speak without thinking, at the very least she knew when it was time to bite down on her tongue, and to keep her lips bound together, to stay silent. When it was that he glanced over at the overturned box of destroyed goods she had been suppose to deliver. . . . Nicoletta’s heart lurched into her chest.

“Try Honesty.” Upon hearing this, Nicoletta found herself looking back at the member of the Following, her eyes a bit wide from the fact that his voice sounded sort of . . . hoarse, like it went unused more often than not. Yep, he was not happy, and she’d been right, he was a lot taller than herself and the black-haired boy who was now hoisting up the otherwise useless box of broken things. In truth, seeing him, Nicoletta couldn’t help but thinking that this particular man didn’t much look like he was a part of the Following, the only thing which gave him away as such was the robes. . . .

She was addressed again though, by the boy she’d knocked into. “Well, Madam Nico, it was pleasant running into you here but I do hold myself responsible for breaking and smashing the goods. Just tell me where you were heading do. Mister Momchil, Miss Amalia, would you be so kind to lead the way?” He was turned away from the blonde Follower, looking at her. He mouthed something to her, and if she had it right it was ‘Elven,’ his name, Nicoletta could only guess that was his name. he was trying to get her to play along with his ruse, to pretend that they were friends so that he could get away from the unnamed Follower. In truth, she didn’t entirely blame him for that, but at the same time . . . she didn’t want anything to do with this, his act. She didn’t know him, and he didn’t seem the most pleasant of people.

“You cannot hide your lying eyes.” Nicoletta again glanced to the Follower; his voice had gotten softer, melancholic. He wasn’t looking in their direction, his face was hidden by his hair. He hid what was shown upon his face, but the tone his voice carried was enough to leave her a bit uncertain. The way Elven had regarded him, and had acted . . . it upset him? Well, anyone would’ve been upset by it, but it sounded like he was upset in different way, one that she wouldn’t have expected. “You had no such intentions, so don’t lie.” He looked at her and Elven, back and forth. Like, the two of them were familiar. . . .

Regardless of this though, Nicoletta found herself unable to help it, even if he was a part of something she despised. . . . And here comes the guilt factor. . . . Wonderful. she sighed, long and drawn out. This caused Momchil and Amalia to turn and look at her, expressions vacant. So, what am I going to do now? This . . . Elven, wants me to go along with his façade. And even if I’m not fond of the Following, I don’t feel right up and tottering off now, damn it. Then there came the hand to her forehead.

“We had better get going.” Elven spoke again, trying to urge her on. To go along with him. In truth, while a part of her wanted to do so, out of her distaste for the Following roused by the blonde man, it was never that simple for her. If there was guilt, she couldn’t just up and walk away—no matter who it regarded.

Nicoletta turned her gaze back to Elven, an uncertain glint going through them, she understood his sentiments in wanting to leave. She really did, but there was just a part of her that just . . . couldn’t do it. Unfortunately for herself, she wound up seeing this particular Follower as not just a part of the organization she so hated, but instead as an individual separate from that.

A frustrated and disheartened expression took root on Nicoletta’s face at this, and she groaned, grumbling to herself for letting that happen. Great, so I’ve seen him as a person instead of a Follower! I know I’m not going to be able to shake this now. . . . there came the sigh. The Follower was beginning to leave, seemingly still upset by this little encounter. So, came Nicoletta’s voice. “Momchil, Amalia, please show Elven to where it was that we were headed,” she requested, turning her gaze to look at the two, her features held a serious look. “And remember, to be polite and pleasant to him, as always. Would you?”

At this, Momchil gave a bow, and Amalia gave a short curtsy, while they answered in unison, “Yes sister Nico.”
It was then that Amalia moved to Elven’s right side, and Momchil to his left. The former was the first to speak to him though, “Please, if you would Sir Elven, brother Momchil and I shall escort you to where we were headed before.” She spoke, voice vacant and passive.

“Yes, please do follow us.” Momchil chimed in, before both humanoids turned and began to head toward the intended direction, expecting Elven to simply follow. Both of them knew well enough to return to the sundries’ shop when they were finished.

Now, Nicoletta on the other hand, not even completely understanding herself and what it was she was doing, simply groaned and rolled her eyes at her idiot self. Seeing someone as an individual always led to these sorts of instances for her. . . . To doing something she would never normally think about. Even with her hatred of the Following, she couldn’t stand the notion of someone upset, at least as long as she realized they were a person before something else~

He was beginning to leave, having turned to do so when Nicoletta hesitantly raised her voice, “U-Um, wait a moment!” the expression on her face was one of definite uncertainty. She definitely did not look as if she wanted to do what she was. Holding onto that look, the teenager took a couple of tentative steps toward the Follower, her fingers steepled at her front. This feels so . . . weird, and wrong. she thought, frowning at herself for a moment before she sighed, and looked upon the man, stopping near him. “I, uh, um,” she started, barely even sputtering that out, before she just decided to say whatever came out of her mouth, “Are you all right? You don’t look emotionally well.”

She simply looked at him, a rather unreadable expression forming over her features as she could only wonder, What the Hell am I doing . . . ? She hated the Following and yet, here she was asking about one’s wellbeing. If Vincente or any of her family found out about this . . . none of them would be happy.

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Character Portrait: Nicoletta Ardente Character Portrait: Elven Tacitra Character Portrait: Mikael Camael Samaet
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Elven Tacitra

“Try Honesty.”

Elven blinked. He didn't feel angry, not so much at least, anymore. Instead, he felt. . . . odd. Like he didn't know what to say. And that, believe it or not, was something incredible for the youngest of the Tacitra family. He stared at the member of The Following, tilting his head in slight confusion. Honesty? Sure, he'd believed in that, even more so as a child, and tended to tell people what he truly thought of them without batting an eyelid. Yet, it felt like he was suggesting another type of honesty. The type of honesty he'd lost trust in long ago.

Well, even so, Elven slightly doubted his actions. Now that, in itself, was quite easily a rare thing. However, he believed that maybe he shouldn't take his uncle's words for law. After all, his uncle acted as much like a child as he, still enjoying the occasional joke about one's bowel movements as much as any small child would. But when he looked at the taller man's eyes, he really didn't have much reason to hate him. And he didn't take kindly to hating people when you can't find a huge flaw, apart from the fact he was a Follower. Most of all, he felt sorry for the book. Yet still, Elven's crimson eyes reverted to the innocence of a child. Yes, it was a large contrast, but he stopped holding onto the box in his arms. He missed the rest of conversation, his eyes confusedly staring at the blonde.

Oh great. Guilt. 'Cause I need more things to deal with. Boredom is hard to deal with on it's own. he thought, looking away and scowling at himself.

Looking at the twins who, in his confusion, had turned up at his sides, he put the box down on the floor quietly. He glanced at the two at his sides, before looking at Nicoletta who, too, had moved from her original spot, though not by much. His eyes wandered to her, to the blonde and then back to the twins, who had begun walking. Sure, he hesitated, but then he undid his hair (so as not to make any eye contact with. . . . annoying people, to put it nicely) and strode past the other two without a word. At least he had seen the exact direction in which the book had gone it. He'd seen it being hit off, but surely with his lower-than-average height and generally good eyesight, he'd be able to locate the book without running into someone who knew his family.

Of course, the task seemed impossible at the time, since most knew his family, but. . . . The small boy merged into the crowd easily, slouching so he could see the floor better. Now, the crowd wasn't particularly big or anything, but Elven didn't like being so close to other people, especially when he sort of had a minuscule grudge against everyone. That seemed to be a recurring theme throughout the Tacitra family.

His eyes scanned the floor eagerly, determined to get what he wanted, and what he wanted was that book. If he came home without it, he would be scolded, but if he said he gave it to a member of the Following, he'd probably. . . . Well, his aunt and uncle would probably start arguing with him and end up arguing with each other. As he swerved through the crowd quickly, like a small elf, he kept his left hand tightly around his katana and he fiddled with the hilt awkwardly. It was then when he spotted it. His eyes lit up; his search hadn't gone to waste, but he'd almost forgotten why he'd gone to get it. But on the way back, he saw the tall head and he remembered.

Elven stood in front of him, eyes invisible behind his bangs, and shoved the book into his arms. "First of all, I do not like you very much, Sir, but it's not personal. I do not like many people. Second, you are only getting this because I do not like wasting unwanted items when others may desire them. And thirdly, if you find any artwork I may have slotted in there as a bookmark and you do not give it back, I will locate you Sir. If it's a nude picture, Sir Uncle Gamion was probably trying to play an awfully planned practical joke. Again." Elven frowned, counting on his fingers at each of his points. When he spoke now, his voice was as young and bright as it should be, not dark and menacing like an older person.

Though his eyes weren't visible, he was scowling slightly as he patted his head, somewhat treating him like a child. What annoyed him was that he had to go on his tiptoes to do so. "Lastly, take good care of the book, Sir, or I will personally cook you for my family." Elven stared at him through his bangs as he slowly pinned them back off, and without another sound, stepped off to pick the box back up and strode quickly towards the twins, already on their journey to. . . . Well, wherever.

As something brushed against his lower leg when he walked, he shivered slightly before turning his head and looking at the cause. "Oh. Good afternoon again, Kasper." Elven said, earning a mewl in return. "I thought you were too lazy to get up." Silence. "Oh, right now I'm following Miss Amalia and Mister Momchil until we arrive at our desired destination." Elven stopped and shifted the box onto one hand and hip as he offered his other arm down. The cat sniffed, crawling up his arm with a certain majesty reserved for those who actually deserve it, and onto his neck to snuggle down and cuddle close.

After that, Elven remained silent. He didn't see the point in social interaction when it was not needed, and it seemed the twins, Momchil and Amalia, didn't see much use in that either.

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Character Portrait: Nicoletta Ardente Character Portrait: Elven Tacitra Character Portrait: Mikael Camael Samaet
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Mikael Samaet, the Angel.

Mikael had no idea that his day of relaxation would take such an awkward and nerveracking spin. Not only had he found a book that he had hoped to purchase that could further his collection, he also ran into 2 people that looked familiar and basically hated him. He wasn't sure whether or not this was a good day or not, for it had yet to come to an end. The thought of it getting worse still sat upon his mind, however, so he decided that his best course of action would be to grab the book, come back for his groceries, and speed his way back to the church. Mikael didn't care if some suspicion came from this, he just really wanted to exit this kind of situation: One where he felt highly awkward, clumsy and completely useless. Something he wasn't used to feeling.

Yet Harmonia had some wicked sense of humor (or she was severely testing him) and had it that the other two people were not done with him yet. As he continued to stare out and attempt to locate the book, he heard some muffled speech in the background. It wasn't that he was wearing his headphones, he just was focusing on the task in front of him instead of the needless chatter to his side. He started to take a few steps forward, his boots clanging off of the ground with their first few steps. It wasn't until he heard a sweet, feminine voice behind him that he stopped in his tracks.

U-Um, wait a moment! Mikael stayed in his halted position for a second, then turned around a little too quickly, figuring out that she was talking to him. His hair, once again, flew around with him, making his vision a little blurry. However, the expression on his face remained the same, regardless if there was hair in the way: startled, confused, and cautious. Why one would call out to him was a complete mystery - most people that wanted him called him by 'Angel' which usually followed some form of contract or vulgar slur. Mikael had gotten used to both of those remarks by now, so he knew exactly what to say for each. This type of simple gesture was confusing for him, so he did exactly as she told him to: Mikael stayed there for a minute, and awaited further instructions.

I, uh, um He noticed that she, too, was stumbling over her words, but for a completely different reason that he would. She seemed to not understand what she was doing, and therefore she had difficulty speaking. Mikael had similar problems, but his was because he simply hadn't encountered this sort of thing, so he kept his mouth shut for as long as possible. That seemed, however, impossible, for she finally got her words together and hurled a question at him quite loudly.

Are you all right? You don’t look emotionally well. Mikael looked completely stunned at her question. He could barely make a coherent thought, let alone understand her question. While his face looked like he was in shock, Mikael's brain was slowly piecing things together. Alright, take a deep breath, let us figure this out. First, 'Are you all right?' What kind of speech is that? How do I answer that question? Nobody in the church has ever asked me that before, so how do I know what is the appropriate response? Maybe if I just answer yes, and leave... No, then I would be half lying... ACK Harmonia guide me.... His thoughts muddled around at the speed of a snail. And he prided himself in being one of the fastest men alive. Pathetic.

While she was probably waiting for an answer from his feeble mind, Mikael saw that the lad had disappeared. Not revealing that he noticed, he finally tried to give an answer. "Uh.. Y-ye- well, no I'm - you see..." He stumbled along, trying to find an answer that would be suitable for the miss. Mikael was nearing an answer when the lad reappeared right in front of his face, his bangs - just like Mikael's - always seemingly covering some part of his face. He then felt something shoved into his open arms, and he nearly tensed his muscles for a defensive maneuver when he noticed that it was the book that the boy had kicked away. He stared at it in wonder as he heard the lad's voice.

"First of all, I do not like you very much, Sir, but it's not personal. I do not like many people. Second, you are only getting this because I do not like wasting unwanted items when others may desire them. And thirdly, if you find any artwork I may have slotted in there as a bookmark and you do not give it back, I will locate you Sir. If it's a nude picture, Sir Uncle Gamion was probably trying to play an awfully planned practical joke. Again." Mikael couldn't really keep up with the kid's pacing of words, nor his speech patterns. They were so... abstract... it was hard to figure out what he was trying to convey. Something then tapped him on the head, and he tensed until he realized that the young kid had went onto his tiptoes and patted him on the head, like he was the younger of the two of them.

Lastly, take good care of the book, Sir, or I will personally cook you for my family." Mikael clearly understood that part, and instantly whipped his head up so that his eyes met the kids before he turned away. Mikael's eyes became hard, and slanted in the anger that ensued in his soul. He wasn't sure if it was because of his protectiveness of his niece, or that he couldn't understand the so called joke intended. All he knew was that if this young child ever touched his sister, his eye sockets would burn for infinity, and Discord would be joined by another soul. His body was extremely rigid, and he did not turn when he muttered quietly while the boy was picking up boxes, "If you even see my family, I will personally make sure you never see again." He turned his head as he spoke, staring at the kid with intense eyes, but then slowly relaxing when the possibility that he had missed a joke kicked in.

"I.. Thank you for the book, kind lad." Was all he could say without stuttering or stumbling any more, before he remembered that he had yet to answer the girl's question. He quickly turned to the miss and bowed slightly. "Apologies for unanswered question. I..." He could get the beginning out easily, for it was somewhat rehearsed since he constantly forgot to answer questions. "I - am unsure, but Harmonia will guide me in my struggles." He finally managed to let out of his lips, and stopped just as quickly as the last syllable was out. Any more talking, and he would probably start speaking in the Old Language, or worse, something that only existed in his mind. What a fool he would look like if he did, and that would tarnish his reputation. Not only that, but Julian would probably have him trained in the art of speech if he knew how horrendous his nephew's speech patterns were.

The setting changes from manus-luna to Finitor

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Character Portrait: Nicoletta Ardente Character Portrait: Elven Tacitra Character Portrait: Mikael Camael Samaet
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Nicoletta indeed paid attention to the Follower she’d addressed, but her eyes flittered to the side, as it was that Elven had silently walked past herself and the former, into the crowd of passersby. For the reason, she did not know. However, when it was that the dark-headed teenager vanished among the people, her periwinkle eyes turned right back to the man in front of her. He looked, well, completely perplexed by her inquiry about his emotional wellbeing. As if, he just didn’t know how it was he was suppose to respond. Perhaps he was not used to the notion of someone asking something personal like that, actually showing some level of concern beyond anything that pertained to the Following . . . ? It’s true that I don’t know anything about how people who are a part of the Following get by or what their lives are like outside of the typical assumptions, but. . . . Surely, they do express concern for one another? she thought, tilting her head to the side as the man seemed to struggle with how to answer her. This . . . was definitely not what she’d been expecting. Even if she didn’t completely understand how she got into this situation, or why she just had to go and do this. Honestly, she had expected the man to respond to her without hesitation or . . . well, something more than just look like he was completely caught in an alien situation.

“Uh.. Y-ye- well, no I'm - you see...” So, he tried to speak, but completely failed in doing so. The beginnings of his words came out in poorly pronounced stumbles and stutters. . . . In truth, that actually elicited a sort of tired smile from Nicoletta. To see a Follower blunder up his own words, well, it was strange, but sort of . . . well, it was kind of unexpected but a pleasant sort, it felt. It was simply something she couldn’t explain. Her brother would verbally kill her for even showing the slightest bit of concern for someone of the religion, for treating a Follower as a fellow human, if he found out, but she couldn’t help her it—when she saw a person as a person, that was it.

--

Momchil and Amalia watched, they had stopped their walking, to wait for Elven. Nicoletta had requested of them to escort the boy to a specific location, and they could not escort what was not there. The two stared at their sister, wordless and vacant, at times, they looked between one another before setting their crimson gazes upon the short girl and the tall stranger. “How long shall we await him, sister Amalia?” Momchil spoke, quietly.

“For as long as he takes, brother Momchil. Sister Nico requested that we lead him to the address written upon the box.” She replied, earning a mere nod in response.

--

In truth, Nicoletta was ready to put her hands up and to just tell the Follower to forget even replying to her—his stumblings and inability to form a coherent sentence was enough of a response for her. He was not all right. However, no sooner did that want arise within her did Elven return, popping between herself and him with next to no warning. The suddenness of it caused Nicoletta to yelp, and to jump back about a step or so. She looked at the teenager with her eyes wide, and simply stared at him, The Hell is he . . . ? he had shown nothing but distaste for him, as she had before finding her idiot self seeing the Follower as an individual before anything else. . . . She couldn’t see what was up, not with Elven standing right in front of the man.

“First of all, I do not like you very much, Sir, but it's not personal. I do not like many people. Second, you are only getting this because I do not like wasting unwanted items when others may desire them. And thirdly, if you find any artwork I may have slotted in there as a bookmark and you do not give it back, I will locate you Sir. If it's a nude picture, Sir Uncle Gamion was probably trying to play an awfully planned practical joke. Again.” he began to speak, and he spoke so that Nicoletta herself could barely follow him as he reach his points. She got the gist of his words, and simply found herself sighing a bit, as she realized that Elven had gone over the top with his words. If she couldn’t well keep up with his strange manner of speech, she didn’t doubt that the Follower who’d gotten so flabbergasted over a simple inquiry had some minor issues too. Evidently though, the book she’d had a hand in ruining had been returned to the Follower . . . strange when Elven had been so adamant about him not having it.

He’s an odd one . . . no doubts about that. she sighed, shaking her head. Simply staring as Elven, stood on his tiptoes, and patted the top of the Follower’s head as if he were a child, Nicoletta found herself a little weirded out by that. How could she not be? It was an odd sight indeed. Again, odd one. But, then, I guess it takes all kinds of people to make life go on. That was the only way she could rationalize that.

“Lastly, take good care of the book, Sir, or I will personally cook you for my family.” that last comment was what Elven left them with as he stepped away, and moved back to the box of broken and ruined bakery goods. She stared at him, simply blinking as she didn’t quite know how she was suppose to react to that. But, she noted a change in the air about the Follower, from confused to seemingly infuriated. Nicoletta winced in regards to this . . . he’d mistaken Elven for being serious, hadn’t he . . . ? One glance was enough to tell her he had, he’d tensed up entirely, and his features had taken on a look of anger.

“If you even see my family, I will personally make sure that you never see again.” he mumbled, looking at Elven as he picked up the box. Although . . . it didn’t take long for him to seemingly realize that the boy had been joking. Evidently, those of the Following didn’t seem to have any idea of how semi-normal socialization went. . . . “I.. Thank you for the book, kind lad.” A normally spoken sentence came from him, at last.

She simply kept her eyes on him at this, knowing that Elven would now be in the company of Momchil and Amalia . . . hopefully the two of them would listen to her and actually be acceptably polite to the dark-haired lad, even if he was not the most pleasant of fellows himself. Or, at the very least, she hoped that they wouldn’t say something too weird. . . . They could be rather odd at times, even by the standards they had set for themselves.

Alas though, whatever would happen with those two and Elven . . . it was out of her control now. All Nicoletta could do was hope for the best. When it was though, that the Follower had suddenly turned and bowed to her, the teenager simply looked at him with a questioning expression upon her young face. Why was he . . . ? “Apologies for unanswered question. I...” He stopped speaking, merely earning himself a stare from her.

Oh, right, I asked him about. . . . Right. And, as to why I did, I still don’t really know. she thought, nearly planting the palm of her hand to her face. The situation was weird, no doubt, she was doing something she never thought she would . . . but then, she was a weird girl.

“I - am unsure, but Harmonia will guide me in my struggles.” he finally answered her. His words were quick and concise, to the point, and he ceased speaking with that. But the answer, she knew how to react to that, she knew what that meant well enough. The answer seemed as if it were almost rehearsed, a response ingrained within him or something of the like. Though, that was probably to be expected, even if she didn’t know the life led by a Follower, she imagined it was probably stale and regimented.

‘Unsure, but Harmonia will guide me?’ . . . .well, that’s about as good a ‘no’ as I’ll probably get out of him. she thought with a sigh, and a shake of her skull. “So, that’s a no then. . . .” There came a sigh, and her shoulders relaxing a bit, honestly, she really didn’t know how to proceed forward with this. This really was uncharted territory for her, with someone not in the Following, she might know how to react, but to someone in it . . . she just didn’t. . . . Nicoletta, he is a person, if you didn’t see him as such then you wouldn’t be in this situation. . . .

“Y’know if something’s wrong with you, you can just say as much, right?” Nicoletta asked him giving him a rather blasé stare. Her eyes were half-lidded, and her voice rather dry, almost as monotone as the twins’. She was just letting her mouth go wherever it did from here on in. “You don’t have to say that you’ll be guided through whatever is getting to you by ‘Harmonia,’ If you’ve got a problem, speak up about it, and don’t let it fester. Or, that’s what you should do; I know that however you do live, or whatever, is more or less a complete blank to me, but really. . . .” With this she crossed her arms, and tilted her head to the side a bit as her stance became more of a casual one. This really was weird for her, but . . . it felt normal enough. “Really . . . you’re as much a person as everyone else, and people all have problems. If everyone kept theirs completely quiet or to themselves, or simply relied on the divine to solve it and guide them, then . . . well,” she shook her head, “Gah, what am I doing . . . ?”

Nicoletta found herself sighing again, “Look, I don’t entirely know where I was going with that, but my point is that I asked you something, and well, you more or less gave me an answer that, while vague, completely pointed to you bluntly saying ‘no.’ Given circumstances, y’can tell me that something is wrong. You have every reason to and every reason to not since we’re strangers. I don’t know you, so I can’t judge, but then you have no reason to trust me with your problems too.” She commented. "So, if you have something bothering you, I'll listen."

_

It was as Elven had returned to the box that both of the silver-haired twins began to walk again, slowly so that he might catch up to them. They intended to remain wordless for now. It was what Nicoletta had requested of them, after all. However, when it was that Elven had spoken, greeting something/one, both Momchil and Amalia ceased their walking, and turned to look back at him. Both humanoid children found their crimson gazes going to the something which had mewled. They stared at the black creature as Elven’s feet, expressions still rather vacant; yet there was a glint of curiosity within their eyes, if one were to look close enough. He went on, speaking to the creature. . . .

They didn’t understand why that was, it didn’t speak, nor could it understand completely what was being said to it. “Sister Amalia . . . that creatures, I do not remember what it is called.”

Without looking at her twin, Amalia gave a dry response. “Mother told me that such creatures are common as ‘pets’ among humans. They are of a certain family of animals known as ‘felines,’ this one in particular, it is known as a ‘cat.’”

“Cat. . . .” he parroted her last word, a hint of wonderment seeped into that one quiet bit. He didn’t understand it, why it was a human would attempt to converse with a creature who evidently did not understand what was being said to it, yet. . . . It fascinated him. The cat was so strange, its body covered in fur, the fact that there was a strange air to it, a calming sort that could not be explained. . . . As it was that Elven allowed the cat to climb onto himself, Momchil again spoke. “Why do humans allow these cat creatures upon them, Sister Amalia?”

“They are a form of companionship, used in the stead of other humans. Bonds form with them, and people come to value them so much as to treat them as this, brother Momchil.” The girl’s voice remained monotonous, as opposed to her brother’s.

“How very strange that is.” he murmured.

Elven approached them again, intending to follow, and the two remained in place, both simply looking at him and the cat upon his shoulders. There was a notable difference though, between the eyes of Momchil and Amalia. In the eyes of the former, there was a sense of puzzlement, and curiosity toward the black cat Kasper. And within Amalia’s, there was little more than usual, only a faint glint of knowingness. Understanding of what it was that drove people to treat an animal as such, if only the knowledge within her was factual.

And, it was from the throat of Momchil that a rather strange and unexpected question came, “. . . .Sir Elven, your cat . . . would you please tell me about it?”

The setting changes from finitor to Manus Luna

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Character Portrait: Nicoletta Ardente Character Portrait: Mikael Camael Samaet
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Mikael Samaet, the Angel.

Mikael wasn't expecting a response from the girl, merely an acceptance of his answer, and because of this he was caught off guard by her perception in his tone. So, that’s a no then. . . . He gave her one of those blank looks, one that is given when a person is somewhat dumbfounded by a situation. Mikael's mind went blank once more, his eyes widening a little at her. He wasn't ready for any form of response, so he hoped that she wasn't ready for one of his for a few minutes - he cursed himself mentally for the irony in the situation: the Angel was lightening quick in battle, with the ability to take out Gifted children of Discord and assess them all in a flash. On a normal level, he was dumber than a stump.

Y’know if something’s wrong with you, you can just say as much, right? Mikael opened his mouth, and promptly closed it just as quick. He knew that if he said anything now it would either be discombobulated English, or the Old Language. Neither of those sounded appropriate for conversation. He simply looked at the girl, who put on a tone that was similar to the Passive Gifted - Mikael knew a few that talked like that quite frequently, as if their emotions had simply left them for the greater cause of Harmonia. High price to pay, Mikael thought.

You don’t have to say that you’ll be guided through whatever is getting to you by ‘Harmonia,’ If you’ve got a problem, speak up about it, and don’t let it fester. Or, that’s what you should do; I know that however you do live, or whatever, is more or less a complete blank to me, but really. . . .” Once again, Mikael began to open his mouth, but shut it even quicker than last time. Her thought patterns were quite confusing as well, as if she was debating something, constantly reminding him that she had no clue who he was. He didn't really appreciate the tone she used in speaking the Mother's name in, but he would eventually let that pass, since he was guessing that many used that tone nowadays. What confused Mikael most about her was how straight forward she was. This lady was promptly telling him to spill all of his secrets, and for what real reason? That was the thing: there wasn't one. However, Mikael got the sense that she was somewhat right in the idea of this form of confession. Only, he wasn't so sure he wanted to tell a stranger of his problems.

Really . . . you’re as much a person as everyone else, and people all have problems. If everyone kept theirs completely quiet or to themselves, or simply relied on the divine to solve it and guide them, then . . . well,” He raised an eyebrow to her comment, his glassy eyes furrowed with confusion. Was she trying to tell him that he should not trust Harmonia's Benevolent Grace, and just rely on people? It nearly made him laugh at her ignorance, even if there was a grain of truth to it: Mikael knew first hand that while Harmonia was the one to trust, he still had to vent his problems on something physical too. Mikael scanned her during this moment, her crossed arms giving her the casual stance of another citizen. However, like the times before, she said something along the lines of Gah, what am I doing . . . ?. Mikael was quite confused as to why somebody who kept on talking had no idea why. Was there any real point to this meager conversation then, if there was no point?

Look, I don’t entirely know where I was going with that, but my point is that I asked you something, and well, you more or less gave me an answer that, while vague, completely pointed to you bluntly saying ‘no.’ Once again, her perception of mundane conversations was highly impressive. Was it something that he could train on? Was there a way that he could do something to make this event seem less awkward? Mikael would have to wait until this was finished to see. Given circumstances, y’can tell me that something is wrong. You have every reason to and every reason to not since we’re strangers. I don’t know you, so I can’t judge, but then you have no reason to trust me with your problems too. So, if you have something bothering you, I'll listen. Mikael once again opened his mouth, but this time looked a little more suspicious and shielded. Mikael certainly did not trust her to his own problems, but it was at this time that he finally could get a sentence together. There were no song references in it, which made Mikael somewhat proud of himself.

"So you are saying that I am able to explain my 'problems' and you can fix them, but my Mother Harmonia cannot?" He raised an eyebrow, in suspicion and confusion. "I-I am afraid I do not understand the point being made: while it is noted that my 'problems'" He used the same tone she had used earlier with Harmonia, "can be sorted out using human interaction, it does not explain your sudden curiosity in mine. For instance, I know nothing of you either, which compells me to beg the question: How can you be so certain that by voicing my own concerns that they shall be fixed?" After so many words, Mikael felt mentally drained of all energy. His body felt fine as always - benefit from working out for most of your life - yet his mind couldn't seem to be at the same standard. He gazed slowly around, his eyes prying themselves away from the short girl below him to see if a timepiece was visible. When he noticed that one was, he mentally cursed to himself: he didn't have long before his previous engagement began, and Abigail would be sad if he wasn't there for play time. Suddenly showing signs of his mental fatigue, his shoulders slumped as he put the book into his robe pocket. Didn't need the Church members seeing the newest edition to his growing collection. "I-I-I'm sorry miss if I came off to straight forward."

The setting changes from manus-luna to Finitor

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Character Portrait: Nicoletta Ardente Character Portrait: Elven Tacitra Character Portrait: Mikael Camael Samaet
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It wasn’t like she really expected him to just spill his guts about whatever was weighing upon him. No, she’d have been more naïve than she really was to think such a thing. What she had said was probably more than confusing to him; maybe even offensive considering she’d more or less shot down some aspect of what she supposed was a regimented part of his life. Nevertheless, she said what she had said, offensive, confusing or weird, the words were out there and that was that. That was what she believed though, even if Harmonia was suppose to be some ever-guiding, loving force that was reputed to lead her ‘children’ to salvation with her love and mercy . . . people needed people as much as they needed whatever else in the world.

"So you are saying that I am able to explain my 'problems' and you can fix them, but my Mother Harmonia cannot?" he responded to her . . . at least the tone of this voice this time wasn’t so full of hesitation and stutters. Even if it was laced with an edge of confusion. Hearing what she had said before, perhaps it was indeed a very confusing thing to have heard. Nicoletta did not know how it was this man lived, she didn’t know if he really interacted with the everyday citizens of Portum Animas on a real level, having actual conversations, or just casually speaking about things that did not regard the Following. She could guess if that were the case, then yes, her words would’ve been strange to hear. “I-I am afraid I do not understand the point being made: while it is noted that my 'problems' can be sorted out using human interaction, it does not explain your sudden curiosity in mine. For instance, I know nothing of you either, which compels me to beg the question: How can you be so certain that by voicing my own concerns that they shall be fixed?"

Well there was; the answer to her musings. He didn’t comprehend it, the fact that she was showing concern for whatever was plaguing him. To his question and to his words, Nicoletta simply gave him a shrug. She didn’t know if she could fix anything, nothing could certainly be fixed so simply . . . he didn’t seem to understand that. Of course, it’s also true that it’s more than a little weird for a complete stranger to say that they’ll listen to your problems out of the blue like I did. But, that’s just how I am. she thought, watching the Follower carefully. Though she was no expert, the man seemed . . . weary, in a manner of speaking. It was perhaps her interactions that were the culprit. Or maybe it’s lots of things just surmounting at once to show themselves without a single warning.

The teenager’s periwinkle eyes never left him, and she continued to silently observe him, even when it was he ceased speaking, to look around for Goddess knew what. Probably had some place to be, he had groceries after all, and it was apparent enough that he was heading back somewhere, to a place she did not know. She was keeping him from a prior engagement.

The weariness she sensed in him made itself physically evident as he slipped the half-ruined book she was responsible for into his robe and again he spoke, this time, his voice returned to one of uncertainty. “I-I-I'm sorry miss if I came off to straight forward."

To his apology, Nicoletta shook her head, and gestured with her hand to signal that it was of no consequence. She hadn’t expected anything less from him than what he’d said. “You have no reason to apologize, given what I said; you had every reason to be straightforward. I was myself.”

With this said, the blonde repositioned her hands onto her hips and bent forward a bit, a rather matter-of-fact expression taking hold of her features. “I never said I was sure that telling me your problems would remedy them, because it might not. But bottling them up doesn’t do much for your mental health either,” Nicoletta pointed up at the side of her head, “Harmonia might be there to guide your spirit, but having a physical being near you who’s listening right then is different than that. Both are a means to an end, but at the same time, they provide different forms of comfort and aid. Even if your spirit is soothed by Harmonia, your physical or subconscious self might not always be—as a human is a human, sometimes the aid of another human is needed to absolve something completely.” She returned to standing up straight, her arms again crossed over her diaphragm. “People are flawed, and confiding in another flawed being provides a different sort of solace than confiding in divinity.”

“And to explain my ‘curiosity’ into your problems, the problems of a stranger; it’s not curiosity, it’s ‘concern.’” Nicoletta’s voice came out somewhat snarky at that. “I’ll be honest with you here; I’m like many people in the city in that I cannot stand the Following. However . . .” she paused, and tilted her head to the side a bit. “. . . .however, as I said before, you’re as much a person as anyone else, and I’d be shallow and an ass to go and hold onto hatred for you because of something which defines a deal many people. Stranger or not, if I see a person in some form of distress, I will worry about them, you are no exception.”

“Now, before my little tirade, you looked as if you were getting antsy, I take I’m holding you up from something.” The girl simply continued to look at the man, “Given this, I’ll shut up now, and let you speak. And know that if you do feel like talking to me about whatever, I’m willing to walk with you for a while so that you can be on your way. Also, my name's Nicoletta, not 'Miss.'”

--

To his words, both of the twins gave a nod, though Amalia had looked to her brother, not understanding example what it was that so interested him about the creature known as a ‘cat.’ It was simply an animal to her, just a something. It could not understand human speech, it itself could not talk or do much of anything, and it relied upon people for everything. . . . Despite her lack of understanding regarding the curiosity her brother felt toward the feline, she kept herself quiet, her eyes upon Elven as she and Momchil began to walk again, alongside him. Momchil himself had his crimson eyes upon Elven, and Kasper the cat, a spark of interest indeed over his pallor features. He was . . . unsure of how to react to the cat, he knew nothing more than what it was Amalia had just told him about felines, how people kept them as pets, so he didn’t know. Perhaps hearing about an individual one, a unique one, would help him to better comprehend the appeal these creatures held to humans.

As Elven kept quiet for a few seconds, seeming to be thinking of what to say about the black cat, Momchil observed it, until the dark-haired boy began to speak. “This is Kasper. He's getting on in age, if I do say so myself, but Madam Aunt Amore says he could live for another ten years if we care for him. I do not think he despises me, but rather sees me as a trusted person who may feed him if he feels the need to eat.” Momchil looked upon Elven intently, focusing as he spoke of the cat.

The tone of voice he took did not at all affect how Momchil was taking in the information on Kasper . . . indeed, the cat as a unique being was a rather interesting thing. The notion of him ‘getting on in age’ was unfamiliar with both Momchil and Amalia, however, as they did not yet grasp the concept of aging and such. . . . Living and dying, of those, they had only experienced living. Death had not visited the two in any form yet. Amalia, though not understanding what was so captivating about the feline, paid heed to what it was Elven was saying. Any information was something worth knowing, after all. "I met him when he leaped onto my face some years ago. I was. . . ." as it was that Elven ceased speaking with a sigh, both Momchil and Amalia cast their gazes up to him. Hearing a sigh was not a good thing, though they did completely know why, they knew this factually. A rather innocent look was upon Momchil’s face though, as Amalia’s remained stoic. "I was mourning Si- Cousin Nympha and decided to open the window when Kasper jumped in. Perhaps he decided he liked me, though I am baffled as to why. I never spoke to him then, and barely looked at him. Maybe he just liked the fact that I gave him most of my food."

Amalia knew the definition of ‘mourning,’ but the concept of it escaped her. As such, she could not at all bring herself to feel the slightest bit of empathy toward Elven. Momchil himself did not understand, or even know of this word yet. All he was interested in at the moment was learning as much about the cat creature. When it was that Kasper mewled, Momchil’s eyes flew back to him, a true twist of childishness within that seemed unusual. "Now that I think about it, he has no good points to discuss, Mister and Miss. Kasper steals food from the table, scratches me in the middle of the night to wake me and looks down on most people."

There were no good points to discuss of him? This caused Momchil to blink, questioningly and to look back at Elven uncertainly. . . . .nothing good? If there was nothing worthwhile about Kasper the cat, then why did he . . . ? It made no sense to Momchil, and to Amalia, it just seemed absurd. But then, that was how the human mind seemed to function—if it was completely ludicrous, and even if the logic was not sound, people still acted anyway. It was something she didn’t understand, and it was something she wasn’t sure that she wanted to. When it was that Kasper eyed him and her, Amalia simply looked back at the cat, and tilted her head to the side ever so slightly. It was odd to her, that cat . . . though it was an animal, and not human, for that instance, it seemed to have displayed a semblance of humanity to it. Confidence, was it? Momchil’s mouth was slightly open, as he did as his sister, and tilted his head to the side in curiosity.
"You can pet him if you want." At hearing that said, gave a slight audible reaction of surprise, glancing back to the teenager, before looking back to the cat. He was going to be allowed to pet the cat . . . ? It would really be all right? "Do you not have any pets in your household, Mister Momchil and Miss Amalia?" Elven asked, before he spoke again, "Where exactly are we headed to, Mister Momchil and Miss Amalia?"

To this Amalia answered looking to Elven with a rather vacant expression upon her face. “Our destination is not the location written upon the box, Sir Elven. Despite what it was Sister Nico had asked of us, I believe that it would be best to let our Mother handle the situation of the ruined goods . . . we are headed toward our home.” She looked away from him, before tacking on one last bit. “And as you had asked, we do not have any sort of ‘pet’ within our home.”

Momchil did not respond to this, nor did he chime in, only, he was still looking at the cat, not entirely sure of what to do. He had been given permission to pet the creature, yet. . . . This was not something he was used to—feeling the urge to do something such as this. It was pointless to want to touch the feline, but a sense of wonderment was urging him on to do it. Even if it was pointless, he wanted to do it? Strange. . . . So, as it was they walked, Momchil’s eyes remained glued onto Kasper as if he were the most fascinating thing in existence.

“Sir Elven,” Momchil spoke up, “Before you had said that Mister Kasper here had no worthwhile qualities to speak of . . . yet, if that were true, then why would it be that you keep him around? Why is it that you have taken him on as a companion, and kept him as such?” With this said though, Momchil observed the cat again, before it was that he made the choice in acting. . . . And with this the humanoid boy slowly, and uncertainly reach his sleeve covered hand out, and set it on the feline’s back, and gently began to pet him. “I do not understand this form of companionship, the sort between humans and animals . . . but Mister Kasper seems an interesting sort, as one well worth the strangeness.”

Hearing his words, Amalia looked to her brother stoically, she didn’t understand his fascination, nor his want to touch the feline at all. . . .

The setting changes from finitor to Manus Luna

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Character Portrait: Nicoletta Ardente Character Portrait: Mikael Camael Samaet
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Mikael Samaet, the Angel.

Her shrugs solidified his thoughts perfectly - neither one of them really had a clue what they were doing. Mikael had feared this, for he had heard that two people with no real conversational objective tended to stand around in an awkward circle, trying to come up with something interesting to say to the other person. When the miss shook her head at his final statement, he was somewhat confused again, albeit a little more relieved. If she had nodded her head, that would mean he was coming off to straight forward, to which he would be apologizing for some time afterwards.



She waved her hand, dismissing his previous thought. You have no reason to apologize, given what I said; you had every reason to be straightforward. I was myself.” Mikael relaxed some, relieved that she was not offended by his manner of speech. The lady then continued on with something. “I never said I was sure that telling me your problems would remedy them, because it might not. But bottling them up doesn’t do much for your mental health either,” Mikael raised an eyebrow, his eyes clouding in confusion. Mental health? He had never really heard of this kind of health in real life. Sure, he knew of physical health, and the spiritual health with the Goddess, but it never occured to him that the brain had its own health system as well. Mikael made a note to ask later, since before he could she continued, pointing to her head.

Harmonia might be there to guide your spirit, but having a physical being near you who’s listening right then is different than that. Both are a means to an end, but at the same time, they provide different forms of comfort and aid. Even if your spirit is soothed by Harmonia, your physical or subconscious self might not always be—as a human is a human, sometimes the aid of another human is needed to absolve something completely. Mikael felt like something was tugging at his inner being as she spoke. As if the complete nonsensical speech she had just spoken to him... actually made sense. Was human contact something he was lacking? Could it really effect his physical and so called subconscious self? He pondered this for a second as the lady readjusted her stance, now crossing her arms at her chest. Mikael nearly missed her next statement, had he continued with his deep thoughts. People are flawed, and confiding in another flawed being provides a different sort of solace than confiding in divinity.”

Though her last statement sounded a little more heretical then he would have liked, it also made somewhat sense as well. Humans were flawed beyond belief, but he had always found confidence, strength and peace within confiding with Harmonia. Perhaps the reason these people could converse with each other so easily was because they all knew they were flawed. As the saying went, "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't." Or however that statement went.

“And to explain my ‘curiosity’ into your problems, the problems of a stranger; it’s not curiosity, it’s ‘concern. Mikael cocked his head to the side, but said and revealed nothing of how he was feeling. He was pretty sure that the root to her curiosity was just that, not concern, but he let her continue. I’ll be honest with you here; I’m like many people in the city in that I cannot stand the Following. However . . . Mikael gave her a furrowed brow of confusion and skepticism. He knew that the public relations of the church with its people wasn't always the greatest, but he had no idea that many people had disdain for the church. Was it because they could not accept the truth of the Word? Or was it for some other reason, the one that he had been fishing for? He gave it some thought, while barely listening.

“. . . .however, as I said before, you’re as much a person as anyone else, and I’d be shallow and an ass to go and hold onto hatred for you because of something which defines a deal many people. Stranger or not, if I see a person in some form of distress, I will worry about them, you are no exception.” Mikael could not understand a word she was saying, if he was to be honest. The miss was going about an ass - wasn't that an animal? - and about how shallow her hatred could be about something defining. It really made no sense to Mikael, and somewhat went straight over his head. Besides, hatred was shallow in general.

Now, before my little tirade, you looked as if you were getting antsy, I take I’m holding you up from something.” Again he was amazed at her perception - he was becoming agitated with the situation, and wished to be back soon. “Given this, I’ll shut up now, and let you speak. And know that if you do feel like talking to me about whatever, I’m willing to walk with you for a while so that you can be on your way. Also, my name's Nicoletta, not 'Miss Mikael winced a little at her crude way of saying that she would 'silence herself'. Could people not just be a little less profane? He gave a sigh, and then realized that she had stated two things to him that were quite important.

The first was that she had said that she would let Mikael speak. This made him highly nervous, because it was basically an invitation for him to say something, and it was rude to deny an invitation.
The second was that she had given him her name: Nicoletta. Pretty name, if he had to admit.

After a few moments of silence, he finally formulated a sentence. "There may be some truth to your statements, miss Nicoletta." Her name rolled off his tongue nicely, which was a change. That was all he stated on that topic, however, and moved onto the other. "Your inquisitions about my activities is quite impressive, as I do have a later engagement." It came time for another pause, for him to think about her last point - that she would walk with him. He was unsure if he wanted a lady walking with him, for it may give people the wrong idea about him. However, once it came down to it, perhaps he should try this 'socializing' idea and accept.

"I agree to your idea, Nicoletta." He took another breath, thoughtfully thinking on how he should word this next sentence. "I-I am headed back to the Church to deliver groceries and engage in an appointment with another." He left it this vague for a simple reason: Mikael didn't want people knowing he had a weak spot, somebody to exploit. Sure, the church could technically be his weak point already, but as this miss had already explained, Mikael was pulled down by a physical person as well. Who just so happened to be Abby.

Mikael grabbed the groceries once again, with a few people glancing at him as he did. He could easily assume that they had recognized him, which reminded him that he had yet to perform the simple act of returning his own name when she had given hers. He blushed and turned slowly back to he with his hair constantly moving in an unruly fashion.

"I am Mikael Camael Samaet. I am better known as Angel." Mikael bowed to he slightly, as was customary for a member of the church when they gave their name. (It was also customary to give their entire name, not just first names. Not sure why...)