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Willow Elaine Stryder

The quiet Emerald

0 · 705 views · located in Aires

a character in “Birthstone Spirits: The Revival”, as played by ShadowHawk

Description

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°˖✧| Blunt l Witty | Friendly | Flirty | Quiet | Loyal | Quick to Anger | Depressed | Anti-social | Mysterious |✧˖°


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Age: 18
Gender: Female
Height: 5'3"
Hair: Red
Eyes: Light blue
Birthday: May 22nd

Willow is 5'3" with long red hair and blue eyes, her face is very angular and small and her ears seem a little big on her but she doesn't mind. Willow keeps her clothes comfortable yet cute, she wears a lot of skinny jeans and leather jackets when she is out on the town, though being born in Alaska she has some authentic fur hunting gear.

She's currently in New York to study Veterinary Medicine at Cornell University, and though it is hard she very much enjoys her schooling.
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Willow is a character that is for sure, she is blunt in all thing as she sees no point in stepping around the obvious. She is also very witty always having some rhetoric to what others say, even if it's only to herself. Willow is also very kind and loyal though her Demeanor may throw people off she is actually extremely empathetic she just isn't great with others. She tends to flirt without thinking with everyone she meets even without an attraction, it is just who she is.

Willow tends to keep to herself and is very private, she is this way because she is actually prone to major depressive episodes and doesn't want to hurt those she loves, because of this she is quick to anger as she gets frustrated with herself and wants to push others away though if you can stick through her self destructive behavior she will be the greatest friend you have ever had.


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From a young age, Willow was taught to be independent and private and to respect all life no matter how small. Willow is very naturalistic and spiritual in her ways, she has even studied and practiced Wiccan ways since she was about 10 years old, though she doesn't talk about it much she is interested in a lot of old religions and origin stories.



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Likes:
Animals
Books
Learning
Independence
Making people happy
Soft things
Chokers


Dislikes:
When people pry
Hurting others
Being seen as a freak
Opening up to others
Crying in front of people



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The emerald is the sacred stone of the goddess Venus. It was thought to preserve love. The emerald has long been the symbol of hope. It is considered by many to be the stone of prophecy. For some the emerald acts as a tranquilizer for a troubled mind. Willow had read that meaning a million times and firmly believed it, she felt at ease whenever she touched the emerald in her choker and was surrounded by wilderness.

For Willow the stone she possess should grant her the ability to control plants, earth, and stone as well as commune with the earth and animals around, at a price that is, while Willow is using her powers it is like a shift between two completely different people. When her powers are activated Willow blacks out and is taken over by the spirits of the earth, not only does she become stronger but she also becomes more confident and primal like a beast wrapped in a costume of a pretty little girl, causing her to be more focused and attuned to her senses but easily angered by small things. Or at least that's how it should be, though she hasn't 'Blacked out' since the day she wandered upon the stone when she was very young.



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Items;
Choker
Jeans and a t-shirt
Hair ties
Knife
Backpack
Survival kit
First aid kit
Wallet
Phone
Sage
Lighter






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So begins...

Willow Elaine Stryder's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yasmin De La Rosa Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Dorian Steinsson Character Portrait: Pene Michaels Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Angela Taylor
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Willow had awoken this afternoon to a slight burning on her neck as the emerald choker she wore grew hotter she sat up quickly and looked around. After a few seconds the burning stopped, Willow looked in the mirror her blue eyes slowly adjusting to her dark apartment as she found her clock it was pretty late in the day and she had a paper to work on. With a low sigh she stood up and grabbed her brush running it through her mated red hair quickly before throwing on a black t-shirt and a pair of black leggings.

She left her apartment and had made it halfway down the hall before she remembered to grab her backpack 'Ah! why can't i ever remember my stuff?' she asked herself internally as she face-palmed quickly before shouldering the large galaxy colored backpack. Now finally at her door she looked out at central park 'Might as well take a walk since i already slept away the day, stupid all nighters... .' she thought before running across the street quickly a tinge of pain coming from hr throat as the choker grew hot once again igniting a fear in her as she remembered the last time that had happened and how she woke up in the middle of the woods next to a half eaten rabbit, Willow shuddered as she shook the thoughts from her mind and looked out at the park the scent of grass filling her nose. Willow felt immediately at ease surrounded by grass and trees and let out a content sigh closing her eyes to listen, only to hear a loud commotion, her head wiped to the east and suddenly her choker was a sun on her neck. Blackness, all around her was darkness, Willow felt like she was floating in her own mind and she was " Shit! Not again..." she said to herself her voice clearly afraid of the darkness.

Willow's body had frozen for a moment as her eyes shifted to an emerald green and her lips parted in a confident smile as the earth took her over one bit at a time. This was not Willow in the earthly sense as she had been, for the second time, awakened to her powers allowing the great earth spirits to take over and use her body as she lie dormant in her mind though the spirits could hear her they didn't much care for the girls wishes. Earth Willow broke into an inhumanly fast sprint her black sneakers barely touching the well kept grass as she went "Yes, freedom at last!" she said loudly to herself. It had been less than a minute when she reached the commotion that was a battle with a cyclonean. Earth Willow smirked at the death of the vulgar creature and noticed the trees were shaking as the world around her suddenly became silent and the pillar of light that led back to the spirits home world opened, she saw a couple humans go forth into the pillar and felt as though she was forgetting something before she shook her head " I'm going home." she said with a cocky grin and ran full speed into the pillar ignoring the others as she plunged into the pillar like a child into a warm bath. Light, all around her was light.

Willow had awoken from the darkness to be surrounded by light, her hands felt grass below her and she took in the scents around her suddenly she heard voices and sat up with a start.

“Mary, get th’ boss. It looks like ther’re a lot of em!”

“Now look here girl. I don’t know what you and yer friends were stealing from this farm but yer gonna have to answer to the big guy now.”

The big guy? Friends??

“I don’t know what you’re talking about
”

“Don’t play dumb, girl!” his voice rose dramatically.

“I’m not playing anything.” She replied sternly.

“What’s going on out here?” a voice from the distance implored.

“We’ve got thieves!” The older man howled.

“Oh right, I was expecting guests.”


“Dinner’s almost ready and I’m sure you all have a lot of questions. Let’s get you cleaned up and settled and we can chat maybe?”

Willow stared at the man in complete confusion as she stood up looking at the field around her as a panic built in her slightly her eyes rested on the very large house that must have been the well dressed mans. She walked closer to a blonde girl who had been the source of one of the voices earlier than she looked to the man with a calm face and asked with a slight sharpness, 'Where in the hell are we? And how did we get here?" she added a slight flirty smile at the end without actually noticing she had done so. Her choker had gone cold now and she felt as if she had forgotten something important as the spirit inside became as unaware as she was to her powers and the world she had now entered leaving only a faint remembrance of what it had to do, protect.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yasmin De La Rosa Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Dorian Steinsson Character Portrait: Pene Michaels Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Angela Taylor
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Dorian fought the urge to sink down to his knees in the grass- and it had to be grass although it was so lush and vibrant- and simply breathe for a moment. He’d probably been awake for nearing twenty-two hours at this point, and he’d just fought what was most likely the most interesting battle of his life thus far. All he wanted to do was have a seat, maybe drink a bit of water, and then figure out what in Her Fury was going on.

He refrained, however. It was a matter of dignity as a soldier not to show weakness in front of strangers, especially when representing Hales. Also the strange others had begun converging on the area where he stood, whooping and chattering loudly in a bizarre mix of Common and some things entirely foreign to him or pocketing shards of the shattered Cyclopean like so many curious little baubles, which, alright, sort of weird.

He’d heard of people collecting the supposed relics of Month Warriors* to display, but never of Cyclopeans. Okay, yes, he’d taken up the shards first, but he had fought the thing and had to take a victor’s prize, and it seemed relevant to get something like this back home where people might like to know that a creature that shattered into onyx shards was stalking the tundra. He’d never expected to be a trendsetter, and these strangers seemed like they were more inclined towards such morbid things as collectables, even after said creature had attempted to slaughter a few of them.

*He’d seen one such relic at a little church his grandmother had taken him to. The main draw had been the favorite left shoe of June for pilgrims, placed on a dais for pilgrims to worship. Dorian had never quite understood why it had been June’s favorite left shoe rather than shoe overall, but he’d been too afraid to ask given that his grandmother was in one of her “religious fervors”.

He frowned a little or, to be more precise, his permanent scowl lost even more of its pleasantness as he wandered away from these flippant strangers, already more concerned about his wound than their magpie-like tendencies. His arm had begun to ache as the adrenaline wore off, even if the jagged wound was now only bleeding sluggishly. It was at least a clean cut, Dorian realized as he tore at the hole in his jacket, then shirt sleeve, exposing the wound to his sight. No dirt, not deep enough to really butcher the muscles, no obvious signs of poison or immediate infection because who knew where those claws had been? He would live, Dorian decided as he pulled out a scarf from his pack* and began to dress the wound. Probably.

*Most Hales soldiers carry around scarves in order to wrap them around their faces in the event of a snow storm or to ward off frost-bite. Dorian’s was oddly patterned, lop-sided and just plain ugly, the victim of one of his mother’s first attempts to knit something. He knew he’d have to work very hard to put on a sad face when he explained to his mother why he’d had to throw it away.

If Dorian hadn’t been quite so tired or quite so wounded, perhaps he would have taken a moment instead to try to adjust to his new surroundings. Maybe he would have spotted the cars still trundling by in late afternoon traffic. Maybe he would have admired the skyscrapers dominating the skyline a little more, beacons of man’s ingenuity. However, he did not, and, really, it was just as well because he wasn’t exactly going to get a chance to go sight-seeing.

He felt the rumble before he saw it, the tremor not violent but still enough to set his nerves on edge. The trees were swaying, the wind picking up into a violent fervor as it whipped around him with sharp gusts and gales, and the ground beneath his feet began churning wildly before light was suddenly arcing over the horizon, racing to engulf them all. Dorian dropped into a sturdy, defensive stance, the only thing he had a chance to do before the light had swallowed him up.

His only thought, drifting or perhaps flying or maybe even staying completely still in the void was something akin to “here we go again”. Did these things happen to other people because Dorian was starting to think that it was just him. At least this sudden bizarre trip through space didn’t include a Cyclopean appearing in flashes around him like a demented firefly or like what he imagined a firefly to be. There was none of the panic of last time, none of the fear and anger. Just frustration linked with exhaustion and a certain surrender as his entirety began to shift with the environment around him. He wasn’t used to it, but at least he had a better idea of what to expect than last time.

He waited patiently as the world began to grow clear again, something solid appearing under his feet. It was already an improvement from bursting out of the ground like a hare wriggling out of its burrow. What he’d mistaken for the sea of stars lay underfoot, now revealed as a solid path of the Heavens, glittering as if a beacon over a murky lake, urging him to follow it to the warm, dull light ahead. It wasn’t very frightening, Dorian thought, if only because he had only the swirling dark vortex behind him and the rough waters below to compare it to. Honestly, it seemed downright inviting.

It took a moment for Dorian to realize that he wasn’t alone in this strange abyss. He could see those who had made their appearances during the fight and some he’d not managed to catch sight of in the midst of everything around him on the path. Many clutched little rectangles that lit their faces with an eerie, unnatural glow. The most normally dressed blonde seemed confident enough to approach the light by herself, not defiant or curious but resigned to their only option. One of the girls began to cry before his sword-profferer moved to her side with soothing words. Or at least probably soothing words. She was speaking quietly and waving about one of those rectangles, and Dorian strained to understand as he tried to knock some of the mental dust off of his knowledge of Common.

He began to move too, closer to the back as he took in his surroundings. One of the girls- the girl with the cats and curlier hair than he’d ever seen- had gravitated to his side, close but not quite too close.

"I just really need someone to relate to right now so.. I am really really scared.."

It took him a moment to understand her, especially as she was murmuring, but he caught the gist of it. While Dorian had never been particularly good as comforting people, something that he’d come to accept long ago as a fact of life, but he could relate. He leafed through his mental dictionary of Common, trying to come up with a coherent sentence.

“No fear.” He tried. Ineloquent, but he was sure it made some sort of point, even if it wasn’t what he wanted to say.

But the water was rising now, becoming more and more violent as it sought to overtake the path of stars. The people were moving slowly or not moving at all. Maybe there was a reason to fear after all?

“I really think we should go.”

It was the blonde woman again, already so near to the light as she glanced back at those still lingering, worried for them perhaps or just sensing the awe still instilled in everyone and not being completely terrible.

Dorian cottoned on rather quickly. The waves were more violent now, and some people had yet to really get moving. He, not being a complete bastard (regardless of what those who fought him said) turned to the few still around him at the back, particularly the cat girl still by his side and the woman most concerned with her rectangle who was wearing far fewer clothes than Dorian could quite fathom, battling his words, rusty with misuse.

“Us go.”

No, that wasn’t right.

“We go now.”

Almost, but not quite.

“No fear, yes?”

Fine. Good enough. He’d worry about modifiers and grammar and sentence structure later when there wasn’t a threat hovering over his head. The language was blossoming again on his tongue, weighted down with the Koran accent in the Hales region* and the flipping through the mental pages of his Common dictionary. It was coming easier, at least.

*The Hales accent is something that sounds like an odd mix between Russian and Swiss. The closer to Kora you’re from, the more Russian the accent, giving city-folks a harsher appearance vocally than those who dwell in villages.
And he was moving now, jogging than running as the waves began to wet the path before he too threw himself into the light.

Dorian awoke on his back, sunlight nearly blinding him. The world had changed again, and now he was surrounded by a field of what he thought was wheat, golden crops reaching skyward and completely masking the rest of his view. He struggled to his feet wearily, wondering where on Aires he could be now. Not Hales, clearly. Apparently that would be too convenient.

A cry of pain, or at least shock, cut through the air, and he stood a little quicker as argument quickly followed. He could pick out some of the others now, gazing above the grain. It was the blonde woman again, facing down a farmer of some sort, howling about thieves and arguing with her. Dorian, for lack of any other option, trudged from his landing-spot cradling his injured arm, moving forward just as a red-haired man entered the fray.

He was dressed plainly, but the cigar dangling from his lips spoke of something more wealthy than the old man grumbling before him. The entire image was made even more aristocratic by the proffered ashtray, held up by a woman with a scarred, smirking face.

“Dinner’s almost ready and I’m sure you all have a lot of questions. Let’s get you cleaned up and settled and we can chat maybe?”

Those were the first words Dorian really caught, and they were automatically the only words that mattered. He hadn’t eaten in a while, and while his stomach did not let out a well-timed growl, he began to feel the ache. Besides, the offer of getting cleaned up and maybe some sort of answers was not to be passed up.

One girl didn’t seem keen to wait, already demanding answers with an odd smile. Dorian bit back a sigh before stepping a little closer, gesturing to his arm. He didn’t like being needy, but, well, he did need.

“And bandage too, please?” Ah, that sounded about right. It was still a bit stiff, but the language was coming back to him a bit.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yasmin De La Rosa Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Dorian Steinsson Character Portrait: Pene Michaels Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Angela Taylor
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The woman with the scar retreated into the house with the man’s half-smoked cigar crumpled at the bottom of a delicate porcelain dish. She handled the saucer with a rough familiarity. The man shifted on his weight, wincing a bit at the small flirty smile that punctuated the red head girl’s coarse disregard of his suggestion to ask questions later. He placed his hands behind his back and stood straight, a pose reminiscent of a high military official with far too much influence.

“My name is Haru, this is my farm,” he began. His voice was crisp and clear, every sentence he spoke held an air of old authority and legitimacy, something that didn’t match his youthful appearance. He spoke like an old king but looked like a fun-loving prince. “You’re in a very faraway place from where this chaos began. But I truly believe that these questions are best answered sitting down.”

The young man perked up to an interruption from an unfamiliar voice with a very familiar accent.

“And bandage too, please?”

Haru tilted his chip up and appraised the warrior through hooded eyes. “Yes,” he said calmly. “I’m sure some of you need bandaging too.” He turned to the men in the field, who had since set their tools in the high grass. “Scout out the injured and take them to the back to have their wounds cleaned and tended to.” They immediately obeyed, scanning the group for open wounds so that they could help hoist them up and escort them to the infirmary for a quick patch.

“For the rest of you, please, come in. We have plenty of bed space.” Haru stepped to the side, clearing a path for the ragtag group. The woman with the scar came out of the house and back onto the porch. She nodded approvingly at the group, encouraging them to step forward.

Tallyho, being so close to the front of the group, felt obliged to step forward first. She looked around, paranoid that if she moved too slowly two men would grab her arms and hoist her up the stairs. She moved carefully, making it to the porch without any further “assistance.”

She wasn’t drawn to the porch in the same way that she was drawn to the light. Back in that space, she unquestionably trusted that what she was about to do was the right thing. This time, such certainty was foreign to her. She didn’t go into the house because it felt like a safe haven, but rather because there was nothing left for her to do. She scanned the area for other forms of civilization: There were miles of wheat fields, a few scattered wooden houses (most likely reserved for the farm hands) a mountain range to the north, and a wide expanse of sky. If she declined this offer not only would she be at a loss for free food, but she might even be left to die with a group of people whose sense of self-preservation told them to do everything to a cyclopean but the one thing that would kill it.

The woman held the door open for Tallyho and all who happened to follow. She shimmied toward the front of the group and cleared her throat for their attention.

“We have three guest rooms in this house with 4 beds in each. You may take whichever room you like,” she turned to hike the stairs and lead them to their rooms. As Tallyho followed, she mulled over the math in her head and how many people had landed in the field. A bed for everyone? This farm seemed very prepared to receive them and it was a little off-putting.

The woman led them down a narrow hallway and gestured toward the three doors. “Choose any room you like, I will be bringing you fresh clothes. You might want to visit one of the bath houses nearby before dinner. They are separated by gender. To find them go downstairs and toward the back of the house. There will be two sheds—left for ladies, right for men.”

Without much of a goodbye the woman turned to leave.

Without thinking, Tallyho retreated into the room at the very end of the hall. The room was quite simple: Wooden floors and walls with a pair of parallel narrow beds on each side of the room. The blonde claimed one of the beds near the window and dug her knees into the mattress, which was packed with sheep’s wool. She’d never really had a bed that wasn’t a cluster of blankets on the floor of a tent or in the back of a wagon. She rubbed the fabric of the sheets between her fingers then glanced out of the window at the expanse of wheat.

Tallyho wasn’t sure what was going on, but she needed to make sure that she didn’t die tonight, especially after surviving the cyclopean. Being killed by anything less than that monstrosity would be a shame. It didn’t take long for the woman to come back into her room with a bundle of folded clothes. She slapped them down onto each bed haphazardly, only pausing to differentiate men’s trousers from women’s dresses, depending on who occupied the other beds. Tallyho gathered the dress into her arms. It was no more special than the dress she already wore: light and airy, perfect for the heat of a Solace summer. She could move around in it, which was a plus if Tallyho had to make any mad dashes.

Still without shoes, she gathered the new dress to her bosom and headed straight for the bath house.

She took a deep breath as she entered the shed. The air was thick and moist and hard to breathe through. She was greeted by an older woman, who sat next of a large cauldron of boiling water and another filled with chunks of ice in water. Upon seeing the blonde enter, she reached for a wooden bucket and dunked it into the boiling water before hobbling over to one of 4 separated stalls. She dumped the water into the small wooden tub and repeated the process (mixing the boiling water with the ice water) until the tub was filled up at an acceptable temperature. As she did so, she made small talk:

“Ye lot are very lucky to have this man taking care of ye,” she hummed in her thick common. “I was near m’sixties when m’son died. The only person taking care of me.”

The woman dumped another bucket.

“I came ‘ere and he let me in, gave me food and shelter
 Something to do with m’time!” She looked at her bucket and laughed, her lungs sounded like they were full of cobwebs.

“When ye don’t have nowhere to go ye come ‘ere
 He don’t care where ye been and where ye going. As long as you pull yer weight and don’t cause no trouble ye have a home here till you get back on yer feet.”


Tallyho replayed this woman’s statements as she sat in her bath stable. She curled into herself with her legs pulled up to her chest. Her knees looked like small crescent moons above the water. Why was she here, in this space for people with nowhere to go? She drafted questions in her head, planning to bring them to the attention of her host over what would hopefully be a very heavy dinner.

She finished her bath and draped herself in her new cotton dress. Later, she sat on a bench nearby a pump well next to the bath houses. She sat alone, attempting to smooth out wrinkles in a dress that was a little large and certainly wasn’t tailored for her figure. Her damp blonde hair curled and clung to her doe-like face.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Pene Michaels Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Haru Sinwood Character Portrait: Willow Elaine Stryder
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It was like a movie plot.

Prodding at the blonde girl was an old man. Xabier could sense his impatience even in the distance.
With great effort, he propped himself up on the grass with his shoulders.

This was not New York City.

Some red headed man with a cigar strolled over towards them saying something about guests...and...dinner..?
Xabier's English wasn't perfect but he could swear that the man was offering the group food.. He seemed friendly, but in a way that was too good to be true.

He looked around him, one by one he recognised several people from his drugged dreams. It was all really weird. They were all around the same age and were decently attractive. It was as if they were getting ready for some GAP ad. That, or they had all been drugged and were being trafficked as sex slaves. Or as test experiments.
He had watched plenty of crime tv shows where conventionally attractive youths were coerced and drugged and kidnapped until being murdered.
Xabier didn't really want to be a sex slave or a test experiment so he prayed that they were chosen as "models."

The blonde girl was dressed similar-ish to these farmers. She had been the one that had loudly insisted that they follow her to this place.... She's a honeypot, he suddenly realised. A cutie to get them to trust this ginger guy. It was the only logical explanation.... Okay, he considered it again, not really logical, but still...

Some random ginger lady who had been lying in the field with them was already all up in the friendly man's space. Pouring on the charm. Either she was very stupid or incredibly intelligent, only time would tell.

He laughed when the man, now known as Haru, just ignored her advances. Xabier shrugged at her. Good try, chica.

The woman with the scar on her face mentioned that there were 3 bedrooms with 4 beds each and separate bathhouses for men and women.
It all seemed a bit too planned for his comfort, but his head was pounding and he could smell himself so strongly. It wasn't exactly pleasant. It would be nice to wash up...

That's it. He decided to go get washed immediately. It was on a complete whim. The bathhouse on the right, right? He walked inside and it appeared completely empty.
With a bit of effort he filled up the bath with warm water.

He pulled off his hoodie and then his shirt. They were covered in dirt and sweat stains.

Piece by piece he stripped off his clothing and the feeling was cathartic. The water steamed up and he could feel the hangover fade slightly.

Xabier used the rag near the bath to scrub his skin raw. The skin on the sides of his arms becoming poppy red under his hands. The crappy mobile phone he had brought with him was by the side, its screen still frozen on her name.

Once he was done he was going to change back into his clothes and maybe make a run for it, but he must've splashed some water while washing because they were now sopping wet.

Sighing, Xabier now knew that he was far too stupid to escape. He might as well go into one of the bedrooms.



Wrapping the towel around his waist, he strolled out of the men's bathhouse completely brazen in his near full nudity. Wet clothes in one hand, mobile phone in the other.

He spotted the blonde (probable honeypot) girl, and nodded his head in acknowledgement as he strolled past.

"Hola."


Walking up the stairs and down the hallway he could hear droplets of water falling from his hair onto the floorboards behind him.
Removing the towel from his waist he used it to wipe up the mess and then dry his hair as he walked naked. Nobody seemed to be watching him, but at this stage he hardly cared.

Veneering into the nearest guest bedroom, his eyes were still trained on the ceiling.
He couldn't see any cameras or obvious signs of being recorded but he couldn't be sure. His paranoia had spiked considerably. Ever since he walked into the building he had made a conscious decision to map out routes of escape.

The room appeared to be empty on first glance so he closed the door behind him, whipped the towel over his shoulder and pulled on the (hopefully clean) male underwear left laying on a free bed.

The towel felt soft as he used it to dry his wet hair. There was something weird going on here. Any second now he might be dragged out of the building and harmed. He had to find some clothes and get out quick.

He turned his head to see a young lady sitting on one of the other beds.

Well, shit.

"Sorry about that." He was smiling now, a bit micheviously. "I should have checked the room first."

Slowly, Xabier pulled his newly acquired trousers up and then buttoned up the shirt. He was perfectly fine with nudity, but chicks were usually pretty weird about it. The girl in question was all curled up, her hands fiddling with her lovely albeit messy hair. Probably thinking that he was some sort of creep.

He walked over and held out his hand for her to shake.

"Xabier Sanchez."
He didn't know if he could trust her yet, so he was going to have to pour on the charm.
"What's your name? I feel like I've met you before." It wasn't a lie. She looked like she had been in Central Park.

He smiled.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Dorian Steinsson Character Portrait: Pene Michaels Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Angela Taylor Character Portrait: Kris Li
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Kris watched as the others entered the pillar of light, one by one disappearing as they tell forwards into the shining column. He looked beneath him at the path of pure starlight backlit by a rush of crashing waves and then behind him where the stars seemed to stretch for eternity. There was no way back...only forward. Determined, he dive headfirst into the light. It felt like he was falling forever spinning and turning endlessly, but he was not afraid and the sick feeling that normally possesses you when you fall never came. But his landing was fast approaching. He began to spin at breathtaking speeds, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he was lying face down on a field of grass. The scent filled his nose as he pushed himself up to a seated position. He had no idea where he was, where they all were, but, after listening to what the men had to say, he was persuaded that they were safe, at least for the moment.

He stood. He had several questions, however, all that could wait until he had a bath and a hot meal and, possibly some sleep as well. He didn't know why, but he was already exhausted as if he had been on a terribly long journey, and so he followed the man inside, going upstairs to the first room on the left and claiming the bed closest to the door so that, in event that he needed to leave he'd be close to an exit. When someone came in, leaving clothes and a towel, he gratefully accepted, leaving the room and going to the washhouse. Upon entering, a man had drawn a bath and was testing the water's temperature.

"These are for you and your companions."

"Thank you."

"If you need anything else, all you need do is let me know."

With that he went back to maintaining the temperatures of other tubs. Kris quickly undressed and slipped into the tub, the warm water instantly relaxing him. He let out a deep exhale as he descended into the water. He was slightly uncomfortable as he was rather exposed, but after a moment of relaxation, he finished his bath quickly, ensuring he covered himself with his towel as he stepped out and dried off. His clothes were somewhat quaint looking as if they were from a different century. A pair of rather tight brown trousers and a billowy white shirt with a low v-cut in the front and a long lace winding through, barely keeping it closed. After he dressed he stated into the tub at his reflection. His hair he had dried, but it was still slightly damp when he exited. He surveyed the land around him: miles and miles of wheat. These people's existences seemed so quaint, so bleak, yet they seemed so happy, so content. He lingered about outside, enjoying the weather, waiting for dinner to be served or someone to speak to him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Haru Sinwood Character Portrait: Willow Elaine Stryder
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Willow listened to the man, Haru, with a weary look in her eyes she regretted her overtly anxious questioning and nodded at him her mind making a mental note to apologize later as well as to watch her tongue around this man who carried so much authority. She looked to the woman with the scar when she spoke and nodded, she watched the blonde step forward first than a few others go about their decisions she watched closely than decided to pick a room if this was a trap she couldn't see a good way out as the terrain was unfamiliar to her, and would surely be unsafe for her and even with her backpack of supplies she wouldn't last more than a few days in the strange land. Willow walked into the house and slipped off her shoes by the door tucking them as close to the corner as possible before heading up the stairs she could hear a few conversations as she neared the top of the stairs, when she walked to a door she opened it slowly to see the blonde girl who was dressed like the others and spoke softly " I am sorry if i was rude earlier, I didn't mean to cut off your conversation."



Willow walked to a bed with a clean white dress and smirked at it ' At least it seems light enough to allow us to run..' she thought as she picked it up and ran her fingers along the soft fabric with a childlike glimmer to her eyes.Quickly she set her bag down by the bed. She picked the dress up again and lifted it to her nose inhaling the scent of the fabric as she thought about the layout of the room planning her escape if it came to that, while she did so she thought about the odd preparation of rooms in this new land. With a shake of her head she pushed away the odd way being in this new place made her feel as though she was rooted to the ground, yet as though her movements had become swifter, quieter. She stayed facing away from the blonde girl as she slipped her shirt off and pulled the dress over her bit larger frame, though not fat she was a bit bigger than she would have liked in areas and was relieved the moment her body was covered again. She than slipped off her leggings from underneath the dress and folded her clothes before putting them in her bag before sitting on her bed and closing her eyes letting the feelings this new place brought out within her wash over her finally as she calmed down.



Willow felt as though she had something she should do, but couldn't think of what it was as her chokers emerald called to her hand and she rubbed the gem between her fingers lightly as though to comfort her as well as the gem that was now cradled between her small fingers and her eyes opened slowly they took on a slight green tint as she seemed to stare at the floor as though lost in thought.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yasmin De La Rosa Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Haru Sinwood Character Portrait: Kris Li Character Portrait: Willow Elaine Stryder
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There hadn’t been much time for Tallyho to learn the secret of the young man’s hair. Almost as quickly as she’d asked him, she heard the creak and slam of the flimsy back door swinging out and into the wall. And then, the loud and hallow clank of a cowbell.

“Dinner! Dinner for our guests,” the woman with the scarred face called, nodding in Tallyho’s direction between her ringing. The dinner bell was clutched tight her small pale hands. Tallyho glanced at the young man before reluctantly rising to walk, and carefully bounced her knuckles against the thin walls of the bathhouse—something that she thought would be a helpful gesture just in case the brunette couldn’t hear the incessant noise from her cooling bath.

The blonde slid her hands through her hair as she mounted the stairs of the porch, twisting her it into bun. It sat high, a imperfect sun preparing to set on the crown of her head. She shuffled into the house as the woman held the door open, once those from the back yard were inside, she moved to gather folks from other parts of the house, but not without gesturing toward the intimate dinner setup wedged in a room not much bigger than the large wooden table that occupied it.

It was a simple theme that Tallyho had begun to notice. For a place that looked so grand on the outside, the farm’s owner—Haru—seemed to have a taste for the rustic. No room was doted over—no fine dĂ©cor or accents. Every room seemed to have exactly what it needed, no more no less. But she wasn’t sure what it said of the man’s character.

Tallyho was the first in the dining room and for a moment she began to wonder if the others—the redheaded girl with the flirty smile, the warrior who killed the beast, the brunette in the tub—had run off without her. From the way the redhead seemed to survey the room for their exits, it seemed to Tallyho that everybody was looking for an out. They were all wild dogs trapped and ready to chew their own arms off.

It hadn’t taken more than fifteen minutes for a couple of maids to move the food onto the table. There was enough food, Tallyho thought, to constitute a small feast. The table was populated with cauldrons and dishes of rolls, roasted potatoes, glazed chicken, vegetable stew and Banya, a dish from solace that bakes sweet corn, bread, eggs, cream and sugar together to make a dessert casserole. Tallyho had a particular fondness for the dish, and made it her business to reach for it as soon as it came to the table. She pulled the bowl close, scooping a large glop of the delicacy onto her dish.

The maid sucked her teeth at her audacity to eat before her host even arrived. The older woman itched to chastise her, but held her tongue when Haru entered the room. If you weren’t looking you might have missed him— he moved into a seat at the head of the table with a cool calm. When Tallyho glanced up at him with her body hunched over her plate and her arm swung around it’s circumference like a prisoner protecting his food from thieves, he offered a slight smirk.

“Please do eat,” he hummed. “We have plenty of time to chat.”

Tallyho, not wanting to strike up a conversation with him alone dove back into her food, continuing to eat if only because she was nervous. She would continue to eat until everyone reached the table, and by the time he’d given them the same “eat now, talk later spiel” the petite sungirl was stuffed. But instead of looking at Haru, or even taking another serving, she chose to stare at everyone else’s plates as they would scoop and scrape the food into their mouths.

Haru let them eat for a while, eventually breaking the silence by asking the maids to leave.

“I wanted to let you eat first before getting into all of this
 It’s been a surreal day for all of you I’m sure.” He spoke slowly. One could tell that though his voice wasn’t especially warm, he was trying to sound comforting.

“I will try to answer all of your questions to the best of my ability, but I ask that you let me explain a few things uninterrupted. That monster you saw today, the one that wounded a couple of you, was nothing short of an oddity. Most of you have not seen or read anything about its likeness, and in all truth it wasn’t supposed to be there to begin with. However, I’m sorry to say that it isn’t the weirdest thing you would have learned about today.

You’re not on earth anymore. Today you are in Aires, and I wish that I could tell you it’s as simple as “being on another planet,” but it’s a little more complicated than that. Aires is nothing like earth. It doesn’t run on the same fabric of time or development. It has none of the modern technologies most of you are familiar with. It’s a different line of reality with a different set of magic and physics, and the path of stars you walked across earlier today was the only bridge between these two worlds.

While Aires is very different from Earth on a fundamental level, what you all witnessed back there wasn’t normal for your world or mine. These monsters have been appearing in small numbers across our planet, and it seems as though they’ve been infiltrating yours from time to time as well. These monsters, cyclopean we call them, are the reason you are here at this table today.

They haven’t been seen in hundreds of years, and that was because we had a full line of defense against them, working to protect this reality and the next. At the top of this defense was an elite group called the Month Warriors—a group of demigods with special powers that were activated by gemstones the Goddess gave them. They were created to attack the issue at its source—to murder the king of the cyclopean. However, after a long campaign, they failed their mission and were cursed. They put the king to rest temporarily, but each of their souls were subsequently sucked from their bodies and into the birthstone jewelry they wore. These gems, over time, were scattered across reality. And ironically, you lot (many of whom aren’t from Aires) possess them. They are lodged into your necklaces and bracelets and rings from your grandfathers, and fate brought them to you.

There’s a prophecy that says that the stones will find kindred souls to finish the work that they started
 and as much as I’d like to tell you that you can simply give them away and walk away from this, I need to be frank. You are the next Month Warriors. The powers they possess can only be unlocked by the right person and no one else—someone who can wear the burden of saving all forms of humanity against a common evil. I’m sure you felt your stones burning, and no it wasn’t the summer sun. It was the spirit in your gem telling you that you are chosen and that you are not alone. That the people you are meant to embark on this journey with all happened to be in the right place at the right time. I had been told that fate would bring you to me sometime soon, but I didn’t think it would be this soon. I don’t know why any of you are chosen, in fact if I had the choice I would ask for a more robust group of fighters
 But you are who you are.”

Haru exhaled quietly. He realized how ridiculous this all sounded, but if he was being fair to himself there was no other way for him to get such a complex explanation for “here’s why you’re at my dinner table” across in a simpler way.

“Okay
 Now you can ask questions.”