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Caddock

"Everyone is a moon that has a dark side they reveal to no one."

0 · 339 views · located in Eagle's Ravine, Oregon

a character in “Kingdom of the Brier”, as played by Moonstruck

Groups

Enslaved humans turned magical.

Description

โ•”โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•—
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Misnomer โ— Caddock

Moniker โ— ...

Age โ— 128

Species โ— Changeling

Sexuality โ— Heterosexual
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โ•šโ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•โ•



โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
"Everyone is a moon that has
a dark side they reveal to no one."

โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€

Personality


Caddock is quiet not in the way that would make people think he is shy, but in a stoic quietness that most people find intimidating and arrogant. The cogs can always be seen turning behind his quiet blue eyes and this leads people to think he is making judgments about them in silence. Honestly though, Caddock gives little thought to people and more to the content of what theyโ€™re saying, absorbing the pertinent information and leaving behind the superfluous crap. This makes him a great impartial listener as he is able to magnetize the facts from any emotionally muddling information. Gossip bores Caddock to tears unless he can use it to some end and talking about โ€˜feelingsโ€™ on a subject is not only uninteresting to him but makes him very uncomfortable since it is not something he can give advice on.

Caddockโ€™s cold, scientific mind is backed by a paradoxically idealistic set of principles that none the less makes sense from a rational perspective. Caddock believes nothing is impossible, that every road block is passible, every mountain surmountable, and any challenge achievable so long as one tackles it intelligently and stays determined. However, he believes most people are too lazy and self-serving to achieve these fantastic results. His cynical perspective is not unfounded, having seen many times man get impatient to fulfill their desires and make a deal to get what they want rather than to work hard and save their souls in the long run. โ€“ Not that Caddock should be one to judge, but he does sometimes, having almost all but forgotten his human past.

As hard of a time as Caddock has listening to other peopleโ€™s feelings, it doesnโ€™t mean he is beyond caring. He is capable of having deep meaningful relationships, and in fact these are the only relationships he cares to have. He doesnโ€™t like to have many acquaintances or a sprinkling of good friends, but a few close allies. Given that he is so dedicated to his work and hates social gatherings though, Caddock has a hard time meeting anyone. He is very goal-oriented and will only be forced into coming in contact with someone if it is essential to his job. Usually he will come to like someone for their usefulness, but these ulterior motives will eventually be replaced with genuine friendship when he finds something respectable in the other person. Caddock has high expectations in friendship, his trust and respect is something to be maintained, and if you let him down he will have little problem with walking away, though beneath his stoic surface he will be genuinely heartbroken.





โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
"Darkness approaches from outside."
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
"I feel no light inside me
strong enough to resist it."

โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€


History

If victor's write history than Garanhon decisively formed mine. All history before meeting the King have been ripped out of my mind's memory, shredded, torn and mismatched pieces placed together. It happened gradually, one day one page of my memory would be gone, a name forgotten, places misplaced. The feeling of having just walked 100 miles and having forgotten the whole journey is haunting. I know I've done many things, I can tell you I have ridden a horse, kissed a girl, and gone to war, but where and with whom I do not know. What's left of my memory tells me it's not all worth remembering anyhow.

What I do remember is that I was about 30 years old when I was taken to the Kingdom of the Brier. The reason I was taken was because I had broken a contract made long, long, ago between a farmer and the Fae King Garanhon, declaring that no blood should be spilled on this certain plot of land, at this specific hour, or so help the man who does he shall be kidnapped and the crop will rot. That unlucky, unwitting soul was me, and I don't care what happened to the crop on that farmer's land. No, ignorance for said contract is not a permissible excuse to Fae. Not that they are without scruples, but their morals are completely different from human's and a lot less flexible. Their morals are not black or white or even grey, but lie on a scale from orange to blue is the best way to describe it.

Whose blood was spilled in that field you ask? I think it was supposed to be mine but I drew my gun faster than the man across from me. It's these kind of faded memories that make me wonder about my past and run from it at the same time because what kind of man finds himself in that situation? In the end I walked away but was taken in the middle of the night from my bed by what I thought would be friends of the man I'd left as fertilizer on the field. But when they dragged me into the coat closet and removed the blindfold they had put on me, I thought instead I must have gone mad. Completely. Fucking. Mental. Because on the other side of the closet door was a world stuck in a perpetual blue twilight, brier bushes strangling every tree, climbing up the walls of a great Medieval castle. The landscape was utterly dark, desolate, and beautiful.

I met my Keeper, King Garanhon, who explained to me my trespasses and that I would be serving him from now on. At first I wasn't really agreeable to this, but in the King's world, the Kingdom of the Brier, Garanhon is not only King he is a God, holding all the contracts with the elements in his hand. Therefore, if I am thirsty and drink water my thirst will only be quenched if the King let's me in on the contract he has with the water. If I'm cold, I could stand right in the middle of a fire pit and not feel its warmth (though I will certainly be scorched and burned and feel pain) unless the King let's me in on that contract as well. It doesn't take long for these needs to break a person and I did, and as my memory faded I forgot why I had put up a fight at all. My blood became mixed with the magic that permeates that realm and I became a changeling.

It wasn't until Queen Margaret came around that I started to remember my human self again. Most of it unpleasant, things that make me not want to remember anymore, but then I remembered her. The woman I loved, not her name, not even her whole countenance. Just her gold hair catching in the light, glimpses of her profile throwing glances at me over her shoulder, but what hit me most profoundly was that feeling she gave me. Hope. It was far too late to ever reach her, but.. I sometimes wonder if it's worth fighting for the possibility of having that feeling again.





FC: Cillian Murphy

So begins...

Caddock's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Claire Purnell Character Portrait: Caddock

0.00 INK

cxcRenounce your virtues..
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
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โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›

โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›

Caddock woke up with his stomach growling in his ears, an impossibility he already knew. He had eaten last night but had woken up still with an appetite. It was what he called the second hunger, easily mistaken for real hunger, that you could try to fill like a fat person tries to fill their loneliness with cakes but it would never work. It was only experienced by changelings and it was a starvation of the brain that slowly ate away sanity. His mind hiccupped and an illusion would pop up here, misconstrued a sound there. In Arcadia this wasnโ€™t a problem because the energy, the magic, was innate in the air and it was breathed in. Here though one had to hunt for it in the flesh and bones of humans who unknowingly carried a highly concentrated amount inside their souls, released only by the trade-off of having to feel. Shudder.

He finally forced himself to get off the hotel bed, his achy bones protesting but for the sake of his own sanity not letting his fatigue stop him. Hitchhiking across this vast state was beginning to take its toll physically and mentally yet he could not return until he fulfilled his Kingโ€™s command: find the princess and bring her home. But he might as well have been sent out to find a snipe. They knew nothing about Queen Maggie, where she came from, family. That never concerned Garanhon, nor almost any Fae about their prey. So the only lead he had was where Queen Maggie had been found in a psych ward and it seemed sensible to look around where she had been lifted.

Maybe he was dragging his feet too, but he found life was easier when you didnโ€™t introspect too much.

He stepped outside his hotel room, one of only 10 rooms in the building that did not see many visitors. The owner of the establishment, an elderly Asian woman seemed both surprised and overjoyed to have him. In fact she was a little over hospitable for him and had brought him some cookies sheโ€™d baked last night and got caught in an hour of conversation. Obviously Eagleโ€™s Ravine, the town he was currently located, was not a tourist trap, but was a trap for the people who got caught in it or were stuck in a generational cycle and so the question inevitably came up, how did he end up here? For bird watching he had pre-thoughtfully replied, but her small town nothing-better-to-do bored talkativeness pressed him for more details of his fictional mission than he had thought through. So he concocted on the spot that he was a masterโ€™s student from England studying the migration of birds in North America. A story bogged with enough uninteresting scientific information that she actually politely excused herself from the conversation mentioning the late hour it was. Thank God.

He didn't know where to find anything in this town but chose to skip the front desk and find what the town had to offer without the assistance of his chatty hostess. The hotel located just off the main drag happened to be close to a chain Bag-N-Go grocery store where he could practically smell the desperation and crushed dreams of the minimum wage workers inside and entered. Even being aware of the second hunger, he found himself in the snack aisle grabbing bags of chips and boxes of cookies, while he stood near one of the human blobs lazily marking down chicken flavored biscuits. There was an air of despair about the young man but it was so apathetic and lazy, clearly having given up achieving something more with his life, it was tasteless to him.

He sighed disappointingly and with arms laden with enough sugar to send a diabetic into severe hypoglycemia and enough salt to thicken his blood to sludge he made his way up towards the register.

โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
And you will obtain demonic focus..cxc

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Claire Purnell Character Portrait: Caddock

0.00 INK

cxc๏ผจ๏ฝ๏ฝŒ๏ฝ„๏ฝ‰๏ฝŽ๏ฝ‡ ๏ฝ”๏ฝˆ๏ฝ… ๏ฝˆ๏ฝ๏ฝŽ๏ฝ„ ๏ฝ”๏ฝˆ๏ฝ๏ฝ” ๏ฝˆ๏ฝ๏ฝŒ๏ฝ„๏ฝ“ ๏ฝ๏ฝ… ๏ฝ„๏ฝ๏ฝ—๏ฝŽ...
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
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โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏแ‘•แ’ชแ—ฉแ“ฐแ–‡แ™“ แ‘ญแ˜ฎแ–‡๏ฌกแ™“แ’ชแ’ชโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏ
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›
โ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏ๏ผท๏ผฉ๏ผด๏ผจ๏ผฏ๏ผต๏ผด ๏ผน๏ผฏ๏ผตโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏ
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›
      Today was going to be a long fucking day. The trip to Rosalie's school was an uneventful one, thank the heavens, but that was all the appreciation ever silent gods were going to shown that morning. Claire's onerous time had begun almost as soon as she arrived at work, to a mop and bucket being thrust in her hand where she had to push past an audience of smiling and congratulatory peers being shooed off to their work stations by a very proud and newly appointed assistant manager so that she could clean the ill mess someone had made in one of the bathroom stalls. Gary. Claire was seething. Gary fucking Adams had received her promotion with such a vainglorious air that she had to even wonder if Art had ever even considered her for the position in the first place. She spent the rest of her shift in contemplation of the matter. Was it because she was younger? A woman? Or was she just simply disliked so wholly? Claire immediately committed herself to endeavoring in good earnest to acquire a more sociable and likable disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner-something lighter as it were...but this would start tomorrow. For the present, she could not be made to peel back the dark thunderous cloud from her countenance if her very life had depended on it. She was all but biting off the hands that snaked over behind the register to adjust their items on the belt. Her life seemed to be a series of undeserved slights that doomed her to forever struggle to even succeed in the minimalist of ways. Claire reached for the divider that separated shoppers items and set it aside with a not so chipper "Have a pleasant day." at the departing customer before sliding the next set of junk food of differing varieties across her scanner. "And how are you this morning, sir?"" She asked uninterestedly as she was supposed to, but without the mandated smile that screamed 'I love my below minimum wage job and feel totally appreciated at my current position!' She glanced up and met the man's eyes and was immediately struck by how unnatural the color appeared. Those eyes seemed to tell a story; mysterious to her undeveloped understanding, yet ever profoundly interesting. She was starting to think like her sister, she winced and hastily looked away.
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
๏ผฉ ๏ฝ†๏ฝ๏ฝ’๏ฝ‡๏ฝ‰๏ฝ–๏ฝ… ๏ฝ™๏ฝ๏ฝ•, ๏ฝ†๏ฝ๏ฝ’๏ฝ‡๏ฝ…๏ฝ” ๏ฝ™๏ฝ๏ฝ•, ๏ฝ”๏ฝˆ๏ฝ… ๏ฝ…๏ฝŽ๏ฝ„.cxc

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Claire Purnell Character Portrait: Caddock

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cxcAs if you were on fire from within.
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
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โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›

I S L A N D S

โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›

It was a big moment for serendipity and he hadn't even sensed it yet. Fate moved under them like giant tectonic plates, merely moving the earth three feet to the left that seemed a minuscule leap in the vast expanse of the world, but it had shifted an entire unseen plain. What Caddock had actually sensed, smelled, as he moved up towards the registers was that of an overpowering, stubborn aura that attracted him to checkout number 5. A scent that if he hadn't followed, perhaps chosen any checkout besides 5, the events that followed wouldn't have taken place.

There was one person ahead of him in line, but he was fixated upon the body behind the register that rippled an aural heat of scorn like a hot furnace. She was a mousy girl with a mane of nondescript sandy-blond-brown hair that reached her shoulders, skin of ordinary complexion, no eye make up to highlight her wide sea green eyes, with the only sort of accent being a thin sheen of berry-colored lip gloss on her lips. By the taste of it she seemed to have just been bitten, the mix of bewilderment hinting at some sort of unhappy surprise that one might feel when a dog suddenly turns and nips at you while you're petting it -- Perhaps a boyfriend had broken up with her over text or maybe she'd been looked over for a promotion (although he couldn't imagine that being an incredible loss), but it was a mere small event mounted on top of an innumerable amount of disappointments.

This scorn was compounded by a feeling of self-blame, whether it was something she could have done to change the outcome of things or if it was the mere foolish action of hoping for something unattainable. What the girl didn't realize though was that her problem was not her deportment, her actions, or luck, it was her invisibility. No one noticed her latent talents or intrinsic value because she had disappeared herself into the halogen lights and neon discount signs of this establishment; melded herself into the puddles of potholes in the streets of this nowhere town. It was a purposeful cloaking that, yes, protected her for the most part from any hurt that attention might bring such as gossip but was a double edged sword that sliced her ambitions in half.

Her lack of self-awareness, the anger, the deep-seated hurt, and the zinging tang of determination was delicious, far more satisfying than the dead inside young man he had encountered in the treat aisle. He was completely entranced by this dark beauty that no one else noticed, and felt almost like he was going to fall into a food coma. He didn't realize while on autopilot he had moved several steps forward and was now standing in front of the young woman cashier. "How are you this morning, sir?" She glanced up, caught his gaze for half-a-second with her eyes the soft color of bundled sage, looked away. He didn't notice such nervous impulses in humans and didn't quite get nonverbal queues so he continued to stare at her rather intently. "I'm fine. How are you, miss?" he asked robotically. His manners and niceties were a bit rusty, not to mention out of date with the miss at the end.
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
The moon lives in the lining of your skin.cxc

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Claire Purnell Character Portrait: Caddock

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cxc๏ผด๏ฝˆ๏ฝ๏ฝ•๏ฝ‡๏ฝˆ ๏ฝ…๏ฝ–๏ฝ…๏ฝ’๏ฝ™๏ฝ๏ฝŽ๏ฝ… ๏ฝ“๏ฝ๏ฝ‰๏ฝ„ ๏ฝ”๏ฝˆ๏ฝ๏ฝ” ๏ฝ“๏ฝˆ๏ฝ… ๏ฝ—๏ฝ๏ฝ“ ๏ฝ“๏ฝ ๏ฝ“๏ฝ”๏ฝ’๏ฝ๏ฝŽ๏ฝ‡,
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
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โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏแ‘•แ’ชแ—ฉแ“ฐแ–‡แ™“ แ‘ญแ˜ฎแ–‡๏ฌกแ™“แ’ชแ’ชโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏ
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›
โ‹ฏโ‹ฏ๏ผก ๏ผฌ๏ผฉ๏ผด๏ผด๏ผฌ๏ผฅ ๏ผด๏ผฏ๏ผฏ ๏ผญ๏ผต๏ผฃ๏ผจโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏ
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›
      Claire should, if she had deliberated, have replied to this question by something conventionally vague and polite; but the answer somehow slipped from her tongue before she was aware - "Oh, I'm JUST peachy. Thanks." - She said, rapting out the paltry rejoinder, which, if not blunt, was at least brusque.

      Her tone was caustic and laden with a biting sarcasm, and had she been in right mind, she might have fallen prey to guilt at having been so snappish at a stranger, who by all accounts was doing his best to remain pleasant.

      After all, this - odd - foreigner was not to blame for her current predicament or woes, but yet something about his unblinking and prying gaze sent her into a tizzy. She felt like a bug under a microscope, trapped beneath glass to be scrutinized and picked apart.

      If he was affected by the tonality of her response, he did not pronounce so, but rather, kept his unnaturally limpid eyes set upon her face.

      She slid the last of his items across the scanner, giving her all to not squirm in his presence, but by the very last bag she had borne all that could be borne. Claire met his gaze with her unwavering own, brow furrowed and expression exasperated.

      "Is there something on my face?" She demanded, hands falling in fists to her hips now that all of his items were bagged and out of the way. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, anticipating him to be at the very least taken aback by the harshness in which she spoke, or embarrassed at having been called out for his gawking.
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
๏ฝ—๏ฝˆ๏ฝ๏ฝ” ๏ฝ”๏ฝˆ๏ฝ…๏ฝ™ ๏ฝ„๏ฝ‰๏ฝ„๏ฝŽ'๏ฝ” ๏ฝ‹๏ฝŽ๏ฝ๏ฝ— ๏ฝ‰๏ฝ“ ๏ฝ”๏ฝˆ๏ฝ๏ฝ” ๏ฝ“๏ฝˆ๏ฝ… ๏ฝƒ๏ฝ๏ฝ•๏ฝŒ๏ฝ„ ๏ฝ‚๏ฝ๏ฝ’๏ฝ…๏ฝŒ๏ฝ™ ๏ฝƒ๏ฝ๏ฝ’๏ฝ’๏ฝ™ ๏ฝ๏ฝŽ.cxc

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rosalie Purnell Character Portrait: Caddock Character Portrait: Milo McClane

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cxcTruth be told the ocean was jealous of her depths.
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
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...Rosalie Purnell...
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›

โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›

Rosalie expected the same banal response she always received, normally a long drawn out okaaaay. Without missing a beat though the boy asked if he could join her. Her eyes popped open with surprise, he was still standing there waiting for her to reply. It was not very often she was the one left speechless, her mouth slightly agape. She gave a nonverbal response, nodding her head agreeably and closing her eyes again. The grass rustled beside her as he laid down and continuously shifted, unable to find a good position it seemed. His restlessness rubbed off on her and when he turned his head to speak at last, she was relieved.

Him breaking the ice seemed to have thawed her limbs and she rolled onto her stomach with an abrupt energetic whirl, flipping her hair and bringing her closer to where their arms almost touched. She propped her small chin in her hands, hovering almost directly over him with strands of her hair falling in her face. Besides the zero concept of personal space, her wide unblinking smile and disheveled hair with pieces of grass sticking out gave her an otherworldly presence. "Rosalie, but you can call me Rose." She replied, then raised a finger as if to halt him from saying anything. "But not Rosie, it's juvenile and only my Uncle Ben is allowed to call me that."

She tilted her head curiously and combed some of her wild hair back behind her ears. "So what is it you are called?" Rosalie was not one to be self-conscious but it was nice to meet someone without a knowledge of her family's history and therefore had no preconceived notions of her.

โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
The stars wanted her light, the rainbows envied her colors.cxc

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Claire Purnell Character Portrait: Caddock

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cxc
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
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โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›

โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›

Caddock seemed hardly affected, barely even blinked as he handed his money to the young woman. It was as if he was pretending he hadn't heard her, although it was more likely he was so offended he didn't even care to respond. A snappish reply back might have eased her conscience some, confirmed that somehow he was a surly character that only wanted to make her uncomfortable. But when he didn't give so much as a scowl back, her face became warm and overfull with embarrassment at her attitude towards a complete stranger. She handed him his change, fingers gently blooming over his palm when he finally chose to speak up.

"The lip gloss looks nice." he complimented monotonically, ice eyes seeming to melt from winter blue to the warmth of summer blue skies, though he still wasn't smiling. He imagined her going back home and scrubbing the stuff off furiously in the bathroom mirror, thinking what a waste of time it had been. Scolding herself for her brief moment of vanity when she looked at herself in the mirror that morning and actually liked what she saw. Even with no belief in God she might superstitiously blame the mortal sin of pride she felt for it all going wrong, to think that any conscious effort to be better than anyone or even herself had divinely doomed her to fail. For some reason these thoughts of her bothered him. For some reason he hoped she would keep putting on that lip gloss.

"I hope your day doesn't stay peachy. If by peachy you meant bad." he said taking his change and putting it in his pocket. "Have a good day."

A rustle of the grocery bags as he lifted them off the counter. He could feel her eyes on the back of his tailored jacket, contrasting to the rugged canvas outerwear and plaid shirts of the town folk around him. As he walked away he felt the fingers of his extended senses still reaching out to her like tendrils, drinking what they still could of her presence until they were forced to shrink back as the automatic doors of the store slid closed behind him.

He was full now, but he felt as if he could have turned around and gone back in for more. Like a caffeine addict went back for just one more cup of coffee until their hands shook. With no excuse to return though he headed back to his temporary abode.
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Claire Purnell Character Portrait: Caddock

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cxc๏ผด๏ฝˆ๏ฝ… ๏ฝŒ๏ฝ๏ฝ–๏ฝ… ๏ฝ๏ฝŽ๏ฝ„ ๏ฝ”๏ฝˆ๏ฝ… ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ‰๏ฝŽ ๏ฝ†๏ฝ๏ฝ’ ๏ฝ™๏ฝ๏ฝ• ๏ผฉ ๏ฝ’๏ฝ…๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ‰๏ฝŽ...
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
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โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏแ‘•แ’ชแ—ฉแ“ฐแ–‡แ™“ แ‘ญแ˜ฎแ–‡๏ฌกแ™“แ’ชแ’ชโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏ
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›
โ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏ๏ผด๏ผจ๏ผฅ ๏ผซ๏ผฅ๏ผฅ๏ผฐ๏ผฅ๏ผฒโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏ
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›
      Claire's cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet, the rushing blood feeling as if it burned her skin on contact. As soon as the stranger turned his back to her, she pawed at her lips post haste with the long, stretched out sleeve of her shirt; wiping the gloss away as fervently as possible. That guy was a ten on the creep factor scale, and she couldn't put her finger on why that was, exactly. At any rate, she was grateful their whole exchange was over...or at least she convinced herself so; convinced herself that the butterflies in her stomach were an annoyance, and that she wasn't a fan of that heady adrenaline rush one got from attention from the opposite sex. Claire knew that if women wished to escape the stigma of relationship-seeking, they had to put in minimal to zero effort in their reflection. They had to act and look like marble or clay - cold, expressionless, bloodless; for every appearance of feeling, of joy, sorrow, friendliness, antipathy, admiration, disgust, were alike construed by the world into the attempt to hook a man. She wished not to be too much afraid of an effort or showing herself as she was, affectionate and good-heartened; wished she didn't have to too harshly repress sentiments and feelings excellent in themselves, because she feared that some man might fancy that she was letting them come out to fascinate him. She wished not to condemn herself to live only by halves, because if she showed too much animation some pragmatical thing in breeches might take it into his pate to imagine that she designed to dedicate her life to his inanity...

      But in other respects, she knew this wish did not derive from men and their misconceptions and dog like habits, but rather because to freely express and be could attract the right sort of man and still she'd have to turn him away because...because she could never leave Rose. Her sweet little Rosalie who needed to be sheltered, who had gone a little mad with the years of solitude. All they had was each other, all they knew was the cold, lonesome wind that rattled the windowpanes at night. They could never be free of one another which also meant they'd never be free to give themselves over to someone else.

      Claire went back to work and finished her day suffering through the emotions that stung most, those that were absurd โ€“ The longing for impossible things, precisely because they were impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the worldโ€™s existence. All these half-tones of the soulโ€™s consciousness created in her a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what she was.
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
๏ผด๏ฝˆ๏ฝ๏ฝ•๏ฝ‡๏ฝˆ ๏ผฉโ€™๏ฝ ๏ฝŽ๏ฝ๏ฝ” ๏ฝ—๏ฝ๏ฝ’๏ฝ”๏ฝˆ๏ฝ™, ๏ผฉ ๏ฝ๏ฝ ๏ฝ”๏ฝˆ๏ฝ… ๏ฝ‹๏ฝ…๏ฝ…๏ฝ๏ฝ…๏ฝ’ ๏ฝ๏ฝ† ๏ฝ”๏ฝˆ๏ฝ… ๏ฝ†๏ฝŒ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ….cxc