Introduction
What if the technology of the F U T U R E was more attainable than that of the P A S T?
The year is 2094.
80 years ago on January 1, 2014, the world as we knew it was destroyed.
It wasn’t physically destroyed, but it might as well have been.
Amazing technological breakthroughs had been reached between the year 2012 and the day the world ended. Cars flew, houses talked, people were happy. However, people also grew to rely so heavily on their beloved electricity that they were caught devastatingly unprepared when it happened.
A giant solar flare hit the Earth.
The solar flare caused a worldwide Electromagnetic Pulse (EMP) that rendered all technology and electricity useless. Technology wise, humans had been pushed back into the 1800’s. Nearly half of the world’s population died of either sickness or by man’s hand. And on that one January morning, the world changed forever.
After the initial shock, the world turned to chaos. Anarchy ruled and people became terrified to leave their homes for fear of the malicious looters that stood outside their doors. Stores were wiped clean within hours, and once their initial food wore thin and the hunger set in, people became savages, attacking their neighbors, friends, and families. Bodies lay in the streets and the rivers ran with blood.
However, people are still people, and driven by the need for leadership and guidance, new government grew to power. It took many years, but humanity and order began to piece itself back together. Small communities grew and people attempted to find what they once called “normal”.
As this new sense of normalcy grew, people got back into a comfortable pace, jobs were created, and life kept going. And although, as time went on and people became somewhat comfortable with their somewhat steampunk lifestyle, they always held close the memory of what life was like with the comfort and style that they had with their once precious technology that was no more.
The world went on, but without electricity, it took much hard work, blood, sweat, and tears. After all, humanity had to start over, and after tasting technology and laziness, it’s hard to adapt to such a foreign lifestyle. But there was no choice, anyway, there was no turning back.
Children born into the technology-less world seemed to have it better. This new life was all they knew, and while they knew their parent’s stories of flying machines and things, and saw the useless metal skeletons of such beasts, they still could not fathom the wonders of electricity.
Humanity had adapted to an old fashioned lifestyle. After having to start over, safety and morals were the least on anyone’s concerns, for the need to have food and objects was much stronger. Children were sent to work as soon as they were old enough to understand how to use the steam powered machines in the factories. Many people were maimed or killed by them, but it didn’t matter as long as there was someone else there to replace them.
Government slowly began to take over, however it was a rugged and unstable monarchy. Kings were killed and replaced almost as often as the factory workers. They didn’t have much power, anyway, as the police force was unorganized and usually worked only for themselves. It wasn’t uncommon to find officers beating a civilian to death on a street corner for no apparent reason.
The old days of technology and comfort are long gone, replaced by hard work and labor. Early in the generation, a deadly epidemic called the baby plague wiped out many babies and children, and left most others crippled in some way, leaving the generation extremely small and weak. Those who did survive don’t get off scot free, though. Factory work isn’t any less treacherous and as time goes on, the world seems to fall into a depression and jobs become few and far between.
In homes where not one family had work, parents taught their children pickpocketry and many children even sneak into their neighbor’s homes who do have work and murder in cold blood to steal their food and even their houses.
The teens of this generation are often murderers as well. Many times, gangs of teenagers will massacre factories in “Murder Raids” and take the jobs so they can support their families or just support their own petty fantasies.
But life goes on…
We are the third generation.
We don’t know what life was like before this demented dystopia, but we don’t care. We have much worse to worry about. Like staying alive.
However, we know the secret to getting out of this alive, and that’s sticking together.
A group of six extremely different teenagers come together in an unlikely friendship in order to stay alive and stay sane. While they weren’t alive in a time when government and life in general was of higher quality, they dream of a day when it will be again, and while it may seem unattainable, they are willing to risk everything to change the world. Of course, people will try anything to stop them…
But
that’s
half
the
fun.
Join the God, the Princess, the Inventor, the Officer, the Reaper, and the Dollmaker as they try to change the world…
And the General, the Bounty Hunter, the Dog, and the Succubus as they try to stop them.
The God-
A young man of 19 years from New Boston who came to the city of Orecston (once Harrisburg), the capitol of New Penn (obviously once Pennsylvania) to kill the king. The job was all too easy and he successfully became the new king at the age of 15. After four years of the job, the king began to believe himself a god and was slowly inching New Penn towards a dictatorship before his guards attempted to assassinate him. He fled the castle and attempted to blend in when he met the Princess who took him in.
He’s incredibly cocky and self-centered. While living with the Princess has humbled him, the God is still hung up on the thought of being king, and is still extremely bossy and hasn’t adjusted well to ‘peasant life’. Meaning he sticks out like a sore thumb. He has a bit of a crush on the Succubus. He’s the self-elected leader of the group.
His dream is to take back his throne.
The Princess-
A young lady of 17 years, the florist took up her mother’s flower shop after she died. the Princess was 10 when her mother died of a terrible sickness that ended up killing her younger brother as well. Tormented by nightmares of the illness and her mother and brother’s deaths, she buried herself in work, finding solace in nothing other than flowers. She refuses to go into her mother and brother’s rooms, for she secretly never buried their bodies, for behind her sweet exterior, she had a disturbing obsession with their rotting corpses and bones.
When the God stumbled across her shop, she instantly knew something was off about him, and quickly took him in. The pair became close friends and she tries to teach him how to ‘play peasant’ as he calls it. She secretly loves him and wants to become his queen when he becomes king again, but for now, she settles with the title of the Princess.
She can be very impatient and selfish, as well as obsessed and violent at times. Others in the group assume that she is bipolar. She is the medic of the group as well as the co-leader.
Her dream is to help the God rule and she wants to spread her knowledge of plants and healing so that others do not need to lose their family to sickness like she did.
The Inventor-
This aristocratic young lady of 16 aspires to become a great inventor like her father before her. Inspired by her grandmother’s stories of how the world once was, the Inventor dreams of bringing the world back to its glory days, a dream she shared with her father. After her father spent his life working on creating his own version of a boat, the pair left their lives in New Japan to wherever the wind would take them. Somehow, the two made their way to the bustling city of Orecston and began their new lives.
After the Inventor’s father was beaten and taken to jail for not speaking English, she was left homeless and fatherless. Not to mention the fact that she realized her dreams were impossible. For while she could make blueprints and plans, she was terribly lacking in the ability to actually build her inventions.
After a while, she began to go hungry and attempted to steal, only to be caught by an officer. However, the Officer seemed to be one of the few people in the city who understood Japanese and took pity on her. He befriended her and took her into his home and taught her English. She quickly got a job at a local factory and almost forgot about her love of inventing when she found out that the officer she befriended may be the key to making her blueprints a reality.
She is a dreamer and often has her head in the clouds, she often gets herself in way over her head. While initially she’s quiet, once you get to know her, you find that she has a lot to say and she’s incredibly smart. She’s the brains of the group.
She dreams to rebuild the world with her own inventions.
The Officer-
At the age of 4, the Officer was struck with the baby plague and while he didn’t die, he lost his sense of smell and his hearing. 16 years later, he became an officer. He was one of the few good ones. While he seems dark and scary, he has a soft side for children who lost family or who work to feed their families, and often give them money or buy them what they were trying to steal and let them off the hook.
His mother married a rich man and killed him to take his money and land for herself when he was young and he always swore that he would never sink to that level. His mother forced him into becoming an officer, but he secretly dreams of traveling the world, for he’s fascinated by different cultures. He is secretly a skilled builder and was building himself a boat for a plan to sail to another country to escape his mother and his career when he met the Inventor. Being multilingual, he quickly befriended her and took her in and taught her not only spoken English, but also sign language so that they could easily communicate, because while he can talk and read lips, it’s a lot easier for him to understand what people are saying when they use ASL.
He is strong, dependable, and very protective over the Inventor. He has a hard outer shell, but is very caring once you get close to him. He is the muscle of the group.
He dreams of nothing but the wellbeing of humankind.
The Reaper-
After a factory fire killed her mother, father, and older sister, the Reaper learned to live on her own. She learned to kill at a young age, she grew up to become the city’s most notorious gang leader. At the age of 17, she had already killed more people than she could count, earned the title of “Reaper”, and learned to throw away any morals she had long ago. She was willing to steal and murder men, women, and children if there was something in it for her.
Being one of the baddest women alive, you’d be surprised that the only person this girl cares about anymore other than herself would be a local doll and wig maker. However, he saved her from the fire that killed her family when she was so young, and since then, the two were the best of friends. She cares deeply for him, but not in a romantic way, for she has her sights set on the Officer.
She’s hot tempered, blunt, and stubborn, as well as violent and irrational at times, but when she’s with the Dollmaker, she becomes a lot more reasonable and caring. She’s the stealth and theif of the group.
While she respects the God’s power, she dreams of ruling the cities of New Penn with her best friend at her side.
The Dollmaker-
At 18 years old, the Dollmaker is well known throughout the city as the calm and respectable doll and wig maker with Orecston’s biggest gang on his side. The baby plague cost him his twin sister and sight in one eye, but he’s still an extremely hard worker. His mother recently died, leaving him with the family business, which he is fine with. He loves children and will often pass out dolls to the little girls who come by his shop.
He’s familiar with the Princess and is quite fond of her, but admires her from a distance because, while he’s got quite a bit of charm and is rather flirtatious, he finds it difficult to talk to someone that he actually likes romantically.
He’s kind, smart, sarcastic, and quite a smooth talker. He’s very close to the Reaper and would do anything for her. He’s the voice of reason in the group.
The General-
The brother of the king whom the God assassinated and replaced, he always plotted revenge. After the God disappeared, he quickly took his girlfriend, the Bounty Hunter, and banded together a group to capture and destroy the man who killed his brother and whoever allied themselves with him.
He’s the strategist of the group.
The Bounty Hunter-
The girlfriend of the General, she quickly went along with him to avenge her lover’s brother. However, as they formed the group to attack his killer, she fell in love with one of the new members, the Dog. Being the motherly figure of the group, she attempts to keep them all together while having her secret love affair with him.
She’s the stealth and muscle of the group.
The Dog-
Notorious for his uncanny ability to track people, the Dog was quickly recruited into the group sent to capture and destroy the murderer of the King and the people he was traveling with. He became the secret lover of the Bounty Hunter shortly after he joined them.
He’s the tracker and the brains of the group.
The Succubus-
She was always beautiful, so after her search for work to support her and her family went to no avail, she sold her body to make money. However, this temptress isn’t your average street walker, she murders the men she does business with promptly after receiving her money. She’s the enemy of the Reaper and invited herself into the General’s mini army when she found out that one of the people who they are after is the Reaper herself. There’s nothing she wants more than to torture and kill her because she is so close to the man that she has her eyes on, the Dollmaker, and she's also always been her rival.
She is used by the team to gather information from people. She’s a skilled con-woman and an excellent actress.
Taken
The Dollmaker byMirrorMirror1498
The Reaper by HereMeNow
The Succubus by ChristyLovesYou
The Dog by spudjohnson
The Inventor by Natzalia
The Officer by twi-twi
The Princess by Misdemeanor
The Bounty Hunter by DreamerOnTheStars
The God by Ion
[b]The General by warthog
Character Skeleton
Posting Skeleton
R U L E S
1- Absolutely NO one liners!!! I'm not asking for 50,000,000 words, but give me at least a paragraph.
2- BEFORE YOU ASK: I know that the characters I set out are very detailed, you MAY CHANGE THEM WITHIN REASON. By within reason I mean, if you're The God, you can make him 18 or you can have him crushing on the Bounty Hunter, but you can't turn him from a runaway king into Superman or a zombie or something.
3- Make good characters!
4- If you're not going to post DON'T JOIN!! I want ACTIVE ROLEPLAYERS
5- Post frequently, AT LEAST 1 post PER WEEK. I understand if you have vacation or something, but if you're going to be MIA for a while, let us know.
6- Let's keep this PG-13.
7- Please don't swear like a sailor, that's not attractive! I don't mind swearing as long as the situation calls for it.
8- I am only accepting good characters, so I have the right to not accept your character.
9- If you have any questions, feel free to ask, I know this might seem confusing, so questions are good.
10- All reservations go in the OOC
11- Please don't argue with me, if I ask you to do something, please do it. It's for the good of the Roleplay.
12- This is a completely original RP that came from my brain, do not use the idea or characters for anything else without my consent. If this dies and you want to remake it, please let me know; I'll most likely say yes and take part in the remake. :)
13- I am a very easy going person, so, don't be afraid of me! If you're confused, ASK AWAY! I LOVE EVERYONE IN MY RP'S!!!
14- This is character driven, so don't ask me about every little thing, you are old enough to make your own decisions. Although, if you are planning something huge, please discuss it in the OOC.
15- Follow the Character and Posting skeletons.
20. Please, be patient with me! I don't have internet at my house so I may not be able to get on everyday. If you have a question or you're reserving a character and I don't respond right away, just PM me. Please don't pester, I try as hard as I can to get on and help as much as possible.
The year is 2094.
80 years ago on January 1, 2014, the world as we knew it was destroyed.
It wasn’t physically destroyed, but it might as well have been.
Amazing technological breakthroughs had been reached between the year 2012 and the day the world ended. Cars flew, houses talked, people were happy. However, people also grew to rely so heavily on their beloved electricity that they were caught devastatingly unprepared when it happened.
A giant solar flare hit the Earth.
The solar flare caused a worldwide Electromagnetic Pulse (EMP) that rendered all technology and electricity useless. Technology wise, humans had been pushed back into the 1800’s. Nearly half of the world’s population died of either sickness or by man’s hand. And on that one January morning, the world changed forever.
F I R S T
GENERATION APOCALYPSE
GENERATION APOCALYPSE
After the initial shock, the world turned to chaos. Anarchy ruled and people became terrified to leave their homes for fear of the malicious looters that stood outside their doors. Stores were wiped clean within hours, and once their initial food wore thin and the hunger set in, people became savages, attacking their neighbors, friends, and families. Bodies lay in the streets and the rivers ran with blood.
However, people are still people, and driven by the need for leadership and guidance, new government grew to power. It took many years, but humanity and order began to piece itself back together. Small communities grew and people attempted to find what they once called “normal”.
As this new sense of normalcy grew, people got back into a comfortable pace, jobs were created, and life kept going. And although, as time went on and people became somewhat comfortable with their somewhat steampunk lifestyle, they always held close the memory of what life was like with the comfort and style that they had with their once precious technology that was no more.
The world went on, but without electricity, it took much hard work, blood, sweat, and tears. After all, humanity had to start over, and after tasting technology and laziness, it’s hard to adapt to such a foreign lifestyle. But there was no choice, anyway, there was no turning back.
S E C O N D
GENERATION APOCALYPSE
GENERATION APOCALYPSE
Children born into the technology-less world seemed to have it better. This new life was all they knew, and while they knew their parent’s stories of flying machines and things, and saw the useless metal skeletons of such beasts, they still could not fathom the wonders of electricity.
Humanity had adapted to an old fashioned lifestyle. After having to start over, safety and morals were the least on anyone’s concerns, for the need to have food and objects was much stronger. Children were sent to work as soon as they were old enough to understand how to use the steam powered machines in the factories. Many people were maimed or killed by them, but it didn’t matter as long as there was someone else there to replace them.
Government slowly began to take over, however it was a rugged and unstable monarchy. Kings were killed and replaced almost as often as the factory workers. They didn’t have much power, anyway, as the police force was unorganized and usually worked only for themselves. It wasn’t uncommon to find officers beating a civilian to death on a street corner for no apparent reason.
T H I R D
GENERATION APOCALYPSE
GENERATION APOCALYPSE
The old days of technology and comfort are long gone, replaced by hard work and labor. Early in the generation, a deadly epidemic called the baby plague wiped out many babies and children, and left most others crippled in some way, leaving the generation extremely small and weak. Those who did survive don’t get off scot free, though. Factory work isn’t any less treacherous and as time goes on, the world seems to fall into a depression and jobs become few and far between.
In homes where not one family had work, parents taught their children pickpocketry and many children even sneak into their neighbor’s homes who do have work and murder in cold blood to steal their food and even their houses.
The teens of this generation are often murderers as well. Many times, gangs of teenagers will massacre factories in “Murder Raids” and take the jobs so they can support their families or just support their own petty fantasies.
But life goes on…
C H I L D R E N O F T H E A P O C A L Y P S E
We are the third generation.
We don’t know what life was like before this demented dystopia, but we don’t care. We have much worse to worry about. Like staying alive.
However, we know the secret to getting out of this alive, and that’s sticking together.
A group of six extremely different teenagers come together in an unlikely friendship in order to stay alive and stay sane. While they weren’t alive in a time when government and life in general was of higher quality, they dream of a day when it will be again, and while it may seem unattainable, they are willing to risk everything to change the world. Of course, people will try anything to stop them…
But
that’s
half
the
fun.
Join the God, the Princess, the Inventor, the Officer, the Reaper, and the Dollmaker as they try to change the world…
And the General, the Bounty Hunter, the Dog, and the Succubus as they try to stop them.
C H A R A C T E R S
The God-
A young man of 19 years from New Boston who came to the city of Orecston (once Harrisburg), the capitol of New Penn (obviously once Pennsylvania) to kill the king. The job was all too easy and he successfully became the new king at the age of 15. After four years of the job, the king began to believe himself a god and was slowly inching New Penn towards a dictatorship before his guards attempted to assassinate him. He fled the castle and attempted to blend in when he met the Princess who took him in.
He’s incredibly cocky and self-centered. While living with the Princess has humbled him, the God is still hung up on the thought of being king, and is still extremely bossy and hasn’t adjusted well to ‘peasant life’. Meaning he sticks out like a sore thumb. He has a bit of a crush on the Succubus. He’s the self-elected leader of the group.
His dream is to take back his throne.
The Princess-
A young lady of 17 years, the florist took up her mother’s flower shop after she died. the Princess was 10 when her mother died of a terrible sickness that ended up killing her younger brother as well. Tormented by nightmares of the illness and her mother and brother’s deaths, she buried herself in work, finding solace in nothing other than flowers. She refuses to go into her mother and brother’s rooms, for she secretly never buried their bodies, for behind her sweet exterior, she had a disturbing obsession with their rotting corpses and bones.
When the God stumbled across her shop, she instantly knew something was off about him, and quickly took him in. The pair became close friends and she tries to teach him how to ‘play peasant’ as he calls it. She secretly loves him and wants to become his queen when he becomes king again, but for now, she settles with the title of the Princess.
She can be very impatient and selfish, as well as obsessed and violent at times. Others in the group assume that she is bipolar. She is the medic of the group as well as the co-leader.
Her dream is to help the God rule and she wants to spread her knowledge of plants and healing so that others do not need to lose their family to sickness like she did.
The Inventor-
This aristocratic young lady of 16 aspires to become a great inventor like her father before her. Inspired by her grandmother’s stories of how the world once was, the Inventor dreams of bringing the world back to its glory days, a dream she shared with her father. After her father spent his life working on creating his own version of a boat, the pair left their lives in New Japan to wherever the wind would take them. Somehow, the two made their way to the bustling city of Orecston and began their new lives.
After the Inventor’s father was beaten and taken to jail for not speaking English, she was left homeless and fatherless. Not to mention the fact that she realized her dreams were impossible. For while she could make blueprints and plans, she was terribly lacking in the ability to actually build her inventions.
After a while, she began to go hungry and attempted to steal, only to be caught by an officer. However, the Officer seemed to be one of the few people in the city who understood Japanese and took pity on her. He befriended her and took her into his home and taught her English. She quickly got a job at a local factory and almost forgot about her love of inventing when she found out that the officer she befriended may be the key to making her blueprints a reality.
She is a dreamer and often has her head in the clouds, she often gets herself in way over her head. While initially she’s quiet, once you get to know her, you find that she has a lot to say and she’s incredibly smart. She’s the brains of the group.
She dreams to rebuild the world with her own inventions.
The Officer-
At the age of 4, the Officer was struck with the baby plague and while he didn’t die, he lost his sense of smell and his hearing. 16 years later, he became an officer. He was one of the few good ones. While he seems dark and scary, he has a soft side for children who lost family or who work to feed their families, and often give them money or buy them what they were trying to steal and let them off the hook.
His mother married a rich man and killed him to take his money and land for herself when he was young and he always swore that he would never sink to that level. His mother forced him into becoming an officer, but he secretly dreams of traveling the world, for he’s fascinated by different cultures. He is secretly a skilled builder and was building himself a boat for a plan to sail to another country to escape his mother and his career when he met the Inventor. Being multilingual, he quickly befriended her and took her in and taught her not only spoken English, but also sign language so that they could easily communicate, because while he can talk and read lips, it’s a lot easier for him to understand what people are saying when they use ASL.
He is strong, dependable, and very protective over the Inventor. He has a hard outer shell, but is very caring once you get close to him. He is the muscle of the group.
He dreams of nothing but the wellbeing of humankind.
The Reaper-
After a factory fire killed her mother, father, and older sister, the Reaper learned to live on her own. She learned to kill at a young age, she grew up to become the city’s most notorious gang leader. At the age of 17, she had already killed more people than she could count, earned the title of “Reaper”, and learned to throw away any morals she had long ago. She was willing to steal and murder men, women, and children if there was something in it for her.
Being one of the baddest women alive, you’d be surprised that the only person this girl cares about anymore other than herself would be a local doll and wig maker. However, he saved her from the fire that killed her family when she was so young, and since then, the two were the best of friends. She cares deeply for him, but not in a romantic way, for she has her sights set on the Officer.
She’s hot tempered, blunt, and stubborn, as well as violent and irrational at times, but when she’s with the Dollmaker, she becomes a lot more reasonable and caring. She’s the stealth and theif of the group.
While she respects the God’s power, she dreams of ruling the cities of New Penn with her best friend at her side.
The Dollmaker-
At 18 years old, the Dollmaker is well known throughout the city as the calm and respectable doll and wig maker with Orecston’s biggest gang on his side. The baby plague cost him his twin sister and sight in one eye, but he’s still an extremely hard worker. His mother recently died, leaving him with the family business, which he is fine with. He loves children and will often pass out dolls to the little girls who come by his shop.
He’s familiar with the Princess and is quite fond of her, but admires her from a distance because, while he’s got quite a bit of charm and is rather flirtatious, he finds it difficult to talk to someone that he actually likes romantically.
He’s kind, smart, sarcastic, and quite a smooth talker. He’s very close to the Reaper and would do anything for her. He’s the voice of reason in the group.
The General-
The brother of the king whom the God assassinated and replaced, he always plotted revenge. After the God disappeared, he quickly took his girlfriend, the Bounty Hunter, and banded together a group to capture and destroy the man who killed his brother and whoever allied themselves with him.
He’s the strategist of the group.
The Bounty Hunter-
The girlfriend of the General, she quickly went along with him to avenge her lover’s brother. However, as they formed the group to attack his killer, she fell in love with one of the new members, the Dog. Being the motherly figure of the group, she attempts to keep them all together while having her secret love affair with him.
She’s the stealth and muscle of the group.
The Dog-
Notorious for his uncanny ability to track people, the Dog was quickly recruited into the group sent to capture and destroy the murderer of the King and the people he was traveling with. He became the secret lover of the Bounty Hunter shortly after he joined them.
He’s the tracker and the brains of the group.
The Succubus-
She was always beautiful, so after her search for work to support her and her family went to no avail, she sold her body to make money. However, this temptress isn’t your average street walker, she murders the men she does business with promptly after receiving her money. She’s the enemy of the Reaper and invited herself into the General’s mini army when she found out that one of the people who they are after is the Reaper herself. There’s nothing she wants more than to torture and kill her because she is so close to the man that she has her eyes on, the Dollmaker, and she's also always been her rival.
She is used by the team to gather information from people. She’s a skilled con-woman and an excellent actress.
Taken
The Dollmaker byMirrorMirror1498
The Reaper by HereMeNow
The Succubus by ChristyLovesYou
The Dog by spudjohnson
The Inventor by Natzalia
The Officer by twi-twi
The Princess by Misdemeanor
The Bounty Hunter by DreamerOnTheStars
The God by Ion
[b]The General by warthog
Character Skeleton
- Code: Select all
[right][font=Colonna MT][size=200]Full Name Here[/font][/size]
[img]DIRECT IMAGE URL HERE. ANIME ONLY[/img][/right]
[size=150][font=Colonna MT][b]R O L E[/b][/font][/size]
Put your role here
[size=150][font=Colonna MT][b]A G E[/b][/font][/size]
Put your age here.
[size=150][font=Colonna MT][b]G E N D E R[/b][/font][/size]
Put gender here.
[size=150][font=Colonna MT][b]A P P E A R A N C E[/b][/font][/size]
What do you look like? Be descriptive! What do you like to wear, favorite hairstyle, etc.?
[size=150][font=Colonna MT][b]A F F I L I A T I O N[/b][/font][/size]
Simply put, are you a good guy or a bad guy?
[size=150][font=Colonna MT][b]S K I L L S[/b][/font][/size]
What are some things that you're good at? What makes you a valuable asset to your group?
[size=150][font=Colonna MT][b]W E A K N E S S E S[/b][/font][/size]
What are some of your weaknesses and fears?
[size=150][font=Colonna MT][b]P E R S O N A L I T Y[/b][/font][/size]
I think this is self-explanatory, right?
[size=150][font=Colonna MT][b]H I S T O R Y[/b][/font][/size]
Most of our lives sucked up to this point, what happened in yours?
[size=150][font=Colonna MT][b]O T H E R[/b][/font][/size]
Anything Else?
[size=150][url=LINK TO SONG]Theme Song[/url][/size]
[size=90]Lyrics here[/size]
Posting Skeleton
- Code: Select all
[center][size=150][font=Colonna MT][b]CHARACTER NAME[/b][/font][/size]
[font=Malgun Gothic]POST HERE[/font][/center]
R U L E S
1- Absolutely NO one liners!!! I'm not asking for 50,000,000 words, but give me at least a paragraph.
2- BEFORE YOU ASK: I know that the characters I set out are very detailed, you MAY CHANGE THEM WITHIN REASON. By within reason I mean, if you're The God, you can make him 18 or you can have him crushing on the Bounty Hunter, but you can't turn him from a runaway king into Superman or a zombie or something.
3- Make good characters!
4- If you're not going to post DON'T JOIN!! I want ACTIVE ROLEPLAYERS
5- Post frequently, AT LEAST 1 post PER WEEK. I understand if you have vacation or something, but if you're going to be MIA for a while, let us know.
6- Let's keep this PG-13.
7- Please don't swear like a sailor, that's not attractive! I don't mind swearing as long as the situation calls for it.
8- I am only accepting good characters, so I have the right to not accept your character.
9- If you have any questions, feel free to ask, I know this might seem confusing, so questions are good.
10- All reservations go in the OOC
11- Please don't argue with me, if I ask you to do something, please do it. It's for the good of the Roleplay.
12- This is a completely original RP that came from my brain, do not use the idea or characters for anything else without my consent. If this dies and you want to remake it, please let me know; I'll most likely say yes and take part in the remake. :)
13- I am a very easy going person, so, don't be afraid of me! If you're confused, ASK AWAY! I LOVE EVERYONE IN MY RP'S!!!
14- This is character driven, so don't ask me about every little thing, you are old enough to make your own decisions. Although, if you are planning something huge, please discuss it in the OOC.
15- Follow the Character and Posting skeletons.
20. Please, be patient with me! I don't have internet at my house so I may not be able to get on everyday. If you have a question or you're reserving a character and I don't respond right away, just PM me. Please don't pester, I try as hard as I can to get on and help as much as possible.
- 38 posts here • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 10 authors
S M O K E
Pressed for time.
Always pressed for time. You'd think a dollmaker would have more freedom, less stress, but no. Smoke woke up early in the morning, hours before the shop opened, just so he could put finishing touches on dolls, make new ones, work on orders. He had to make sure everything was perfect because if one thing was out of place, the whole shop would fall apart. At least that's what he told himself as he ambled into his kitchen that morning. He drearily wiped the sleep out of his eyes and cut a slice of bread from his loaf. He set it on the counter and searched the cupboards for the butter and the jam.
He was running low on both.
Grumbling, he pulled out a knife and spread both on his bread, making a mental note to go into town for some more. He knew that he needed to go shopping, anyway.
Smoke stuffed the bread into his mouth and made his way into the shop, pulling his apron on as he entered the doors. He swore at the sun when he realized that he had slept in, the sundial outside read it was just a few minutes before opening. Taking a deep breath through his nose, Smoke allowed himself to finish chewing his bread and he swallowed it in a large gulp. His throat felt a bit dry from the bread that was growing stale, but he had no time to get a drink.
He walked down the short aisles of the small store, making sure everything was in order, straightening and re positioning dolls as he went. When he finished inspecting, Smoke jogged back to the large front window to check the time. There wasn't time to begin any new dolls, so with a defeated look on his face, he ran his long, pale fingers through his apple red hair and unlocked the front door. After that was done, he walked back to the window, switching the 'Closed' sign to 'Open' and taking his place at the counter in the corner of the shop.
He pulled a small, unfinished doll out from under the counter and began to work. The children usually didn't come for a half hour, they often didn't wake up with their parents when they went to the factories. He pulled out a small porcelain hand out of his apron, along with his brush and some paints and a bottle of glue. Smoke positioned a magnifier over his left eye and began carefully painting the edge of the doll's hand with the clear glue. Quickly, before it dried, he attached it to the rest of the doll and held it tight for a few seconds before he knew it was dry. While most technology seemed to have died with the EMP, Smoke was happy to say that glue wasn't one, in fact, the glue factories were making glue that dried remarkably fast nowadays. He laid the newly finished hand down softly and began to prep his area to begin painting her face.
A quaint ding of the bell attached to the shop door brought his attention to a small girl, entering the shop with her mother close behind. A bright smile spread across Smoke's face and he wiped his hands off on his apron out of habit as he stood up from his stool. While the pair's eyes were distracted by the dolls, he quickly brought out his pistol and stuck it in his trousers.
He had never seen these two, and so he felt that he could never be too careful.
He strode over to the two and stood behind them, watching them with ruby red eyes as they surveyed his dolls. The mother turned to him and smiled, "My other daughter's birthday is tomorrow and we thought we might be able to afford a present for her this year." His expression softened, and his posture became less tense.
"Of course, I'll show you to my less expensive dolls." He said, bowing politely to the woman and ruffling the child's soft blonde ringlets. The woman nodded, looking relieved. Smoke led her to the back of the store. She picked up a doll and caressed it's round, rosy colored cheeks, looking confused.
"These look like all the others, why are they less expensive?" She inquired, taking a look at the price tag tied around it's ankle and setting it back down.
He shrugged, "minor malformations," he picked up a doll and showed it to her, "this one's wig was eaten by bugs. See, the ends are uneven." He replaced her with another one, "and this one was dropped, her cheek is cracked."
The mother nodded and watched as her daughter picked up a doll and waved it's arms about. "I don't know if I can afford any of these," she whispered, "my husband just died and I'm out of work." She appeared doleful and Smoke frowned.
"How old is your daughter?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Auria will be turning 3." She said, grabbing her other daughter's hand, looking ready to leave.
He looked at his ruined dolls and sighed, "take one of these, on the house, and tell Auria 'happy birthday' for me."
The woman looked at him in disbelief and then smiled widely. "Thank you, sir!" She said, "I'll tell her, I promise!"
The relief in her voice and the smile on her face was payment enough, he smiled widely and left her to choose a doll, he had left his cash register unattended long enough.
Smoke quickly checked to make sure everything at his counter was in order, and when he was satisfied, he settled on his bench and began working on adding pink paint to the doll's lips. The woman and her daughter left soon after, the mother was hugging the doll to her chest, as if she was afraid it'd be taken from her at any second.
He began to whistle as he worked, the day seemed to have started off well, he could only hope it would go on just as nicely. However, he wasn't sure. He was expecting a visit from Kana for lunch, and she seemed to enjoy bringing trouble along with her wherever she went.
Pressed for time.
Always pressed for time. You'd think a dollmaker would have more freedom, less stress, but no. Smoke woke up early in the morning, hours before the shop opened, just so he could put finishing touches on dolls, make new ones, work on orders. He had to make sure everything was perfect because if one thing was out of place, the whole shop would fall apart. At least that's what he told himself as he ambled into his kitchen that morning. He drearily wiped the sleep out of his eyes and cut a slice of bread from his loaf. He set it on the counter and searched the cupboards for the butter and the jam.
He was running low on both.
Grumbling, he pulled out a knife and spread both on his bread, making a mental note to go into town for some more. He knew that he needed to go shopping, anyway.
Smoke stuffed the bread into his mouth and made his way into the shop, pulling his apron on as he entered the doors. He swore at the sun when he realized that he had slept in, the sundial outside read it was just a few minutes before opening. Taking a deep breath through his nose, Smoke allowed himself to finish chewing his bread and he swallowed it in a large gulp. His throat felt a bit dry from the bread that was growing stale, but he had no time to get a drink.
He walked down the short aisles of the small store, making sure everything was in order, straightening and re positioning dolls as he went. When he finished inspecting, Smoke jogged back to the large front window to check the time. There wasn't time to begin any new dolls, so with a defeated look on his face, he ran his long, pale fingers through his apple red hair and unlocked the front door. After that was done, he walked back to the window, switching the 'Closed' sign to 'Open' and taking his place at the counter in the corner of the shop.
He pulled a small, unfinished doll out from under the counter and began to work. The children usually didn't come for a half hour, they often didn't wake up with their parents when they went to the factories. He pulled out a small porcelain hand out of his apron, along with his brush and some paints and a bottle of glue. Smoke positioned a magnifier over his left eye and began carefully painting the edge of the doll's hand with the clear glue. Quickly, before it dried, he attached it to the rest of the doll and held it tight for a few seconds before he knew it was dry. While most technology seemed to have died with the EMP, Smoke was happy to say that glue wasn't one, in fact, the glue factories were making glue that dried remarkably fast nowadays. He laid the newly finished hand down softly and began to prep his area to begin painting her face.
A quaint ding of the bell attached to the shop door brought his attention to a small girl, entering the shop with her mother close behind. A bright smile spread across Smoke's face and he wiped his hands off on his apron out of habit as he stood up from his stool. While the pair's eyes were distracted by the dolls, he quickly brought out his pistol and stuck it in his trousers.
He had never seen these two, and so he felt that he could never be too careful.
He strode over to the two and stood behind them, watching them with ruby red eyes as they surveyed his dolls. The mother turned to him and smiled, "My other daughter's birthday is tomorrow and we thought we might be able to afford a present for her this year." His expression softened, and his posture became less tense.
"Of course, I'll show you to my less expensive dolls." He said, bowing politely to the woman and ruffling the child's soft blonde ringlets. The woman nodded, looking relieved. Smoke led her to the back of the store. She picked up a doll and caressed it's round, rosy colored cheeks, looking confused.
"These look like all the others, why are they less expensive?" She inquired, taking a look at the price tag tied around it's ankle and setting it back down.
He shrugged, "minor malformations," he picked up a doll and showed it to her, "this one's wig was eaten by bugs. See, the ends are uneven." He replaced her with another one, "and this one was dropped, her cheek is cracked."
The mother nodded and watched as her daughter picked up a doll and waved it's arms about. "I don't know if I can afford any of these," she whispered, "my husband just died and I'm out of work." She appeared doleful and Smoke frowned.
"How old is your daughter?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Auria will be turning 3." She said, grabbing her other daughter's hand, looking ready to leave.
He looked at his ruined dolls and sighed, "take one of these, on the house, and tell Auria 'happy birthday' for me."
The woman looked at him in disbelief and then smiled widely. "Thank you, sir!" She said, "I'll tell her, I promise!"
The relief in her voice and the smile on her face was payment enough, he smiled widely and left her to choose a doll, he had left his cash register unattended long enough.
Smoke quickly checked to make sure everything at his counter was in order, and when he was satisfied, he settled on his bench and began working on adding pink paint to the doll's lips. The woman and her daughter left soon after, the mother was hugging the doll to her chest, as if she was afraid it'd be taken from her at any second.
He began to whistle as he worked, the day seemed to have started off well, he could only hope it would go on just as nicely. However, he wasn't sure. He was expecting a visit from Kana for lunch, and she seemed to enjoy bringing trouble along with her wherever she went.
There was blood everywhere, a boy who only ever read of the deep scarlet now covered in it as his on brother laid on the floor. "Wh-what do I do?" Steve asked with a shaky voice as the body grew colder in his hands. "D-do not...let this assassin..s-shame our name..a-avenge me s-s-st.." King Robert the second passed in Steve's hands. He then had to carry the body out, on his back, covered in his blood, through the streets, afraid that the next person on the throne would disrespect it. As he walked the streets, eyes of every person among them locked on the blood soaked boy, they moved closer, whispering. "Avenge me, avenge me, Avenge me, AVENGE ME!"
Steve woke as his heavy eyelids raised. The wooden cabin like house came into view as he slowly sat up and turned to let his feet hang off the bed, sitting in his underwear as the memories of the dream and that night stained his thoughts. As he rubbed his face he turned back to the bed to she the beautiful blond haired woman still asleep. A rare smile came across his lips as he leaned down, his hand running down her arms and his lips planting a soft kiss on her shoulder. If anything was keeping him from going completely insane it was Kloud, she was the last person that seemed to honestly give a shit about him, even though he was usually doing these, shady things.
He stood and went to his closet, putting on the usual attire and of course the green jacket. He strapped his weapons to his hips and and looked into the mirror, starring back at himself for a while. He had changed a lot in the past few years, did things that no human being should ever do. It was all for the plan though, all for the plan. Steve walked downstairs and out of the house as he walked down the streets. The people wouldn't look at him, the rumors, and well some truth that the police had spread of The General struck through the people like pure fear. They wouldn't dare capture the gaze of The General, and he wanted it that way, they shouldn't look at him.
Entering the headquarters, all the force tried to look as if they were doing something, being busy and what not. As he walked past his secretary tried to tell him his messages but he wanted nothing of the such. He walked into his office and shut the doors on her. Walking over to his desk and window he sat down in the chair turning it to face the view of the royal mansion on the hill. He sat there with no expression, just staring at the house, thinking.
Steve woke as his heavy eyelids raised. The wooden cabin like house came into view as he slowly sat up and turned to let his feet hang off the bed, sitting in his underwear as the memories of the dream and that night stained his thoughts. As he rubbed his face he turned back to the bed to she the beautiful blond haired woman still asleep. A rare smile came across his lips as he leaned down, his hand running down her arms and his lips planting a soft kiss on her shoulder. If anything was keeping him from going completely insane it was Kloud, she was the last person that seemed to honestly give a shit about him, even though he was usually doing these, shady things.
He stood and went to his closet, putting on the usual attire and of course the green jacket. He strapped his weapons to his hips and and looked into the mirror, starring back at himself for a while. He had changed a lot in the past few years, did things that no human being should ever do. It was all for the plan though, all for the plan. Steve walked downstairs and out of the house as he walked down the streets. The people wouldn't look at him, the rumors, and well some truth that the police had spread of The General struck through the people like pure fear. They wouldn't dare capture the gaze of The General, and he wanted it that way, they shouldn't look at him.
Entering the headquarters, all the force tried to look as if they were doing something, being busy and what not. As he walked past his secretary tried to tell him his messages but he wanted nothing of the such. He walked into his office and shut the doors on her. Walking over to his desk and window he sat down in the chair turning it to face the view of the royal mansion on the hill. He sat there with no expression, just staring at the house, thinking.
Ayase
The sun was just rising over the horizion, and even though it was still so early, Ayase was already climbing around in the small, steam powered machines and fixing a loose gear. She knew she had to work fast, as once she had it back in place she had only seconds to get out. Her left arm, still wrapped from a steam burn from the last machine she fixed, was reminder enough to get out and get out fast. Ayase's face was had streaks of black dirt on her face, and she knew she'd look like hell when she got home to Leo, who would fuss over her then make her eat something. Ayase smiled at the thought of her father-friend, a thought that always helped her get through the day.
Ayase looked up, fixing the last piece and booking it out of the machine, slamming the door behind her as it roared back to life. Smiling to herself, she wiped the sweat off her face, leaving more streaks of oil and dirt. Going back out to her normal spot on the assembly line, she resumed putting lids on bottles of glue. Seeing one that was both a deformed bottle and a lopsided lid, she slipped it into the pocket of her jacket. There was a dollmakers shop on her way home, and she'd stop and give it to him.
Ayase worked diligently and quickly for the next 11 hours, her 12 hour day seeming to never end. At 3 pm, she got off her shift and put her apron away, pulling her hair out of the ponytails she normally wore and letting it flow freely.
As she walked toward home, Ayase looked at the doll shop. Even though she was 16, the dolls still looked so beautiful for her, and she would love to have one. However, she had to help Leo pay for the house and groceries. Gingerly, she stepped through the door. A metalic pinging noise made her jump (not hard to do) and as she walked up to the cash register, she reached into the pocket of her jacket and set the deformed bottle of glue on the counter. Shyly, she smiled, backing away slowly. This had become a routine. Ayase would find the deformed bottles, and she would bring it to him. Never once would she say a word, she would merely walk in, jump at the bell, set the glue down, and smile. As she left this time, Ayase paused to look at one of the beautiful dolls. It was a small doll, she could wrap her thumb and pinkie around the middle of it, and it had beautiful orange hair and green eyes. Gently, Ayase touched it's hair, letting out a small "ooh" of amazement. She turned, blushed when she noticed the shop owner watching her, and headed for the door again. She turned once at the door, and took a deep breath. "I'm Ayase," She said quickly before running out the door and down the street.
Coming to Leo's house, she knocked four times in rythm before entering. It was out of habbit more than necessity, seeing as how Leo wouldn't be home for an hour still. Ayase sat on the couch, pulling out a notebook and scribbling down a new blueprint. It was a clothes making machine, powered by electricity, made to make life easier.
The sun was just rising over the horizion, and even though it was still so early, Ayase was already climbing around in the small, steam powered machines and fixing a loose gear. She knew she had to work fast, as once she had it back in place she had only seconds to get out. Her left arm, still wrapped from a steam burn from the last machine she fixed, was reminder enough to get out and get out fast. Ayase's face was had streaks of black dirt on her face, and she knew she'd look like hell when she got home to Leo, who would fuss over her then make her eat something. Ayase smiled at the thought of her father-friend, a thought that always helped her get through the day.
Ayase looked up, fixing the last piece and booking it out of the machine, slamming the door behind her as it roared back to life. Smiling to herself, she wiped the sweat off her face, leaving more streaks of oil and dirt. Going back out to her normal spot on the assembly line, she resumed putting lids on bottles of glue. Seeing one that was both a deformed bottle and a lopsided lid, she slipped it into the pocket of her jacket. There was a dollmakers shop on her way home, and she'd stop and give it to him.
Ayase worked diligently and quickly for the next 11 hours, her 12 hour day seeming to never end. At 3 pm, she got off her shift and put her apron away, pulling her hair out of the ponytails she normally wore and letting it flow freely.
As she walked toward home, Ayase looked at the doll shop. Even though she was 16, the dolls still looked so beautiful for her, and she would love to have one. However, she had to help Leo pay for the house and groceries. Gingerly, she stepped through the door. A metalic pinging noise made her jump (not hard to do) and as she walked up to the cash register, she reached into the pocket of her jacket and set the deformed bottle of glue on the counter. Shyly, she smiled, backing away slowly. This had become a routine. Ayase would find the deformed bottles, and she would bring it to him. Never once would she say a word, she would merely walk in, jump at the bell, set the glue down, and smile. As she left this time, Ayase paused to look at one of the beautiful dolls. It was a small doll, she could wrap her thumb and pinkie around the middle of it, and it had beautiful orange hair and green eyes. Gently, Ayase touched it's hair, letting out a small "ooh" of amazement. She turned, blushed when she noticed the shop owner watching her, and headed for the door again. She turned once at the door, and took a deep breath. "I'm Ayase," She said quickly before running out the door and down the street.
Coming to Leo's house, she knocked four times in rythm before entering. It was out of habbit more than necessity, seeing as how Leo wouldn't be home for an hour still. Ayase sat on the couch, pulling out a notebook and scribbling down a new blueprint. It was a clothes making machine, powered by electricity, made to make life easier.
A lone figure sat on the roof of a nondescript florist’s shop, unnoticed by those who went about their early-morning business below. This was something of a routine for him now, taking up a spot on top of the small brick chimney, long legs folded up under himself, sleek muscles relaxed as the first traces of autumn sunshine fell across his face. He hadn’t slept through a sunrise in more years than he could properly remember; something in his body woke him before dawn, now, without fail and regardless of how little he’d slept.
Snowy-white eyelashes parted, exposing a faint sliver of violet iris to the outside world. Through the half-open ocular, he noted that the balance of colors in the sky had shifted now to oranges and yellows, the red and purple receding as they were wont to do upon the dawn’s breaking.
There were so many beautiful things in this world; it was a shame that most of them could be warped and twisted by the ugliness in men’s hearts. He knew that ugliness like he knew his own mind, perhaps better, since he had yet to solve all his own mysteries. He’d thought he had it all figured out, once, when he was simply an organic machine in service of people who did not deserve it. Even during his time as King, he’d struggled with the part of himself that was compelled to obey rather than lead, a trait that had been carefully nurtured by his benefactors, the men and women who’d pulled him from filth and blood and squalor to introduce him to pain and darkness and the heat of his own anger simmering beneath his skin. They’d taught him many valuable things, but it was what he’d learned while they were not looking that was their undoing.
They’d thought him a hound, to be leashed, trained, and set upon whomever they wished, to tear and slash with teeth and claws they had sharpened to an unnatural perfection. Skill without emotion, deadliness without conscience, disdain without love or compassion. They had not realized that he was instead a feral cat, fiercely independent and incapable of mere obedience. Now, he strove to become something more, something that could lead the unshackled, and free them from their chains in the first place. It was for him, for her, for them, and in the end for the world itself. It would be done, and he would be the one to do it.
His eye fell closed again, and Vincent returned to his meditations, heedless of the faint breeze that teased his uncanny white hair and the fabric of his loose red shirt. He wondered how long it would be before the General’s men found him, and estimated that it could be between another day and several months. He still should not linger here too much longer. Chandra had been kind to him, though he had conceded only to sleeping on her roof, and keeping his things in a spare storage closet. Though he had imparted nothing of the sort, it was a life he was well-used to in one way. It was the people he could not fathom; interacting with them as an adult was not something he’d ever done under any circumstances one could call ‘normal.’
He would not be satisfied with running for much longer. His instinct was as it had always been: fight, and take down the obstacles in his path. Now that he had seen firsthand what good he could do if given sufficient time and power, he would not truly rest until that was in his hands again, until he sat upon that throne, before those people, their ever-loyal servant, their unflinching god. His puppeteers had never discovered that, either; the kinship he felt for those crushed under the boots of the mighty. He had been them, once, and they deserved better than they received.
Standing smoothly, Vincent jumped down from the chimney, landing near-noiselessly on the clay tiles of the roof, then proceeded to the back of the building, jumping the twenty feet or so to the ground. Not difficult, if one knew how. Dusting himself off, he entered through the back door and made his way to his small supply closet. He’d bathed already, but he sensed that the day was going to be on the chillier side of things, and so he threw on a long black duster coat, sliding a pistol into a hidden pocket on the inside. He found firearms distasteful but that wouldn’t stop him from using one if he needed to. Leaving the coat open, he proceeded through the house into the shop at its front, emerging behind the counter.
He expected that if Chandra wasn’t already there, she would be soon. He wasn’t much for greetings, and so he offered none, content to spend a few moments observing her work but otherwise keeping his thoughts to himself. This was not uncommon, either.
Snowy-white eyelashes parted, exposing a faint sliver of violet iris to the outside world. Through the half-open ocular, he noted that the balance of colors in the sky had shifted now to oranges and yellows, the red and purple receding as they were wont to do upon the dawn’s breaking.
There were so many beautiful things in this world; it was a shame that most of them could be warped and twisted by the ugliness in men’s hearts. He knew that ugliness like he knew his own mind, perhaps better, since he had yet to solve all his own mysteries. He’d thought he had it all figured out, once, when he was simply an organic machine in service of people who did not deserve it. Even during his time as King, he’d struggled with the part of himself that was compelled to obey rather than lead, a trait that had been carefully nurtured by his benefactors, the men and women who’d pulled him from filth and blood and squalor to introduce him to pain and darkness and the heat of his own anger simmering beneath his skin. They’d taught him many valuable things, but it was what he’d learned while they were not looking that was their undoing.
They’d thought him a hound, to be leashed, trained, and set upon whomever they wished, to tear and slash with teeth and claws they had sharpened to an unnatural perfection. Skill without emotion, deadliness without conscience, disdain without love or compassion. They had not realized that he was instead a feral cat, fiercely independent and incapable of mere obedience. Now, he strove to become something more, something that could lead the unshackled, and free them from their chains in the first place. It was for him, for her, for them, and in the end for the world itself. It would be done, and he would be the one to do it.
His eye fell closed again, and Vincent returned to his meditations, heedless of the faint breeze that teased his uncanny white hair and the fabric of his loose red shirt. He wondered how long it would be before the General’s men found him, and estimated that it could be between another day and several months. He still should not linger here too much longer. Chandra had been kind to him, though he had conceded only to sleeping on her roof, and keeping his things in a spare storage closet. Though he had imparted nothing of the sort, it was a life he was well-used to in one way. It was the people he could not fathom; interacting with them as an adult was not something he’d ever done under any circumstances one could call ‘normal.’
He would not be satisfied with running for much longer. His instinct was as it had always been: fight, and take down the obstacles in his path. Now that he had seen firsthand what good he could do if given sufficient time and power, he would not truly rest until that was in his hands again, until he sat upon that throne, before those people, their ever-loyal servant, their unflinching god. His puppeteers had never discovered that, either; the kinship he felt for those crushed under the boots of the mighty. He had been them, once, and they deserved better than they received.
Standing smoothly, Vincent jumped down from the chimney, landing near-noiselessly on the clay tiles of the roof, then proceeded to the back of the building, jumping the twenty feet or so to the ground. Not difficult, if one knew how. Dusting himself off, he entered through the back door and made his way to his small supply closet. He’d bathed already, but he sensed that the day was going to be on the chillier side of things, and so he threw on a long black duster coat, sliding a pistol into a hidden pocket on the inside. He found firearms distasteful but that wouldn’t stop him from using one if he needed to. Leaving the coat open, he proceeded through the house into the shop at its front, emerging behind the counter.
He expected that if Chandra wasn’t already there, she would be soon. He wasn’t much for greetings, and so he offered none, content to spend a few moments observing her work but otherwise keeping his thoughts to himself. This was not uncommon, either.
Leo Reynolds
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
All Leo could feel was the sound of his footsteps on the gravel. Town was pretty quiet in the early morning. He rubbed his tired face, the stubble along his face scratching against his hand. He hadn't had time to shave that morning. He woke up a little late, and had to rush to be on time to work. Never wanted to be late as an Officer. While the Officers may be "above everyone else," there were still people higher up on the ladder than him. He couldn't afford to lose his job over that, not with Ayase in the picture. Where would she go if they were to lose their home? There was no where else for her to turn. He was all she had.
With that thought alone, he felt the drive to walk straighter and perform his duty. But it was relatively quiet on his rounds that morning. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, more people began to come out. As he was eating his lunch, he saw two kids whispering to each other, casting fleeting glances at him and the grocer nearby. He sighed to himself. What was the world coming to, when children had to steal to survive? It reminded him of the stories he had heard of this ancient land called Sparta. Truly barbaric in nature to him, yet so was the world he lived in. He casually walked past the children, who immediately became silent, and he dropped his lunch on the ground in front of them. When he turned back around to walk back to his place, the children and the food were gone. He gave a slight smile to himself. At least he was helping somehow.
The day waned on and the afternoon came, evening coming soon on its heels. That was when he got to go home. But not quite yet. He continued to make his rounds, ending up in a more recluse part of town. He made his footsteps silent, keeping his eyes peeled. This was usually a worse part of town for crimes. Then, he sensed it. The feeling that he wasn't alone in the streets. He slithered over to the wall, pressing himself against it and looking down the way. A man was holding a knife to another man's throat. Adrenaline kicked into Leo's system, and instinct took over. He ran for the attacker, tackling him to the ground while simultaniously knocking the knife from his hand. He wrestled with him for a bit, earning himself a punch in the lip and eyebrow, resulting in small cuts. Eventually he managed to cuff the man and stood, looking to where the victim had been. He was gone now. Leo sighed. He wasn't surenif the victim had been more afraid of him, or the mugger. He hated the negative connotation Officers had. Officers were supposed to be hero's, not figures to be hated and feared. He shook his head a bit. Nothing he could do but bring the mutter in to the jail.
When that was through, Leo's shift was over and he made his way home, weary from a hard day's work. The cut on his lip and eyebrow had scabbed over, but he had never wiped the blood off, so it still streaked his face in 2 thin lines. "Hey kiddo, I'm home!" He called out, figuring that Ayase would be home before he got home. He went to the living room, seeing her on the couch, sketching. He walked over and patted her head, then sat on the couch next to her with a heavy sigh. "How's the burn, kid?" He asks her, looking over the teen for any new injuries.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
All Leo could feel was the sound of his footsteps on the gravel. Town was pretty quiet in the early morning. He rubbed his tired face, the stubble along his face scratching against his hand. He hadn't had time to shave that morning. He woke up a little late, and had to rush to be on time to work. Never wanted to be late as an Officer. While the Officers may be "above everyone else," there were still people higher up on the ladder than him. He couldn't afford to lose his job over that, not with Ayase in the picture. Where would she go if they were to lose their home? There was no where else for her to turn. He was all she had.
With that thought alone, he felt the drive to walk straighter and perform his duty. But it was relatively quiet on his rounds that morning. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, more people began to come out. As he was eating his lunch, he saw two kids whispering to each other, casting fleeting glances at him and the grocer nearby. He sighed to himself. What was the world coming to, when children had to steal to survive? It reminded him of the stories he had heard of this ancient land called Sparta. Truly barbaric in nature to him, yet so was the world he lived in. He casually walked past the children, who immediately became silent, and he dropped his lunch on the ground in front of them. When he turned back around to walk back to his place, the children and the food were gone. He gave a slight smile to himself. At least he was helping somehow.
The day waned on and the afternoon came, evening coming soon on its heels. That was when he got to go home. But not quite yet. He continued to make his rounds, ending up in a more recluse part of town. He made his footsteps silent, keeping his eyes peeled. This was usually a worse part of town for crimes. Then, he sensed it. The feeling that he wasn't alone in the streets. He slithered over to the wall, pressing himself against it and looking down the way. A man was holding a knife to another man's throat. Adrenaline kicked into Leo's system, and instinct took over. He ran for the attacker, tackling him to the ground while simultaniously knocking the knife from his hand. He wrestled with him for a bit, earning himself a punch in the lip and eyebrow, resulting in small cuts. Eventually he managed to cuff the man and stood, looking to where the victim had been. He was gone now. Leo sighed. He wasn't surenif the victim had been more afraid of him, or the mugger. He hated the negative connotation Officers had. Officers were supposed to be hero's, not figures to be hated and feared. He shook his head a bit. Nothing he could do but bring the mutter in to the jail.
When that was through, Leo's shift was over and he made his way home, weary from a hard day's work. The cut on his lip and eyebrow had scabbed over, but he had never wiped the blood off, so it still streaked his face in 2 thin lines. "Hey kiddo, I'm home!" He called out, figuring that Ayase would be home before he got home. He went to the living room, seeing her on the couch, sketching. He walked over and patted her head, then sat on the couch next to her with a heavy sigh. "How's the burn, kid?" He asks her, looking over the teen for any new injuries.
Kutya
Earlier, in the Night
A solitary silhouette stood atop a hill, the rising full moon behind it. Few trees surrounded the figure as it stared down at New Penn. Kutya stood atop the hill, taking in the sights while thinking to himself in the cold night air.Where will it all take us... this mission of General's. Do we go to our deaths? Or a new freedom? Would I finally lose the mantle of The Dog and live as I please? His jaw clenched in irritation. A small gust of wind blew over the hilltop, rustling the leaves of the trees above him and moving his hair. It was time for him to go home. He had done enough thinking for tonight, and his training had already ended.
Kutya retracted the claws on his gauntlets with a flicking of his wrists and ensured they were locked. He gathered his coat where it hung over a nearby branch. A muffled clink came from the dark green coat where two knife handles bumped into each other. The tree the coat hung from was covered in deep claw marks in some places, and stripped of its bark in other places from numerous blows. No blood stained the tree, Kutya's knuckles had stopped bleeding ages ago. It was a good feeling to strip the bark in so many places with just his fist, Kutya remembered when he could hardly clear any bark. A half-smile formed on his face at the memory while he ensured the coat was on properly. "Time to go home, I suppose", Kutya said to the forest. With that final remark, he dropped to all fours and began his loping run back to the small cabin he called home.
Morning
Kutya rose well after the sun had, when a strong beam of sunlight fell upon his face. As usual, he dreamed of nothing. Probably for the best. When he did dream, it was most often a nightmare of that hellish container. He visibly shuddered at the thought. A hand reflexively went to his neck to where the collar once rested. Never again. He stood from his bed made of a mattress and some sheets sitting on the floor of the place he called home. 'Home' in this case was an abandoned town house close to the city. It was close enough to be within easy walking or running distance, but far enough away that he would have the solitude he wanted. Kutya and the other civilians didn't mix well. But that was for the best, all considered. Humans and animals didn't mix.
After a quick change of clothes, Kutya made himself a small breakfast before leaving his home and headed towards the city. He headed towards Steve's house, specifically. Who knows, he might have something for Kutya to hunt. Then again, Kloud was the huntress. And the other reason for Kutya to head in that direction anyway. Finding himself a small waiting spot beneath a tree, Kutya watched the house for signs of movement. Maybe Steve had left already, maybe he was just about to leave. Time would tell, and Kutya wasn't an impatient man.
Earlier, in the Night
A solitary silhouette stood atop a hill, the rising full moon behind it. Few trees surrounded the figure as it stared down at New Penn. Kutya stood atop the hill, taking in the sights while thinking to himself in the cold night air.Where will it all take us... this mission of General's. Do we go to our deaths? Or a new freedom? Would I finally lose the mantle of The Dog and live as I please? His jaw clenched in irritation. A small gust of wind blew over the hilltop, rustling the leaves of the trees above him and moving his hair. It was time for him to go home. He had done enough thinking for tonight, and his training had already ended.
Kutya retracted the claws on his gauntlets with a flicking of his wrists and ensured they were locked. He gathered his coat where it hung over a nearby branch. A muffled clink came from the dark green coat where two knife handles bumped into each other. The tree the coat hung from was covered in deep claw marks in some places, and stripped of its bark in other places from numerous blows. No blood stained the tree, Kutya's knuckles had stopped bleeding ages ago. It was a good feeling to strip the bark in so many places with just his fist, Kutya remembered when he could hardly clear any bark. A half-smile formed on his face at the memory while he ensured the coat was on properly. "Time to go home, I suppose", Kutya said to the forest. With that final remark, he dropped to all fours and began his loping run back to the small cabin he called home.
Morning
Kutya rose well after the sun had, when a strong beam of sunlight fell upon his face. As usual, he dreamed of nothing. Probably for the best. When he did dream, it was most often a nightmare of that hellish container. He visibly shuddered at the thought. A hand reflexively went to his neck to where the collar once rested. Never again. He stood from his bed made of a mattress and some sheets sitting on the floor of the place he called home. 'Home' in this case was an abandoned town house close to the city. It was close enough to be within easy walking or running distance, but far enough away that he would have the solitude he wanted. Kutya and the other civilians didn't mix well. But that was for the best, all considered. Humans and animals didn't mix.
After a quick change of clothes, Kutya made himself a small breakfast before leaving his home and headed towards the city. He headed towards Steve's house, specifically. Who knows, he might have something for Kutya to hunt. Then again, Kloud was the huntress. And the other reason for Kutya to head in that direction anyway. Finding himself a small waiting spot beneath a tree, Kutya watched the house for signs of movement. Maybe Steve had left already, maybe he was just about to leave. Time would tell, and Kutya wasn't an impatient man.
Chandra Alerann
"If fate is something that we write, does that mean I have written our meeting too?"
"If fate is something that we write, does that mean I have written our meeting too?"
Ring... Ring... Ring... Ring...
The incessant sound continued to echo within the darkened and still room. Its volume slowly rising and its tempo quickening by the second.This had continued on for a few minutes before a desired reaction was seen. A delicate and slim hand came out from the floral-printed blanket as it reaches for the source of such disturbance. As soon as the hand touched the said object which was a small clock on the bedside table, the ringing had stopped. Once more, silence reigned within the room. However, movements could now be seen from the sheets. Slowly, the said blanket was now resembling more of a makeshift ghost costume as it rises. Like a cocoon, the sheets slowly fell off like a calm waterfall as it revealed a beautiful maiden with hazy ash green eyes and cherry red hair. The owner of such traits was, Chandra, the florist as she is known publicly.
Rubbing her eyes in a sleepy manner, Chandra released a rather unladylike yawn while covering her opened with a hand. Looking around, she stood from the bed revealing her sleeveless ankle-length lavender nightgown. It was such an alluring sight to anyone who would see as it fitted her like a silk glove. The said dress showed her curves that would be hidden otherwise. Approaching the windows, she parted the curtains that revealed the slowly illuminating skies. The sun was peeking from the horizons in a quaint manner. Somehow, the scenery was soothing as her face softened into a smile. She had always liked seeing the rising sun as its light flooded to all the dark corners of the world. There was something comforting in that thought. Stretching her limbs upwards, she looked above her towards the ceiling.
Chandra wondered about a certain guest that had taken residency on her roof from a while back. It had been quite an interesting matter for her to chance upon. The man who seemed like a broken predator with those eyes of lilac gray staring back at her. The one who goes by the name Vincent. She knew well enough that something was amiss about him and danger seem to trail behind him. Regardless, she had chosen to reach out her hand to him. Those pale violet orbs that despite such vile conditions had remained unyielding. Perhaps, it was the main reason which had made her care that fateful day. He has fierce eyes that still remains to this day.
Remembering such things, Chandra cannot help but have a thoughtful look on her face. She had often concluded that there would be a chance that her involvement would bear dangerous consequences. Still, she had no regrets in having Vincent stay with her as long as he needed. It was also not bad to have a companion whom she could ask to lend a hand in her 'peasant' chores as he would often described. The man was certainly amusing and adorable in his own way. Closing her eyes briefly, she halted her thoughts and decided to prepare herself for the day. There were still a lot of things needed to be done before she opened the shop. As such, she turned her back to the windows and went towards the bathroom.
After a while. Chandra was now catering to the needs of her precious flowers and plants. There was a cold draft present in the breeze. Fortunately, she had chosen to wear a white long-sleeved shirt and red slacks while being covered by a maroon robe. Her skin was covered which left little to be exposed to the chilly weather. She was watering the ones she had planted in the gardens while humming a melody which has a certain sense of familiarity. When she was done outside, she made sure the ones inside the store were perfectly ready for the lingering eyes of her customers. This was her daily ritual for the past years of her life. She had found a sense of comfort in such chores. Although, she would admit that it had been quite boring unless there would be ruffians that would interrupt her so-called normal life. It may be one of the reasons why she had welcomed Vincent without much of a question to her home. She must have been waiting for some trigger to end the monotonicity of her life.
"Perhaps, it was fate..."
A passing opinion that floated within her mind. Yet slowly, it vanished into the dark recesses of her mind as Chandra felt eyes watching her from a distance. She was well-aware who were the owner of those eyes. The very first time she had experienced this. She was completely unused to such. If her memory served her right, she had asked for Vincent to greet her. However, the man had not listened to her in this matter. In any case, she had grown accustomed it and truth be told, humans were truly best in adapting to their environment if given enough time. As such, she found such feeling a part of her daily routine.
"Good morning, Vincent... Would you like some coffee?"
Speaking in such a casual cheery tone, Chandra did not gaze at Vincent while doing so. Instead her focus was on the bunch of blue and lavender hydrangeas. She cradled the flower with such care on one hand while gently spraying them with bouts of water. Ash green eyes gazed at the flowers with a softness and warmth reserved only for them while her cherry red fell around her silken curtains. After a few moments, she turned to face Vincent with a small smile adorning her lips.
"Care to join me for breakfast?"
The incessant sound continued to echo within the darkened and still room. Its volume slowly rising and its tempo quickening by the second.This had continued on for a few minutes before a desired reaction was seen. A delicate and slim hand came out from the floral-printed blanket as it reaches for the source of such disturbance. As soon as the hand touched the said object which was a small clock on the bedside table, the ringing had stopped. Once more, silence reigned within the room. However, movements could now be seen from the sheets. Slowly, the said blanket was now resembling more of a makeshift ghost costume as it rises. Like a cocoon, the sheets slowly fell off like a calm waterfall as it revealed a beautiful maiden with hazy ash green eyes and cherry red hair. The owner of such traits was, Chandra, the florist as she is known publicly.
Rubbing her eyes in a sleepy manner, Chandra released a rather unladylike yawn while covering her opened with a hand. Looking around, she stood from the bed revealing her sleeveless ankle-length lavender nightgown. It was such an alluring sight to anyone who would see as it fitted her like a silk glove. The said dress showed her curves that would be hidden otherwise. Approaching the windows, she parted the curtains that revealed the slowly illuminating skies. The sun was peeking from the horizons in a quaint manner. Somehow, the scenery was soothing as her face softened into a smile. She had always liked seeing the rising sun as its light flooded to all the dark corners of the world. There was something comforting in that thought. Stretching her limbs upwards, she looked above her towards the ceiling.
Chandra wondered about a certain guest that had taken residency on her roof from a while back. It had been quite an interesting matter for her to chance upon. The man who seemed like a broken predator with those eyes of lilac gray staring back at her. The one who goes by the name Vincent. She knew well enough that something was amiss about him and danger seem to trail behind him. Regardless, she had chosen to reach out her hand to him. Those pale violet orbs that despite such vile conditions had remained unyielding. Perhaps, it was the main reason which had made her care that fateful day. He has fierce eyes that still remains to this day.
Remembering such things, Chandra cannot help but have a thoughtful look on her face. She had often concluded that there would be a chance that her involvement would bear dangerous consequences. Still, she had no regrets in having Vincent stay with her as long as he needed. It was also not bad to have a companion whom she could ask to lend a hand in her 'peasant' chores as he would often described. The man was certainly amusing and adorable in his own way. Closing her eyes briefly, she halted her thoughts and decided to prepare herself for the day. There were still a lot of things needed to be done before she opened the shop. As such, she turned her back to the windows and went towards the bathroom.
After a while. Chandra was now catering to the needs of her precious flowers and plants. There was a cold draft present in the breeze. Fortunately, she had chosen to wear a white long-sleeved shirt and red slacks while being covered by a maroon robe. Her skin was covered which left little to be exposed to the chilly weather. She was watering the ones she had planted in the gardens while humming a melody which has a certain sense of familiarity. When she was done outside, she made sure the ones inside the store were perfectly ready for the lingering eyes of her customers. This was her daily ritual for the past years of her life. She had found a sense of comfort in such chores. Although, she would admit that it had been quite boring unless there would be ruffians that would interrupt her so-called normal life. It may be one of the reasons why she had welcomed Vincent without much of a question to her home. She must have been waiting for some trigger to end the monotonicity of her life.
"Perhaps, it was fate..."
A passing opinion that floated within her mind. Yet slowly, it vanished into the dark recesses of her mind as Chandra felt eyes watching her from a distance. She was well-aware who were the owner of those eyes. The very first time she had experienced this. She was completely unused to such. If her memory served her right, she had asked for Vincent to greet her. However, the man had not listened to her in this matter. In any case, she had grown accustomed it and truth be told, humans were truly best in adapting to their environment if given enough time. As such, she found such feeling a part of her daily routine.
"Good morning, Vincent... Would you like some coffee?"
Speaking in such a casual cheery tone, Chandra did not gaze at Vincent while doing so. Instead her focus was on the bunch of blue and lavender hydrangeas. She cradled the flower with such care on one hand while gently spraying them with bouts of water. Ash green eyes gazed at the flowers with a softness and warmth reserved only for them while her cherry red fell around her silken curtains. After a few moments, she turned to face Vincent with a small smile adorning her lips.
"Care to join me for breakfast?"
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Ayase
She scooted over and leaned her head on his shoulder. Shrugging, she looked down at her arm. "Stings a bit," she said quietly. Ayase was never much of a talker, but usually she could talk to Leo. When she was quiet, that usually meant something was wrong. When she looked up at him, she gasped. "What happened!?" she jumped up, going to the meager medical supplies they hand, and working on his lip and eyebrow.
"I wish you wouldn't go down to those more...dangerous places. Leave that for those who don't have people to worry sick about them!" She knew her argument could be turned right onto her, since she was always in danger fixing the machines and working in the glue factory. In order to not give him a chance to turn it on her, she changed the topic while she worked. "I went to that doll shop again. I dropped off a screwed up bottle of glue," his disaproving glance made her aware she had stolen. "They would have thrown it out anyway. Plus, no one knows we live together. It's an apartment building, I could live in any of the rooms," she blew her bangs out of her face, in a way she did when sh was trying to make a point, and smiled.
"I wish you wouldn't go down to those more...dangerous places. Leave that for those who don't have people to worry sick about them!" She knew her argument could be turned right onto her, since she was always in danger fixing the machines and working in the glue factory. In order to not give him a chance to turn it on her, she changed the topic while she worked. "I went to that doll shop again. I dropped off a screwed up bottle of glue," his disaproving glance made her aware she had stolen. "They would have thrown it out anyway. Plus, no one knows we live together. It's an apartment building, I could live in any of the rooms," she blew her bangs out of her face, in a way she did when sh was trying to make a point, and smiled.
Leo Reynolds
Leo had just been ready to relax with Ayase nestled against him when she noticed the cuts. The moments he saw the medical supplies, he scoffed. "Honestly, this is a bit much. It looks worse than it is." He swatted her hand away when she tried to clean his wounds, taking the supplies from her and placing them on the table. "No. We are lucky enough to have that much, let's save it for a real emergency." The tone in his voice was stern, showing that there would be no argument on the subject. What was said was to be followed.
When Ayase said that he should be more careful because she worried about him, he was taken aback slightly, and would have protested had she let him have the chance. He was quiet and reserved, like a child who had just been punished. When she mentioned the glue, he looked up only long enough to give her a disapproving look, then looked away again, his eyes troubled. He shrugged slightly at the rest of her speech. "Okay." Was all he said, a response he usually gave when he really hadn't absorbed any of the conversation because he had a lot on his mind. "I'm going to wash my face off." With that, he stood and went to the bathroom.
When he got there, Leo looked into the mirror at his face. He was right, it did look worse than it was. His own disapproving eyes looked back at him. He hated that he was a source of stress in Ayase's life. He was supposed to be helping her, not making things worse. He sighed and splashed water over his face, gently scrubbing the areas with blood until it came off. After he was clean, it was shown that the cuts were miniscule, no more than a centimeter each. After he was done he walked back to the living room and sat down. "Head wounds bleed more than regular wounds." Was all he said, staring at the wall before closing his eyes and tilting his head back. He had worked so hard to keep stress away from Ayase, yet here he was causing it all along.
Leo had just been ready to relax with Ayase nestled against him when she noticed the cuts. The moments he saw the medical supplies, he scoffed. "Honestly, this is a bit much. It looks worse than it is." He swatted her hand away when she tried to clean his wounds, taking the supplies from her and placing them on the table. "No. We are lucky enough to have that much, let's save it for a real emergency." The tone in his voice was stern, showing that there would be no argument on the subject. What was said was to be followed.
When Ayase said that he should be more careful because she worried about him, he was taken aback slightly, and would have protested had she let him have the chance. He was quiet and reserved, like a child who had just been punished. When she mentioned the glue, he looked up only long enough to give her a disapproving look, then looked away again, his eyes troubled. He shrugged slightly at the rest of her speech. "Okay." Was all he said, a response he usually gave when he really hadn't absorbed any of the conversation because he had a lot on his mind. "I'm going to wash my face off." With that, he stood and went to the bathroom.
When he got there, Leo looked into the mirror at his face. He was right, it did look worse than it was. His own disapproving eyes looked back at him. He hated that he was a source of stress in Ayase's life. He was supposed to be helping her, not making things worse. He sighed and splashed water over his face, gently scrubbing the areas with blood until it came off. After he was clean, it was shown that the cuts were miniscule, no more than a centimeter each. After he was done he walked back to the living room and sat down. "Head wounds bleed more than regular wounds." Was all he said, staring at the wall before closing his eyes and tilting his head back. He had worked so hard to keep stress away from Ayase, yet here he was causing it all along.
Kloud Forland
A rustle. A movement, thus she tensed in instinct but calmed when she felt the familiar touch of her boyfriend. Again he was off early to his work, but then again, she too has to stir awake. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt though. Letting her conscious settle, she calmed at the sound of her lovers movement, but felt a little discomfort rise as she felt his warmth disappearing. And as time passed like a snap, she heard the door shut close, leaving her alone...in the big... room.
'On the bright side, I have the whole bed now..' She reassured herself, before rolling over on the bed. Before shifting again. and again. "...." With a huff, Kloud abruptly sat up, and ran frail hands through her blond hair, before yawning quietly. Slowly, she slipped out of bed, and started to shuffle towards her closet.
What was she going to do today? Kloud began to wonder, as she did everyday. Being a bounty hunter, you'll never know what your going to do in the morning, who you'll hunt down, or who you will protect. Or if your going to die....
A faint memory of her parents flash through her mind, but she shook her head out of the nightmare. "Everyone worries about that.." Kloud told herself reassuringly. Quickly, she resumed her actions and slipped on her usual attire consisting of shorts and a beige poncho that covered her body and mouth from her usual daily dangers. Gas, The cold.. etc. Nothing like that scared her though.
Strapping on her medical pouch and weapons, Kloud nodded at herself in the mirror, before heading out, her face neutral as ever, while her eyes shined bright- well actually her expression wasent...neutral. You can describe it more as a very soft yet calm look, not very neutral..that sounded too...cold. and cold didnt match her appearance anyways, a warm look looked better along with her blonde hair and crystal green eyes.
"Good Morning.." Kloud told people nearby, before turning the corner, hoping to find someone to talk to. Or at least see, for her motherly self can't go on without seeing her precious "family". Looking down the hall, Kloud thought of things to do. Maybe she should visit Steve.. or maybe train? No, it would be too early to visit Steve.. and well training was an option. 'What to do..what to do..' Looking around once more, she shrugged off the question and allowed her feet to take her to her destination.
'On the bright side, I have the whole bed now..' She reassured herself, before rolling over on the bed. Before shifting again. and again. "...." With a huff, Kloud abruptly sat up, and ran frail hands through her blond hair, before yawning quietly. Slowly, she slipped out of bed, and started to shuffle towards her closet.
What was she going to do today? Kloud began to wonder, as she did everyday. Being a bounty hunter, you'll never know what your going to do in the morning, who you'll hunt down, or who you will protect. Or if your going to die....
A faint memory of her parents flash through her mind, but she shook her head out of the nightmare. "Everyone worries about that.." Kloud told herself reassuringly. Quickly, she resumed her actions and slipped on her usual attire consisting of shorts and a beige poncho that covered her body and mouth from her usual daily dangers. Gas, The cold.. etc. Nothing like that scared her though.
Strapping on her medical pouch and weapons, Kloud nodded at herself in the mirror, before heading out, her face neutral as ever, while her eyes shined bright- well actually her expression wasent...neutral. You can describe it more as a very soft yet calm look, not very neutral..that sounded too...cold. and cold didnt match her appearance anyways, a warm look looked better along with her blonde hair and crystal green eyes.
"Good Morning.." Kloud told people nearby, before turning the corner, hoping to find someone to talk to. Or at least see, for her motherly self can't go on without seeing her precious "family". Looking down the hall, Kloud thought of things to do. Maybe she should visit Steve.. or maybe train? No, it would be too early to visit Steve.. and well training was an option. 'What to do..what to do..' Looking around once more, she shrugged off the question and allowed her feet to take her to her destination.
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Ayase
Ayase returned her head to his shoulder, snuggling into his side and going back to the sketch she was working on. While she drew, she let her mind wander. This man, her savior, was so much to her, and she knew everything about him, but this, this was a new way for him to act. He never acted as though he was...down. Generally a happy person around her, his smile was something she craved after the sour, forlorn faces of those in the factory for 12 hours straight. Shrugging to herself, she braided her hair to the side quickly to keep it out of her face. Looking up at Leo, she looked down at the blue print. Turning the page, she started to sketch him the way he was, so relaxed and happy. She left out the few cuts but added a slight smirk, as if he was having a good dream.
He moved slightly, and she quickly flipped back to the blueprint. When it came to her portraits, she never let peopel look at them. Somehow, though, Leo always convinced her to let him see them. However, she wouldn't let him see this one. She was adding herself to it, drawing as if she was looking at the scene from the outside, and she didn't like how she drew herself. As the sun started to set lower in the sky, she got up quietly. She could tell Leo was asleep, but he needed to eat. The smell of her cooking would wake him up, so she decided to let him sleep until she was done.
Moving quietly to the kitchen, she started cooking their last bit of meat, starting to go a little bad, but what didn't kill them or make them sick was considered eatible to them. Frying the meat in fat left from her cooking last night, she mixed it with onions, peppers, mushrooms, and carrots, making a mock stirfry. While she was cooking, she began humming her herself, then singing quietly. As she worked, the smell of cooking meat and vegetables filled her home, and she knew Leo would be awake soon. As she toasted some very stale bread and rubbed it with spicy butter she made a week ago, she plated up the food. Ayase knew she didn't have long till the smell would lift him, zombie like and groggy, from the couch to the kitchen. She set the table, making it look prettier than the food probably tasted, and got water for them both. As she turned off the stove, she heard a rustling in the living room. Smiling to herself for her own knowledge of the mans routine, she sat, waiting patiently for him before she began eating.
Ayase returned her head to his shoulder, snuggling into his side and going back to the sketch she was working on. While she drew, she let her mind wander. This man, her savior, was so much to her, and she knew everything about him, but this, this was a new way for him to act. He never acted as though he was...down. Generally a happy person around her, his smile was something she craved after the sour, forlorn faces of those in the factory for 12 hours straight. Shrugging to herself, she braided her hair to the side quickly to keep it out of her face. Looking up at Leo, she looked down at the blue print. Turning the page, she started to sketch him the way he was, so relaxed and happy. She left out the few cuts but added a slight smirk, as if he was having a good dream.
He moved slightly, and she quickly flipped back to the blueprint. When it came to her portraits, she never let peopel look at them. Somehow, though, Leo always convinced her to let him see them. However, she wouldn't let him see this one. She was adding herself to it, drawing as if she was looking at the scene from the outside, and she didn't like how she drew herself. As the sun started to set lower in the sky, she got up quietly. She could tell Leo was asleep, but he needed to eat. The smell of her cooking would wake him up, so she decided to let him sleep until she was done.
Moving quietly to the kitchen, she started cooking their last bit of meat, starting to go a little bad, but what didn't kill them or make them sick was considered eatible to them. Frying the meat in fat left from her cooking last night, she mixed it with onions, peppers, mushrooms, and carrots, making a mock stirfry. While she was cooking, she began humming her herself, then singing quietly. As she worked, the smell of cooking meat and vegetables filled her home, and she knew Leo would be awake soon. As she toasted some very stale bread and rubbed it with spicy butter she made a week ago, she plated up the food. Ayase knew she didn't have long till the smell would lift him, zombie like and groggy, from the couch to the kitchen. She set the table, making it look prettier than the food probably tasted, and got water for them both. As she turned off the stove, she heard a rustling in the living room. Smiling to herself for her own knowledge of the mans routine, she sat, waiting patiently for him before she began eating.
Steve sat in the chair for a while, he stared out at that mansion like it he would set it a blaze with his eye sight. No one dared come in his office unless it was something important or one of his personal team. He turned back around to the door and stood up as he walked to his bookshelves. "Carol." He said as the secretary came through the door. Waiting as she usually was for the OK to come in, "Good morning sir, not to many things for you but what we do have is a bit serious." "Serious how?" Steve asked as he had his finger on the binding of Dwigth E. Esinhowers biography as his eyebrows cocked up at the statement. "Not that serious sir, the force has been real busy with the rebelion in the south. I don't know what your team has found but I could send out for Kutya if need be sir?" "Not at the moment, he'll come when needed. How come the engineers?" "That was another thing, Professor Token said that they have made a breakthrough and the steam converter for the machines should be done within a week." "Tell him to make it 3 days and he'll have what he wants." "Yes sir." "Anything else?" Steve asked as he decided not to pick any book and was now turning to Carol as she flipped through the pages. "Umm yes, we have a batch of new recruits starting today. Roland is out today, his daughter had to be brought to the emergency room last night. Also the new batch of rifles are in from the west, they are being cleaned and checked right now sir." Steve nodded as he looked at his blade and pulled it out a inch to see if he cleaned it last night. He pushed it back in and walked past Carol. "I'm going to the training yard to see the recruits, could you get me some lunch for when I come back, oh and Kloud's to, I'm sure she'll be by." "Yes sir."
Upon entering the yard Steve sat back at the entrance as the new boys and girls ran their drills. "That! Was the most pathetic 200 push ups I've ever seen! You all look like a bunch of spineless fish, flopping around on the ground! Bohanin! Lead these pack kitten muscled wimps off my field, 10 laps around the city!" "Yes sir trainer sir!" Bohanin said with a tired smirk as he stood tall in front of the trainer for each officer on the force. "I don't think I heard you all!" "YES SIR TRAINER SIR!!" The squad replied. "Hold it." Steve said as he walked to the group. "Aye General! Aten Hut!" The group stood straight at the sight of The General on the field. "At ease, tell me Trainer, whose the leader of this squadron?" "Trainie Bohanin sir, he's quite the spirited one." "Well we can fix that yes?" "Bohanin! On the double!" Trainer said as Bohanin moved to the front, "Bohanin is it? I worked with your father a few years back, good man, horrible loss." "Thank you General sir." "Trainer tells me you are a little cocky?" "I'm confident in my skills sir!" Steve nodded at his statement with a smile and moved a little away from the group as he unseathed his cutlass and tossed it to Bohanin, Trainer quickly tossing Steve a traning sword. "Lets see them then." Bohanin cautiously thought about it but then moved forward, not going to be shown up, just like his old man. Bohanin made the first charge which resulted in Steve's quick parry and a small slice to Bohanin's side. It hurt for sure but it let him know that this wan't a game and he was ment to go all out. Bohanin kept coming but Steve just rolled the hits off, throwing a ocasional punch as the kid kept trying. Finally Steve had enough, he parried a hit and kicked Bohanin in the stomach as Bohanin fell to the ground he was quickly greeted with Steve's desert eagle in his mouth. "You are to lead, then you better learn some humility. You can be the best in the damn world at sword fighting but that doesn't matter when your the other guy has a gun. Have a plan, have a backup, and have more backups if you want to live. Variables happen at every moment and if you can't account for them then you will not lead or be in my force, and if I damn well feel like it, you won't live." A click was heard but nothing else, Steve pulled the barrel out of Bohanin's mouth and stood. "Damn thing has such a heavy barrel you're not quite sure sometimes if you got it in the barrel or not." Steve pulled the slide back, actually loading the chamber now. He holstered the rifle and looked around at the group. "We are here so we can make a better world, so people aren't living in this hell for the rest of days as we are. We are not here so you can brag to your little friends of being a officer." He said with a glimps at Bohanin. "Have a plan, have a backup, and have more backups. Live by it or die in this hell." Steve started to walk away as Trainer told the next in line to lead the run while he helped Bohanin to the med bay.
Steve went back inside the building as on days like these he wasn't sure what to do. He could do petty things, even go on patrol, but right now his plans were in a building phase. He had to wait, which killed him but also made him happy. Now he could focus more on him, but Kloud also deserved some of his time, with how much he had been gone lately to much and had rarely spent time with her. For now though, he just had to wait.
Upon entering the yard Steve sat back at the entrance as the new boys and girls ran their drills. "That! Was the most pathetic 200 push ups I've ever seen! You all look like a bunch of spineless fish, flopping around on the ground! Bohanin! Lead these pack kitten muscled wimps off my field, 10 laps around the city!" "Yes sir trainer sir!" Bohanin said with a tired smirk as he stood tall in front of the trainer for each officer on the force. "I don't think I heard you all!" "YES SIR TRAINER SIR!!" The squad replied. "Hold it." Steve said as he walked to the group. "Aye General! Aten Hut!" The group stood straight at the sight of The General on the field. "At ease, tell me Trainer, whose the leader of this squadron?" "Trainie Bohanin sir, he's quite the spirited one." "Well we can fix that yes?" "Bohanin! On the double!" Trainer said as Bohanin moved to the front, "Bohanin is it? I worked with your father a few years back, good man, horrible loss." "Thank you General sir." "Trainer tells me you are a little cocky?" "I'm confident in my skills sir!" Steve nodded at his statement with a smile and moved a little away from the group as he unseathed his cutlass and tossed it to Bohanin, Trainer quickly tossing Steve a traning sword. "Lets see them then." Bohanin cautiously thought about it but then moved forward, not going to be shown up, just like his old man. Bohanin made the first charge which resulted in Steve's quick parry and a small slice to Bohanin's side. It hurt for sure but it let him know that this wan't a game and he was ment to go all out. Bohanin kept coming but Steve just rolled the hits off, throwing a ocasional punch as the kid kept trying. Finally Steve had enough, he parried a hit and kicked Bohanin in the stomach as Bohanin fell to the ground he was quickly greeted with Steve's desert eagle in his mouth. "You are to lead, then you better learn some humility. You can be the best in the damn world at sword fighting but that doesn't matter when your the other guy has a gun. Have a plan, have a backup, and have more backups if you want to live. Variables happen at every moment and if you can't account for them then you will not lead or be in my force, and if I damn well feel like it, you won't live." A click was heard but nothing else, Steve pulled the barrel out of Bohanin's mouth and stood. "Damn thing has such a heavy barrel you're not quite sure sometimes if you got it in the barrel or not." Steve pulled the slide back, actually loading the chamber now. He holstered the rifle and looked around at the group. "We are here so we can make a better world, so people aren't living in this hell for the rest of days as we are. We are not here so you can brag to your little friends of being a officer." He said with a glimps at Bohanin. "Have a plan, have a backup, and have more backups. Live by it or die in this hell." Steve started to walk away as Trainer told the next in line to lead the run while he helped Bohanin to the med bay.
Steve went back inside the building as on days like these he wasn't sure what to do. He could do petty things, even go on patrol, but right now his plans were in a building phase. He had to wait, which killed him but also made him happy. Now he could focus more on him, but Kloud also deserved some of his time, with how much he had been gone lately to much and had rarely spent time with her. For now though, he just had to wait.
Morticia Castelle
Light barely filtered through the dingy window blinds. The sun was just barely speaking in, dawn broken. Dust particles could be seen in the small rays channelled into the room. The agile woman stood almost perfectly still, only her long skinny fingers counted through the cash she held. Her unflinching profile gazed at the money, a blank stare. Her body faced an old unmade bed, the sheets and blankets were tossed and thrown in different directions. The rest of the room was just as gross as you'd think. The painted was chipped, wallpaper pealing, the carpet was stained in multiple places, but what could you really expect from a shifty motel.
Blood splattered and painted the wall behind her, still fresh and dripping. She didn't like to look too much at the bodies after the fact, so she avoided looking at the man she'd just finished with's corpse. Slyly, she sauntered over to the bed's side table. The wood looked like it was rotting in a few places, and had a few cigarette burn marks. She carefully picked up the knife she'd placed there moments before, and slid the sides of it against the bed's sheets, wiping the remaining red liquid from it. She stood there for a moment, glaring at nothing in particular. She stayed, deep in thought, but thinking of nothing really. It's weird how things work like that isn't it?
Suddenly, a piercing pain shot through her head. Her free hand shot to her forehead, pressing her fingers firmly to her temples, trying to dull the pain. She was getting another flash back.
The air was sticky. The hot sun beat through the window. The smell of blood was overwhelming. My father was hurting her again. I had to stop watching at that point because I started to feel sick, but it kept going on, and they kept doing other things, and she kept saying “no.” Even when I covered my ears, I could still hear her say that. I cried, he told me to shut up. I buried my face in my knees, trying to smother my sobs. All I could think of for the past while was murdering that man. Killing him and making him suffer as much as he had made others. I don’t want to start thinking again. Not like I have this last week. I can’t think again. Not ever again. It was bad. He was my father. This is how it's supposed to be. At that moment what I really wanted was to sleep. I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That’s why I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning.
She felt the memory fade, the thoughts of the innocent girl. A burst of anger surged through her. Quickly, she turned around, so angry she couldn't control herself. She couldn't stop herself from beating the already deceased body. She had a fit of maniac rage, stabbing the skull over 15 times. Heavily breathing, she finally stopped. Taking a step back she exhaled deeply, suddenly feeling relaxed, but also exhausted.
Collecting herself, and all she had, she exited the room. She wasn't worried about anyone finding the body, or anyone catching her. Things like that didn't happen, and she knew that. She strutted through the city, or what was left of it, what she'd always known. Her tightly tied pink corset top, with black lace and a short black skin-tight skirt she wore, with fishnets and boots. Basic attire for the job, of course.
Turning the corner, she saw Kloud nearing her. A smirk spread across her red-painted lips. Approaching her, she batted her long eyelashes. "Well hello, Darling." she play-flirted. "What are you up to this fine day?"
Light barely filtered through the dingy window blinds. The sun was just barely speaking in, dawn broken. Dust particles could be seen in the small rays channelled into the room. The agile woman stood almost perfectly still, only her long skinny fingers counted through the cash she held. Her unflinching profile gazed at the money, a blank stare. Her body faced an old unmade bed, the sheets and blankets were tossed and thrown in different directions. The rest of the room was just as gross as you'd think. The painted was chipped, wallpaper pealing, the carpet was stained in multiple places, but what could you really expect from a shifty motel.
Blood splattered and painted the wall behind her, still fresh and dripping. She didn't like to look too much at the bodies after the fact, so she avoided looking at the man she'd just finished with's corpse. Slyly, she sauntered over to the bed's side table. The wood looked like it was rotting in a few places, and had a few cigarette burn marks. She carefully picked up the knife she'd placed there moments before, and slid the sides of it against the bed's sheets, wiping the remaining red liquid from it. She stood there for a moment, glaring at nothing in particular. She stayed, deep in thought, but thinking of nothing really. It's weird how things work like that isn't it?
Suddenly, a piercing pain shot through her head. Her free hand shot to her forehead, pressing her fingers firmly to her temples, trying to dull the pain. She was getting another flash back.
The air was sticky. The hot sun beat through the window. The smell of blood was overwhelming. My father was hurting her again. I had to stop watching at that point because I started to feel sick, but it kept going on, and they kept doing other things, and she kept saying “no.” Even when I covered my ears, I could still hear her say that. I cried, he told me to shut up. I buried my face in my knees, trying to smother my sobs. All I could think of for the past while was murdering that man. Killing him and making him suffer as much as he had made others. I don’t want to start thinking again. Not like I have this last week. I can’t think again. Not ever again. It was bad. He was my father. This is how it's supposed to be. At that moment what I really wanted was to sleep. I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That’s why I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning.
She felt the memory fade, the thoughts of the innocent girl. A burst of anger surged through her. Quickly, she turned around, so angry she couldn't control herself. She couldn't stop herself from beating the already deceased body. She had a fit of maniac rage, stabbing the skull over 15 times. Heavily breathing, she finally stopped. Taking a step back she exhaled deeply, suddenly feeling relaxed, but also exhausted.
Collecting herself, and all she had, she exited the room. She wasn't worried about anyone finding the body, or anyone catching her. Things like that didn't happen, and she knew that. She strutted through the city, or what was left of it, what she'd always known. Her tightly tied pink corset top, with black lace and a short black skin-tight skirt she wore, with fishnets and boots. Basic attire for the job, of course.
Turning the corner, she saw Kloud nearing her. A smirk spread across her red-painted lips. Approaching her, she batted her long eyelashes. "Well hello, Darling." she play-flirted. "What are you up to this fine day?"
Leo Reynolds
Leo had felt the warmth of Ayase against him once again as he fell asleep. The time where he was most at peace was when he knew she was safe, it was the only time he could really sleep. Otherwise his sleep was restless or just didn't happen at all, which was never usually good for his health. Those were the moments where he started excessively cleaning, those hours that he got home before Ayase and he worried for her. He knew his anxiety over her was bad, but he couldn't help it. So, it was a comfort to feel her against him as he drifted off...
Leo was wandering around the house. He knew that Ayase had been here just a minute ago, she had been with him. But he couldn't find her now, and it was dark out. He stepped out of the house and began roaming the streets of New Penn for her. He wandered aimlessly, after searching the factory and doll shop. She was in neither place and he was beginning to feel quite frantic. He called out her name over and over, but she didn't come running. That was when he heard the scream. He started springing toward the sound, then discovered a man standing above Ayase's limp body. The man then turned, and Leo saw his own face reflected back at him with a sick smile on his face.
Leo gasped, waking suddenly from his sleep. Of course it had been a dream. He couldn't hear anymore. Or smell, for that matter. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, seeing the sweat through his shirt. He would have to wash the shirt at least twice. He then turned and saw Ayase wasn't with him and it felt as if his heart stopped.
He got up and searched the house, finally reaching the kitchen and seeing her. He let out a sigh of relief, going over to her and ruffling her hair. "J'ai eu le rêve de pire. Vous étiez allé et je ne pouvais pas vous trouver n'importe où, puis je me suis réveillé et vous étiez allé." Without thinking, he had spoken French to her. Then he hit his head with the palm of his hand. "Sorry. What I meant to say was, I had a bad dream that you were gone and when I woke up, you were there."
Leo had felt the warmth of Ayase against him once again as he fell asleep. The time where he was most at peace was when he knew she was safe, it was the only time he could really sleep. Otherwise his sleep was restless or just didn't happen at all, which was never usually good for his health. Those were the moments where he started excessively cleaning, those hours that he got home before Ayase and he worried for her. He knew his anxiety over her was bad, but he couldn't help it. So, it was a comfort to feel her against him as he drifted off...
Leo was wandering around the house. He knew that Ayase had been here just a minute ago, she had been with him. But he couldn't find her now, and it was dark out. He stepped out of the house and began roaming the streets of New Penn for her. He wandered aimlessly, after searching the factory and doll shop. She was in neither place and he was beginning to feel quite frantic. He called out her name over and over, but she didn't come running. That was when he heard the scream. He started springing toward the sound, then discovered a man standing above Ayase's limp body. The man then turned, and Leo saw his own face reflected back at him with a sick smile on his face.
Leo gasped, waking suddenly from his sleep. Of course it had been a dream. He couldn't hear anymore. Or smell, for that matter. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, seeing the sweat through his shirt. He would have to wash the shirt at least twice. He then turned and saw Ayase wasn't with him and it felt as if his heart stopped.
He got up and searched the house, finally reaching the kitchen and seeing her. He let out a sigh of relief, going over to her and ruffling her hair. "J'ai eu le rêve de pire. Vous étiez allé et je ne pouvais pas vous trouver n'importe où, puis je me suis réveillé et vous étiez allé." Without thinking, he had spoken French to her. Then he hit his head with the palm of his hand. "Sorry. What I meant to say was, I had a bad dream that you were gone and when I woke up, you were there."
To Chandra’s initial question, Vincent did not reply. In truth, he was still not entirely accustomed to the niceties of conversation. In his childhood, he and those around him had communicated when there was something important to say. In his adolescence, he was lucky to be spoken to once a week. Even then, it was always terse, no more informative than it had to be, and usually included commentary on his perceived shortcomings. When they weren’t correcting his form- filing his claws- they were simply content to ignore him, and he had thought that this was simply the way of the world for people like him.
In the short time he’d been king, nobody had bothered to speak much to him either, but that was different. He spoke, and they listened, obeyed. It was in one way something utterly foreign to him, but he had not known enough to find it unpleasant. If that was the way that kings communicated, then he would too. It would be the way in which the world was saved, and he had a duty to it.
But she spoke for no reason. She said things like ‘good morning’ and inquired after his health. The second was surely of no consequence to her; if he was in poor condition, he would remove himself from her presence. Predators drew closer to wounded animals, and he would not subject anyone else to that. The first just made no sense. Who was she to decide if his morning was good or not? How did she know? Or did she presume to order him, to tell him that he must have one or experience some unknown consequence? He had since learned that this was ‘small talk,’ and it confused him just as much as everything else about the situation he now found himself in. Though he had endured unspeakable cruelty, he was coming to realize that even so he was naïve. There was too much he could not wrap his analytical logistical mind around, and ordinary pleasantry was just the tip of the iceberg.
Vincent- and that was strange, too, the need for names; he’d not had one before and picked the first thing that came to him when asked- shifted slightly, adjusting the distribution of his weight and shoving his hands in his pockets. Like most things, he’d never learned it was rude to stare, and so he made a habit of doing so, observing the peasants as they went about their daily lives, doing things that perplexed him as though it was as all as natural as breathing. Perhaps there was some difference between they and he, between peasants and kings and manufactured soldiers, and he didn’t really know which he was anymore. He did know, though, what he could be, and he could be a god. It was a new urge, to use his hands to destroy, to create, to protect at his own discretion; before, he’d used them unthinkingly in the service of others. What would it be like to live entirely for himself?
…But he had not that freedom, nor did he want it. All he knew how to do was to serve, and he would carry that tendency to its logical conclusion. He would serve them all, lend them his strength, his will, his stewardship. But it would be all for them. It was what he’d been made for.
Like she was made for flowers. It was a curious thought, but he decided it made sense to him. She even resembled them: hair shaded after the darkest rose, irises of a kind with the underside of a leaf. Even her voice was gentle, still- like a reservoir of water. Perhaps that was why her simple motions fascinated him so- as did the smooth strokes of a carpenter at wood, or the delicate motions of an artist with paint. They became adept because they cultivated the traits that made them so. And he had cultivated the traits, by his own will or not, that would make him good at serving them.
Something clicked within him, and he felt a rare surety, affirmation of his existence. Validation, only he didn’t think of himself as something with value to appraise. He simply was, and would continue to be. It was what he could achieve that mattered.
“…Yes,” he replied distractedly to the offer of breakfast, though his mind was elsewhere. It circled back around with lightning precision, however, and he raised his eyes to meet hers dead-on. “I want… to take back this place,” he declared suddenly, and why he was telling her he could not say. Perhaps it was simply because there was nobody else to tell.
“But this time, I cannot do it alone.” In his absence, there was no king, and the closest thing New Penn had was its general. He would not likely be so foolish as to agree to take Vincent on in single combat for the throne, not when it was precisely that mistake which had killed his brother. And that was assuming he could make it so easily past the rest of the army this time. Unlikely, at best. No, if he was to do this, he would require allies, people who wanted the same things he did. A soldier, however exquisitely-crafted, would not be enough. This would require tacticians, engineers, lieutenants, and ordinary people.
It would, he realized, require peasants. The very people who stood to gain the most, but knew their own strength the least. They would have to drive the engine of their own empowerment. He would be that engine, but they would be the fuel, the infrastructure, and the track. He needed them as much as they needed him, and this thought satisfied him, bringing the faintest light to his eyes. No smile, for Vincent did not know how. But the light, that was enough.
That would save them all.
In the short time he’d been king, nobody had bothered to speak much to him either, but that was different. He spoke, and they listened, obeyed. It was in one way something utterly foreign to him, but he had not known enough to find it unpleasant. If that was the way that kings communicated, then he would too. It would be the way in which the world was saved, and he had a duty to it.
But she spoke for no reason. She said things like ‘good morning’ and inquired after his health. The second was surely of no consequence to her; if he was in poor condition, he would remove himself from her presence. Predators drew closer to wounded animals, and he would not subject anyone else to that. The first just made no sense. Who was she to decide if his morning was good or not? How did she know? Or did she presume to order him, to tell him that he must have one or experience some unknown consequence? He had since learned that this was ‘small talk,’ and it confused him just as much as everything else about the situation he now found himself in. Though he had endured unspeakable cruelty, he was coming to realize that even so he was naïve. There was too much he could not wrap his analytical logistical mind around, and ordinary pleasantry was just the tip of the iceberg.
Vincent- and that was strange, too, the need for names; he’d not had one before and picked the first thing that came to him when asked- shifted slightly, adjusting the distribution of his weight and shoving his hands in his pockets. Like most things, he’d never learned it was rude to stare, and so he made a habit of doing so, observing the peasants as they went about their daily lives, doing things that perplexed him as though it was as all as natural as breathing. Perhaps there was some difference between they and he, between peasants and kings and manufactured soldiers, and he didn’t really know which he was anymore. He did know, though, what he could be, and he could be a god. It was a new urge, to use his hands to destroy, to create, to protect at his own discretion; before, he’d used them unthinkingly in the service of others. What would it be like to live entirely for himself?
…But he had not that freedom, nor did he want it. All he knew how to do was to serve, and he would carry that tendency to its logical conclusion. He would serve them all, lend them his strength, his will, his stewardship. But it would be all for them. It was what he’d been made for.
Like she was made for flowers. It was a curious thought, but he decided it made sense to him. She even resembled them: hair shaded after the darkest rose, irises of a kind with the underside of a leaf. Even her voice was gentle, still- like a reservoir of water. Perhaps that was why her simple motions fascinated him so- as did the smooth strokes of a carpenter at wood, or the delicate motions of an artist with paint. They became adept because they cultivated the traits that made them so. And he had cultivated the traits, by his own will or not, that would make him good at serving them.
Something clicked within him, and he felt a rare surety, affirmation of his existence. Validation, only he didn’t think of himself as something with value to appraise. He simply was, and would continue to be. It was what he could achieve that mattered.
“…Yes,” he replied distractedly to the offer of breakfast, though his mind was elsewhere. It circled back around with lightning precision, however, and he raised his eyes to meet hers dead-on. “I want… to take back this place,” he declared suddenly, and why he was telling her he could not say. Perhaps it was simply because there was nobody else to tell.
“But this time, I cannot do it alone.” In his absence, there was no king, and the closest thing New Penn had was its general. He would not likely be so foolish as to agree to take Vincent on in single combat for the throne, not when it was precisely that mistake which had killed his brother. And that was assuming he could make it so easily past the rest of the army this time. Unlikely, at best. No, if he was to do this, he would require allies, people who wanted the same things he did. A soldier, however exquisitely-crafted, would not be enough. This would require tacticians, engineers, lieutenants, and ordinary people.
It would, he realized, require peasants. The very people who stood to gain the most, but knew their own strength the least. They would have to drive the engine of their own empowerment. He would be that engine, but they would be the fuel, the infrastructure, and the track. He needed them as much as they needed him, and this thought satisfied him, bringing the faintest light to his eyes. No smile, for Vincent did not know how. But the light, that was enough.
That would save them all.
Kutya
Kutya did not stay in his hiding spot for long before he spotted Kloud leaving the house that she and Steve shared. He made no move to stand and approach her, nor to wave. He sat and watched her leave. Something in his gut told him that it was best for him to stay away for now. He watched her until she disappeared around the first building before getting up and moving into the woods near their home. He walked between the trees, occasionally brushing a branch out of the way with one arm or the other if one happened to get in his way. The city was visible through the trees, some distance away. The air remained still and quiet, aside from the few sounds from the city as people went about their days. Kutya's brow furrowed at the knowledge that he'd need to confront the day from here on out, and he wasn't in the mood to do any major work. No doubt that Steve's got some sort of long job for me. Fantastic. He growled softly to himself in irritation.
"Right. Best get a move on.", he murmured to himself.
Shaking his shoulders and arms out, Kutya stretched for a brief moment before getting down on all fours. His eyes flashed as a feral grin formed on his face. He sprang forward after that, heading out for Steve's headquarters. It was not long before he exited the treeline and darted between the buildings of the city. Those who knew him were wise to stay out of his way, lest they be knocked over in his run. Some children, playing on a newly created playground, waved at him as he ran past. Others stared at him in awe, or fear. Something about the way he moved like an animal, but was still a man, captivated the children. Kutya shot them a quick smile as he ran past. He continued onward, occasionally bounding over someone's trash or dodging the occasional street sign. Halfway to the headquarters, he spied Kloud and Morticia standing on the street, exchanging some brief conversation. He gave his best impression of a bark before finishing his journey.
Outside the building, Kutya rose and brushed his hands together to get rid of most the dirt he had collected on his way over. His forehead had a faint sheen of sweat on it, which was hastily wiped off before turning the handle to the front door and entering. He paid no attention to any portion of the interior of the building, instead heading straight for Steve's office. Being in any confined space that he didn't know every inch of and was comfortable in always put him on edge. Rapping on the door with two knuckles, he didn't wait for an answer before stepping into the office. The barest sense of civility, really.
"Steve! Have anything for me? Or would you like to shoot the shit a while before something comes up. What'll it be, mate?", he said with a mocking sense of joy in his voice.
Kutya did not stay in his hiding spot for long before he spotted Kloud leaving the house that she and Steve shared. He made no move to stand and approach her, nor to wave. He sat and watched her leave. Something in his gut told him that it was best for him to stay away for now. He watched her until she disappeared around the first building before getting up and moving into the woods near their home. He walked between the trees, occasionally brushing a branch out of the way with one arm or the other if one happened to get in his way. The city was visible through the trees, some distance away. The air remained still and quiet, aside from the few sounds from the city as people went about their days. Kutya's brow furrowed at the knowledge that he'd need to confront the day from here on out, and he wasn't in the mood to do any major work. No doubt that Steve's got some sort of long job for me. Fantastic. He growled softly to himself in irritation.
"Right. Best get a move on.", he murmured to himself.
Shaking his shoulders and arms out, Kutya stretched for a brief moment before getting down on all fours. His eyes flashed as a feral grin formed on his face. He sprang forward after that, heading out for Steve's headquarters. It was not long before he exited the treeline and darted between the buildings of the city. Those who knew him were wise to stay out of his way, lest they be knocked over in his run. Some children, playing on a newly created playground, waved at him as he ran past. Others stared at him in awe, or fear. Something about the way he moved like an animal, but was still a man, captivated the children. Kutya shot them a quick smile as he ran past. He continued onward, occasionally bounding over someone's trash or dodging the occasional street sign. Halfway to the headquarters, he spied Kloud and Morticia standing on the street, exchanging some brief conversation. He gave his best impression of a bark before finishing his journey.
Outside the building, Kutya rose and brushed his hands together to get rid of most the dirt he had collected on his way over. His forehead had a faint sheen of sweat on it, which was hastily wiped off before turning the handle to the front door and entering. He paid no attention to any portion of the interior of the building, instead heading straight for Steve's office. Being in any confined space that he didn't know every inch of and was comfortable in always put him on edge. Rapping on the door with two knuckles, he didn't wait for an answer before stepping into the office. The barest sense of civility, really.
"Steve! Have anything for me? Or would you like to shoot the shit a while before something comes up. What'll it be, mate?", he said with a mocking sense of joy in his voice.
Steve was looking over the layout of the countryside, he had some free time now and instead of letting his men just run around and get killed by the hundreds until they finally find the farmers hidden holes, he would draw out a plan, end this within the week. Steve's mind was beautiful yet the most sick thing in this hell hole. His ability to know how people would act, to put himself into the shoes of even the lowest whore to a creator of the heavens was amazing. Then to use those thoughts, to know how they would react and mix it with the knowledge of every great strategic mind in this era and the past, plus his, was more deadly than anything a normal person could fathom. He could have two crippled men take on a army of a hundred and have the advantage. Some people called him a genius, he thought it was sick, but he would use it anyways, it was needed.
As the man burst through the doors Steve glanced up and then back down, finishing the patrol route for batalion bravo as the man talked about things like they were the best of friends. "First off, clean yourself for god sakes, how are you suppose to track someone when you can be smelt from across the seas. Also stop the beast run thing. You're a man, if you want people to treat you as such stop acting like a mutt." Steve stood rolling up the map as he looked at Kutya, he knew how Steve was. This was business, as was everything with him. There were two people that knew of a non work Steve and one was dead. "Now you know what you are suppose to be doing," Steve said as he walked to the window looking over at the mansion. "It's been 2 years, that assassin is still on the street, like it's OK for him to be out there after what he did..." Steve paused as he was lost a little at the memories. He turned back to Kutya and checked his belt at his weapons, checking to make sure they were ready as he always did in downtime. "Not your fault though, damn man was in and out before my brothers blood could be moped up, there's not much to follow on. I'm not quite sure where to go, let alone where to look. He's had plenty of time to where he could be across the country, or we've looked over something and he's in our backyard. Either way he has not been found and that is not good. He's a burden, my focus isn't on the goal but on the blood shed of this man. I rather have it out of the way, which is why I called on you." This wasn't the first time Kutya and Steve had worked together, they went back before the General title. Kutya was the closest thing he had to a friend even though Steve was a little shy on the concept. "I want this done Kutya, no more slacking, I want him found and DON'T let him see you. Have a plan, have a backup, and have more backups." He said as he relaxed a little and sat on the front of his desk as he looked over at the food Carol had got for him and Kloud. "Have you seen Kloud today? I had to leave early on account of the new kids, Bohanin's son is in the group, leader even. You remember Bohanin? Always paying for rounds at the Cornered Rhino and always soft on his work. Good man, when needed. Oh and Morticia? Haven't heard from her in a week, she's part of a plan and I'd like to know if the backup needs to be put into place." Steve poured two glasses of water and took his as he went back to the window, looking out and listening to Kutya.
As the man burst through the doors Steve glanced up and then back down, finishing the patrol route for batalion bravo as the man talked about things like they were the best of friends. "First off, clean yourself for god sakes, how are you suppose to track someone when you can be smelt from across the seas. Also stop the beast run thing. You're a man, if you want people to treat you as such stop acting like a mutt." Steve stood rolling up the map as he looked at Kutya, he knew how Steve was. This was business, as was everything with him. There were two people that knew of a non work Steve and one was dead. "Now you know what you are suppose to be doing," Steve said as he walked to the window looking over at the mansion. "It's been 2 years, that assassin is still on the street, like it's OK for him to be out there after what he did..." Steve paused as he was lost a little at the memories. He turned back to Kutya and checked his belt at his weapons, checking to make sure they were ready as he always did in downtime. "Not your fault though, damn man was in and out before my brothers blood could be moped up, there's not much to follow on. I'm not quite sure where to go, let alone where to look. He's had plenty of time to where he could be across the country, or we've looked over something and he's in our backyard. Either way he has not been found and that is not good. He's a burden, my focus isn't on the goal but on the blood shed of this man. I rather have it out of the way, which is why I called on you." This wasn't the first time Kutya and Steve had worked together, they went back before the General title. Kutya was the closest thing he had to a friend even though Steve was a little shy on the concept. "I want this done Kutya, no more slacking, I want him found and DON'T let him see you. Have a plan, have a backup, and have more backups." He said as he relaxed a little and sat on the front of his desk as he looked over at the food Carol had got for him and Kloud. "Have you seen Kloud today? I had to leave early on account of the new kids, Bohanin's son is in the group, leader even. You remember Bohanin? Always paying for rounds at the Cornered Rhino and always soft on his work. Good man, when needed. Oh and Morticia? Haven't heard from her in a week, she's part of a plan and I'd like to know if the backup needs to be put into place." Steve poured two glasses of water and took his as he went back to the window, looking out and listening to Kutya.
Chandra Alerann
"You reached out your hand to me, right? Then please remember, I have no intention to..."
"You reached out your hand to me, right? Then please remember, I have no intention to..."
Hearing Vincent's reply, Chandra gave a bright smile. It was good to know that he was beginning to answer her "small talks". Most of the time, he would just remain silent and stare at her. Those were the moments she wondered if she does look like an alien of some sorts. It would be an interesting matter if it was true. In any case, it was nice to see that her precocious guest was slowly shedding skin in terms of manners. After all, it was getting a bit of lonesome to converse with herself when he was just in front of her. However, his next words had caught her in a slight daze.
Ash green eyes met with those gray mauve irises. There was clear surprise in them but not as prominent that could be warranted as of importance. The brief lapse in her smiling expression soon changed into one of understanding. It was not certain yet, Chandra had the sense that this person would make her move. The question is would it be good or bad for her to break the standstill she was in. A place where nothing changes as she remains in between. Her position is that of what Vincent calls as a "peasant." Remarkably, she did not find offense in that. On the contrary, she finds it funny in a sense. The pitiable man that she had found outside her shop with the eyes of unrelenting pride was truly an intriguing person.
"Just promise that it would be something worthwhile, Vincent."
His name rolled out her mouth like a precious lullaby. A smile that was both finesse and mysterious could be seen adorning her face. There was also a very faint twinkle of mischief in those ash emerald eyes of hers. Looking at the hydrangea near to her, Chandra cradled its flower with much care. If she had remembered correctly, these flowers represent vanity, heartlessness, and coldness. Somehow, she finds this fitting towards the man in front of her. Leaning towards the star-shaped blossoms, she smelled the faint scent emitting from it.
"Do you like Hydrangeas? It would be entertaining to know if you do."
There was mirth in the tone Chandra had taken. This time she had returned her gaze to his form. It would be interesting to see where Vincent could take her. The things he would show her. They could be horrid or not. She really does not care about such useless details. The danger that followed him was not something that frightens her. It has done the opposite as it attracted her more. All she knew was that her life was about to change from the very moment she had opened her doors to him. Truth be said, she does not regret it at all.
"I will be your ally."
Those words left her lips with an odd assurance. It was like a playful retort yet those eyes of moonlit green were speaking of a different thing. Her gazes were always cheerful and gentle however, they were of unrelenting seriousness and a tad of dark mystery dancing in those orbs of hers. As such, it was the only thing that could provide an answer that Chandra was not taking what Vincent had said as pure humor. At the same time, it revealed a seemingly snippet on the mysterious side of the ever-normal florist of New Penn. A smile that were both of subtle mystery and comprehension of what he had said decorated her face.
"My oath to you, I shall pledge my loyalty and everything I am to your service."
Facing Vincent properly, a hand was reached out towards him. t was gesture of shaking hands as to greet or to make a contract. Chandra did not bat an eyelash as she spoke those words that oozed with a rather disturbing and eerie calmness. It was like such things does not really bother her despite hearing that he wanted to take this place back. Doing such things, it will result certainly in a war that she could die in. Yet, the very idea of that did not disturb her. Perhaps, it was right for some people to describe her as odd. After all, she agrees with this description in a hundred percent.
"Now, let us eat first. We will need all our energy to find you more allies now."
With that said, Chandra went on her way towards the kitchen area where the dining table was. She knew that Vincent would follow her without being prompted. It was the kind of man he is. There was no trouble about having customers as she has yet to turned the close sign to open. So, they would have an enjoyable meal. The fleeting thought made her wonder if the next breakfast they will have would be including new members. Without looking at him, she spoke her mind with a interest and a flash of glee. Yet, those ash green eyes portrayed another. It was more of excitement than anything else.
"I wonder what kind of people would be by your side... It is exciting, don't you think?"
Ash green eyes met with those gray mauve irises. There was clear surprise in them but not as prominent that could be warranted as of importance. The brief lapse in her smiling expression soon changed into one of understanding. It was not certain yet, Chandra had the sense that this person would make her move. The question is would it be good or bad for her to break the standstill she was in. A place where nothing changes as she remains in between. Her position is that of what Vincent calls as a "peasant." Remarkably, she did not find offense in that. On the contrary, she finds it funny in a sense. The pitiable man that she had found outside her shop with the eyes of unrelenting pride was truly an intriguing person.
"Just promise that it would be something worthwhile, Vincent."
His name rolled out her mouth like a precious lullaby. A smile that was both finesse and mysterious could be seen adorning her face. There was also a very faint twinkle of mischief in those ash emerald eyes of hers. Looking at the hydrangea near to her, Chandra cradled its flower with much care. If she had remembered correctly, these flowers represent vanity, heartlessness, and coldness. Somehow, she finds this fitting towards the man in front of her. Leaning towards the star-shaped blossoms, she smelled the faint scent emitting from it.
"Do you like Hydrangeas? It would be entertaining to know if you do."
There was mirth in the tone Chandra had taken. This time she had returned her gaze to his form. It would be interesting to see where Vincent could take her. The things he would show her. They could be horrid or not. She really does not care about such useless details. The danger that followed him was not something that frightens her. It has done the opposite as it attracted her more. All she knew was that her life was about to change from the very moment she had opened her doors to him. Truth be said, she does not regret it at all.
"I will be your ally."
Those words left her lips with an odd assurance. It was like a playful retort yet those eyes of moonlit green were speaking of a different thing. Her gazes were always cheerful and gentle however, they were of unrelenting seriousness and a tad of dark mystery dancing in those orbs of hers. As such, it was the only thing that could provide an answer that Chandra was not taking what Vincent had said as pure humor. At the same time, it revealed a seemingly snippet on the mysterious side of the ever-normal florist of New Penn. A smile that were both of subtle mystery and comprehension of what he had said decorated her face.
"My oath to you, I shall pledge my loyalty and everything I am to your service."
Facing Vincent properly, a hand was reached out towards him. t was gesture of shaking hands as to greet or to make a contract. Chandra did not bat an eyelash as she spoke those words that oozed with a rather disturbing and eerie calmness. It was like such things does not really bother her despite hearing that he wanted to take this place back. Doing such things, it will result certainly in a war that she could die in. Yet, the very idea of that did not disturb her. Perhaps, it was right for some people to describe her as odd. After all, she agrees with this description in a hundred percent.
"Now, let us eat first. We will need all our energy to find you more allies now."
With that said, Chandra went on her way towards the kitchen area where the dining table was. She knew that Vincent would follow her without being prompted. It was the kind of man he is. There was no trouble about having customers as she has yet to turned the close sign to open. So, they would have an enjoyable meal. The fleeting thought made her wonder if the next breakfast they will have would be including new members. Without looking at him, she spoke her mind with a interest and a flash of glee. Yet, those ash green eyes portrayed another. It was more of excitement than anything else.
"I wonder what kind of people would be by your side... It is exciting, don't you think?"
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Ayase
Ayase frowned a deep, solid frown that made her face age several years. "I...I just figured you'd need to eat..." She looked upset, and she was visibly shaken. One night, Ayase had taken an extra shift at the factory and hadn't had a chance to tell Leo. He had gotten some of his friends to help him scour the city for her. She had come home and Leo was gone, no note or gun or anything. Ayase thought she had been abandoned, and she cried for hours until he came home. They had literally hugged for a good 10 minutes, both blubbering about who had caused it all and in the end, yelling at each other, then crying some more, then passing out on the couch. Neither of them had let that happen since, and she tried to be near him as often as humanly possible.
Ayase started eating quietly, touching the small pendant she wore on her neck, a japanase Sakura blossom, that her father had given to her just before he had died. As she touched it, she also felt the other charm that hung just lower than it, a black Japanese symbol for peace that Leo had saved from her fathers body when he found him. "Leo?" She spoke up quietly. "Do you love me?" The question obviously caught him off gaurd, but she clarified. "I mean like a sister or a daughter," She rolled her eyes, giggling at his blush. "I know you don't love me like that, goof," She stuck her tongue out at him.
Ayase frowned a deep, solid frown that made her face age several years. "I...I just figured you'd need to eat..." She looked upset, and she was visibly shaken. One night, Ayase had taken an extra shift at the factory and hadn't had a chance to tell Leo. He had gotten some of his friends to help him scour the city for her. She had come home and Leo was gone, no note or gun or anything. Ayase thought she had been abandoned, and she cried for hours until he came home. They had literally hugged for a good 10 minutes, both blubbering about who had caused it all and in the end, yelling at each other, then crying some more, then passing out on the couch. Neither of them had let that happen since, and she tried to be near him as often as humanly possible.
Ayase started eating quietly, touching the small pendant she wore on her neck, a japanase Sakura blossom, that her father had given to her just before he had died. As she touched it, she also felt the other charm that hung just lower than it, a black Japanese symbol for peace that Leo had saved from her fathers body when he found him. "Leo?" She spoke up quietly. "Do you love me?" The question obviously caught him off gaurd, but she clarified. "I mean like a sister or a daughter," She rolled her eyes, giggling at his blush. "I know you don't love me like that, goof," She stuck her tongue out at him.
Kloud Forland
As she turned the corner, she quickly noticed the familar, and stunning hair that was owned by the all, seducive, Moritica. "Well hello, Darling." she play-flirted. "What are you up to this fine day?"
An amused smile pulled at her lips, as she replied in the same but lighter tone.
"Going to see Steve, what about you Sweetie?"
She gave her a light pat on the cheek, resisting the urge to pinch her cheeks like a mom should, though it showed. Morticia was very close to her, well one, because she was one of the only females in the group, second because, well she was different. and she liked different. Giggling a bit, she walked along side her, studying her every move, looking for a sign of hurt or discomfort, but didnt see any in her brief study.
About to continue the conversation with a thoughtful add on, she was interrupted by an abnormal bark that resounded across the street. Dogs on the street..? No, it must be - "Kutya." Kloud turned halfway, and waved slightly, watching the "dog" walk away in her direction. Though her hand retreated back, as she felt guilty for some reason. Kutya troubles her too much... but it weren't too bad.. "I guess he's going to Steve too..." Kloud stated calmly, before slowly turning attention back at the pinkette. "Are you going to visit him too?" After all they were all heading in similar ways, so she can only assume.. Tucking her hands in her back pocket, she scanned the rest of the broken city, and thought weirdly things. Random things. Humming a bit, she again turned the corner towards Steve's office, and glanced at Morticia in her peripheral vision for her reply.
An amused smile pulled at her lips, as she replied in the same but lighter tone.
"Going to see Steve, what about you Sweetie?"
She gave her a light pat on the cheek, resisting the urge to pinch her cheeks like a mom should, though it showed. Morticia was very close to her, well one, because she was one of the only females in the group, second because, well she was different. and she liked different. Giggling a bit, she walked along side her, studying her every move, looking for a sign of hurt or discomfort, but didnt see any in her brief study.
About to continue the conversation with a thoughtful add on, she was interrupted by an abnormal bark that resounded across the street. Dogs on the street..? No, it must be - "Kutya." Kloud turned halfway, and waved slightly, watching the "dog" walk away in her direction. Though her hand retreated back, as she felt guilty for some reason. Kutya troubles her too much... but it weren't too bad.. "I guess he's going to Steve too..." Kloud stated calmly, before slowly turning attention back at the pinkette. "Are you going to visit him too?" After all they were all heading in similar ways, so she can only assume.. Tucking her hands in her back pocket, she scanned the rest of the broken city, and thought weirdly things. Random things. Humming a bit, she again turned the corner towards Steve's office, and glanced at Morticia in her peripheral vision for her reply.
Leo Reynolds
Leo watched her lips as she spoke and his eyes softened toward her. He walked over to her, putting his hand to the back of her head and bringing her forehead to his lips, kissing it softly before pulling it into a hug. "Oh hunnie, of course I do. You are the younger sister that I never had." He pulled away slightly, holding her at arms length from him and looking into her eyes. "Why wouldn't I?" He gave her a soft smile and one more hug. "Come on, forget the food for a bit, let's go for a walk." He put his arm over her shoulders and led her toward the door.
They walked outside, and he regretted not getting her a jacket first. He looked down at Ayase. "Are you warm enough? We can go back and get a jacket if you want." He continued walking in the streets of New Penn with his sister figure, keeping his eyes peeled for any sort of danger. He was determined to protect her.
Leo watched her lips as she spoke and his eyes softened toward her. He walked over to her, putting his hand to the back of her head and bringing her forehead to his lips, kissing it softly before pulling it into a hug. "Oh hunnie, of course I do. You are the younger sister that I never had." He pulled away slightly, holding her at arms length from him and looking into her eyes. "Why wouldn't I?" He gave her a soft smile and one more hug. "Come on, forget the food for a bit, let's go for a walk." He put his arm over her shoulders and led her toward the door.
They walked outside, and he regretted not getting her a jacket first. He looked down at Ayase. "Are you warm enough? We can go back and get a jacket if you want." He continued walking in the streets of New Penn with his sister figure, keeping his eyes peeled for any sort of danger. He was determined to protect her.
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Ayase
Ayase shook her head, but a shiver ran down her spine in protest. When he looked at her, she shook her head again. "I just don't being out after night fall," She admitted in a small voice. She was quiet, as usual, until they came to the street of the factory she worked in. "I hate this place," She subconciously touched her burned arm, moving closer to Leo. "I wish we could do SOMETHING to change the way things are..." She looked down at the small bulge in her pocket, her notebook, and sighed. "Too bad no one will ever see what I think of..." She shrugged, turning the corner when he did. Hearing a crash in an alley they had just passed, Ayase jumped, giving a small squeek. She hated it out of the house, especially when it was dark. Leo had tried to break her of this fear many times, since it would make it easier for her to get a job, a better paying one, but she couldn't stand the darkness. "What was that?!" She yelped, moving as close to him as she could. At times like these, Ayase wished she could take Leo back to Japan. It was so much quieter, nicer, and people didn't try to kill each other every second...They were much more organized, a rough governemnt in place, and they were not happy but content.
Ayase shook her head, but a shiver ran down her spine in protest. When he looked at her, she shook her head again. "I just don't being out after night fall," She admitted in a small voice. She was quiet, as usual, until they came to the street of the factory she worked in. "I hate this place," She subconciously touched her burned arm, moving closer to Leo. "I wish we could do SOMETHING to change the way things are..." She looked down at the small bulge in her pocket, her notebook, and sighed. "Too bad no one will ever see what I think of..." She shrugged, turning the corner when he did. Hearing a crash in an alley they had just passed, Ayase jumped, giving a small squeek. She hated it out of the house, especially when it was dark. Leo had tried to break her of this fear many times, since it would make it easier for her to get a job, a better paying one, but she couldn't stand the darkness. "What was that?!" She yelped, moving as close to him as she could. At times like these, Ayase wished she could take Leo back to Japan. It was so much quieter, nicer, and people didn't try to kill each other every second...They were much more organized, a rough governemnt in place, and they were not happy but content.
“It is the only worthwhile thing I know,” he replied honestly, his tone still deviating little from its ordinary flat smoothness. He hadn’t quite mastered the art of vocal modulation to convey things, and so most of the time, his words were as blunt to the ear as they were to the mind. It was fortunate for him, he realized in a distant, half-understood kind of way, that she didn’t seem to mind. He supposed he might be… grateful for that, but the appropriate behavioral or verbal conveyance of such a sentiment was unknown to him, and so he did nothing.
In any case, it was clear that he believed the words he spoke. What could be more worthwhile than freeing them? All of them? The petty pieces of life, the occupations that moved them always in small, eddying circles but never forward, held them in chains as surely as the officers and the General did. What occupation in the world could be as worthwhile as sundering those chains and allowing them to move forward again, a direction few had moved since the Apocalypse itself? One could certainly not fault him for aiming too low, dreaming too small.
He didn’t understand the point of her query. “They are… flowers.” His perplexity was nothing more than a slight tilt to his head, a barely-perceptible narrowing of the eyes. He supposed their color was not offensive, but he knew nothing about flowers, really, nor had he ever really formed any opinions about any of them. He certainly wouldn’t have recognized those as hydrangeas; in fact, he only knew which were roses and which lilies because it had been one of those things she’d said, into the idle silences provided by his reticence. He couldn’t say he thought it was particularly useful information, but at least it was knowledge. In a way, she’d been providing him, this youth with so many idea but so little exposure to the world, with something similar to what she provided those flowers when she watered them- something vital and important to his growth.
He would not have recognized it as such.
”I will be your ally.” His eyes sought hers, but he was powerless to understand what they were conveying to him. Loyalty was unfamiliar. Kindness, he was only barely getting used to. He could read twenty different kinds of anger and hatred, know when a man intended to come to blows and when he could be dissuaded, but he knew nothing of the gentler side of people. Nobody had ever seen fit to teach him of these things. Even she had always had a hard look to her, and her kindness was borne from a strange sense of duty. It was the best, purest motivation he’d ever come across, and he’d made it his own for this reason. Anything softer than that was utterly foreign to him, gentle amusement included.
He swallowed, and he could have sworn the sound was audible to the entire room, so loud was it in his ears, and so quiet in the spaces between here and yesterday. He knew it wasn’t. “Then you will be the first,” he replied, because it seemed the appropriate thing to say. He’d had mentors and teachers, employers and enemies aplenty, but never an ally. He wondered if it was something that everyone took so seriously, or if such promises were given flippantly in this unfamiliar world. He found that he didn’t care. He’d take it, whatever its intent, just to know what it felt like to have someone on his side for a little while. But that was weakness, and he quelled it swiftly.
He nodded tersely and followed her into the kitchen, settling himself at one side of the table there, silent for the most part. As he had come to expect, she filled the quiet easily enough with the sound of her voice, and he looked down at the wooden table, following the grain of it with his eyes as he gave the matter some consideration. “I do not know,” he said at last. “It seems unwise to predict without any information.” He was practically incapable of taking anything at any value but the one on its face, it seemed.
“Are there those that you call your allies? It seems prudent to begin there.”
In any case, it was clear that he believed the words he spoke. What could be more worthwhile than freeing them? All of them? The petty pieces of life, the occupations that moved them always in small, eddying circles but never forward, held them in chains as surely as the officers and the General did. What occupation in the world could be as worthwhile as sundering those chains and allowing them to move forward again, a direction few had moved since the Apocalypse itself? One could certainly not fault him for aiming too low, dreaming too small.
He didn’t understand the point of her query. “They are… flowers.” His perplexity was nothing more than a slight tilt to his head, a barely-perceptible narrowing of the eyes. He supposed their color was not offensive, but he knew nothing about flowers, really, nor had he ever really formed any opinions about any of them. He certainly wouldn’t have recognized those as hydrangeas; in fact, he only knew which were roses and which lilies because it had been one of those things she’d said, into the idle silences provided by his reticence. He couldn’t say he thought it was particularly useful information, but at least it was knowledge. In a way, she’d been providing him, this youth with so many idea but so little exposure to the world, with something similar to what she provided those flowers when she watered them- something vital and important to his growth.
He would not have recognized it as such.
”I will be your ally.” His eyes sought hers, but he was powerless to understand what they were conveying to him. Loyalty was unfamiliar. Kindness, he was only barely getting used to. He could read twenty different kinds of anger and hatred, know when a man intended to come to blows and when he could be dissuaded, but he knew nothing of the gentler side of people. Nobody had ever seen fit to teach him of these things. Even she had always had a hard look to her, and her kindness was borne from a strange sense of duty. It was the best, purest motivation he’d ever come across, and he’d made it his own for this reason. Anything softer than that was utterly foreign to him, gentle amusement included.
He swallowed, and he could have sworn the sound was audible to the entire room, so loud was it in his ears, and so quiet in the spaces between here and yesterday. He knew it wasn’t. “Then you will be the first,” he replied, because it seemed the appropriate thing to say. He’d had mentors and teachers, employers and enemies aplenty, but never an ally. He wondered if it was something that everyone took so seriously, or if such promises were given flippantly in this unfamiliar world. He found that he didn’t care. He’d take it, whatever its intent, just to know what it felt like to have someone on his side for a little while. But that was weakness, and he quelled it swiftly.
He nodded tersely and followed her into the kitchen, settling himself at one side of the table there, silent for the most part. As he had come to expect, she filled the quiet easily enough with the sound of her voice, and he looked down at the wooden table, following the grain of it with his eyes as he gave the matter some consideration. “I do not know,” he said at last. “It seems unwise to predict without any information.” He was practically incapable of taking anything at any value but the one on its face, it seemed.
“Are there those that you call your allies? It seems prudent to begin there.”
Chandra Alerann
"You know what they say, my friend's enemy is my friend..."
"You know what they say, my friend's enemy is my friend..."
There was an acceptable amount of silence before Vincent had answered Chandra's curious inquiry. in that soundless interlude, she had served him a cup of freshly brewed coffee accompanied by toast and pancakes. She had deduced that he was thinking with great consideration about the question she had given him. Somehow, she found this trait of his entertaining. It would appear that even the smallest and trivial thing she ask was carefully analyzed by him. There was also the matter that her mundane chores seemed interesting to him as well. She could compare him to an infant that has yet to see the world. Although in her understanding, this aspect of living was something entirely different from what he was accustomed to.
Taking her seat which was across Vincent, Chandra took the moment to take a sip of her rose tea. The flowery scent wafted within the kitchen along with the thick aroma of the coffee. Somehow, it blended quite nicely to the senses. It was then that he had finally conveyed his answer which was followed by a question. She gently placed her teacup on its saucer and had a thoughtful expression. There was no short in her list of acquaintances. Due to her flower shop, she had managed to meet various types of people. However if it comes to someone that would share and support his ideals and goals, her list was nonexistent. Still, there were a few names that came into her mind. One in particular caused those silvery emerald eyes to lit with curious joy.
"There is this person. He might be of some help."
A smile decorated her cupid-bow shaped lips before she took a petite portion of her garden salad to start her meal. Chandra is a vegetarian despite the contrary reports about her preferences regarding food. Although, she has nothing against people who eat meat. To her, it was just her sense of taste does not like anything that had been touched by blood. On the other hand, she does cook meals with meat for Vincent. Although, she cannot assure the taste of it as she would not have any. Fortunately, she has yet to hear any complaints about her cooking from him. Still at the back of her mind, she was wondering if he was just unsure how to voice out his opinion about the meals. In any case, she continued eating her salad in peace which was not hard even with company.
"After we eat, I'll accompany you to him."
With that said, the breakfast continued in comfortable silence. It is what Chandra would have describe the atmosphere between them. When it was done, she had lead the way to one of her favorite stores. The walk was a quiet one despite the small talks that she would engage Vincent with. She was not bothered by it as she viewed him a child in such a 'peasant' world as he would constantly note. Perhaps, it is why she had no troubles making conclusions who is his mysterious guest. There were but too few to choose from. Her idle thoughts were soon cast away in the depths of her mind once she found herself in front of the Doll Store. Looking at Vincent over her shoulder, she gave him a bright yet gentle smile.
"Remember what I taught you about polite courtesy in introductions, please do so."
After reminding Vincent of that brief lesson, Chandra opened the door and found the person she had every intention to visit. She had always fancied the dolls he make and would often come and buy when there was time. Although for now, she had a different reason for coming over. Seeing him working on the bench, she looked at him with a gentle gaze with those ash green eyes of hers and complimented with her trademark smile.
"Good day Smoke. How are you doing today?"
Taking her seat which was across Vincent, Chandra took the moment to take a sip of her rose tea. The flowery scent wafted within the kitchen along with the thick aroma of the coffee. Somehow, it blended quite nicely to the senses. It was then that he had finally conveyed his answer which was followed by a question. She gently placed her teacup on its saucer and had a thoughtful expression. There was no short in her list of acquaintances. Due to her flower shop, she had managed to meet various types of people. However if it comes to someone that would share and support his ideals and goals, her list was nonexistent. Still, there were a few names that came into her mind. One in particular caused those silvery emerald eyes to lit with curious joy.
"There is this person. He might be of some help."
A smile decorated her cupid-bow shaped lips before she took a petite portion of her garden salad to start her meal. Chandra is a vegetarian despite the contrary reports about her preferences regarding food. Although, she has nothing against people who eat meat. To her, it was just her sense of taste does not like anything that had been touched by blood. On the other hand, she does cook meals with meat for Vincent. Although, she cannot assure the taste of it as she would not have any. Fortunately, she has yet to hear any complaints about her cooking from him. Still at the back of her mind, she was wondering if he was just unsure how to voice out his opinion about the meals. In any case, she continued eating her salad in peace which was not hard even with company.
"After we eat, I'll accompany you to him."
With that said, the breakfast continued in comfortable silence. It is what Chandra would have describe the atmosphere between them. When it was done, she had lead the way to one of her favorite stores. The walk was a quiet one despite the small talks that she would engage Vincent with. She was not bothered by it as she viewed him a child in such a 'peasant' world as he would constantly note. Perhaps, it is why she had no troubles making conclusions who is his mysterious guest. There were but too few to choose from. Her idle thoughts were soon cast away in the depths of her mind once she found herself in front of the Doll Store. Looking at Vincent over her shoulder, she gave him a bright yet gentle smile.
"Remember what I taught you about polite courtesy in introductions, please do so."
After reminding Vincent of that brief lesson, Chandra opened the door and found the person she had every intention to visit. She had always fancied the dolls he make and would often come and buy when there was time. Although for now, she had a different reason for coming over. Seeing him working on the bench, she looked at him with a gentle gaze with those ash green eyes of hers and complimented with her trademark smile.
"Good day Smoke. How are you doing today?"
S M O K E
After the woman and her daughter left, the shop fell silent. He didn't mind, Smoke liked the quiet when he was working. The display windows in the front of the store were thin, he liked to hear the people outside as the streets began to come alive with people heading to work. He liked to look at the window as he sewed doll sized dresses and pretend he knew what the people passing by were saying, where they were going.
Today the streets didn't seem to be as busy, the people walking by looked much more tired and sad. He didn't mind, it didn't worry him, he knew the people outside the window would begin to perk up as the day went on, they always did. His apple red eyes turned back to his work, and he pulled out his airbrush to paint the doll's cheeks. They never really looked innocent or childlike enough to him until their cheeks were pink. It made them look as if they had just came inside for a glass of water after running and playing outside for a long time. Playing in the streets was what many children grew up doing, and Smok was no exception. He poured the watery pink paint into the utensil and blew on the tube that extended from it to check if it worked or if it was clogged with dry paint. Fortunately, it was in perfect condition, and he smiled as he attached the tube to his foot peddle and carefully painted her cheeks.
When the job was finished, he set the airbrush down and admired the doll. He wasn't quite finished yet, he still needed to make her unique, give her hair and clothes and such, but she was beginning to form. He smiled, thinking to himself, so this is how God felt when he created man, as he always did when he was making his dolls.
The ring of the bells on his door brought him out of his thoughts.
His head shot up, crimson hair hanging messily in his face from the motion, and he laid his hand on his pistol as a precaution, but he quickly relaxed. It was the glue girl.
Smoke's eyes glittered mischievously as he watched her walk up, her face slightly pink, then proceed to reach in her pocket, set a bottle of glue down in front of him, then turn to walk away. Neither of them said a word, they were both used to the routine. He anticipated her every move, however she surprised him by stopping to look at one of his dolls.
His hand tightened around his gun, ready to save his doll if it came down to it, but she only touched it's hair, admiring his work. His eyes softened as he watched, appreciating her silent compliment. "She's one of my favorites," he said so quietly he doubted she heard him. She looked up at him and the color in her cheeks deepened, causing his smile to widen. Glue girl quickly turned and began shuffling towards the door and he sighed and leaned back in his seat, removing his hand from his gun so he could grab a paintbrush.
He was surprised to hear her quiet voice saying, "I'm Ayase." before the sound of the bells on the door signaled her departure. Smoke looked up, half expecting to see her still standing there.
"Ayase." He whispered, trying out the name as his fingers closed around the brush he wanted to use. He felt triumphant, the girl who had been helping him finally had a name. He really did appreciate her, glue was expensive and hard to find at times, and deformed, discarded glue was better than no glue. He decided to thank her next time she came around, maybe give her some money for her trouble. She didn't look like the type who was very well off.
He sighed before going back to his work. He dipped the fine bristled brush into brown paint and dappled the doll's face and shoulders with freckles, taking care to make each one individual, giving each his attention. He believed that his focus to detail was what made his dolls so special, so he never skipped out on anything, shortcuts were nonexistent in his methods.
Time seemed to float by and a glance at the clock told him it was almost time to treat Kana to lunch. He sighed, hopping she wouldn't be late this time. He tolerated her way of life, but it didn't mean he accepted it. Killing just wasn't something Smoke could see himself doing. Sure he was a flirt and maybe a bit of a player, but he still never had any blood on his hands.
A flash of cherry red hair in the window caught Smoke's attention, his heart unintentionally fluttering a bit. He set the brush down on his workspace and stood up, dusting off his apron. She stepped in, the door dinging quietly. There was a man with her as well.
Smoke smiled at her and walked forward, knowing that the lovely florist was no threat, thus leaving his weapon at his counter. He reached her and bowed politely, one hand behind his back out of habit. "Miss Chandra," he mused as he righted himself.
"Good day Smoke. How are you doing today?"
Her smile was enchanting, he almost forgot to respond. His cheeks heated up, but he quickly attempted to make up for his slight hesitation. "Fine, though it is still early. And you?" His response was formal, as was it with most somewhat aristocratic conversations. "Might I skip the pleasantries, though, and ask why you are here?" He added, his eyes going back to the man she brought with. Usually Chandra didn't bring anyone with when she came to buy dolls, so Smoke was curious as to how this visit was different.
After the woman and her daughter left, the shop fell silent. He didn't mind, Smoke liked the quiet when he was working. The display windows in the front of the store were thin, he liked to hear the people outside as the streets began to come alive with people heading to work. He liked to look at the window as he sewed doll sized dresses and pretend he knew what the people passing by were saying, where they were going.
Today the streets didn't seem to be as busy, the people walking by looked much more tired and sad. He didn't mind, it didn't worry him, he knew the people outside the window would begin to perk up as the day went on, they always did. His apple red eyes turned back to his work, and he pulled out his airbrush to paint the doll's cheeks. They never really looked innocent or childlike enough to him until their cheeks were pink. It made them look as if they had just came inside for a glass of water after running and playing outside for a long time. Playing in the streets was what many children grew up doing, and Smok was no exception. He poured the watery pink paint into the utensil and blew on the tube that extended from it to check if it worked or if it was clogged with dry paint. Fortunately, it was in perfect condition, and he smiled as he attached the tube to his foot peddle and carefully painted her cheeks.
When the job was finished, he set the airbrush down and admired the doll. He wasn't quite finished yet, he still needed to make her unique, give her hair and clothes and such, but she was beginning to form. He smiled, thinking to himself, so this is how God felt when he created man, as he always did when he was making his dolls.
The ring of the bells on his door brought him out of his thoughts.
His head shot up, crimson hair hanging messily in his face from the motion, and he laid his hand on his pistol as a precaution, but he quickly relaxed. It was the glue girl.
Smoke's eyes glittered mischievously as he watched her walk up, her face slightly pink, then proceed to reach in her pocket, set a bottle of glue down in front of him, then turn to walk away. Neither of them said a word, they were both used to the routine. He anticipated her every move, however she surprised him by stopping to look at one of his dolls.
His hand tightened around his gun, ready to save his doll if it came down to it, but she only touched it's hair, admiring his work. His eyes softened as he watched, appreciating her silent compliment. "She's one of my favorites," he said so quietly he doubted she heard him. She looked up at him and the color in her cheeks deepened, causing his smile to widen. Glue girl quickly turned and began shuffling towards the door and he sighed and leaned back in his seat, removing his hand from his gun so he could grab a paintbrush.
He was surprised to hear her quiet voice saying, "I'm Ayase." before the sound of the bells on the door signaled her departure. Smoke looked up, half expecting to see her still standing there.
"Ayase." He whispered, trying out the name as his fingers closed around the brush he wanted to use. He felt triumphant, the girl who had been helping him finally had a name. He really did appreciate her, glue was expensive and hard to find at times, and deformed, discarded glue was better than no glue. He decided to thank her next time she came around, maybe give her some money for her trouble. She didn't look like the type who was very well off.
He sighed before going back to his work. He dipped the fine bristled brush into brown paint and dappled the doll's face and shoulders with freckles, taking care to make each one individual, giving each his attention. He believed that his focus to detail was what made his dolls so special, so he never skipped out on anything, shortcuts were nonexistent in his methods.
Time seemed to float by and a glance at the clock told him it was almost time to treat Kana to lunch. He sighed, hopping she wouldn't be late this time. He tolerated her way of life, but it didn't mean he accepted it. Killing just wasn't something Smoke could see himself doing. Sure he was a flirt and maybe a bit of a player, but he still never had any blood on his hands.
A flash of cherry red hair in the window caught Smoke's attention, his heart unintentionally fluttering a bit. He set the brush down on his workspace and stood up, dusting off his apron. She stepped in, the door dinging quietly. There was a man with her as well.
Smoke smiled at her and walked forward, knowing that the lovely florist was no threat, thus leaving his weapon at his counter. He reached her and bowed politely, one hand behind his back out of habit. "Miss Chandra," he mused as he righted himself.
"Good day Smoke. How are you doing today?"
Her smile was enchanting, he almost forgot to respond. His cheeks heated up, but he quickly attempted to make up for his slight hesitation. "Fine, though it is still early. And you?" His response was formal, as was it with most somewhat aristocratic conversations. "Might I skip the pleasantries, though, and ask why you are here?" He added, his eyes going back to the man she brought with. Usually Chandra didn't bring anyone with when she came to buy dolls, so Smoke was curious as to how this visit was different.
- 38 posts here • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2
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View All » Add Character » 12 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
Kloud Forland
"A bounty is A bounty."
Fade
"Lets live with what we have."
Kutya "Demon Hound" Lanisson
The Hunt is on.
Leo Reynolds
"I have to fix this world somehow."
Kana Terisa
"We're all going to die eventually, but I'm going to leave a mark of remembrance."
Smoke Griswold
"Maybe I should have thought this through a bit more..."
Trending
Leo Reynolds
"I have to fix this world somehow."
Smoke Griswold
"Maybe I should have thought this through a bit more..."
Kutya "Demon Hound" Lanisson
The Hunt is on.
Kloud Forland
"A bounty is A bounty."
Fade
"Lets live with what we have."
Kana Terisa
"We're all going to die eventually, but I'm going to leave a mark of remembrance."
Most Followed
Smoke Griswold
"Maybe I should have thought this through a bit more..."
Kutya "Demon Hound" Lanisson
The Hunt is on.
Kana Terisa
"We're all going to die eventually, but I'm going to leave a mark of remembrance."
Leo Reynolds
"I have to fix this world somehow."
Kloud Forland
"A bounty is A bounty."
Fade
"Lets live with what we have."
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Discussions
Most recent OOC posts in This New Generation
Re: This New Generation
It's fine, I haven't posted in a while, although I haven't exactly been able to get online in a while, either, haha.
I'll try to post soon.
I'll try to post soon.
Re: This New Generation
Sorry if my last post was messy.It was like 2am when I wrote it out ^^;
....also why am I the only one posting in the ooc o.o
....also why am I the only one posting in the ooc o.o
Re: This New Generation
Phew, sorry guys, didn't realize it had been a couple of days. I shall try and squeeze a post from my tired mind. Though I must warn you all, Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday I know for sure I will not be on. Oh, and probably not this Friday either. And Tuesday has a smaller chance of me getting on, though it is still possible. Sorry, I'm in a lot of bands and all sorts of concerts are coming up, on top of rehearsals and homework and all that.
Re: This New Generation
I sent them both PM's, so hopefully they'll post soon! :)
I love Vincent's wariness of Kana, haha.
I love Vincent's wariness of Kana, haha.
Re: This New Generation
Right, I decided to post after all, otherwise things might have gotten a little out of hand in the doll shop haha. Vincent's just standing in the corner, glowering like he does. He probably won't say anything else in front of such a large group unless prompted very well.
At any rate, I hope the post was at least a bit enjoyable, since it was somewhat long.
At any rate, I hope the post was at least a bit enjoyable, since it was somewhat long.
Re: This New Generation
Well Christy was on yesterday but spud hasn't been on since the 5th so I don't know Christy, all up to you :)
Re: This New Generation
About that, Dreamer, I'll probably be bringing him in a little later. But if you have any ideas for him to come in then feel free to.
Re: This New Generation
Well Im still here, im just waiting for spud and christy to post, as for my other charrie, im waiting for kana to use him, but to keep things moving ill post if its necessary?
Re: This New Generation
Ha, I s'pose that's understandable, too. I'll post tomorrow if nobody else has by then, to balance the fairness and the desire to keep things moving. :)
Re: This New Generation
Guess that's understandable, yeah. I do that too usually. It's just been a few days since anyone has posted and since I'm eager to interact with the characters closer to mine right now I though of you first XD
Re: This New Generation
I was waiting for a couple of the characters who haven't posted in a while to go first. Should I not do that?
Re: This New Generation
I am SO sorry for not posting! It's pre-finals week and I've had tons of work to do, I haven't been posting! ;_; I'll post Friday, promise!
Re: This New Generation
Kutya is with Steve in his office and Kloud and Morticia are on their way over there. Correct me if I'm wrong.