♥ In The Name Of The Moon! ♥ Schoolkid RESULTS! PG 57!

[NaomiNaomi]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? SCHOOLKID COMP!

Name: Adda Gao.

Nicknames: --

Age: 16.

Birthday: October 30, 1993.

Sign: Libra.

Blood Type: AB.

Fav. Food: Lentil Soup.

Hated Food: ANYTHING with onions, drinks with a watery or sour aftertaste.

School: Crystal Academy.

Hobbies:

Gymnastics! - The Olympic sport is her life. Since youth, Adda has had an uncontrollable obsession with the sport. Everyday, after school, she is with her trainer perfecting her performance on the blue mat.

Volunteering - Even though it is more of a forced activity from her parents, Adda participates in giving back to the community by going to volunteer events. She is not fond of the gesture but does enjoy seeing a smile sprawl out on a person's face due to her kindness.

Collecting Blue Undies - It is a weird...hobby but Adda adores the color blue. She expresses this adoration by collecting undies that are the stated color. From stripped knickers to undergarments a little move revealing, she has it all.

Gemstone: Opal.

Virtues:

We are going to have so much fun! - Adda is very optimistic. She always looks to the brighter side of things and believes that looking at the world through such a point of view is one secret to everlasting happiness.

I swear on my life, I will never tell! - Secrets are meant to be kept secret. Promises are never meant to be broken. If you ever have a secret to tell Adda, she will promise never to tell anyone.

Oh come here hunny! Everything will be alright! - Adda is a softy to sadness, especially to tears that are shed. She will hold your hand and tell you it is alright to cry.

You go, girl! - Adda can be anyone's personal cheerleader, cheering them on and telling them to go for the goal. She loves to encourage people and hope that they do their best.

Flaws:

Why does this have to be so haaaaaaarrd? - Unfortunately, Adda whines about things she cannot complete on her own. She gives up easily and has little determination. This is what causes her to become lazy with homework and projects.

Oops, I did it again! - Continuously, Adda will make mistakes in things she finds utterly difficult. She never seems to realize her mistakes no matter how many times she repeats them.

*&#%(*@$(*%(*#! - Make this girl mad and be ready to obtain a large lashing of vile words. When Adda gets pissed off, she releases it in a fury of curses and fits. She'll calm down eventually, after she gets the matter off her mind.

Unless there is cake involved... - Unfortunately, Adda believes in equivalent exchange. She will never truly help someone unless there is a material reward in return.

Physical Description:

Hair: Her hair is a mess of curls pulled back into a choppy bun. Part of her hair frames her face and her bangs square off at the touch of her eyebrows. Click for examples.

Eyes: Wide brown eyes that somewhat arch in appearance. Hiding them away are a pair of circular eye spectacles.

Face: A smooth jawline with a flat chin. It gives Adda a more boyish look. Her cheeks are very plump.

Body: Even though she has a petite waist, Adda has large curved thighs and somewhat bulky arms. Due to all her gymnastics training, her body is well muscled. Adda has a fair skin tone that can be compared to the tan of a sparrow's underbelly.

Fashion: Uniform - Adda does not change much of her school's uniform. She sports a pair of striped, powder blue shorts under the skirt. Upon her feet are simple penny loafers with some leg warmers. Adda wears a silver bracelet on her arm, decorated with star charms.

Everyday - Adda dresses for the season of the year. If it is cold, she sports heavy sweaters and her star speckled scarf. When the weather begins to warm up, she changes to a spotted tang top and a long flowing skirt and falls down to her ankles. Rarely, does her outfits ever stray away from the color blue.

THE STORY ENTRY

"Ugh, she didn't have to slap me..."

Rubbing her cheek that was stinging with pain, Adda blinked her eyes which were welling up with tears. "If she didn't like me, she could have said so!"

Another date, another rejection, another time walking down the streets with sorrow in her heart. Playing in the game of love was such a terrible thing. There was only a chance one would lose. It was all how one played their cards, but Adda kept on getting a total over twenty-one. The pain seemed to hurt more as it was after her birthday...What luck.

Trudging down the darkness of the streets, Adda's eyes cascaded over decorations of ghouls and ghosts. Halloween was always her favorite holiday, but there was always a chance to just stay home and hand out candy to the tiny tots that ring the doorbell. By now, the pain upon her cheek had diminished. She was feeling better now. She had to look ahead, she would find love eventually!

And then...there she laid. A petite female suited in a sailor fuku. Her 'costume' was ripped to shreds, causing her to bare a large amount of skin. Adda could have died. Tiptoeing up to the out cold female, Adda felt like a prince. There was a sleeping beauty in front of her. Well, she wasn't all beautiful considering she snored somewhat, but she was on the borderline of drop dead gorgeous.

"She looks hurt..." Adda muttered to herself in thought. "Heck yea! This is my chance!"

Slowly, Adda pushed away her bangs away and bent over the unconscious girl. Her lips were puckered as her face neared. Hell, it was horrible to take advantage of a female like so. But she wouldn't know right...right? As Adda neared her mouth to the other, the Sailor Senshi's eyes shot open. Immediately, she pushed Adda away and took a battle stance. Adda blinked, a bewildered look on her face.

"Look, I wasn't trying to do something, I swear-" she bellowed towards the other, but was cut short as the Sailor Senshi disappeared into a sparkling tornado of light.

Remembering a public broadcast seen on the television speaking of citizens who see such embodiments, Adda picked up her phone. Dialing 911, an operator spoke.

"Yes, may I help you?"

"Operator, please contact the cops." she said.

The operator gave a 'hmmph'. "Yes miss, what is your location and what did they take?" the operator said in a mundane tone.

Oblivious to the statement, Adda felt her heart flutter. "Ma'am, please call the cops...I think I just had my heart stolen!"

(418 words.)

[yylaayl]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? MAGELLAN COMP!
(859 words)

Megellan sighed angrily. It wasn’t common to see the sailor senshi out of her normal calm and collectiveness. Normally, she would have been happy any day to kick this Negaverse captain’s butt, but she couldn’t do it with a civilian in danger. Yes, she was having problems deciding what to do. Save the civilian, who was so scared that she was still, undoubtedly hurt, and attached to a bomb, or take care of this captain once and for all. Megellan had been plotting revenge on him ever since they had first met. And even more after the second. He had caused so many problems with the city and its surrounding areas that Megellan was almost glad to meet him again so she could finally finish him off. But soon, her happiness faltered. During the middle of the battle, the Negaverse captain had pulled one of the people nearby into the fight. He knocked the girl unconscious and, somehow, whipped out a bomb from who knows where before running away. Sailor Megellan could have easily caught up to him, as the captain had been dealt several painful blows. But if she left the girl, she might not have enough time to hurry back and save the girl before the bomb went off. However, if she saved the girl, the captain would escape and cause more havoc.

Although many could not see it, the hyper, happy, and optimistic sailor senshi was a devious and skilled strategist, and her calm personality helped her make split decision in times of trouble. Some of her friends were always commenting on how scary it was. But Megellan was having issues. She knew this captain of the Negaverse was willing to hurt anyone; the people didn’t matter to him, and it was her job to protect the civilians, who couldn’t fend for themselves, from people like him. She also knew that by taking time thinking about the dilemma, the captain was getting further and further away and the girl was one step closer to her death, if she wasn't dead yet.

What should I do? Save the girl or stop the captain? She though, thoroughly annoyed with herself for not making a decision faster. She sighed. Right. Saving the girl is more important. Even if it means that other people would get hurt. she told herself. But I’ll make sure of it that no one else will.

After making the decision on saving the girl, Megellan ran straight towards where the girl was. She checked the bomb's wiring. "Shoot... if I try to defuse it, then it will take too long and I might not be able to in time." she muttered to herself. The safest way to save the hostage was to put the bomb somewhere. But where? She turned around and quickly skimmed the area. She could dump it into the river, but not only would she hurt all the living organisms in there, but she would also be polluting the river. Megellan sighed. There was no other choice. Untying the thick cords bound to the girl, she carefully lifted the bomb and the rope and ran as fast as she could to the river. It was dangerous and Megellan made sure her movements were fluid as to not jolt the bomb into exploding too early. Sailor Megellan could sense the bomb was giving its last ticks. She threw it into the river and ran as fast as she could back to the hostage. Paying no attention to the explosion of fire and the gust of wind that nearly blowing her off her feet, a result from the bomb, Megellan checked the young girl for vital signs.

Sailor Magellan froze. Her skin was pale white, and barely warm. She was having problems breathing, and her heart was giving irregular beats. "I had made the wrong choice.Megellan thought in shock, wondering what the consequences were going to be. Not from any higher up sailors, but from the captain, who she knew was probably going to be laughing with joy.Then her thoughts went down another path. The girl is going to die soon. Having such a great memory, the sailor senshi could vaguely match the face of the girl to one of the poor people who lived on the streets, homeless and barely getting enough food. She didn't deserve a death like this, after what she'd been through. However, it might be for the best, so the girl would not have to suffer anymore. Megellan kept her mind busy as stayed with the young girl until her time ended. It was the least she could do. A cold wind seemed to pass through, and Megellan knew that the girl had died. Her heart gave a last beat and the worrying lines on her face, lines from times suffering, wandering, thinking if her time was up yet, had straightened and she looked like she was at peace for once. And she was at peace. Sailor Megellan knew that she had let the captain escape. Next time, she was going to avenge the girl and the countless others that he had murdered. Next time, he was going down.

[Arrien]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? SCHOOLKID COMP!


Name: Einan Aisling Shanahan

Nicknames: Ei, Snowcone

Age: 16

Birthday: November 30

Sign: Sagittarius

Blood Type: O

Fav. Food: Good seafood, fruit tarts, dark chocolate, cherries.

Hated Food: Anything with nuts (allergic), mushrooms.

School: Crystal Academy.

Hobbies: Dance (ballet and club dancing), Punk (fashion), Orchids (gardening).

Gemstone: A colorless topaz.

Virtues:

Graceful -- Having trained in dance since a young age, Einan possesses an unmistakable poise about her. She moves surely, rarely bumping into things or people (unless she wants to), and gets where she needs to go with expert efficiency. There's something artistic even about the way she walks, worthy of envy.

Unfaltering -- Might also be called stubborn. Einan is a girl who does not back down once she had made up her mind about something, and is fully prepared to scream, b***h, moan, shout, and argue her way into getting what she wants. On the bright side, that means that she rarely fails to see her goals to the end. On the not-so-bright side, she might need to have her head knocked into something in order to get her to give up a lost cause.

Generous -- The nice thing about having everything in the world is that no matter how much you give away, you always seem to have more. Einan knows her good fortune enough to share it with others, without knowing it so well as to be stingy and selfish. Anything that she can give away freely - but especially money - she does, without concern. She likes to treat friends to good meals and surprise presents, and never hesitates to buy them that one thing they're eying in a boutique window. After all, she can always just get more money from her family!

Sarcastic -- Not too many people would think of this as a virtue, but the fact of the matter is, Einan is fun to be around. She always has the right measure of sarcasm to answer a classmate's horrendous fashion choices, the ideal comeback for someone's snark, and the perfect sardonic expression for every level of nerdy display. It might not be too nice if the wrong person overheard her, of course... but for those in her circle, it's hilarious good times!

Flaws:

Diva -- Having lived a privileged life, Einan not only expects to be the creme de la creme and the center of everyone's world, she gets highly offended by the suggestion that she might not be. Something that inconveniences her way of life is unforgivable unless she chooses to allow it, and people had better be damn grateful if she goes out of her way like that.

Deceitful -- Einan isn't just sketchy with the details around things that she might not want to reveal. To her, the truth is a lofty goal, and one toward which effort should be applied if it is to be achieved. Between that, and the fact that she just likes messing with people, she's inclined to fudge on details, "just because". In reality, it's something of a power game to her - what will it take for a person to make it worth her while to tell the truth?

Domineering -- Einan has spent much of her life under a magnifying glass, first by her father, and now her older brother. She has come to associate the entire male gender with people trying to mold her shape, and rebels against the thought. It's important for her to feel like she has the power around guys - particularly guys that she is attracted to, but also ones that may be seeking simple friendships - and this can be self-destructive if someone refuses to bend for her.

Self-Doubt -- The only thing worse than being a pushy self-centered liar, is knowing that you're one and judging yourself accordingly. In fact, Einan has a lot of doubts about her nature, her "goodness", that she finds difficult to admit to others. The truth is, there are times where she really enjoys being rotten to people, and her conscience isn't always there to tell her better. As a result, she is more inclined to doubt her moral compass, sometimes using her doubt as an excuse to indulge in pettiness or selfishness with the excuse of "that's just the person I am".

Physical Description: Ultra-thin, long-necked, long-limbed; Einan was born to be an instrument of expression. Her features inclued a rounded face, alabaster skin, Kelly green eyes, and super-straight and fine black hair, which has been dyed with bright shades of red, blue and violet. She stands at a reasonable height, maybe a bit shorter than five and a half feet, and is practically flat on all sides. Although she occasionally bemoans her lack of curves, the fact is that she has an ideal body for her chosen profession, and is rather lucky for it. Einan definitely pays heed to the Punk gods of fashion - she's into bright flashes of color and body mods, at least so far as she can get away with them. Her hair is streaked with broad blocks of color, cut somewhere between chin- and shoulder-length. She uses copious amounts of eyeliner, which jointly drowns and outlines her eyes. She has two studs on her earlobes as well as a helix hoop, plus a belly button piercing for good measure. She rarely fails to wear a low-cut or plunging neckline of some sort; somewhat of her way to make up for her lack of chest.

Hair: [Photo reference: credit to short-hair-style.com]

Eyes: Kelly-green, a bit sharp.

Face: Rounded features, oval-ish shape.

Body: Ultra-thin, 5'5-6"-ish, lacking curves.

Fashion: Punk-rock style, often playing off of a faux "preppy" look. Prefers silver jewelery.


THE STORY ENTRY


In retrospect, Einan decided that maybe she hadn't been so terribly clever with her costume after all.

"WHOA! WHOA!" The words were out of her lips, but they didn't seem to be having the intended calming effect. Fingers spread, her hands made wild placating motions in front of her - little good that did, either. There was the tip of a weapon still hovering not five feet away from her, and she couldn't talk fast enough to keep it at bay.

It was really all so unnecessary. He was shouting at her to STAY BACK, STAY BACK, but she was already backing away as fast as her legs could take her! For a wild moment, her greatest fear in the world was that he was going to follow her, bring the point of that sharp and exotic instrument in his hand to bear - but of course he couldn't. He hadn't even been conscious when she'd come on the scene, approached his side gingerly, put a hand on his shoulder. She should have left him there, she knew now - she should have walked away while she still could. For when she'd asked if he was all right, he'd popped to life like a demented Jack-in-the-Box, producing the weapon hidden beneath his crumpled form and started yelling like a lunatic.

The guy who sold her this damned getup should have given it to her with a warning: Although it might seem like a cute idea to dress up as a Sailor Senshi of Justice for Halloween, there might be serious, serious repercussions if you should come across as the real thing.

"I know what you are!" the boy was shouting. His eyes were wide, and there were traces of dementia in his voice that chilled Einan to the core. “I am Lieutenant Hiddenite, and I will extinguish the stars of your life!”

"No! No, no, guy, no!" Again, her words failed to have the calculated effect. Einan felt a shriek rip through her throat as the boy lunged forward--

No, not lunged. Stumbled. One step fell forward, and then the boy rocked back.

He wore a dark and fantastical frock, something like a grim reaper's robe. If he had been wearing lighter colors, Einan would have realized sooner that there was a spreading wetness on the cloth. As was, she only now saw how he clutched at his gut with his free hand - how the skin of his hand was covered with a bright red stickiness.

Einan was staring too openly, and her attention drew anger out of Hiddenite again. "Like what you're seeing? It's your fault, b***h." He lumbered forward half a step again, but either his injury was too great, or else his weakness – he faltered again, and barely managed to straighten himself out to standing.

Irrationality flared up in her once she saw that he wasn't going to press on her. Her fault? Her fault? She hadn't done a damn thing! Her mouth snapped open to tell him off, but flapped shut again as she remembered, he still had that weapon. She protested more calmly, “I didn't have anything to do with this, okay? Just take it easy, guy.” Her hand went carefully to her purse, tugged at the shape of her cell phone. “Look, it'll be okay. Lemme get some help--”

KCHING! And then there was pain. He'd lunged, he really had, and she threw herself to the ground in her haste to get free – but too late to save her cell phone from a spearing, or her hand from getting sliced open. It bled richly over the white of her glove, and she heard her own gasp of horror as she held it in front of her face. Looming over her was a shadow, angry and armed, and she could do little other than squirm as Hiddenite readied himself for the final strike that would end her.

Instead, a body fell beside her, half-pinning her legs. Yelping, Einan tore away, connecting a good kick with the boy's head for good measure with enough force to knock it back against the concrete. He moaned as she scrabbled to her feet, struggling against the insane urge to hyperventilate. Get away, she had to get away, before he got up....

“Run, little senshi,” came the light chuckle by her feet. Einan drew away more quickly, but the boy remained prone on the ground. Her heart pounded as she stared a few moments longer, and then came again the voice like a whisper, “Run....”

Really, Hiddenite should have stopped while he was ahead. Einan had never been that good at doing what people told her to do, and he wasn't particularly imposing at the moment.

The boy's weapon had fallen several feet from his grip. With a sudden rush of speed, Einan was there – the blade clattered loudly as it tumbled over the ground, kicked far out of reach from the boy. “Ha!” Einan declared, a satisfied smirk on her face. The boy was at her feet now, unarmed and weak. Quite the switch of roles from a few minutes ago, wasn't it?

Her smugness faded quickly, though, at Hiddenite's next words. One eyelid was propped open to watch her, see the weapon go skittering off. He let loose a long, defeat groan as he saw his last line of defense skitter off into the shadows, impossible to reach. “Finish it, then.”

“Excuse me?” It was a fresh slap of insult, that. Had he been suggesting she was going to kill him? Damn, he really bought her costume, didn't he? Einan was very well aware that she should be going in the opposite direction. But she was already marching toward him, and it seemed like a waste of a perfectly snippy routine to shy off now and make a run for it. Stooping down by the fallen boy, Einan told him sharply, “I am not. Not a senshi. I am not going to kill anybody,” she paused, considered, “at least, not unless they really, really piss me off. So you wanna keep running your mouth, see how close you can get?”

Smart-mouthed though he might be, Hiddenite didn't seem to be stupid. He stayed quiet.

“... Good,” Einan commented, pleased for the situation to finally be under her control. She left him lying there on the ground as she scouted after her cell phone. She found it in three pieces, not ten feet away. “Oh, God – look at this!” she exclaimed, picking up a piece helplessly, then chucking it to the ground. At the sound of disparaging laughter, she turned to frown at Hiddenite. “You laugh, but you're the one that doesn't get emergency services to come to you. Come on, clown.”

Stooping down, she grabbed him by the arm and began to haul him upwards. This proved more difficult than she'd initially guessed, of course, and she barely got him hip-high before having to take a new grip. “Ugh! If they can't come to us, then we just have to go to them. C'mon, stop with the dead weight!” Grudgingly, Hiddenite obeyed her demands, and Einan managed to get his arm around her shoulder. “Good. Now walk. Don't make me drag you. We're going--” Einan hesitated, orienting herself on the street. This was a neighborhood she didn't know quite as well as she would like, but all roads had to lead somewhere eventually, right? Picking a direction, she finished her sentence confidently, “this way!”

Then they started walking.

Perhaps that was putting the feat too lightly, though. Until the end of the first street, they were walking; then, they were staggering. Einan still had no clue how badly Hiddenite was injured, and certainly knew nothing of what to do about it herself – and with the Lieutenant himself offering no suggestions, the best she figured that she could do for him was to keep walking until they'd gotten somewhere to call for help.

She tried conversing as they struggled along, every step marking another small victory over fate. He said little in return, so she just kept her lips moving. She talked about lots of things; nothing important. She told him about her brother, Alec, who had a heart like a glacier and grubbier fingers than an accountant on payday. Her father she had few stories about, so she skipped him, but spoke fondly instead of her friend Willa (“She'll be jealous,” Einan joked weakly, “when she finds out that I had my hands all over a cute boy tonight!”) When she'd exhausted names worth talking about, she went on to things. Places. Activities. She told him where her favorite night club was, and talked about her ballet classes at the Crystal Academy. She described in detail the place where she lived, the Shanahan hotel that her father owned and her brother managed. He just listened and dragged along. The best she got out of him was a slight roll of his eyes when she told him the names she'd given her orchids, to which she squawked and complained for at least five minutes about the lack of respect she got.

“... I believe you.” It came out of the blue, sudden and surprising enough that Einan's breath wavered in front of it.

“Believe me?” she asked bewilderedly, uncertain what he was referring to. Believed her that she didn't get any respect?

“That you're not,” he stopped to spit on the ground, “not a senshi.” At the girl's uncomprehending stare, the boy gave a nasty chuckle. “No senshi would be stupid enough to tell me all that. I'd be able to hunt you down at my leisure if you were.”

It took a few moments to process that. “... Oh,” Einan answered faintly. Was she expected to feel reassured, or somehow grateful? Because right now, all she was doing was thinking wistfully back again to how much better off she would have been if she'd never woken the boy up.

“Doesn't mean I wouldn't kill you right now, if I could,” the boy assured her, just in case she'd held doubts.

“Jackass,” she grunted back, and pushed on.

It was several blocks later, and Hiddenite had grown painfully slow. Einan didn't like the way she heard his breath rasp now, and wondered if she ought to set him down somewhere. Surely she could go faster on her own, and come back for him? But there was something that told her that if she let the Lieutenant out of her sight, she would never see him again. Though it would be nice to say that she was just terrified that he'd die before she got the chance to get back to him, that wasn't really the whole truth. The fact was, she didn't think that she'd be able to stand herself if she didn't know that he made it out of this okay. If she wasn't a part of it. So she continued to pull him along with her, silent now that she'd run out of things to say, both of them panting.

As they turned the next corner, though, there was the first light of hope. Looking ahead of her on the street, Einan saw a man – an adult, someone who ought to be able to handle something like this! They'd found a savior!

“Hey! HEY! HELLO! We need help over here!” Einan called out, her tone pierced through with an implication of why are you just staring at us.

If only Einan had known what she looked like! White bodice covered in blood, carrying a boy who seemed nearly like a demon. If she'd given it any thought at all, she might have done something to cover the less appealing parts of her appearance. It was too late, though, by the time that she'd called out to the man. Far too late by the time she realized he was too drunk out of his mind to tell fantasy from reality.

“GEHAWAY! GEHAWAY!” came the drunken holler. The man's limbs went flying in all odd directions as he took off at a tilting dash.

She tried yelling after him, but the man wasn't listening. He barreled his clumsy way down the street, drunk and determined, ignoring entirely as Einan's cry for help transformed into a vicious, helpless string of curses.

From somewhere near her left shoulder, Hiddenite started a soft, bitter laugh. “That'll be it, then,” he decided. “There's nothing more to do. Put me down here, it's as good a spot as any....”

"We're not done yet," she gritted out of her teeth, "so shut up!" She was impossible to argue with in her desperation, but he didn't even try. His weight fell heavier and heavier on her with every passing moment, though. And she wasn't really that strong herself – she was the one used to being lifted, after all, not the other way around! She didn't know how much further she would be able to take him. They'd been walking so long already....

Einan hadn't realized it yet, but she had begun to cry. She had began to wonder whether she would see someone die tonight.

They made it two more blocks. Then Hiddenite's legs failed altogether, and Einan found that she could not support him. They both toppled over to the ground in a tangle, sorted out after only with slow fatigue. “Hiddenite? C'mon! Get up, you lazy slag,” Einan cursed at him. She staggered back to her feet herself, tired but unwilling to surrender. Grabbing his arm, she tried pulling him up – but the Lieutenant was giving her nothing to help, just staring listlessly. “Idiot! Get up!”

“No,” Hiddenite decided. Einan stopped pulling. There was an odd look on the boy's face, pleasure mixed with his fear, something musing in his eyes as well.

Deliberately, the girl drew her shoulders straight, glared downwards with a ferocity she didn't feel. “... Get up,” Einan ordered again, her voice more rasping. Wearily, he just shook his head.

“I'm done.”

The words were final. It wasn't an opinion – it was a truth. The Lieutenant had determined there was nothing left in him, and Einan was quick to find that there wasn't enough left in herself to argue with him. Slowly, she loosened her grip, and let his hand go. It slapped on the pavement, and then he slowly dragged it up to wrap around his chest.

It was cold out, Einan suddenly realized. She shivered in her skimpy costume, wondering what in the hell had possessed her to dress in such a damned short skirt. “... I can go ahead,” she began in a whisper. “I can find someone. I'll get you help.”

"No. It's over.” There it was again – the effect of truth, undeniability. Einan felt the words pass over her like a wave, and she wanted to rage at them, scream, fight and rip and tear until they were nothing more than empty promises. But, she found, she couldn't. All she could do was look down at Hiddenite with a terrified, injured expression. He looked back at her with a vacant stare. “You should've just left me there in the first place," the boy mumbled. His voice quavered, as though he barely had enough strength to work the bellows for speech. “Would've been better for the both of us....”

Einan couldn't lie. She lowered herself to the ground next to him. “I know.”

He didn't have anything more to say. But that was all right; Einan didn't especially have anything, either. She stared at her hands a few seconds, then slowly moved to rest her head on his shoulder. They remained like that – just like that – for an immeasurable amount of time, feeling mortality creeping over their shoulders, wondering what was about to come.

“Einan....” The sound of her name shot down her spine. She jerked up, turning her head to stare at the boy. Of all the things she'd told him, her name was the one thing she hadn't mentioned. He didn't seem to be toting it for any malicious reason, though. He continued on mildly, and asked her, “Do you hate me?”

“... Don't see much how I could,” she replied quietly.

Accepting this as encouragement, Hiddenite drew a deep breath. “My name is... Parker Lackey. I remember you from grade school. Do you remember?”

The name... rang bells. There was a certain familiarity, she supposed. Some vague resemblance to someone she might have known, but it was so faded –

“... We did a project on Africa,” Einan said slowly. “We got into a fight over the lion prides, because you didn't believe me when I said--”

“The lionesses were the only ones that hunted,” Hiddenite finished with a slow exhale of air. “Yes, that was it. I was trying to remember. We stopped talking after that.”

Einan managed a small smile of her own. “Of course we did, stupid,” she told him, knocking the side of her left boot against his right. “We went to different schools the year after. Had nothing to do with me being mad at you.”

Hiddenite... Parker's head nodded, then drooped. “That's right,” he breathed. “That's right....”

His hand slipped over hers.

“Parker....” Einan's voice gave a miserable whine, uncontrolled and unwilling. “What am I supposed to tell your folks?”

His body was sinking against her now. His reserves were gone – his reserve reserves were gone. He wasn't even shaking anymore. All he had left to do was take the final step over into the abyss. “Don't,” he answered. “Don't tell them... anything.”

Einan wasn't someone usually prone to upwellings of emotion. But there was nobody around to see in this case, so she didn't even try to suppress the rise of teary sympathy. “C'mon, Parker, don't be like that!”

Wryly, he told her, “Too late. Einan....” She wrapped her arms around his head with a sudden fierceness, clasping him to her chest, burying her face into his hair. Her frame didn't leave much for comfort, but whatever bit of warmth she had to give him she did, drew as near to his body as she could, not even realizing she was crying freely into his hair, pleading with him please, Parker, please don't, don't be like that!

Parker took that long, final breath.

“Einan.... Goodbye.”

It was too late. But with that feeling wrenching her heart, the sudden lightness in her arms, Einan couldn't stop the scream from breaking out of her lips.

DON'T GO!

But it was, as said, too late. There were ashes on her lap, blowing past her face, mixing in with her hair. Some of it stuck to the blood on her chest and hands, and the rest vanished with the wind. All that remained of Parker Lackey was a small green stone, glassy in appearance, which dropped to the floor by her knees.

There was the moment of shock.

Then the shuddering breath in. Another, another. Her eyes were wide, and she sat still as stone, arms still curled up where he had been just moments ago, tremors beginning in her body. He was... he was gone. He was gone?

From somewhere, she heard the sound of footsteps. Through the gathering water in her eyes, Einan could barely see. She tried staggering to her feet, but the toe of her boot slipped, and she sprawled pathetically. The gem poked at her underneath her palm – reflexively, her fingers curled around it. Through a squint, she could see the person approaching. Even near-blinded with shock and grief, there was something unmistakable about the person's frame, a tell-tale sign of familiarity....

“A.... Amara?” came the desperate little sob of a question, tiny and helpless as the chirp of a broken-winged bird.

[Miss Cherie]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? SCHOOLKID COMP!

Here's the form. Fill out all sections.

Name: Amaravati Priti

Nicknames: Amara, ‘Mara, Mare

Age: 18

Birthday: August 13

Sign: Leo

Blood Type: O

Fav. Food: Curry (pretty much no matter the origin), rice, Popeye’s chicken, pudding, Mexican food in general, Indian and Thai food in general, desserts that include chocolate.

Hated Food: French food. Seriously, that stuff has no flavor, and why are there tiny onions floating in a white sauce? No, just no. She does not like tapioca pudding, an exception to the pudding rule.

School: Crystal Academy

Hobbies: Sports, particularly soccer, cooking, horseback riding (does that go under sports?), playing the flute

Gemstone: Onyx

Virtues:

Mama Lioness— When push comes to shove, Amaravati feels the need to take care of and protect the small circle of people she considers friends and family. Mothering doesn’t exactly cut it, because it doesn’t touch the fierce protectiveness that runs throughout her behavior where those special people are concerned. If you have crossed one of her ‘cubs’, you better back off real fast.

Stubborn— There’s stubborn, and then there’s Stubborn. Amara falls into the latter category. It’s really not worth the time and effort it takes to convince her that whatever she’s after is a no go. When she’s made up her mind about something, she will hold on until the bitter end every time. Arguments with ‘Mara are, uhh, interesting to say the least.

Confident— It’s hard to shake her confidence, due to that stubborn nature, and she’s pretty damn sure that what she has got is something that people want. They might not admit that they want it, but in the end, they’ll come back for more. In spite of the fact that this has not always proven to be true, she remains self-possessed and assertive, with plenty of ego to go around.

Independent— As a result of that confidence and stubborn nature, Amaravati often goes it alone. She might hold to a couple of friends, but she needs her time to herself. Her wandering feet will take her all over the map if given half a chance. It is not easy to convince Amara that as she shelters other people, so she must also be sheltered. She remains unconvinced, and determined to make her own way even if she has to knock a few heads together while she’s at it.

Flaws:

Domineering— While her confidence and protectiveness can be entirely helpful, when coupled with her stubbornness, we reach a problem. She thinks she knows better than the people around her what they need. Obviously, they have a serious disagreement, there. People do not like being managed, and Amara will not only nearly always feel that she is in the right, but that she needs to manage them. Danger, Will Robinson.

Judgemental— If she’s met you, you can believe that she has pretty much already made up her mind about you. That can sometimes be a good thing… if, y’know, she thinks well of the person she’s met. Unfortunately, it also gets in the way of friendships and partnerships if she doesn’t, because once made her opinion is pretty hard to shake.

Vain— Oh no you didn’t just insult her. Maybe ‘Mara isn’t your average skinny rich chick, but if you dare to say anything about it, you had best believe there will be a fight. She is convinced that she is an Indo-Aryan Venus, and that is that. She might not say so, but she’s definitely thinking it. The vanity is almost a defense mechanism; growing up, she suffered from a lot of ‘fat girl’ jokes, and now that she’s blossomed into a young woman, she is well aware that some of those jokes were born of jealousy. At least, that’s what she wants to believe. She’s broken up friendships over it in the past.

Melodramatic— She is loud, and she is proud… but sometimes she goes overboard. Everything she does is obviously the most important thing ever, and thus everything she experiences is much the same. The latest drama is totally the world’s biggest crisis, and for all that she is generally prepared to handle that, she will make mountains out of mole hills. There might be real danger, but you’d be more likely to hear about it when she broke the heel of her latest shoe.


Physical Description:

Hair: Purple. The long and straight of it is that it’s long and straight. It comes down to about her tailbone and is usually kept mostly loose, with strands braided here and there.

Eyes: Orange, dark lashed, and judgmental.

Face: Square jawed, with defined cheekbones and a narrow chin. It’s a face with character, and don’t you forget it. For skintone, see here.

Body: Think Rubenesque. Amara has a voluptuous body, with plenty of curves to go around… and around. She’s busty, stocky waisted, with hips that could kill and thunder thighs.

Fashion: If it came off of the front of a magazine, ‘Mara’s probably worn it, or something close to it. Daddy’s money only goes so far, but fortunately for all involved, mama can sew like a champion. She also wears more traditional Indian garments when she feels the need, and she particularly favors the latest in Salwar Kameez when she’s chilling at home.

THE STORY ENTRY

It's Halloween -- that dark and eldritch time where everybody is convinced that nobody this year has thought up their radical costume of "iPod."

The news from the police is that if you encounter one of these strange "Negaversers" or "sailor senshi", they are to be considered armed and dangerous, and you should contact a policeman as soon as humanly possible to take them into arrest. You've all been warned that these people cause extensive property damage AND are responsible for the intent to injure a number of Destiny City civilians --

-- so when walking around one night, you find a crumpled-up, prone body in a ridiculous outfit that isn't just a bad Halloween costume. They're injured. Is it a Negaverser, or a Sailor Scout? Is this a trap? What do you do?!

Entry must be at least 200 words. No writing cap. Please don't use any senshi or Negaverse officers from the shop.

~~~

“Oh snowcone.” Too late now to save the boy, too late to stop the tears from marring Einan’s prissy little cheeks (her schoolmate would not thank her later for allowing such weeping; Ei could be so vain about her rich girl looks), Amaravati took a swaying step forward. She had caught only the last exchange between her sometime friend and the unfamiliar lad, and had been frozen in place by the scream. The sudden … well, poof that the body had done had definitely kept her where she was too. What had happened to poor, silly Einan and her perfect appearance? “Do you know that you are all over in blood?”

That decided her. With her usual no-nonsense calm, Amara plopped herself right down by the girl, and scooped her up into a big mama hug. There was nothing that could soothe anyone so much as having some nice full breasts to snuggle against, and she had that covered. More than covered. Trouble was, she didn’t know how else to help. What did you say to a girl whose companion (was he her companion) had just gotten toasted? Carefully measuring her words, she managed an entire sentence of comfort. … Comforting for the stuck up little bi—no. She was not going that route.

“I’m sorry, snowcone. How the hell did you do that?” Moreover, what in the bloody hell had happened there? People didn’t just up and die. No, they got killed. Somebody had just gotten killed right here tonight, and she was sitting in it! Of all the ridiculous nonsense. Where words failed, actions would have to do, and she was all out of words for now. Rubbing down Einan’s back, she made soothing sounds, and then reached up to stroke her hair. If a boob hug wouldn’t work, playing with Ei’s hair ought to do the trick… if only because the girl was so stuffy about it. Chances were, any moment now she’d slap Amaravati’s hand away.

Amaravati was okay with that. “… Ei?” Oh this was not acceptable. It was one thing to cuddle up to a conscious, crying girl. It was another thing entirely to be bearing the rather dead weight of an unconscious not crying girl. “Snowcone, you wake that silly head up right now!” Nothing. Of course nothing. Frowning, she shook her friend carefully. “Bloody hell, you’re going into shock, aren’t you?” Not good. This just wouldn’t do. Tucking that weird stone away, ‘Mara shouldered Einan’s weight (and it really wasn’t a lot of weight, was it?) and got to her feet, stumbling only just a little.

She was a big girl, and she could handle a prissy, skinny a** b***h. Handle her, and move her to somewhere safe, somewhere they could get help. It might have been better to let her sleep it out, but she didn’t want to risk that exposure would make matters worse. What was that tiny thing Ei was wearing? On a night like this, it made absolutely no sense to go about in getup that was just as revealing as their school uniform. Her own witch’s gear was far more sensible. … There was a sound. #@$%! Mother #&@*ing sound! If there was one thing that she didn’t like, it was those god #%$@ing %@#$ed Horror flicks where the chick hears a sound…

… And it was all over. No, there would not be any of that damn ‘all over’. There would not be any more bleeding, any more death, and there would most certainly not be some weirdo in a suit. Ironic, then, that a suited girl appeared right bloody after that thought. Maybe appeared was sort of stretching things. Falling from off of a dumpster and faceplanting wasn’t really appearing, was it? It was more like being the clumsiest mofo Amaravati had ever met. Oh hey, she was bleeding! The suited psycho was bleeding. Great. What was this, bleed on Amara day? The fall had sent her careening into the floor, but not before plenty of that rich red blood had gotten onto the damn witch costume.

“What. The. Bloody. Blazes. Are. You. Doing?” Every word was punctuated by a kick in the side with a nicely pointed witch’s boot (yes, she was going to hold the bleeding against the crazy chick, so sue her). “You do not fall on me.” Except, apparently she did fall on her. #&@%! Okay, they were entering ‘Amara is going to kick your skinny punk a** if you don’t get out of her #*$@ way’ territory. She had important things to do! For instance, she had to get Einan to the hospital, or something before she died. Ei dying crossed a pretty major line, and they were not going to go there. Uh uh.

“Mmmpph mmmph mmmph mmmph mmph mmph mph mmmph mmmmph mmph mmph!” Or something. What the hell was that girl trying to say? Whatever it was, it made no sense like that, with her face pressed into the ground. “Hell, girl, why’re you trying to run your mouth at me when you’re eating dirt?” There was more mumbling, and a frown appeared between Amara’s eyebrows. Okay, #*@$ that. Kicking the psycho suit in the face, she turned her over slightly. “By the power of the Great Smasher, I will vanquish you!” Right. This chick didn’t look like she could vanquish a Chihuahua, let alone big mama ‘Mara. “You’re nutters. You’re not gonna do a #*@$ thing down there.”

Crazy is as crazy does, as the saying went. This girl was out of her bloody mind! “I saw you!” the chick spat, blood dotting her lips as she spoke. “I saw you help that girl who was with him!” Him. What, as in that poor boy who’d gotten dusted like some kind of vampire out of a Buffy stakeout? Heh heh, stakeout. But no, that wasn’t funny, and this wasn’t funny either. “Are you trying to hit my boot?” The weak flailing didn’t really impress ‘Mara. Not at all. “I am Sailor Sargas, and I will punish you!” Amara let out a bark of a laugh. “Oh honey, you are punishing me. That awful getup of yours? It’s killing me.” Ugh, it was.

Then she got on her serious business face, and glared down at the girl. “Now you get your #*@$ing wand or whatever that crap is off of me, and you keep it off. Understand? If you don’t, I will step on your face. And sweetheart, you do not want me to step on your face.” It was better to trust Amara’s word there. Really, really better. In the long run, it would save the girl a lot of grief. “You’re… you’re a monster!” Ha! “Hardly. You’re delirious or something, girl. You should go pop some painkillers or something, because you are tripping out.”

And then the psycho suit started bawling. Oh god, it was just her day, wasn’t it? Grimacing, she raised an eyebrow at the kid. “What gives?” The little b***h had attacked her (granted in the most pathetic way she’d experienced to date), and now she was sobbing all over her nice, witchy boots. … Oh that was so it. “I’m dying! I’m hurting, and I’m dying and you are kicking me while I am down!” What was with this crazy night? Halloween didn’t usually mean everyone just up and #&$@ing killed each other. Did it?

“Look, girl, you went after me, not the other way around. Dropped down on me like a bat out of Hell.” Possibly literally out of hell… or maybe more like a bat going to hell. If the girl was dying, that was maybe the problem here. “That girl, she helped him!” the bleeding chick said despairingly. “Right. She helped him, so I’m supposed to do what? Hand her over to you? She’s not one of your people. I don’t care what she is wearing, you are not going to #*@$ing lay a finger on her. You’re insane if you think that I’m just going to drop her so that you can choke her with your pretty, sparkly white gloves.”

“What’s more, you’re not dying. If you were dying, I’m pretty #*@$ sure you’d already be dead. How about I call the cops, and you sit here and wait? They’ve probably got something out for you, don’t they?” Which Amaravati was totally okay with. If this sobbing girl ended up in the back of some cop car, it would be better than having her crazy a** limping after Einan as ‘Mara carried her. “Whatever vendetta you’ve got, I advise you to bury the hatchet. That boy you were after, he’s dead.” For some reason, that made the girl cry harder. There was really no understanding these costumed types, was there?

Snowcone was still asleep. Asleep, unconscious… whichever. What the hell? Had the boy’s death really been so hard on her? Heartless #*@$ing thinking, Mare. No, it was obvious that Einan had been hurt deep by it, and she was willing to bet that she truly was in shock. Yep, there was the shivering. “I… d-didn’t want him killed!” the girl hiccupped. “I just wanted to teach him a lesson!” Yeah, right. Because that was totally believable. “I find that hard to believe. I saw what you did to him. He was hurt bad.” Hurt bad enough that he’d died from the wound. Was this chick really actually crazy? “I didn’t want him to die, but I don’t care about you!”

Oh hell no. “You keep your crazy punk a** right over there where I can see it,” Amara hissed, disapproval making her tone harsher than maybe it should’ve been. Except, no, this was totally warranted. When crazy girls tried to kill you, you destroyed them. That had always been the way she’d operated, and she wasn’t going to change it now just because this particular brand of crazy was crying. Ei had been crying, too. Ei had been crying, and her boy had been dying, and that was all on this tiny girl. All of it. Every ounce of blame belonged with her. “I will… finish this…”

Reaching for her cell phone, she struggled to balance her friend on her shoulder and dial at the same time. Come on, come on, come on! Pick up! “911, what is your emergency?” Finally. Final #*@&#xin;g-ly. “I’ve got a girl bleeding on the ground here, she’s babbling incoherently. Doesn’t make any sense. Seems to be bleeding heavily. I don’t know where she’s hurt.” No phone call for Einan, because Amara was going to hold #@%^ tight to her, and take care of her herself. They were going to the hospital, and nothing, not even cops was going to keep that from happening. “Please, officer, she’s bleeding out here. I don’t know what to do to staunch the blood.”

Worse, the chick was still screaming death threats at her. … Trying to scream death threats at her. Had she gone off her rocker? “I think this girl is disturbed, or on drugs or something.” There were questions. There were a lot of questions, and the #*@$ cops weren’t moving fast enough. “Look, you can ask me questions until you’re blue in the face, but I hope to god you have an ambulance on the way.” Too many $*#@ questions. “I will… punish you…” Right, she had to deal with the girl. “No, you will not. You will sit tight and wait for the EMTs to get here, and you absolutely will not die on me.” ‘Mara had had enough of people dying today. “She’s delirious, officer. She needs help now.” After a pause, she got the confirmation that she needed. “An ambulance is on its way.”

Thank god. The flailing and the threats, and the bopping with whatever the #*@$ that thing was was starting to ease up. She frowned, peering down at the girl. “Better make it fast.” Crazy psycho suit girl was fading. Even she could tell that, and she had no medical training to speak of beyond the requisite first aid training. #*@$. “I’ll… bring you down… with…” Hey, if she couldn’t even finish her death threats, there was a serious problem here. The phone went dead. $#*@! Oh s**t, oh s**t, oh shiiiiiiiit! It wasn’t like she was attached to the chick or anything, but it was bloody obvious that the crazy girl needed help, and she’d just remembered that she hadn’t given her location. Maybe they were tracing the call? If they weren’t, this nut job was pretty much a goner.

Now was about time to check on the kid, actually. “Hey crazy girl, you okay down there?” Silence. That… was not encouraging. “Hey, I am talking to you!” Apparently listening to Amara was pretty far down on the list of things to do when one was dying. Huh. Who’d have thunk? But really, there needed to be a reply, because she was not going to stand here while the kid died. She just wasn’t. Except psycho girl was coughing on the ground, and kind of gasping, and she was $*#@ing sure that was a bad sign. “Stop that. You buck up and pay attention. The cops are sending an ambulance to come get you. You’ve got to hold out until then.” Pathetic, sobbing girls who died at her booted feet made her protective urges go all over the bloody place. All. Over.

The worst of it was that this chick was responsible for Einan’s boy’s death. She didn’t know what else to call him, because she hadn’t been there long enough to learn his name, and Ei hadn’t exactly been in any shape to talk by the time she’d gotten to her. Not really. “Hey cut it out! You keep that up you’re going to cough up a lung or something.” Possibly literally, and that was more of a mess than she wanted to deal with. Sobbing suited girl wasn’t making any sense. She was babbling from time to time, but the words just didn’t link together well. “I can hear the sirens now.” Guess that meant that they had traced the call after all.

Too #*@$ing late, it looked like. The flailing was stopping, and the girl’s body did a jerk… and s**t, that was not acceptable! “Sailor … Whatever, you are not going to do that, you hear me?” Gently, Amaravati set Einan down, and then she tried to find the wound and—“Oh s**t.” The girl wasn’t breathing. Not breathing… not breathing was a $#@* bad sign. Bloody… bloody hell! “You wake up right now, you hear me? Wake the #@%* up!” Shaking Ei hadn’t done any good, but surely now… surely this was different. Okay, what did she know about first aid? She could’ve sworn she’d learned a bit of how to deal with this kind of thing.

Where was her booklet? She hadn’t brought the packet they’d given her when she’d done the class… she never brought it. What the hell had she been thinking? This was trouble, this was serious trouble. “Well $*#@.” Hand covered in blood, ‘Mara searched out the chick’s pulse, and got… nothing. Nothing? After all of this, the b***h was going to die on her? Right. Mouth to mouth, restart the heart. One two three. Push, and breathe… and… “#*$@!!” For a moment, she thought that she’d get no response, no response at all… and then…

“Not… going to kill me?” Blood beaded at the girl’s lips, and she coughed hard enough that Amara could feel it rattle through her. Oh s**t, oh s**t! Why did this crap happen to her, on her watch? “No. No, I’m not going to kill you, though after the s**t you’ve put me through I should.” A look of almost … peace came over the psycho suit’s features, and that provoked a serious response out of her. “No! None of that!” ‘Mara slapped the girl, trying to liven her up a bit. “Stop that. Stop dying. The ambulance is on its way. You just gotta hold on a little longer. Do you hear me? Stop!”

“Don’t… have a choice. Tell my mom and dad… I loved them? Somebody’s… mom’s going to freak out. It’s not… her fault.” $*#@! “Oh hell no. Oh hell no, don’t you die on me!” She didn’t know how many times she’d said that now, but it was a lot. Gritting her teeth, she knelt down, the blare of sirens in her ears, and she tried to keep the girl afloat. It wasn’t working, and she didn’t know what to do to make it work. Now would be a $*#@ good time to have some witchy powers to go with the gear. “Oh god, somebody help me!” She was not a murderer, she was not going to be responsible for this chick’s death. She was not negligent… was she? “…” Almost as though to mock her feeble efforts, she could hear the sirens real close now.

“Well $@*#.” There was nothing for it, but to answer the storm of questions that was sure to come, and to get Ei to the hospital. Maybe they’d let her ride in the back of the ambulance. She could already tell that they were too late for Sailor Sargas or whoever she really was. “I don’t know who you are, but you really screwed yourself over, kid.” Herself, that poor boy, and Einan. Einan, who had done nothing to her, and was suffering from a loss that she couldn’t really understand. With the sound of sirens blaring in her ears, she promised herself that somehow, some way she was going to find this girl’s parents, and she was going to pass the word along. The silent sleeper before her might have been a killer…

But everyone, everyone had someone they left behind. This crazy girl was no exception, surely. Not with the way she’d talked about her folks, all too late. The EMTs burst out of the back of the ambulance, and suddenly she was surrounded by uniforms. There were cops every $@*$ing where, and she just didn’t know enough about what had happened to help. After all, how exactly did you go about explaining that the boy who had mortally wounded the girl had … poof vanished. As they loaded the cooling body up into the back of the vehicle, she got to her feet and brushed herself off absently. “Hey, let me ride in the back. This girl here’s my friend from school, and she’s going to want someone there when she wakes up, okay?”

Maybe she couldn’t save the boy, or the suited girl, but she was bloody well going to be there for Ei. It might’ve been easier for her if she’d just taken off, but easy didn’t cut it. Easy was pussying out, and Amaravati Priti simply did not do that. “Sure, why don’t you come with us, and answer a couple of questions on the way?” Right. Questions. Of course they would have questions. She had known they would have questions. Must have been the shock that was starting to set in. “I can do that, but there’s not a lot I can tell you.” As they pulled away from the scene, she could see a cop already blocking off the area, and she could only think that come next year, she wasn’t dressing up. The last thing that she needed was another crazy $*@#ing Halloween, and another #*@% body. Seriously. Trick or treat, mother #@$&er.

[x___Doctor Ruri]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? SCHOOLKID COMP!

Name:Weiryn (we're-in) Banning

Nicknames: Ryn (rin)

Age: 19 going on 20

Birthday: Deceber 18

Sign: Sagittarius

Blood Type: AB-

Fav. Food: Corned Beef & Potatoes with Mustard <3, just like mother makes.

Hated Food: Grapefruit. Vile vile vile little citrus plant. He also dislikes prawns (shrimp) and absolutely DESPISES tea and all of the British Propaganda it stands for.

School: I really don't feel like he's a 'school age student' being 19, but I guess that it's alright....o^o Hillworth would suit him best with their emphasis on sports and music.

Hobbies:
o Violin--- Taking violin to begin with mostly to please his mother, Ryn found he actually LIKED the instrument after a time. In his later years, he also realizes that this hobby of his only adds to the 'handsome gentleman' image that he portrays himself as, and helps him gain even more attention from others. When he's alone though, he plays beautifully and for himself, although most of his music sounds incredibly sad and lonely.

o Gymnastics--- Ever since he was a child back on his grandfather's farm, he's always had great muscle tone. Now that he can't go and do farm work anymore, he keeps up this muscle tone with gymnastics. Usually considered a 'girly sport' he really doesn't care what his peers think about it, since the workout is amazing and keeps him looking fit. As a side note, it's also made him more flexible, and able to accomplish acrobatic feats you wouldn't expect out of your run-of-the-mill guy. It's his goal to be able to hold himself up on the rings for a full minute, but his arms give out on him every time.

o Yoga---Mostly to cool down and warm up before and after Gymnastics. It is also an excellent way to meet girls, though he personally DOES enjoy the stretches. They only help his flexibility and keeps him healthier, in his opinion, and it has helped him greatly when he lived at home with his parents to catch some of the youngest girls of the family. Man, do little girls run fast and squeeze their way into tiny spaces.

o Motorcycles--- Ryn loves his sleek black Kawasaki Ninja. If you so much as a LOOK AT IT FUNNY he will go apeshit on your a**. Many have claimed that he loves the bike even more than his looks, which is saying something.

Gemstone: Black Agate

Virtues:
o Soft Spoken-- Ryn is a firm believer of the phrase 'Speak softly and carry a big stick'. Finding that it's easier to get things done when one is continually calm and soft-spoken, he's been like that most of his life. One can be both soft spoken and a leader at the same time, and because of his gentle, calm manner, Ryn seems to attract a large group of people to him frequently. He's considered popular because of this, and some of his other 'gentlemanly' ways.

o Remorseful-- Unfortunately for him, Ryn happens to have that little emotion called 'remorse'. He cannot stomach torture, and so whenever given a mission, he tries to end it as quickly as possible. It's not to say he won't hurt someone in the time frame of a mission, or that he doesn't enjoy his job, he does. He just feels bad later on when he knows he hurt an innocent needlessly. This usually only extends to pedestrians and he tries to collect what he needs from them as quickly and painlessly as possible. Scouts on the other hand, he finds he quite enjoys 'playing' with.

o Chivalrous-- Ryn won't stand for the abuse or mistreatment of women due to growing up in a mostly female atmosphere, and takes that one step further by being the perfect gentleman like his father and grandfather taught him. Ryn is the type of man who stands up when a lady walks into a room, rushes to open the door for her, and then pulls out her seat, all without the expectation of a thank you or even a nod. It's something he gets teased relentlessly about, but he doesn't particularly care what others think.

Flaws:
o Vanity--Ryn thinks very highly of his looks. Which wouldn't be a bad thing if he didn't spend more time in the bathroom than any of his four sisters in the morning. He's quite handsome, and he knows and flaunts the fact subtly in front of EVERYONE. Sometimes mistaken for a girl, he's even been known to lead a guy on for kicks, just to prove that he's THAT pretty. His hair and skin is his life, and strives to keep his skin pale, and his hair shiny and bouncy and pretty at all times of the day.

o Stubborn-- Like a bull ramming its head into a wall, the boy doesn't know when to quit. He simply doesn't like giving up the ghost and failure is NOT an option. Ryn doesn't care HOW LONG he's out in the field doing something, or even if he's just in class trying to get an A. He refuses to settle for anything less than perfect, and relentlessly pursues it no matter how futile an effort it may seem. Usually he wins out, but sometimes he just ends up getting himself hurt.

o Easily Enchanted-- Ladies. Ah yes, man's greatest downfall. Or at least in this case, it is. Ryn's never been able to say no to a pretty face, and tries to be as accommodating to women as he possibly can. While his chivalry is smiled upon greatly by women everywhere, his mother always warned him that his downfall would be a sweet girl.....

o Overbearing Leadership-- Ryn likes very much to be the leader in most, if not all, situations. Usually that's just considered leadership, and he does have a fair amount of that in a good sense as well, but his urge to take control of a team often gets him in trouble with authority figures. He doesn't mean to, because he generally doesn't like to stand out in any way unless he's excelling at something. But his superiors always seem to find themselves smothered with an air of firm command coming from Ryn's end, even if he doesn't mean to try and usurp them.

o Perfectionist-- Ryn is the height of what OCD perfectionism can be. He feels the need to embody everything perfectly. And not in the figurative sense. It's part of what drives him in life in everything he does. Perfect musician. Perfect driver. Perfect bike. Perfect family. Perfect body, perfect gymnast. Perfect gentleman. All those things that make up his personality he strives to make 100% flawless and gets mildly sadistic and temperamental when he CAN'T achieve perfection. He sees power as just another way to polish perfection.

Physical Description:

Hair: Long, wavy/curly (almost china doll curls) deep red hair. Deep red as in so deep that it's nearly brown, but you can tell it's red. He has a long white streak in his hair from his right temple all the way down to the tips of his hair. It falls about mid-back, and if it's not down and in curls, it's up in a ponytail with a few tendrils to surround his face hanging down. The curls are still in the ponytail though, can't beat the Irish outta him. ((<--Confusing? oAo? ))

Eyes: Striking electric green. They have an odd sheen to them that makes them appear almost iridescent.

Face: For being uber power-hungry and kinda competitive, Ryn has a kind face. He has the kind of soft but masculine features that make women swoon, and men look twice to make sure its not female. His skin is always immaculate, and he makes it a huge point to take care of it, as it ties in with his overall vanity

Body: He's lean, but not to the point of scrawny. Most of what's on him is muscle from helping his grandfather when he was younger on the family farm back in Scotland. He's been required to do some heavy lifting most of his life, even though both of his parents have good jobs down in Whales. His father wanted him to get the 'most out of his heritage' and his mother wanted him to grow a good sturdy backbone and make his family proud when he grew up. His toned body reflects these commitments to excellence in everything.

Fashion:
o Uniform:: Always immaculate, he makes it his personal goal every morning to make the uniform look damned good.

o Casual:: Usually in high-end clothes, Ryn likes to keep himself well dressed. Think some kind of slacks and a nice collared silk shirt with a few of the top buttons undone at all times. He also usually is inseparable from a locket he wears around his neck with a picture of his four sisters in it. On the rare occasion he DOES wear jeans or the like, they're usually trendy, with some sort of pattern or logo that sets them apart. He's also particularly fond of wearing knee-high boots for males. They make him just a smidge taller, even if he doesn't need it, and feeds his ego to look fashionable in a 'trendy Itallian' kind of way.

o Gym:: When working out, he has knuckle gloves on his hands to protect them for gymnastics, and a traditional male gymnastics leotard. He is fully comfortable with his sexuality to go out in public and wear it. Hey, if you got it, might as well flaunt it.

THE STORY ENTRY

Weiryn would never understand why everyone got so worked up over Halloween. He had to admit he adored the holiday himself, and he looked forward to candy and haunted houses every year, but all this dressing up nonsense? That's what little kids did. Grow up, people. As he passed some kids that were walking and giggling about their Halloween costumes, he snorted in disgust and pulled out his iPod, putting the earbuds in his ears to get away from childish nonsense like that. Bobbing his head slightly to the Pussycat Doll's "Hush Hush (I Will Survive)" and keeping his definitively feminine choices in music a secret, he kept on walking.

Passing an electronics store, there was a newsflash on the tv displays about these "Sailor Senshi" and "Negaversers". He read the little captions, and even took out an earbud to listen to the warnings from the newscaster. Bah. Not like those guys would be coming after him anyways, this was a fairly safe part of town, he had nothing to worry about. Not to mention he had enough natural muscle on him that he looked like you didn't want to mess with him, even with his casual business type clothes. He'd made an effort to look good today, and looked trendy, neat, clean-cut, and highly attractive. Mostly because he'd just been on a date that hadn't turned out as fun as he'd hoped, but he was sure the girl was still swooning over him up in her room, giggling on the phone about the 'Banning Boy' that girls practically gouged each others eyes out to date. It made his ego swell a little to think about it, and his little god complex that these Senshi and Negaversers wouldn't dare touch him got a little bit more solid in its reasoning. Well, to him it did, there was no reasoning behind it really, but as he was thinking these things over, he almost tripped over someone's foot.

'Tch'ing with disgust at his own clumsiness, he righted himself, and turned to look at the person whom owned the foot jutting out onto the sidewalk, reaching in his pocket to grab some money to give them. But where he'd expected a homeless person to be dwelling in the alleyway between shops, he found a most curious sight. There was a man with short, cropped hair and tan skin in what appeared to be a military uniform, just lying on the ground. It seemed he was unconcious, and Ryn's better nature got the best of him even if the instincts in the back of his head were telling him to let it be and keep walking. Checking the man for vitals, he found a pulse, albeit a weak one, and tried to roll him over to check his pockets for identification to help out the EMTs with figuring out who the guy was and if he had insurance. Turning him though, he discovered a badly bleeding wound on the mans side, blood staining his entire left side and creeping over to cover his middle as well. Ryn's eyes went up and he looked around with a slight air of worry.

Who was this person? Was the guy that did this to him still around? As he was surveying the area, his hand brushed against something sharp, and he yanked his hand back, putting his finger in his mouth to soothe the p***k. The glint of a name tag caught his eye, and he gingerly picked it up, flipping it over a moment to find the offending needle that had poked him, then inspecting the name.

"Hessonite? What kind of name is----oi, wait a mo.....aren't those men in the military uniforms named after things in the ground? Minerals and the like......O'ly Mother of St. Patrick! He's one of those Negaverser blokes!" he whispered to himself in alarm, mostly to just hear his own voice and make sure this was really happening, his brouge slipping out of its usual control for a moment as he became excited. Looking around conspiratorilly, he took the chance to examine the Negaverse officer. With a frown, he poked the man in the chest, eliciting a small unconcious grunt from him, but nothing more.

"How could you let yourself get beaten by some girl in a cute costume and high heels? You should be setting a better example you know. All that power you must have for them to be riled up on the telly, and not using it to its fullest. Mum and Da say that a man should be the strong foundation that a home is built on, because women will ALWAYS need a man around to take care of em'.....tch. What a waste of power on you......you deserve to rot here, you know," he said to the body, standing up and nudging the wound with his boot. The blood was drying, but a small bit managed to get on the tip of his boot, and he scuffed it on the ground to get it off with distaste plain on his gentle, aristocratic features. Pulling his hair up as if into a pony tail, he sighed, starting to pace like this as was his usual way of thinking. Pausing, he looked over and clicked his tounge on the roof of his mouth. The man was waking up, and looked up at Ryn as if he was a godsend, reaching out feebily for help. Ryn presently scoffed and dragged the man to the back of the alley way, straightening and then spinning his body while raising his leg to collide soundly with the man's head, knocking him out again and giving him a nasty growing bruise on the side of his face and temple. Weiryn cocked his head with vague interest as he saw a tendril of blood drip out of the poor officer's ear, and examined the nametag again nonchalantly, as if he hadn't just condemned a man to bleed to death in an alleyway, unconscious and unable to help himself.

"Might as well leave you here. You're clearly not man enough to deserve to hang around......gods sake, getting bludgeoned near to death by a WOMAN. Don't get me wrong, I love women, and they're beautiful delicate creatures......which is why you shouldn't have lost, you sickeningly imperfect little creature. You won't be needing this anymore, so I think I'll hold onto it......never know, I might join your 'noble cause' whatever that may be.....power only makes one strive for further perfection, I always say, so might as well shoot for the stars, hm?" he contemplated, as if having a casual conversation with a friend about the weather. Palming the tag, he leaned over and smiled at the unconscious man, cocking his head a little and poking his forehead. "You sleep tight now, mate."

And with that, the young man walked off casually, slipping the nametag into his pocket with a new goal in mind to perfect the job of the fallen Negaverse officer, polishing it until it shone brighter than any silly girl in high heels.

[Akina Tokuwa]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? SCHOOLKID COMP!

Here's the form. Fill out all sections.

Name: Parker Colvin Damhnait

Fun fact: his surname is an Irish variation of Dymphna, the name of the Catholic patron saint of the mentally ill. However, since most people don’t know the proper pronunciation (“DEV-naht”), they tend to pronounce it (sometimes on purpose) “dammit” which produces its own problems.

Nicknames: PC, which he kind of likes (I’M A COMPUTER!); PD (pronounced to sound like Petey), which he hates; Dammit, which he super hates. You know what – just call him Parker and everything will be okay.

Age: 18

Birthday: June 30th

Sign: Cancer

Blood Type: AB-

Fav. Food: Chocolate covered espresso beans.

Hated Food: Anything spicy.

School: Hillworth Grammar School

Hobbies:

Grim Fascination – Parker is a “worst case scenario” type of guy. For this reason, he is incredibly interested in just how horrible life can turn out. Freak deaths, gruesome murders, twisted tortures – it all intrigues him. He is not quite a sadist himself, but he finds the darkness in people much more interesting than their goodness. Plus, the idea that no man is spared by mortality is very appealing to Parker. Even those in positions of privilege cannot escape death. The Reaper’s scythe will level the playing field for all! Sharks, bears, alligators, and other large man-eating predators are specifically interesting to him. One of his dreams is to see a great white shark jumping out of the water.

Philosophic Meanderings – Before she died, Parker’s mother was an editor for philosophy textbooks. Instead of being read fairy tales, she read to him from Origin of the Species, Interpretation of Dreams, and Mysticism and Logic. He grew up with a passion for philosophy, one that has only intensified since his mother’s death. It is now his link to her, and it is an excellent tool for his left-brained mind. It is not uncommon for Parker to share a random quote from a famous philosopher when he cannot find his own words.

Steampunk – Parker has a passion for technology. He built his own computer and is able to make a little money on the side repairing the gadgets of others. This love of metal and science has made him very intrigued with steampunk culture. He isn’t quite the kind of boy you’d expect to be fashion-savvy, but PC has begun to refine an image of himself – one that includes his new found steampunk style. At Hillworth, he is unable to express this due to the constraints of the institution, but outside of class, he can frequently be found creating metalwork pieces, some for decoration and others for ensemble pieces. He doesn’t really broadcast this, but it is one of his major passions.

Blogging – Parker is pretty passive aggressive. For that reason, the internet is his friend! From the comfort and safety of his bedroom, he is able to write nasty, horrible things about people with zero consequences. He has started up his own blog that seems to target many of the privileged girls of the Crystal Academy, a forum that he uses to drudge up all the embarrassing information he can or to simply say very mean things in complete anonymity. He refers to himself as “The Proletariat Provost” and has an alter-ego built up about it. Parker genuinely believes that it is his duty to expose the corruption and lies of the people of power and privilege in Destiny City. He does so in complete cowardice behind his computer screen, but his attacks are still quite (verbally) vicious. It is not uncommon for him to target the daughter or son of a prominent politician in the hopes of inciting public derision from their parent.

Gemstone: Moonstone

Virtues:

Logical Tinkerer – Puzzles and scientific-thinking come easily to Parker. If he wasn’t so pessimistic about life, he might actually make for an excellent chemist, biologist, or inventor. He is a quick study, and when his skill is properly yielded, he could be a highly effective team mate for a task. If you give him a gadget that has been totally dissembled, chances are he will be able to fit the pieces back together in little time. It is fun for him, a way for him to challenge his own skills, and the focus needed to work out an intricate technological puzzle elevates Parker to a state of total Zen. He is the happiest when he is tinkering.

Sisyphusian Dedication – Sisyphus is a Greek figure who was doomed to spend all of his eternity rolling a rock up a hill only to have it roll right back down when he got close to pushing it over the peak. Like Sisyphus, Parker tends to have a difficult time grasping the futility of his actions, which makes him incredibly persistent. When you think everything is futile, it is more difficult to identify specific repetitive actions that might be a waste of your time. For Parker, his main task is trying to get his father off the painkillers, and to expose the corruption of those in power in Destiny City. He never seems to make much headway on either task, but he continues trying because… well, what else is he supposed to do? Parker does not believe in happy endings, but there is a glimmer of hope in these efforts. A very perceptive person would see that, underneath all of his ramblings and pessimism, Parker still tries, which shows that a part of him (no matter how small!) must have hope – and that tiny, tiny sliver of hope is incredibly significant.

This is not an argument. – Parker loves to have debates; they fuel him. Many people perceive these debates as a love for arguing, but they are mistaken. The intelligent exchange of ideas makes PC’s little icy heart smile. This is yet another reason that he loves his computer. In the many tubes (hah) of the Internet, he can find forums for this discussion – and people just like him who appreciate a good debate. Years of debating for fun have given Parker experience with sharing his thoughts and views, and because he sees them as debates, he never loses his cool, even when people are disagreeing with little reasoning behind those opinions. Sure, he might insult your intelligence if you start to fly off the handle, but he will never be the one to explode. This balanced perspective on disagreements makes him slow to judge, or to react prematurely.

Self-Sufficient – Having largely raised himself through his adolescence, Parker is an extremely independent person. He has few close friends, and quite literally only leans on himself for support. In fact, a great deal of the money that he makes goes toward helping pay the bills and send his father to rehab. Sure, it would be nice to have a companion, or a lot of friends, but Parker views that as an optional part of life. Success and self-discovery are more important that interpersonal communication. His self-concept is based largely on what he thinks of himself with little influence of the opinions of those around him. He knows who is, in and out, and a depressed, pessimistic little ball of bad luck though he may be, he finds strength in that knowledge. Parker can take a lot of abuse without breaking down; he is a bastion for punishment. Where others might crumble, Parker remains steadfast.

Flaws:

Faithless – Contrary to Anne Frank and other ideological figures, Parker does not believe that there is goodness in everyone. Not at all. The world is a dark and terrible place where the majority of people would rather claw your eyes out than lend you a helping hand. No one acts out of complete selflessness. There is no such thing as altruism. These are beliefs that he holds dear. For this reason, he finds it nearly impossible to put his faith in anyone or anything. The sides of good and evil are entirely relative based on your perspective, and the fact of the matter is that humans are animals. They care only about survival. To think different is, to him, naïve and stupid. The only cause Parker seems to care about is making others realize just how bleak and pointless their lives are – including his own.

Shaky Foundation: Parker needs, probably more than anything, security in his life. Not necessarily security in himself, but just a concept of safety to give his life some much-needed stability. Cliché as it is, he never got a lot of love as a teenager, and his home was so chaotic that he never properly developed a concept of family. His mother died when he was still a kid, and his father has been in and out of rehab for painkiller addiction his entire life. When his mother died, what hope he had of a positive parental influence died too. To feel safe… he craves it more than anything else. This is a need that he would never express openly, but his insecurity over his own self-worth is a deep crevice in his psyche, one that makes him lash out. In fact, his passive aggressive attempts to bring down others is likely all just part of him wanting to feel less alone. While he doesn’t need companions, Parker would be a much more balanced person if he had some kind of stable circle surrounding him.

Misery Loves Company: Parker is Debbie Downer. If you ask his opinion on anything, his response will always be negative. How does this dress look? You and 5000 other girls don’t fill it out right. Do you think I should apply to college? Life is meaningless. Don’t waste your time trying to give it meaning. Do you want to get a milkshake? A man once choked to death on a milkshake in full view of his five children up the road from here. It isn’t that he is purposely trying to suck the fun out of the room; these are just the first thoughts that come to his head. He is very critical – to a fault – and his baseline attitude is pessimistic. He doesn’t force these comments into a conversation, but if you ask his opinion, the chance is slim to none that he will have a positive outlook to share.

Dark Raincloud: Parker does not have luck. If anything, he has negative luck. His entire life has been defined by horrible acts of misfortune and woe. His last name is easily mispronounced as a curse word, his first name sounds like a friend of Barbie, his zodiac sign is also the word for a terrible and deadly sickness, his blood type is the most difficult to find donors for, his mother died in a horrific accident when he was eleven, his father is addicted to pain medication, he is frequently punished for crimes that he did not commit – and the list goes on. The boy never learned to be optimistic because he had nothing to be optimistic about in his life. For whatever reason, this string of events seems to follow him wherever he goes. If someone at Hillworth smashes a window, Parker is bound to walk up to examine it just in time for an administrator to come by and accuse him of the action. People tell him that bad luck follows him because his negativity draws dark energy. He, of course, tells them to shut up since that logic is completely unfounded and unrealistic. He believes in chaos theory, and for whatever reason, he continues to be on the receiving end of that chaos. Word to the wise: if you are planning a heist, do yourself a favor and don’t invite Parker.

Physical Description:

Hair: This image is a pretty good reference for both color and length. (Ignore the sexiness. That is certainly not very Parker-like. If Parker decided to pose for a romance novel cover, that might be him – but not real-life Parker. You say “bedroom eyes” and he says “…what?” But I’m rambling…) It is black with dark brown undertones. The top is a bit layered with a side sweep of bangs, and the length falls just below his shoulders. The flow and thinness of it in that photo is about what I imagine for Parker too. Honestly, the best way I can describe it is to say that it is a sexy mullet. Yes, that’s right. Sexy. Mullet.

Eyes: Half-lidded, bored, narrowed. The color is cerulean.

Face: This image is a good reference for his face. (Honestly, if it looks better, that is a pretty good hair reference too if the longer ‘do is too complicated/annoying/mulletfail.) Narrow features, a small mouth, angular “weak” chin. Certainly not a picture of manliness. There is a thick scar that drags from his left nostril down to his lip, giving the impression of a natural snarl. The injury was caused by his father – no, Parker does not want to talk about it. Go away.

Body: He is lean, but not in any great physical shape – squishy when poked. Parker is an indoor boy who likes his computer. The only physical exercise he gets is what they make him do at the militant school. As for skin tone, he has an olive-tan to his skin, almost Greek-looking.

Fashion: Steampunk. Or at least the best he can interpret it. Parker leans toward cool colors – dark blues, blacks, certain greens. He sometimes wears a wrist brace to fight off carpal tunnel syndrome. He makes it look fly (kind of). Trying to alter your uniform at Hillworth is often met with strict punishment, but his tiny act of rebellion is a single black strip of fabric that he wears as a choker around his neck. He claims that it represents the way that the school is choking the life out of its students. No one seems to care.

THE STORY ENTRY

Entry!

Halloween was just another day to Parker. Nothing exciting about it. Girls used it as an excuse to dress sluttier. Guys used it as an excuse to be violent assholes. What could there possibly be to celebrate?

If he had it his way, Parker would have spent the entire night holed up in his bedroom on the computer, maybe reassembling the clock he’d found in his neighbor’s trash, maybe sleeping. Of course, Parker never had anything his way so it was less than surprising when he received an urgent call from the other side of town insisting that he come look at a computer immediately. While the thought of pissing off an old rich lady appealed to the boy, the promise of cash for his work was far more persuasive. He had bills to pay, things to buy. He had set off several hours ago and was just now on his way back home in the twilight, weaving his way through pack after pack of snot-nosed rich kid trick-or-treaters and their equally snotty and rich parents. The whole experience made him want to vomit… or maybe just blog about it.

Grabbing a seat on a graffiti-covered stone bench, Parker slipped a hand into his messenger bag, pulling out an olive-green moleskin notebook. It was an overpriced journal, but the teen liked the feel of the cover, the stigma of “serious writer” that it seemed to carry. Plus, some of his favorite modern philosophers preferred moleskin journals, if he remembered correctly. Flipping to the next blank page, he used his teeth to pull off the cap of his black pen and scrawled a few brief phrases:

Crystal Academy Conspiracy: The Bourgeoisie Hiding in Plain Sight
The Mayor Practices Bad Faith
”Time is not an empirical concept. For neither co-existence nor succession would be perceived by us, if the representation of time did not exist as a foundation a priori.” – Kant

He seemed to puzzle over these three phrases, chewing the end of the pen absent-mindedly. It was not unusual for Parker to do this – grab a random seat, sketch out a few obscure titles and quotes, and then stare blankly at the page for a couple hours. There was no telling how long he might have stayed there if he hadn’t heard a strange gurgling noise coming from the bushes directly behind him. Oh no… mysterious noise. This never boded well for the boy. On many occasions, he had set off to discover the source of some odd noise or light only to find himself accidentally pummeled, at the scene of a horrible crime, or walking right into some prank staged by his peers. Parker let his eyes stray to the bushes for a moment, but then they darted quickly back to the page.

No, no, no. Don’t be stupid. Don’t get involved.

Flipping the lid of his moleskin closed, he tucked it back into his messenger bag, snapping it closed with finality. He had just gotten to his feet when he heard a small voice whisper, ”Please…” Another gurgle, a shuddering breath. Damn. With a labored sigh, Parker crossed the few feet around the bench, dragging his legs through the branches of a low line of bushes. He made it out the other side with a stumble, practically tripping over the body that lay prone before him.

It was a girl in an odd costume – parading around as one of those Sailor Scouts that had been all over the news. He couldn’t make out what was wrong with her from that angle so he crouched, placing two fingers in the dirt and leaning in her direction. ”Hi,” he said, pulling a branch from over her face. She looked about his age, maybe a few years younger, with short red hair and pale green eyes. There were long cuts dragging down both of her cheeks about the width of a fingernail and some kind of burn mark near her throat. Honestly, all the silly frills covering her costume made it a bit hard to see the extent of the damage. The girl wasn’t saying much, just making pained noises. Aside from the scratches, Parker didn’t see much wrong with her, just a little bruised, maybe dazed. It seemed like she was having a lot of difficulty moving, as if she might be paralyzed or something. ”I’m not surprised you got attacked,” he said flatly. She went out on Halloween dressed up as the new all-the-rage crimefighter; how could she not see the consequences ahead of time?

”You know what Nietzsche would say?” he began, wrapping one arm around her torso and dragging her away from the bush. Her eyes watched him carefully, derision seeping out at his philosophical rambling. ”He would say, ‘One does not want to be deceived, under the supposition that it is injurious, dangerous, or fatal to be deceived.’ And then he would step over you and keep on walking.” Parker managed to drag her a few more feet, propping her up against the raised ledge of the sidewalk barricade. He sat down next to her, tapping his pen against the side of his Converse sneaker.

After a few moments of silence, the girl began to roll her feet in circles, then her legs, then her hands, until the movements became fluid, almost like a dancer. The thought stilled him. Was she one of those Crystal Academy princesses? He eyed her again, and she opened and closed her mouth a few times, as if to work out stiffness from her jaw. A receding paralysis? How odd. ”I’m glad you’re not Nietzsche,” she said at last, voice labored. Parker nodded, straight black hair falling in his eyes. Two little girls dressed as pumpkins ran by on the sidewalk, a flushed mother juggling a toddler chasing behind them. Parker and the girl watched them go by, neither saying anything for a while. Then the strange girl spoke again, her voice much stronger now, ”Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m okay?” She turned her head to him, eyes expectant.

Parker looked back at her. ”No,” he said, drawing one leg closer to his body. ”Aren’t you going to tell me thank you?” He raised an eyebrow, careful to keep his eyes on her face. That skirt really was quite short…

The red-headed girl seemed to consider this, bobbing her head back at forth and touching at a cut on her elbow. ”No,” she said at last, with a hint of irony leaking into her voice. Parker leaned his head back against the wall, looking up at the stars as they twinkled into appearance. The girl did too, red hair slipping back to reveal angular features. ”Pretty…” she said, one hand rubbing at her wrist. ”They are so much more important than people know.” The comment seemed offhanded, mostly to herself.

”Most of them are probably dead now – exploded years and years ago. The light from their explosions just hasn’t reached us yet.” The girl shot Parker a look, but he remained oblivious, eyes focused upward. ”Same thing will happen to the sun. It has given us life for all these years, but one day, it will explode and destroy us all.” He lifted both hands in the air and made a sunburst movement, rolling his head to meet eyes with her. ”Of course you and I will be long dead by then so it won’t really affect us.” He said it lightly, as if it should be comforting.

In response, she narrowed her eyes, a red eyebrow inching upward. The girl placed one hand in the dirt and the other against the wall, staggering to her feet. Parker watched her stand and then followed suit, adjusting his messenger bag around him. ”I think that’s my cue to go,” she said, pulling a handful of leaves from her hair. In a vertical position, her costume looked a lot more convincing, much more detailed. Impressive, even – well, as impressive as a Halloween costume that got her beaten up could be.

He followed her from the spot behind the bushes back to the sidewalk, running his hand up and down the strap of his bag. A gentleman would offer to walk her home. Parker just kind of stood there, glancing down the street behind her and listening to the far off sound of traffic. ”You should pick another costume next time. Maybe people won’t pick on you.” He shrugged and started to walk past her, hunching his shoulders forward.

The Sailor Scout placed one hand on her hip, and just as Parker slipped by her, she laughed. She laughed a lot. She laughed so loudly that it echoed down the street. Spinning on his heel, the dark-haired teen halted his departure, instead crossing a few steps back to her. Before he could ask what was so funny, the odd girl jutted a finger into his chest. ”Oh yeah? And what are you supposed to be?” She flicked the corner of her black jacket. He followed her finger, and then continued down his own body: black jacket, black shirt, black jeans, black shoes. Hm.

Parker raised his arms at his sides. ”I’m… primordial ooze,” he said. The girl laughed again, but she was already backpedaling away from him. Whatever had paralyzed her before seemed to have worn off completely as she turned and picked up her pace. The bright bow at her back swayed, the ends of her skirt lifting up with each step.

”You could use more ooze!” she shouted, waving a hand over her head in goodbye. ”And cheer up!” The red-headed stranger had rounded the corner in no time, running faster than Parker probably ever had in his entire life. Oh well, such was the curse of being an “inside” kid.

Parker lifted an arm to wave back, but thought better of it, dropping his hand back to his side. He started to leave. A sharp whistle split the air, making him wince and cover his ears. Heavy footsteps pounded the sidewalk behind him. He turned just in time to embrace the full weight of a uniformed police officer. ”STOP!” the heavyset man shouted, a few seconds too late to prevent the impact. Parker hit the sidewalk with a thud, chin cracking so hard that a hot white light burned in his forehead. More footsteps, more whistles, more pain – oh, bother. ”I caught him collaborating with a criminal. He helped a sailor senshi escape!” Parker had no time to make sense of any of this – not a word of it. The weight of the officer was quickly making his vision hazy, and he slipped quietly into the darkness, his last thought a dark laugh and an internal sigh.

Typical.

[kotaline]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? SCHOOLKID COMP!

Name: Giselle Petrova

Nicknames: Zell

Age: 17

Birthday: September 14th

Sign: Virgo

Blood Type: B

Fav. Food: Blood oranges, cold fruit soup, and goat cheese

Hated Food: Spaghetti and meatballs, watermelon, and hamburgers

School: Crystal Academy

Hobbies: Age of Empires games, The Sims, historical costumes, reading, documentary marathons, listening to classical music, late nights studying and worldbuilding, walking, observing others, competing in things she is likely to win at, winning.

Gemstone: Sapphire

Virtues:

Dude, where's my- Oh, there it is.-- Giselle can tell you where any given possession of hers is at any given time. She has sticky notes, lists, and timetables to make sure she does precisely what she needs to, and she is prepared for any circumstance. Napoleon found a way to get off Elba and nearly reconquer Europe; If he was as obsessed with backup plans and being prepared as Giselle, he probably would have succeeded.

I'll stop when I'm dead-- If she sees an advantage in achieving or pursuing something, Giselle will not rest until she has completed it. She fully believes she can do anything she puts her mind to, as she believes her mind is considerably larger than normal.

I'm in your base, plotting with your frustrated generals-- As a major history buff (Read: Wars, empires, and military leaders) and Age of Empires fiend, Giselle is excellent at strategizing, and even the littlest things, like dressing well or the kinds of gifts she gives at Christmas are carefully planned to cultivate alliances, fear, and respect.

Flaws:

Surrounded by idiots-- It's easy to make Giselle think she's better than you. She tends to make snap judgements, so you can easily incur her disapproval by doing nothing more than saying "OMG" in her general vicinity or giggling in a hallway she's walking down. And once you incur her disapproval, she will not only remember and hold it against you forever, but she will treat you like an inferior until proven otherwise.

It's 8:00 PM, do you know where your essay is?-- Giselle is bossy. When she's in a group project, she automatically tries to micro-manage everyone and will call you at all hours of the night to make sure you're on schedule. If she gets even a toehold into a position of power, she will abuse it for the "good of the community". Though oftentimes she's right, she's insufferable about it.

Anything I can do, you can't do better-- She knows she's good at what she does, and she assumes she's the best at what she does. She is sure she's smart enough to get whatever she wants, just like she got her scholarship, and she's sure that she's unrivaled in historical knowledge and the ability to lead. Everyone else is inferior, and the only reason she isn't more well known for her skills is that everyone else is too stupid to see it.

Physical Description:

Hair: Long light blonde, usually up in some sort of neat and strictly regulated bun.

Eyes: Brown

Face: Pale, heart shaped face

Body: Skinny, pale, and somewhat undernourished

Fashion: Giselle dresses for success, when she bothers to dress. She loves history and historical fashions, and thinks clothes are important for conveying a sense of power, as shown by Louis the XIV and the like. Thus, she's careful to make clothing choices that reflect the fact that she was intellectual enough to receive a scholarship to Crystal Academy, and always accessorizes to show her fascination with European history especially.

THE STORY ENTRY

Giselle Petrova hated Halloween.

Ever since she was a young girl, she had hated Halloween, the time when they would have parties at school and no one would know she was dressed up as William the Conqueror. Rather, they just thought she was in a poorly-fitting King Arthur costume. It simply wasn't fair. Every year, the girls in her class dressed up crassly, donning common vampirella costumes, 'cereal killer' boxes, and cat ears that would get hundreds of compliments as they wandered the halls. Everyone knew the Trix Rabbit, even when he had a knife through his heart, but nobody could recognize a meticulously accurate costume portraying Henry V victorious at Agincourt. From the tender age of ten, Giselle had realized that she was surrounded by philistines.

Thus, when Halloween came around, even though she was in Crystal Academy on a scholarship now, she preferred taking her usual walks around town to celebrating. It was better than going to the party she had been invited to and finding out whether Elegant Young Ladies were just as inane as the students she had graduated from when she left middle school. If she didn't get to know them, they couldn't disappoint her.

Unless the rumours were true and they really were secretly senshi, the crazily costumed vigilantes that wielded their powers like drunken monkeys dipped in sparkles and adorned with bows. That wasn't how to use power. If Napoleon had been able to transform into a superpowered magical schoolgirl...

Well, it would be disturbing. But he would have done more than chased after low-level Negaverse villains, that was for certain. If you had powers from the stars, it was Giselle's opinion that you did something useful with them. Like being the first person to conquer Russia, for instance, something with style.

However, things were as they were. The idiots who probably had things like money and Halloween costumes people could actually recognize got all the kicks. Star seeds weren't merit based, that much was apparent, at least. Giselle couldn't write an essay to request one, or more preferably, request that they be revoked from the idiots who disrupted her study schedule by yelling ridiculous battle names late at night. All she could do was grit her teeth and bear it, playing Age of Empires to drown out the sound of human folly with computerized empirical violence. It didn't matter if she was a damn senshi or not, just so long as she could conquer the world from the seat of her chair. Seeing the words on the screen, the 'YOU ARE VICTORIOUS' that cast light on her face more often than natural sunlight, Giselle was able to at least feel the artificial glow of success. It wasn't much, it wasn't fair, but the farther she got in life, the more she realized that "fair" was for the weak, and power for the stupid or lucky. Giselle was neither, and thus she would have to settle until she found some other way.

Something interrupted her course of motion. Her legs were used to moving mechanically on the route that she took for her walk while she thought, but something was off about what she had suddenly stepped on.

Rather, it was groaning. Cement didn't groan. She looked down at her feet, and her lips curled with disgust as she saw a girl on the ground, clothed in the most insipid costume of all. A sailor scout, probably the same hideously irksome one that kept screaming astral moon whatever outside her window at three o' clock in the morning. She was bleeding on the cold cement, breathing shallowly, eyes closed. Giselle knelt down and checked her pulse. Alive, and she would certainly recover. She was just unconscious, splayed out in a sad sort of way and getting dust on her immaculate outfit.

Giselle's eyes flickered over the outfit and back at the girl. Flashy. It made sense, she supposed. Louis XIV dressed ridiculously to display his power, why should those supernaturally blessed be any different? Back in his time, power was pale skin, rich silks, and showing off your perfect calves. Funny how in modern times, so much prestige could be associated with what was simply a fancified sailor fuku.

Power. Giselle licked her lips and looked back at the girl again. She was clearly unconscious, wasn't she? And she looked like the right size. She probably owed her for all those times she had interrupted her electronic world-conquering late at night, damn it. And it was her own fault for not using her power correctly. These stupid senshi were ruining this town, wasting their powers, but their costumes certainly did represent something...

Giselle hummed as she left, leaving a girl in a pale blue dress that was about a size too small for her. Underneath her own woolen coat was a new outfit, one that was a little torn, a little dusty, and a little too big, but it had a meaning.

This Halloween, she thought with a smirk, no one wouldn't know who she was dressed up as.

[Deadre]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? SCHOOLKID COMP!

Name: Riona Acrisius

Nicknames: None

Age: 15

Birthday: February 14

Sign: Aquarius

Blood Type: B

Fav. Food: Gourmet chocolates and coffee.

Hated Food: Frozen, pre-packaged food that’s made in the microwave.

School: Crystal Academy

Hobbies: Horseback Riding. Riona is a skilled rider and has been since she was quite young. She is proficient in both English and western styles and greatly enjoys showing, jumping and trail riding. Her Lipizzaner gelding, Uriel, is one of her best friends and one of her most prized possessions,

Entomology. Having what her therapist calls, “a disturbing and unhealthy fascination with insects”, Riona’s room is a shrine to all things many-legged. Butterflies, spiders and beetles are pinned, placed under glass and displayed on her walls; there are books devoted to hunting down, studying, identifying and even raising insects and arachnids. Riona doesn’t think this an odd habit and will vehemently defend bugs if she thinks they’re in danger of being squished.

Sweets.Be it tasting, making, studying or judging, Riona has a deep seated love of all things made of sugar, chocolate, cream and candy. She often helps out in her mother’s bakery and it’s her goal one day to know as much as her mother does about decorating and baking the delicate delights.

Gemstone: Amethyst

Virtues: Brave. If there’s a dark, dusty place filled with bugs and spiders, Riona will be the first one to volunteer. She hates to appear weak or cowardly in front of others and will often go out of her way to prove that she is courageous.

Energetic. It may be the fact that her mother owns a bakery and she’s been surrounded by sugar all her life but Riona is a ball of boundless energy. She does everything as fast as she can especially talking. She moves fast, acts fast and thinks fast and when other people can’t keep up she simply leaves them behind.

Imaginative. Riona lives by the motto of, “We suffer for things we don’t imagine.” This means that she believes in being prepared, even if sometimes her preparations are a little over-the-top… such as insisting her father install a small river around the house so that zombies and vampires wouldn’t be able to cross.

Flaws: Reckless. Sometimes, in her zeal to impress and prove her bravery, Riona can get a bit carried away. She will launch, head first into a battle that she had no hope of surviving. She’ll also be the first person to rush off on a desperate rescue attempt.

Distracted. It could be said that Riona has ADD. She talks as fast as she does because she knows how easily distracted she is; she wants to communicate all of her thoughts before a butterfly flutters by her face and entices her to run after it with a net.

Paranoid. Riona believes in alien abductions, government conspiracies, mutant terrorists and anything else she reads in the tabloids. Because of this she often double and triple checks the locks around her house and has a hard time relaxing and getting to sleep. She has anxiety issues and is often quite gullible.

Physical Description:

Hair: Riona’s hair is long, straight and shining auburn. Normally she wears it loose where it flips gently at the ends. When she’s working at the bakery she puts it up into a bun that’s held in place by a long-toothed comb. In either style her bangs are neatly cut to frame her face.

Eyes: Riona has enormous, round eyes that give her the look of perpetual excitement or surprise. They’re the pale silver-grey of an overcast sky.

Face: Riona’s features are delicate and angular, too sharp and too gaunt for her young face and matched oddly with her too-large eyes.

Body: Small by birth and with a metabolism to make a hummingbird envious, Riona looks like a sack of sticks. When she crouches down to hunt an insect her joints stick out at sharp, almost painful angles.

Fashion: Riona usually dresses in dark, elegant clothing, with a penchant for burgundy, dark purple and sable. Her jewelry is platinum, silver or rose gold and very conservative. The one odd ornamentation she wears is the resin necklace with a white and red wasp set within.

THE STORY ENTRY

Riona was strutting around the bakery. She knew she was strutting but she just couldn’t stop… besides, she had a reason to strut; her mother had trusted her enough to lock up the bakery. All by herself. With an important party to go to and the other girl who was supposed to help out having called in sick…it had been left up to Riona to take care of the last few chores of the day. So she was strutting.
She cast a proud look around the shop, at all of the black and orange truffles decorated with frosting skulls and sugar spiders; at the five tiered black cake covered with toffee bats and marzipan pumpkins... yes, the store had been hit by the Halloween Fairy and Riona had been there to help. Especially when it came to the frosting spiders and the spun sugar webs.
With a nod to the store, Riona flicked off the lights and slipped into the back. She made sure all of the ovens were off and all of the appliances were unplugged… that wasn’t regulation but Riona knew that bad things could happen if the mix-master was left plugged in overnight. After a last, cursory look around the kitchen area, Riona lifted the plastic bag that looked full enough to burst and left.
The bag was packed with dozens of miniature bakery boxes and Riona was careful not to swing the bag, as she didn’t want to jostle the little delicacies within. There were three different color boxes, all carefully stacked on top of one another. At the very bottom there were the truffles and chocolates in neat green boxes. The next layer was pumpkin orange and filled with sugar skulls. On the very top were shiny, black boxes filled with marzipan spiders and bats. Riona looked down at the collections of sweets and beamed. The trick-or-treaters who came to her house would be absolutely thrilled.
She stepped out of the bakery and through the back door that led to a narrow side street that could not quite be called an alley. Riona frowned a little; it was darker than she would have liked and some of the early trick-or-treaters would already be out and about, knocking on doors and begging for sweets.
Riona made a haughty little noise at the back of her throat. Store bought candy for hard-working children! How cruel!
With a deft twist of her wrist, she locked the door and dropped the keys into her purse. She’d have to hurry; she didn’t want to miss too many of the costumed children that lived in her neighborhood.
Riona scurried down the alley, her mind four steps ahead of where her feet were. She had so much to do! First she had to get home and then put on her costume and then get ready for the trick-or-treaters. Perhaps she should have strutted less and hurried more.
Something moved sluggishly in front of Riona and she checked her stride. Whatever it was made a soft, groaning noise.
A drunk…? Riona frowned a little, stepping forward cautiously, if it was a drunk, she would tell them to leave immediately. So close to her mother’s shop… it would be bad for business.
“Hey,” Riona said a firm admonishment in mind. Her voice faded when she saw the trail of blood that led from the mouth of the alley to where the person huddled. Riona’s rebuke vanished and was replaced by immediate concern. She rushed forward.
Then quickly backpedaled; the person on the ground was dressed in strange, dark clothes… it looked almost like a uniform of some kind, but like no uniform Riona had ever seen. She wanted to say that it was a Halloween costume but a Halloween costume wouldn’t have exuded that air of power and malevolence.
Could this be one of the ‘terrorists’ she had heard about on the news? Riona swallowed, taking another step back.
And yet the person was obviously hurt. Riona would never be able to sleep again if she thought she had left someone to die in an ally. She scurried forward again and knelt.
Then she promptly jumped away and scurried back. What if the entire thing was a trap!
Riona hovered a few feet from the prone form, indecisive for a long moment. Then she huffed at her own hesitation and hurried forward once more. She knelt and settled the bag filled with candy to the side.
The person in the dark uniform was a barely conscious woman. Her dark hair was tangled and, in one place, looked as though it was matted with blood. Her lip was split and one eye was bruised. Her breathing was heavy and labored.
“Hey,” Riona said softly, reaching out and brushing the woman’s hair back, “Hey, come back. I can’t get you to the hospital if you don’t help.”
“I can’t go there,” the woman slurred, “I’d get in trouble.”
“Looks like you’re already neck deep in trouble now, miss,” Riona said softly, “Here, let me see.”
The woman opened her eyes and glared half-heartedly at the teenager kneeling next to her, “And why do you care? All this could be some elaborate plan to lure you into a false sense of security.”
“And what would the point of that be?” Riona asked, leaning back to survey the woman.
“I could--” the woman started.
“You’re not in any condition to do anything at all right now,” the younger girl said matter-of-factly. She brushed the woman’s hair away to look at a deep gouge that had already clotted. She frowned a little. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches. Can you remember what day it is?”
“It’s Halloween.”
“I suppose that’s good enough. But you really should get to a hospital.”
Riona leaned back and sat on her heels, looking at the woman who was, in turn, studying her.
“I really could kill you, you know,” she said softly.
Riona tilted her head to one side and grinned, “You wouldn’t do that to someone who wanted to help you, would you?”
“I would!” the woman insisted. Riona clucked her tongue and got to her feet.
“I don’t think you would. You would have already tried by now.”
Riona held out a hand to the woman who wore the strange, dark uniform. She stared at the offered hand for a moment before taking it and using it leverage herself to her feet. She was quite a bit taller than Riona and looked down at her with a combination of curiosity, irritation and amusement on her bloodied face.
“You’re going to get yourself killed one day,” she said. “You want to believe that people are good… they aren’t.”
Riona looked down at the woman’s hand, which was still in hers and smiled a little. The woman quickly recoiled and took a few steps back.
“The next time I see you,” the woman said, “You won’t be so lucky.”
Riona reached into her bag and grabbed one of the shiny black boxes. She thrust it into the other woman’s hands, “Well, until then, Happy Halloween.”
The woman gave Riona one last odd look and vanished. The alley shuddered with some strange, foreign power. Paper and garbage were kicked up into a storm and then settled once more. The trail of blood was still there, and Riona’s little bag of sweets was one box short but there was no sign of the woman.
Riona blinked a few times, staring at where the woman had stood just a moment ago. She looked up and around, seeing no other life in the ally.
“Well,” Riona said to no one, “if she’s a terrorist I feel sorry for the other side.”
She glanced down at the bag that was now one short on candies and jumped; she still had to get home and change!
With a little huff of irritation, Riona hurried down the dark alley. Though she was already thinking four steps ahead of where she stood, Riona spared one last thought for the mysterious woman in the strange uniform.
“I hope she likes marzipan.”

[o-Nessy-o]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? MAGELLAN COMP!

(( 1030 Words ))

When CarrieAnn Birkel woke up that morning, she'd never thought in her wildest dreams that she'd be caught in a war of life and death. When the little cat had taught her the words "Magellan Star Power, Make-Up!" the icy-haired girl had never thought it would be like this. Ever. Glass green eyes looked hopelessly at the scene unfolding on the floor of this dark warehouse. One more time, her voice rang out with fury that was soon turning hopeless.

"Let her go, Nethecite!" It was just like the Negaverse, to use a poor kid as a hostage! The dark-haired teen who was currently strapped to a chair had thankfully fainted long ago from exhaustion. The telltale grimy tracks of tears were evident on her face, and bruises were on her arms where she had struggled against the Negaverse captain. Most horrific of all, was the brightly glowing bomb strapped to the otherwise pristine Crystal Academy uniform. It was disgusting, and absolutely impossible.

"I've figured it out, you know." The female Captain spoke with an almost playful tone. She knew that this was a dreadful impasse for a child so innocent and naive as Magellan was. "That's your problem. You like to talk talk talk. All you senshi, though you most of all. You think that if you just yell at us, we'll give in." The playful tone turned flat, unfriendly, and cruel. "Well we won't. I've made my career stepping all over you, powderpuff, but it ends here. Either you're going to give me your seed right now, or this poor kid is going to die for it. I don't even need her seed, her death and your suffering will give me enough pleasure."

What hung tense between them, as painful to the Captain as the hostage's situation was to Magellan, was the group of senshi lurking outside waiting for the Nethecite to make her escape. If the girl died, Nethecite would too, no doubt about it. In a long list of incompetent Lieutenants, Nethecite had shone early. Magellan's first encounter had been against this woman and her radioactive youma. Surprisingly, her dusty attacks had proved an aggressive treatment against the sickening power this villain wielded. Ever since, the group had always put Magellan to the forefront whenever Nethecite had been spotted. They were rivals, archnemesis, enemies to the very bitter end.

And that end was going to be bitter indeed. Tonight was the final showdown, and it would either be the senshi or the captain laying cold on the floor. But with the captain came the girl! All this and more screamed through the Meadowview senshi's mind as she looked back and forth, gloved hands clenched into fists of futile anger. Anger at Nethecite, at herself, at the other senshi for being absolutely worthless at helping the people they were supposed to help! This was not supposed to happen!

In the end, they'd all underestimated the power of the Negaverse, and someone was going to have to pay. But who would it be? This innocent child who had no idea the truth behind the struggle of the senshi or the senshi herself who was only trying to make things better for everyone? And why did she have to make the choice? All CarrieAnn had ever wanted was to help out. She was on the student council, was in the spirit club, was always at school decorating the gym for whatever event was happening. She tried to go to every sports event or concert ever held at the school, and just support everyone as a whole.

Some people, however, were just beyond help. There were those that could not be helped, and then those that would not be helped. More and more Magellan was feeling that the girl tied up could not be helped. And that Negatrash Nethecite would never be helped. In fact, the nicest thing CarrieAnn could possibly do for her would be to send her straight into the clutches of her senshi brethren for a quick dusting to put her out of her obvious misery.

It was wrong though! That was the thought that screamed out over every single strategy that the poor senshi could think of. Magellan took a step forward, and immediately Nethecite threw a hand forward. “Don't move an inch, senshi brat. If you come any closer, I will blow this kid to kingdom come, and I doubt any of you have a power that can bring someone back to life...even if you COULD piece her together again!” The laugh was shrill and tense, but it was still evident that the captain was enjoying this chaos she initiated.

It was the last straw, and the powderpuff, as she was so disdainfully called, raised her hands over her head. Triumphant in this surrender, Nethecite moved away from the girl and all but purred with her success. “That's the smart thing to do, Magellan, I applaud you for it. I am sure they'll speak nicely of you when they mourn over the dust your corpse leaves behind. You saved this girl's life.” The comforting croon turned into a scream of denial at what happened next.

“Magellan Fine Dust Blizzard!” Hands came down swiftly, and the powder swirled and burned the skin it touched, making Nethecite write and scream as her flesh bubbled under the adverse affects of the attack. However, she had piece of mind, in her final moments, to thrust all the power remaining in her at the bomb. Rocked by the blast, Magellan was thrown from the warehouse through the metal, tears streaming from her eyes as within, her heart cried for the choice she had to make, and the life that had been sacrificed.

Captain Nethecite was dead, and would no longer be stealing seeds and harming the innocent. But in order to do that, a seed had to have been given to pay the Reaper, and it was an innocent seed that had gone into his hands. Never again would Sailor Magellan forgive any member of the Negaverse that dared to cross her...and she would never forgive herself.

[FallenSiren]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? SCHOOLKID COMP!

Name: Karen Nighthall

Nicknames: Kare-bear

Age: 16

Birthday: October 21st

Sign: Libra

Blood Type: AB

Fav. Food: Chocolate, lollipop, ice cream, lemon gumdrops, gummy bears, and chicken.

Hated Food: Baked Sunflower Seeds.

School: Meadowview.

Hobbies:
[ Reading ]: Karen might not seem the type to read a lot, but if you go into his room, you'll find at least 5 bookcases along the walls of his room, and each of them filled to the rim with books.
[ Drawing ]: Karen likes to draw and tends to doodle across his notebook. Most of the time, they're doodles, but when the drawings get serious, they're usually huge paintings that seems like life portraits.
[ Martial Arts ]: Karen might not look it, but he has a thing for martial arts. He knows more than a few types and can kick a** pretty well. Though...He seems to use it more to scare people away from someone.

Gemstone: Opal

Virtues:
[ Observant ]: Karen tends to see life as a play and likes to watch the changes in everyday life, rather it be emotional or fashion, or big or small, he will be able to see the difference.
[ Poker Face ]: Karen has a constant poker face in life, he will never frown and he will never cry. All you will ever see of him is his smiling face - but rather that smile is good or bad…you can decide on your own.
[ Loyal [?] ]: Loyalty…Karen is indeed very loyal and passionate when it comes to his friends, but rather that loyalty will save his ‘friends’ is beyond anyone’s guess – But for now, his loyalty is strong enough to having him throwing himself before a bullet to save their life. Sadly, how someone can obtain this loyalty is beyond anyone’s guess as well.

Flaws:
[ Possessive ]: Karen is very possessive when it comes to his belongings, but his most beloved and precious possession seems to be a person, and that person needs his own space…He might have given this to his beloved, but he is not happy about it…Not one bit.
[ Blunt ]: A very good word to describe Karen. This boy is painfully blunt when it comes to opinions, he could hardly show any concern when someone asks for it and will answer it in the most honest way ever. He could careless rather what he said could cause someone emotional pain and tends to just roll his eyes at those people, his counter attack when prod for an apology is: ‘He/She/They asked for my opinion and I gave it to them/her/him, suck it up.’
[ Persistent ]: What Karen wants, he will work his way to get it. Rather it be an object or person, he will work his way into obtaining it. Rather his format of obtaining it will harm someone, or himself, he could care less about it. He just wants what he wants.

Physical Description: [[ Headshot ]]

Hair: Black and short.

Eyes: Forest Green.

Face: Feminine, sweet and smiling.

Body: Lean and short (5'2...that's pretty short for a guy). Think of a male body that can actually be mistaken as a girl’s.

Fashion: A large purple cat hoodie, a jean skirt that ends a bit above his kneels, a pair of strip-colored socks that ends near the kneel, and a pair of runners.

THE STORY ENTRY

-Prompt-
It's Halloween -- that dark and eldritch time where everybody is convinced that nobody this year has thought up their radical costume of "iPod."

The news from the police is that if you encounter one of these strange "Negaversers" or "sailor senshi", they are to be considered armed and dangerous, and you should contact a policeman as soon as humanly possible to take them into arrest. You've all been warned that these people cause extensive property damage AND are responsible for the intent to injure a number of Destiny City civilians --

-- so when walking around one night, you find a crumpled-up, prone body in a ridiculous outfit that isn't just a bad Halloween costume. They're injured. Is it a Negaverser, or a Sailor Scout? Is this a trap? What do you do?!

Entry must be at least 200 words. No writing cap. Please don't use any senshi or Negaverse officers from the shop.

-Entry-
"This is Halloween,
This is Halloween,
Pumpkin scream in th--"

Karen stopped as he heard a loud crash from behind. It wasn't unusual for him to hear such sounds, but during Halloween and at night? It doesn't sound good nor does it seem safe...Maybe there's a brawl? The teen twirled a piece of his hair as he pondered on the choices he has: A] he can just continue on merrily down the street like nothing happened, B] he can go check it out, C] he can call the cops, or D] he can stand there and look like an idiot.

Hmmm...Such hard decisions.

The boy smiled slightly as he started walking back and closer towards where the crash came from, he was bored anyways, why not check it out? As he walked, he looked around to make sure no one was about to come at him, it's always best to be safe then be sorry...that, and it's better than having a certain someone freaking out at him because of his injuries again. Looking into one of the few alleys, Karen saw a figure on the ground, he wasn’t sure what the person was covered or sleeping in, but it most certainly smell funny. Maybe he should call the police? Maybe the person’s drunk? Hell, maybe he should just go wake the person up. Sleeping in an alley can’t be good for the body, and it smells terrible there anyways.

Karen walked over towards the body slowly and carefully, making sure the guy wasn’t faking it, he gently nudged his foot against the guy’s body. “Hey…” Karen said gently at first, but after a few minute of prodding the guy with his foot and saying the same thing, he got agitated. “Hey! Wake up!” he shouted finally, giving a slightly harder nudge with his foot. Sadly, Karen wasn’t expecting the guy to grab his foot and flipping him onto the ground. “Gah! What the hell was that for?” Karen questioned as he rubbed the back of his head, glaring at the guy that’s now sitting up, at least the other let go of his foot. “Haven’t your parents ever told you not to talk to strangers?” the guy questioned back, standing up slowly with a slightly stumbled, dusting off his uniform and looking at the wet material in displeasure.

“…Are you the parental police or something?” Karen commented, rolling his eyes before standing up. “And besides, shouldn’t you be going to the hospital or doctor by now? You’re bleeding all over the place.”

“What are you? My mom?”

“Yes, I’m your mother twice removed now get your a** to the hospital.”

“Make me.” The guy retorted before slowly heading out to see where he was, he probably didn’t see Karen’s look of annoyance. “Great…I’m probably going to get scold at…”

“Afraid of your mother?” Karen questioned with a small smirk, but it quickly disappeared as he felt a gust of wind and saw the guy’s fist right beside his head. Karen’s eyes widen in shock as he looked back into the other’s angered eyes. “You should be thankful I’m not in shape to harm a little brat like you,” the stranger said in a slow growl, his fist relaxing and falling back to his side. He gave a final glare at Karen before turning around and simply vanished before the boy’s very eyes.

“W-where…?” Karen stuttered out as he looked around frantically, feeling a chill down his spine as he slowly realize what he just did…He was in trouble…bad trouble. “…I…I should have called the cops.”

[Ruriska]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? SCHOOLKID COMP!

Name: Aleida Adelhied

Nicknames: Ali

Age: 17

Birthday: 2nd June

Sign: Gemini

Blood Type: AB

Fav. Food: Steak and Chips; a big hearty meal.

Hated Food: Broccoli; eww, little trees.

School: Meadowview

Hobbies:

Running: Ali loves to run. She usually participates in sprints at school, defeating all her competition easily. There's nothing she likes better than to feel the wind in her hair. Every morning without fail she goes for an early run around the block. to clear her head and make her ready for the day.

Greyhound Racing: With a bit of a gambling streak, Ali spends her computer time betting on the races under the nose of her parents. On her spare time she'll head down to the track just to watch them race and to be a source of amusement for everyone else there as she screams at her favourites to win.

Coyboy Movies: If she’s going to sit down and watch an entire movie, it’s going to be a Western. Anything with cowboys no matter how old and corny, is her secret love. Yes, she has a picture of John Wayne on her wall. Because he's the best cowboy actor there ever was. What, you don’t think so? You're in big trouble mate.

Gemstone: Agate

Virtues:

Punctual: She has never, ever been later. Never, ever, ever. She'll be there at least an hour early some days; looking at her watch for everyone else to hurry up and arrive.

Sociable: Ali enjoys hanging out with others. She's not really picky with who it is, she flits from social group to social group with ease. Hanging out with just one or two friends isn't her style. She wants to be in the thick of things all the time!

Determined: ‘I won’t give up!’ Even outnumbered or far behind in a race, Ali will keep on going forward as fast as she can. She isn’t going to back down. She’s gonna win!

Thick-skinned: Ali isn’t easily hurt by the opinions of others. The only person whose opinion matters is hers. If you don’t like her; bad luck. It’s no skin off Ali’s back; she’ll simply find somebody else to talk to. Say whatever you like; it’s not going to affect her.


Flaws:

Overly-Competitive: Aleida doesn’t give up without one heck of a fight. She likes to win and she likes to win by a huge margin. When she doesn’t win; she becomes moody and irritable, attacking those who outdid her with sharp, hurtful words.

Short Tempered: This girl is easy to rile up. Heaven forbid if things don’t go the way she wants them to; however her anger is usually short lived and she’ll forget what exactly she was mad about by the next day. Of course, the damage is usually done by then.

Impatient: Never keep Ali waiting. NEVER! She hates it more than anything else in the world, since she ‘always’ turns up on time, you had better come pretty quickly as well. Or else there’s gonna be some trouble.

Short Attention Span: Ali can rarely stay focused on anything for long. Her grades at school are terrible, because she gets bored doing homework and can’t pay attention during class.

Physical Description:

Hair: Short; spiking around her face. It has been cut to a manageable length, just above her ears, since Ali got annoyed having to spend time fixing it each morning when it was long. Her hair colours in a dark orange.

Eyes: Lavender; they usually have a challenge within them, a look of determination which usually makes anyone think twice before going against her in ‘battle’.

Face: A very angular face with no soft edges; her skin is dark tanned.

Body: Slim and lithe; the body of a runner. It’s built for speed.

Fashion: Sporty and casual. Ali can usually be found wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Girls who feel to need to dress in pink and frills piss her off.

THE STORY ENTRY

Prompt:

It's Halloween -- that dark and eldritch time where everybody is convinced that nobody this year has thought up their radical costume of "iPod."

The news from the police is that if you encounter one of these strange "Negaversers" or "sailor senshi", they are to be considered armed and dangerous, and you should contact a policeman as soon as humanly possible to take them into arrest. You've all been warned that these people cause extensive property damage AND are responsible for the intent to injure a number of Destiny City civilians --

-- so when walking around one night, you find a crumpled-up, prone body in a ridiculous outfit that isn't just a bad Halloween costume. They're injured. Is it a Negaverser, or a Sailor Scout? Is this a trap? What do you do?!

Entry must be at least 200 words. No writing cap. Please don't use any senshi or Negaverse officers from the shop.

Entry:

There was definitely blood. That was one thing Ali had been certain of. The schoolgirl leant over the prone form of a rather badly dressed young woman. While Ali wasn’t one for sitting around watching the news; her father had mentioned in his usual offhand way about something-Senshi and Nega-somethings running around the city. Clearly this was one of them. Aleida was capable of putting two and two together and getting four; even if her maths grades hinted against that.

Crouching down beside the body she reached out, pressing two fingers against the persons pulse. Well, they were alive at least. With that possible problem out of the way, she was able to relax a little and take in the situation. The police would want to know about this. But Aleida wasn’t very fond of the police. They were seedier than some criminals, as her uncle had demonstrated on more than one occasion before ending up in a German prison. The idiot.

Well, there was no point in sitting around trying to figure it out. Aleida shuffled closer and grabbed the other girl under the arms, pulling her upper body into a sitting position to make it easier. Aleida was in no way a big girl. She was really quite short but she was a tough cookie and she wasn’t about to leave somebody on the side of the road. The girl gave a groan as she was lifted upright, eyes fluttering. Ali leant in a little as the girl muttered something that sounded like ‘********. Sailors’.

Ali rolled her eyes. Go figure if this girl was one of those promiscuous chicks who liked to ‘greet’ the sailors when they arrived from other countries. Though considering her current state, it wouldn’t be very nice to start making a life up for her.

“Okaaay, here we go.” Getting her arms under the other girls, Aleida proceeded to try life her upwards and ended up nearly toppling forward. “Sheisse! Warum vergeude ich meine verdammte Zeit damit?” Lapsing into German, Aleida quickly set the girl down and put a hand on her lower back. “Heavyyyy.”

A new tact was needed. Ali grabbed her bag to retrieve her water bottle. She proceeded to open the top and splash the contents onto the unconscious girls face. With a splutter and a curse, the girl came to.

“Welcome back.” Aleida said with a wry smile. “I know you’re hurt, I don’t know how badly but... I’m going to help get you somewhere safe.” Once again Aleida tucked her arms under the girl, but this time with bit of help, she was able to get her standing. “Where can I take you?”

“... I don’t need your help. There’s a park nearby; take me there.”

Ali bit back a retort. For somebody so badly beaten up, she certainly had an attitude.

They struggled up the street together until they reached the park and Aleida was able to offload the girl onto a bench. There was no thankyou given, the girl just gave an ‘oof’ sound and then clutched at her side.

“.... you’re welcome.” Aleida said dryly, standing with her arms crossed.

“What?”

“I said you’re welcome... for you know... helping you.”

“Well, you’ve helped me now, so you can leave.”

Ali frowned. She had places to be and things to do, but her bad-temper had just been prodded, like somebody poking a hornet’s nest with a stick. “Hey! How about a bit of gratitude? I could have just left you there, or I could just call the police. With those stupid clothes on, you’re obviously one of those delinquents running around blowing s**t up and I’m sure they’d love to take you in.”

“Stupid clothes? You brat. I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

Aleida put her hands on her hips. “Like hell you will! You can barely stand. That’s it, I’m calling the police. They can pick you up and throw you in jail for all I care.”

“Go ahead then, but Negaverse will destroy you and everyone you care about-“

“Oh verschlossen! I don’t care about whatever stupid game you’re playing, but cut the crap.” Aleida snatched her phone out of her bag as the girl on the bench continued to rant and dialled the police.

“I Lt. Opa-“

“Ruhig!”

Ali ignored her as the girl continued to rant and waited to be put through to the police. But when the idiot girl, produced a pencil and proceeded to toss it at Ali’s head, she wasn’t capable of holding back. “How dare you!” The German born girl proceeded to smack her annoying companion across her the head with her bag. Clearly she was justified considering the girl was wanted by the police.

Yes, she was just... doing her duty. Citizens arrest and all that.

The girl slumped over on the side of the bench unconscious.

“....Sheisse...”

Note: My German may be a little off, but it's the online translators fault not mine. XD

[MoonKitsune]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? SCHOOLKID COMP!

Name: Ladon Shepard

Nicknames: Laddy (Male equivalent of Lassie), Tiny Terror, Mini/Miniature Menace, Teennie Titian, and other variations of similar fashion, not to mention comparisons to small, cute, yet mean dogs. They tried Napoleon, but it never caught on.

Origin: American

Age: 17

Birthday: June 24

Sign: Cancer

Blood Type: AB

Fav. Food: Juice Boxes, Nilla Cookies, Lemon Poppyseed Muffins, and anything his sister makes for him. He tends to like portable food that you can easily eat with your hands.

Hated Food: Tuna Casserole (As if Tuna wasn't bad enough on it's own.) Actually, scratch that. ALL casseroles are terrible. He tends to dislike foods that have too many visible "parts" to it (stews, casseroles, lasagna).

School: Meadowview High School

Hobbies:

Track:- Ladon tried out for the track team his first year and got in due to a small number of applicants. Determined to do well, he practices often and goes to each meeting. However, being short he is the least fastest compared to the star athletes in his group. While he hasn't won any races, he still hasn't quit even when the couch says there is no way he can keep up with the other runners. The other teammates see him as a charming novelty, like a team mascot. He's usually petted for good luck before competitions which he always attends.

Collecting Good Luck Charms: If there is a four-leafed clover keychain or a horse shoe eraser to be sold, he probably owns it. He finds that anything that can bring good luck is a bargain. If, for any reason, something bad happens during the day, he usually throws the charms in a box of rejects he keeps in his closet as failed or defective charms.

Listening to a police scanner:: Finding a police scanner dirt at a pawn shop, he plugs it in and listens to it just as someone would listen to a regular radio. He finds the sound of late night burglaries and drunken disturbances interesting, and he can lower the volume at night to sleep. He actually feels as if he's doing something better with his time when it's on.

Sewing: - He's been sewing up his plush, Elliot, since he was young. He's actually gotten pretty good at it now. This has also led to a love affair for small plushies and small additions such a bows or lacing to add some "personality". He's actually a closet lover of cute things. They just improve the world in his opinion, though he's very judgmental of their color schemes and themes when he goes into stores.

Gemstone: Wolframite [X][X]

Virtues:

Motivated-- When given a task, Ladon will go the extra mile to see that it is done to the best of his power. He likes the satisfaction of having something done completely and well. For this reason, he sets personal goals for himself that he works towards, and won't stop till he meets them no matter how long it takes. Because of this, he is usually picky about what he decides to set as a goal, and frowns at others who quit in the middle of something because it's "too hard".

Loyal-- Not one to simple change his decision on a whim, Ladon will pick a side and stick to it like gum on cement. Once he's made the decision, he'll stay just as dedicated to the group even if they don't feel that way. Someone has to be faithful, and he'd care less if whatever side he picks doesn't reflect his beliefs as long as they returned the same sort of loyalty. He's the one making or breaking the group in the end, so the importance lies in his choice.

His main loyalty is to his sister, and he's vowed to stay by her side forever or until she finds someone who he can approve of and take his place.

Altruistic-- Ladon has stepped up to take matters in his own hands for the benefit of others even if it's not welcomed. Patrolling school grounds, harassing litterbugs, or leaving little notes on people's cars, he knows he can fix any problem if he takes the time and necessary energy to point out the problems. Of course, if he has to break some rules to do this, he will. Anyone who doesn't see eye-to-eye just isn't as dedicated to his ideals or is too lazy to do anything about it. The world never changed with a bumper sticker saying "Save the Earth!"

Team Player-- If on the same team, he's there for the long haul, and he's usually adopt others as one of his own unless you show your not pulling your weight. If you are, he'll be there for you and offer a helping hand, but he'll pull that hand away and leave you flat on your face if you show you're not working for the same goal. He can be just as independent as the next person, but he knows that bigger numbers can make larger changes. So if you have a big idea in mind, he'll be ready to provide some extra man (Uh...teen) power.

Flaws:

Judgmental-- Ladon nitpicks. If it's the school you go to, the car you drive, the clothes you wear, or even if you bothered to comb your hair that morning, he'll probably create a profile in his head of the type of person you are. He has a long list of stereotypes he likes to use. To him, seeing is usually a better indicator of how you hold yourself.

Superstitious-- Heaven forbid a cat should cross his path that is even has one hair that is black, and if there is a cobblestone street, he’s taking an alternative route to avoid the cracks. If he cracks a mirror or thinks he's seen a hairy guy waking behind him, he'll stay locked in his room for a week thinking he has bad luck or is being tracked by a werewolf. There are just some things out of your control that Ladon would rather not tempt, and Lady Luck is not a mistress he wants to have smacking him across the face anytime soon. Lucky for him. Because of this, he keeps a ratty rabbit’s foot keychain and a few hundred other lucky trinkets to ward of the unseen evils of everyday teenage life.

Realistic-- Ladon has grown up to see that not everything is going to turn out perfect and is usually the one to see the worst in people first. It's not that he's pessimistic, but he knows that more people tend to take the easy way out, or even just do some really terrible things. To him, looking at the world this way only makes him prepared for what may happen. This has often made him distrusting to strangers and rather sarcastic.

An Eye for an Eye: Ladon holds grudges, and when he does, it's hard for him to change his mind about a person. Forgiveness is not his forte, and he'll usually seek some sort of revenge for a wrong he has seen someone commit against him or others he is loyal to.

Physical Description:

Hair: Short black hair that matches his sister's tomboyish look. His is the more feminine version of her style, with waves and a messy look, with loose hair coming out on either side. [X]

Eyes: Wide eyes of a emerald green.

Face: Boyish face that is often seen as more feminine than masculine. Not chubby, but still retaining a look that Ladon has yet to get ride of all the softness to his features despite his age.

Body: Can we say short? Ladon is around 4' 10, but don't try calling him twerp! Petite, he doesn't look to have any bulging muscle mass, but he gets out and about. Being very active, he has a healthy physic, but he still can't maintain any real tan.

Overall, no one would argue that at first glance he was, right off the bat, adorable.

Fashion: He usually wears clothes that work for him, but this results in him picking up a lot of very cute outfits. The type of outfits that have a pleasing plaid, Victorian touches, and ribbon bow ties. It doesn't help that his sister helps him shop, and he just doesn't have it in him to refuse her when she becomes excited with a outfit she likes seeing on him.

When he is running, he wears lots of track suits.

He does wear a necklace with a wedding ring from one of his parents on it.

THE STORY ENTRY

While most people thought of Halloween as a time of dressing up and getting free candy, Ladon saw it as the worst holiday to ever be endorsed by candy companies and movie producers alike. Who in their right mind let their kids go out on the most evil of days to wander in the dark unsupervised and at the mercy of any random supernatural being that could freely transverse during this time of night, and why did HE have to be outside as well?

Even with his coat and scarf on, Ladon was still shivering as he walked slowly down the alleyways. The well lit streets would have been his way to go if it wasn’t for the fact that you were put at risk for being spotted by werewolves, zombies with pick axes, or even worse - little kids hyped up on candy not checked by their parents! Even now, he wished for the comfort of his bedroom where he had been watching championship poker to avoid the “Dead Things Maniac Movie Marathon.” It was his mother who said he needed to grab some more candy from the store while she tried to buy time with pop tarts and granola bars. Ladon tried to suggest the old cans of creamed corn and beef hash from the cupboard, but it didn’t fly.

Unwilling to go unprepared, he packed his pockets with his lucky rabbit’s foot, a metal cross, a No.2 pencil he sharpened enough to be a satisfactory stake, and 2 flashlights. There was no way in hell he was going to rely on single flashlight on a night like tonight.

The walk to the store had been nerve-racking, and he nearly had a heart attack when a toy ghost shook along the door as he entered the store. Stupid pressure mats! It didn’t help that the elderly storekeeper thought it was hilarious to get at least one person that night to fall for the trick. Lucky him. After getting a few bags of Party M&Ms, he set out at a fast walk back home.

It was just at the time that the stores dwindled and were just about to start that he heard the noise. A hollow, deep moaning noise that echoed in the darkness recesses of the alley. His froze, clutching both of his flashlights in both arms as he stood still. His eyes went wide and he held his breath. “~Ohhhhh.” Not good. NOT GOOD! The only thing that went “~Ohhhh!” in the night was the undead and ghost, neither one of which he was exactly prepared for. He only managed to arm himself against vampires, werewolves, and evil spirits. If he mother had let him have at least 5 more minutes, he could have grabbed his pocket priest from his desk! Crap. Crap. Double Crap!

“~OoooHhhhh.”

He was going to die. They were going to find him nailed to the wall the coming morning with a warning to all written in his blood. Even at times like this, he tried to dismiss it. “It’s nothing. Just some old woman with cramps from eating too much candy corn. That’s all.” He whispered, but he heard the moaning again and his eyes caught a shadow moving against the wall. It was one of those moments where your brain told you not to look but you HAD to look despite knowing that seeing would probably result in your face melting off. Giving a shriek very unbecoming of his gender, he threw both flashlights on the shadow and prepared himself.

It was a girl. She was wearing a very slimming black dress with high boots. She was holding her side where it seemed her dress had been ripped and a red slash was bleeding through the palm the girl was pressing against it. Her hand was against the wall as she tittered, pushing herself up and looking at Ladon with narrowing eyes.

“Turn that damn light off!” She hissed at him, which caused him to drop them instead. Flustered, he went down, picking them up and turning them off. She was hurt, and from his first aid training, rather seriously. He approached with raised hand. “Are you alright? You look hur –“

“No s**t.” She huffed back, reaching down to pick up a spear she had. It was the weapon that made him think of dangerous people, and with the recent news, Negaverse and Senshi ran through his mind. He had seen pictures of them and artistic renderings all over the news, and one said dark gray military uniforms. He looked over her short skirt and outifit, and while indecent, it had a military air to it. These people were dangerous, and a danger to other people. He should call the cops, but as he saw her hold her side, he knew the hospital was better. The cops would meet up with her there anyways and send her to jail where she belonged. As of right now, she needed medical attention first.

“I know first aid. I can help.” He approached her as she set her head against the wall, taking a breather as she held her side. It seemed she got into something nasty, but being a terrorists, he doubted she was play hopscotch to get a injury like this. She waited a moment before lifting up her hand. The cut was deep, and Ladon kneeled down to look at it. It was times like this he wished he wished he was old fashioned enough to have a loose hankercheif. He did have his scarf, and taking it off, he handed it to her. “I’m going to wrap this around your side to put some pressure on it. Okay?”

Her hazel eyes looked him once over for a moment before pushing away from the wall to give him room. “Go ahead then.” She said, and he started to wrap the scarf around her side.

“Don’t get any bright ideas.” Her eyes were on him the entire time, and he swallowed hard as he wrapped up and tied the scarf up as tightly as he could.

“That should last for a little bit, but you need to see a doctor. I can call an ambulance for you.” Ladon fished out his phone only to have it smacked away with the spear. Hands up in the universal sign for ‘I’m too young to be an organ donor!’, he held his breath.

“No one is calling anyone.” Even though she was bleeding, she held the spear with a firm grip. Her deep red hair was in a manic mess and her eyes told him that if he made any sudden movements, he’d be sliced, deiced, and julienned in seconds. For someone holding onto the wall and looking like a wreak, she still could weild a weapon.

“But you’re going to bleed to death. You need to see a doctor. That scarf isn’t going to last.” He pointed out, but she shook her head. She didn’t seem to care, and looked him once over. A long, curving smile warped on her face as she looked him over once more, noticing the shopping bag dangling from his arm.

“Give me your money.”

“What?” Ladon choked, looking at her with wide eyes. Was she serious?!

“Does it look like I’m wearing a purse?! I need a cab, so give me your money.” Without asking, she held the spear and reached over, patting his pockets and pulling out his wallet. Flipping it open, she opened it to pull out the bills. His mother didn’t have any dollars and gave him a fifty to break into smaller bills. He had around 45 bucks left!

“I’m keeping the wallet and if I find out you called the cops, I’ll find you and kill you.” She looked at the bag. “Give me the bag.”

“Oh come o-“ The spear was brought to his face and he held out his arm for her to take the candy. Taking it, she grinned and then slowly eased away until she turned the corner and went out of sight.

He was broke and his candy was stolen. It was like he was 10 and mugged by older kids all over again.
“Halloween sucks.”

[L Himmel]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? SCHOOLKID COMP!


Name: Hikari Sato

Nicknames: ~None~

Age: 15

Birthday: March 14th

Sign: Dog

Blood Type: AB-

Fav. Food: Hamubagu

Hated Food: Tsukemono

School: Meadowview High School

Hobbies: Cooking, Volleyball & Gardening

Gemstone: Bloodstone

Virtues:

Carefree - Hikari just tries to enjoy life, and doesn’t think too hard about things. Being carefree allows Hikari to enjoy the simple things in life without worrying or stressing too much. However, this also results in her spacing out at times, which can get her in trouble with her teachers.

Determined - Due to Hikari’s ’never-give-up’ personal slogan, a long time ago Hikari convinced herself that to be happy she would have to have determination in order to achieve her goals. Because of this, she can often give others that boost of confidence they may need, but this also leads her to falter at times, not knowing when to quit or admit defeat.

Physical Description:
At 5’2” Hikari Sato is hardly what boys her age would call elegant. Due to her heavy volleyball workouts and practices, Hikari stopped acting in a way some might refer to as “girly”. She finds primping and prettying herself up to be a hassle, and as a result she often wears what is comfortable. Toned, her muscles and figure are the result of long hours in the gym. She has a bad habit of chewing her nails, which sometimes shows when she’s nervous. Although many might find her short height to be a possible disadvantage, Hikari uses her height as an element of surprise, adapting it as a tool for which people might underestimate her because of.

Hair:
She often keeps her hair short at the bangs, and in a braided ponytail that drapes to just below shoulder length. Although her natural hair color is black, Hikari started dying it red to give her a more edgy and exciting look as soon as she turned 15. From time to time you can start to see Hikari’s black haired roots show, letting her know its time for another dye job.

Eyes:
Hikari’s eyes are just as her mother’s and her mother’s mother’s eyes were before hers. They are referred to locally as the ‘Sato stare’. Eyes almost as black as night, they feel very intense and mysterious, as if staring into your conscience.

Face:
Hikari takes very good care of her skin in general, but one thing she always makes sure she does is wash her face often. Being an athlete, she sweats daily, and for a few years now she’s been using Annasalbe Ace Cream. She has a scar that is barely visible under the right side of her jaw, from where she cut herself open climbing a tree a few years ago, but the scar seems to have faded significantly over the years.

Body:
She is almost flat breasted, wearing a A Cup, Hikari Sato doesn’t have much in terms of body. Short, and relatively flat, her strength on the volleyball court is her only physical attribute she can cling to.

Fashion:
Hikari often sticks to wearing whatever is comfortable, and isn’t too concerned with the latest fashion trends, or looking good. She believes clothing should be worn for practical use, a polar opposite from her mother Yuuko, who is constantly trying to take her shopping. An activity Hikari views as monotonous and painful. As a result of this attitude, she is often not much to look at, wearing solid colored shirts, sweat jackets and jeans, with sneakers thrown over her feet.

THE STORY ENTRY

October 31st, 2009

I took a late night at the gym. Everyone was itching to get out of school today so they could celebrate Halloween. There must've been a million kids dressed up as iPods today. -__-

I never did much like Halloween, given my height, I'm always being mistaken for some kid trick-or-treating.

I thought it would be a good night to hit the punching bag.

Later that night, after working up a good sweat, changing, and phoning home I slung my gym bag over my shoulder and started home, with my sweat towel around my neck.

There weren't too many kids out on the streets, just the occasional 7 year old dressed up like a super sentai, or an iPod from school, furious to run into a classmate with the same costume.

Eager to get away from the trickery and sweets, I decided to cut down some backstreets I knew would be dead at this time of night. So I turned down onto 5th and Gilbert and gazed at the moon as I cut across a vacant parking lot and onto the sidewalk.

I was just thinking how nice the quiet of the night was when as if struck by lightning I jumped at the sound of a garbage can being knocked over in a nearby alleyway. I could hear some shouting from what sounded like a girl, so I decided to investigate.

"Probably just another iPod argument or something, or some punk stealing a kid's candy." Hikari thought to herself.

But when she neared the alleyway where she heard the noise, a flash of green light made her think that maybe this wasn't something harmless, and she dropped her gymbag and started running for the alleyway.

As she turned the dark corner, she saw the silhouette of a tall figure leaning over someone, a girl it looked like. The figure turned, seeing Hikari turning the corner, and retracted their hand from the girl's chest.

"Hey you perv! get away from her!!"

Hikari took off running furious towards the stranger, eager to kick some a**. Just then the stranger turned, with glowing green eyes, then turned to escape, and begand running down the dark alley. Hikari chased after them.

The further down the alley she went, the less light there was and suddenly Hikari was following the sound of heavy rushed footsteps, rather than a barely visible figure. In an instant she was face to face with a chainlink fence, with the pervert nowhere to be found.

Frustrated and puzzled, Hikari decided to get back to the girl who was knocked out at the beginning of the alley. She felt her way along the brick building's wall until the faint streetlight brought her back into view of the girl. She was soft looking, with strange but beautiful clothes. She looked like she'd taken a good beating.

"Looks like she's been though the ringer." thought Hikari. She took out her cell phone and dialed the local emergency number, explaining to the operator how she'd come across the girl, and she thought she'd been attacked. As she finished telling the operator how to get to her location, Hikari suddenly jumped as she heard a different kind of sound, a screeching or howling as if in pain.

She shut her phone and turned to see a strange blue cat limping towards her, it looked beat up, with scratches and a cut on her ear.

Hikari crouched down and reached out her hand to the cat.

"Hey kitty, what happened to you? Did that punk get you too?"

And to her shock and surprise, the cat spoke.
"Please, help her."

Hikari blinked, wondering if all the excitement was making her lose it, when the cat spoke again.

"Please young lady, help her..."

It was at this moment Hikari Sato passed out cold. When she came to, she was in an ambulance.

An emergency attendant was talking to her.

"Hey are you okay? You had quite the concussion miss. You're lucky, an anonymous stranger phoned in an emergency, and we came right away."

'What?'

Hikari couldn't wrap her mind around the events of the night.

'Just what...happened...? Where's the other girl, and that strange talking cat?'

For fear of sounding crazy, Hikari asked the emrgency attendant if there was another girl they found in the alleyway.

"Nope, you were the only one miss. All we found was you and this kitty here."

Hikari looked over and there curled up in a ball sleeping was the cat from the alley, on top of a box of gauze, sound asleep.

[Meeki]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? SCHOOLKID COMP!

Name: Zacherias Riley

Nicknames: Zach

Age: 15

Birthday: Oct. 28th

Sign: Scorpio

Blood Type: AB

Fav. Food: Junk Food

Hated Food: Health Food

School: Hillworth

Hobbies: Art, Reading, Video Games, Dying his hair, Fashion.

Gemstone: Topaz

Virtues:

Spontaneous -- Zach likes to live in the moment because you never know what the future holds. As such, he's usually a great person to be around. He's friendly, playful and adventurous. He's the kind of guy to bring attention and usually for positive reasons.

Chivalrous -- Zach likes to protect those he cares about and even strangers in need, especially against bullies. Some of this stems from his past history with them but he truly hates seeing anyone in need.

Well Mannered -- He is very polite and well mannered. He shows a great respect for his elders and to females in general. He will open the door for people, seat a girl before he eats, give another his jacket if they are cold. Though he has childish tendencies of one his age, he has been told that he has an old soul.

Flaws:

Violent -- When pushed to his limits, which usually happens when he's being made fun of for how he looks, he can often respond with violence. He was expelled from his previous school because of all the fights he kept getting into. He currently holds the record for most suspensions in a single school year there. He is also greatly missed by the female students and teachers as he was well liked despite the fights.

Unmotivated -- Outside of his hobbies, Zach has little will to better himself. He doesn't study or try to get good grades. He finds little point to math and science in every day life and would prefer to spend his time making accessories, playing games and painting.

Honest -- Zach goes too far with being honest more often than not. He will let you know what he thinks at any given time, even if it may cause some serious damage. Honesty is not always a virtue, which has been proven with many a black eye.

Physical Description: Sorta Reference

Hair: Zach keeps his hair in light/medium pink (obviously dyed) pigtail braids that fall down to his chest.

Eyes: Light blue.

Face: Zach paints a rainbow on the side of his face, down his cheek. Blue, Pink, Green, Orange. At some point, he would like to make it a permanent tattoo.

Body: Pale, on the smaller side. Keeps in shape and is agile/

Fashion: He loves colors. Necklaces, bracelets, the whole works. He is especially fond of his rainbow armwarmers and belts.

THE STORY ENTRY

Nothing said Halloween like candy and Zach couldn't wait to go trick or treating. His custom male Rainbow Brite raver costume fit him great and he had saved up two months allowance for the discounted Halloween candy that would soon be available in stores. Nothing would prevent him from overdosing on the sweet delights of confectionary goodness. Not this night. No sirree! He wasted no time in grabbing his candy bags and running out of the house and down the street.

Oooohhooooooooh.

The sound came from behind a tall hedge as he passed. He instinctively slowed down. What an odd place to put a sound machine. Didn't they normally put those on the walks that led up to the houses?

He paused for a moment to strain his hears for any further sound. He could hear faint movement and a rustling of leaves. Should he investigate or ignore it? It could have just been an animal after all and in front him him lay a golden road of wonder and magic. Ok, so what if it was really a sidewalk with grass growing through the cracks and litter strewn about but it still lead to houses. Houses that had people in it. People that were giving away FREE candy.

Ooooheee...lp me..

That was human. Dropping his candy bags, Zach jumped up to grab a branch of a nearby tree and pulled himself up and over the hedge and down onto the ground below. It was darker here as the light from the street lamps were partially blocked by the height of the hedge and the trees that surrounded this area. Once his eyes had adjusted properly, he could make out a young girl. Her dress was extraordinary. Was this.. was this a sailor scout? He didn't usually pay much attention to the news but it was hard to miss. It was on tv, in the paper, on the radio. He half expected town criers to appear shouting out "BEWARE, BEWARE!" any day now.

She was hurt. Tentatively, he walked over to her side, crouched and touched her shoulder in an attempt to rouse her. The glow sticks he was wearing gave him enough light to see that she had hit her head.. or something had hit her. There was quite a knot forming and even in the darkness, he could see discoloration around the wound.

She was barely conscious. Only moans escaped her lips it appeared as if she was constantly on the verge of passing out. She didn't look dangerous and she certainly wasn't armed as far as he could see. Heck, for all he knew, it still could be a girl in a costume and she needed help. He wrapped one arm around her back and another behind her knees and pulled her up to his chest.

She was heavy though she couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds. He was reminded that if had kept in better shape, this wouldn't be as strenuous as it was. It took twice as long to get back to his house and longer yet to get up the stairs. He had to wrestle the door with an elbow and knee but he finally managed to get inside his room.

Now he sat in his computer chair staring at something he never thought he would see in this lifetime.

A girl laying in his bed.

A very pretty girl laying in his bed.

A very pretty and obviously hurt girl laying in his bed.

What had he gotten himself into this time?

[derivative]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON! WRITING COMPETITION? MAGELLAN COMP!

The Captain was dancing in front of her, blurry b*****d that he was, like some sort of fun-house reflection. Her stomach rolled, the awful, dragging feeling of nausea swelling to her throat, but she desperately fought back the urge to vomit. If she showed a shred of weakness, it would be all over.

All of it, for nothing. Sailor Magellan couldn't accept it. She'd wasted too many nights sleepless and angry over this Negaverse sociopath, and by God, she wasn't going to let him take her down. More, she knew he was hurting too, and she could taste victory as surely as she did the coppery flavor of her own blood. If she could just get her vision to settle, she could -

Closing one eye, she clenched her fists at her sides, fought another wave of nausea.

She was in bad shape. Worse shape than she wanted to admit, and the Captain was going to get away. Damn it, he was going to get away, and she couldn't take him down and save the girl.

Some girl. A girl she didn't even know. At first, rage had been a fire in her belly, and she'd been reckless and stupid because of it. He'd counted on that, on her inexperience and her passion, and had let her know from the beginning that there was an innocent at stake. From the very outset, she'd been fighting two battles, and losing ground fast. It had only made her angrier, and in her anger, she'd gotten careless.

The blow to the head. Her ears were still ringing from it, her hair matted to the side of her head from sweat and blood. Somewhere along the line, the girl had passed out; when, Dani didn't know, but she was grateful for it. Perhaps this would all be a bad dream some day.

Perhaps it would be a dream she'd never wake up from. If she didn't get her act together, they would both die.

Gritting her teeth, she staggered forward, face flushing with shame and temper when the Captain laughed. "Oh Magellan. Sweet, determined Magellan. You're about to fall on your - face."

Satisfaction welled when his voice caught, and she grinned. "Not sounding too hot yourself."

He laughed, stalking a wide circle around her. If she focused hard, she could force the disconnected images of him to reform into one man, but the effort made her head throb even worse. At this point, they were just playing with one another - she knew he couldn't take her down as easily as he wanted her to believe, but at the same time, if she rushed him, it was likely to be a suicide run.

Then she'd die, and the girl.

Damn! The girl!

A moan sounded to her right, distracted her. She half-turned, and even though it was only a moment, she knew it was a mistake the instant she tore her gaze from the Captain.

"Good luck, my sweet girl." His voice sounded far away, and though it was filtering to her through water. "We'll meet again, I'm sure."

"Dammit!" She spun, but the move was too fast. Her stomach revolted, and she hit her knees, body heaving and tears streaming down her face from the pain.

Shoulders shaking, she gasped for breath, forcing herself to rock back on her knees and draw a hand across her chin. Her entire body ached, but she didn't have time to worry about herself. The Captain was gone, and she had no chance of finding him. The only thing she could do would be to save the girl.

Crawling toward her on her hands and knees, Dani reached for the bomb strapped across her chest, hands trembling as she did. She knew how to defuse a bomb, vaguely, but she'd never had to before. How was she supposed to defuse a bomb when she couldn't even get her vision to center for longer than three seconds at a time?

Squinting, because it somehow helped, she cracked the case open, skin chilling when the myriad wires were exposed. Okay, she could do this. She knew she could do this. If she didn't, they were both going up like independence day, and that was not how she was going to go out.

Guilt forced her to move faster, comb through the wires with a frantic pace. If this girl died, it was her fault. She'd been so intent on battling the Captain that she'd ignored the hostage, and even now, if the Captain hadn't gotten away, she would still have her back to her. It wasn't that she didn't care, just that... Damn it, she'd been fighting him for so long! He'd caused so much pain, suffering! And she'd never been so close!

Tears burning the backs of her eyes, she bit her lower lip, used the sharp, localized pain to anchor her to the moment. It was a cold, hard ball in her stomach to realize that, if she had the choice, she'd let the hostage die. That wasn't the code of the Senshi, was it? They tried to save everyone, and she had! She'd believed herself capable of defeating him, saving her, and going home a hero. Her pride, and her reckless ego had seen that he got away, and she was kneeling in front of a girl with her head swimming and her body so riddled with wounds that she didn't know if she would be able to escape after all.

"A hero..." Her laugh was short, more of a gasp than anything, as it tore through her chest. A hero was just someone who made it back alive at the cost of others' lives.

Seizing a wire, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes. If it wasn't the right one, then -

Then she wouldn't have a whole lot of time to think about it, would she?

She sent a quick prayer to the heavens and pulled.

Nothing.

Tension left her in a rush, a smile spreading across her battered face. She fell back, near boneless, barely catching herself on her palms. My God, she'd done it. She'd saved her. Even though the Captain had gotten away, she'd -

"Thank you, honey. Captain's just going to be so pleased."

Dimly, realization hit. Her hands slipped, and she fell, her back slamming into the cold, hard ground. Above her, the girl she'd assumed was a hostage smiled, her hair spilling over her shoulders as she leaned forward. Not... a hostage?

A trap. It had all been a trap from the very beginning.

She was going to die.

Her expression twisted, and she half-turned, rolling onto her side. Futilely, she began to push on the ground, trying to rise to her feet. Damn it, if she was going to die, she would die standing.

"Oooh, should I help you up?" The woman reached for her, but before she could grasp onto Dani, there was a loud explosion behind both of them.

More reinforcements?

She struggled to her knees, but a pair of hands closed over her shoulders, dragging her back. She began to scream, not the terrified sound of the defeated, but a battle cry, when she recognized the gloves. Senshi. Oh, God, Senshi.

"Magellan, can you hear me? Are you all right? Oh my gosh, come on, we have to get you out of here."

Blinking, struggling as the world began to go gray around the edges, she shook her head. "No, I - I can't run -"

"Come on, this isn't your fight anymore!"

She felt herself being lifted, and her head rolled back sickly. The sky spread above her, peaceful and blue, and the sounds of battle raged on behind her.

Bringing her hands up, she fisted them into the bright yellow bow of her savior. "I failed. I couldn't.. couldn't do it."

She closed her eyes, arms going slack as her consciousness finally slipped away.