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[Jornyy]

[Ocular Penetration]

┌------------------------------------------┐
Kira Izuru
- School Halls -
└------------------------------------------┘

"Izuru-sama, you need to wake up. It is time for you to start getting ready for school." The only response was the big mound of covers shifting the tiniest amount. The round woman signed and adjusted her skirt while waiting. It was only six thirty, and she did have other things to be doing. But Master Kira had given her explicit 'orders' (she still laughed about that) to wake him up early.

"Izuru-sama, please get-" A blond head poked out from the cover with stared at her, single visible eye blinking and mouth open in a yawn. "I'm awake Mitsuru-san, thank you. He did not really look it. That eye was sliding closed even as she watched. By the time that the woman had bowed and made it to the door he was already back under the cover.

Twenty minutes later.

"I'm going to be so late!" Kira had stumbled from his bed and started the run around immediately. Trying to tug clothes on with one hand while brushing his teeth with the other, and it somehow managed to work. Though he had to stop and actually work to get his hair into the position that he wanted it. You know, that's not a style you wake up with naturally! Not once did he even glance at the time (to register that he was still early), and instead focused entirely on getting dressed.

He simply could not be late. Especially not after meeting with the Vice Principal yesterday and promising (though it was somewhat a joke) that he would be a great student. Not to mention meeting a few people while finishing up the paperwork on his transfer. Now though, here he was about to be late! Oh how terrible it would be to make a bad impression on Vice Principal Gin the first day by being sent to his office!

"Master Kira, breakfast is read-"

"Sorry, but I have no time to eat! Just put it up and I'll eat it later!" Any complaints the woman had were lost to the closing front door. He was running with one hand adjusting the blue tie, and the other working to keep a tight hold on his bag. At least a few people watched the blond run by in concern (unnaturally early for a student to be in such a rush), but he ignored them all.

And due to it when he came upon the school, he was tired. If anything was going to tell him that he was early, it was totally the minimal amount of students wandering around. Even the day before (prior to school starting), there had been more around. Putting up stuff and doing early training for clubs and all that, but the place was active. Now all he saw was a few tired looking teens trudging into the place.

Sigh, "First day, proving that I'm an idiot. This is a great start." The blond joined in the throng of students trudging into the building. Blending into the crowd as it were, something he was good at. Not like there was anyone that he felt the need to talk to. These people were still new to him, and he had only met a handful of people the day before. One could debate how far a basic introduction and smile could take a person. At least he was not totally alone in the newness. He had heard some of the other transfer student's names as well, and at least two of them he recognized, Hinamori and Hitsugaya, though he was not close to either.

Kira slipped into his designated class quietly, or at least as much as you could with only a handful of others there yet. Coincidentally the same one that Toshiro was in, earning the (tiny) boy a 'hello nod' from Izuru as the blond swept past. Middle of the room seating, not too close to the front and not way in the back. Also a place where he could just kind of vanish into the crowd and read or something during a boring lecture.

And then he waited with his eyes glued to the desk top and a hand playing with the tips of his hair.

┌------------------------------------------ ┐
We’re all searching
Time’s unfolding
Trying to fill our lives with meaning
Still we’re learning
How to breathe amongst the pain and suffering
When all we need is peace of mind
└------------------------------------------ ┘

[Ocular Penetration]

› ]Fãke as M£[ <

ThE eCho in My hEad -
Elevar
lIkeS tØ be CalLeD -
Kasey and/or Eli
In crEaTive WaYs.
072b73


° mý ƒi|£š sÃy «

þareñts named m£
Satarel Mikk Darcie
but Ì kñøw bettêr
and am called 'Satty' by those who can not pronounce my name.
thê parts [say]
that it's a boy!
been arøund awhile
seventeen is an age all about maturity, adulthood now.
[would] i hit thát
if it's stacked with strength and ready to dominate.
going to specialize in
the stale wind and darkness of the deep.
keep it clösè
cause you never know when a taser gun will come in useful.
thêìr [cam]era made mê pretty.
[x] [x] [x]

'Satarel Darcie never was just a regular old celebrity. He branched out into other fields than just the occult. His mother had her son (and thus her hands) in all sorts of fields. Fashion was one of them and it shows. Impeccible sense of fashion and a tailor made appearance that came straight out of a teen 'design pagan' magazine. An entirely different field from the catwalk scene. In this field you need to look mystical, mysterious, and devilishly handsome like you made a pact with the dark lord himself. If it takes a ton of work, designers, and a team of people to help you get dressed than so be it.'

At least that is what the magazines had to say about him. Satarel may not need a team of people to help him get dressed, but a sense of style has been hard wired into him. His blond hair is kept dyed 'natural' black and worn just so the bangs will give that 'mysterious' look. Most people refrain from comment (unless they work a magazine) that his eyes are too deep a blue for black to be his natural color. Some have even been led to believe that blue is not his natural eye color, but that has been refuted time and time again. During appearances it is not at all uncommon to see Satarel wearing some sort of make-up (for the cameras and for his skin tone to work the lighting), but outside of the shoot he will typically just wear a cap, fix his bangs, and put on the minimal amount of facial care to keep himself looking proper for any random voyeur photographer.

It is not so easy to improve the body though. Young Darcie is actually on the lower end of the teen boy spectrum. He is of average height [5'8] but has a lanky build. Basically his entire wardrobe is tailored to making improvements to that. Typically he will wear some sort of dress or designer cargos with a jacket over tee. This combination is the best for making him look bigger and more domineering than he really is, though the effects are actually quite debatable. That is of course for the public appearance. Satarel's public clothing can change at any given time depending on his mood.

talking about me

'It has an effect on chidlren to be shoved into the public light at a young age. Some psychologists would even say that it has a negative mental and emotional effect on them.' It is questionable how much of an effect Satarel had imprinted on him from the constant hustle and bustle demand placed upon him by producers and his step-mother. Eight years old is not quite an accurate depiction on what a person will develop like emotionally. In the case of Satarel he was totally manipulated by his enviorment into becoming the person he is today, and beyond that his personality has entered a new stage.

As of the past few months people close to him have begun to observe noticeable change. Satarel was rather often a 'spoiled jerk' kid who demanded things go his way. In the most recent time though this has increased by at least five times. He has become demanding, impatient, and prone to frustration. There are various ideas on what has caused this change. Many think that he has fallen into the usual celebrity trap of drugs. There is nothing out ther eto confirm this story though and so reporters can only keep looking. The other theory is that he has become bipolar, but that has even less working for it.

It is not all negative effects on his personality though. Satarel was, up until the previous year, a very reclusive individual. He would often appear only for his TV appearances and then flee back into the comfort of his dressing room. Apparently now the young star has taken to interacting with the audience more, a mixed blessing. Often he will use someone as the blunt of a horribly sarcastic (sometimes even cruel humored) joke. Yet he will then turn right around and apologize to them. More often then not the later does not happen, but it has the possibility to and thus deserves noting.

Those close to him tended to see Darcie as a quiet, reclusive brat who wanted too much handed to him. Now those same people would say that he is nicer, less socially awkward, but way more manipulative and mean. It all depends on how he knows you and what you mean to him on how the boy will treat you though. Especially as, according to popular tabloids, his personality seems to get worse and worse.

wh[a]t i l[oo]k like on the inside
Persona Name: Shahab
Arcana: Hanged Man
Strong To [Wind]
Weak Against [Pierce]
Persona Appearance:

Shahab is a massive, feral bird characterized by pitch black feathers and open, featherless areas where the skin has rotted away to reveal bone. It is almost impossible to stare at it on one hand due to the 'darkness' of the wings causing pain to the eyes. They always appear to be shifting and melting together, and that distracted from the occasional insectal looking creature crawling out of the holes. Or the fact that deep, deep in each of the wing holes is a single swiveling eyeball that appears to be looking at everything in their facing.

The actual torso is what you would expect of a giant bird in the way of a massive barrel shape. Shahab breaks from that basic image by the introduction of a series of 'bone' spikes erupting from the chest cavity. These do not hold any solid consistancy to them and only look like bone, as they flail around like long bits of hair. Dripping from the tips is a disgusting oily liquid that vanishes before impact with the ground, a spiritual entity. This leads to the apperance that Shahab's body itself is melting, an image that when coupled with the bird's prominent rib cage creates a disgusting degeneration of life.

The head of the Deep Crow is little more then a skull with some feathers and rotted skin clinging tightly, connected to the body by a long neck. The entirity of the beak is one long bone snout with a split in the middle and jagged, dirty teeth tainted by black and red stains. At the end of the beak the skull is covered again by the rotting skin and the thininer (compared to the wings) black feathers, except they seem infinitely more greasy around the facial region. Inall the disgusting imagery the eyes are an oddity, a bright swirling emerald green with a hint of pink in the back. Though there are times (during the consumption), when they will be completely black and sunken deep.

Abilties Possessed:

• Sukukaja / Boost [Shahab manifests around him to increase Satarel's running and jumping ability.]
  
• Maha Garu / Wind [The beat of a deep crow's wings causes a rapid wind burst to explode out around it's master.]
  
• Stagnant Air / Status [This is directly related to Satarel's sense of battle lust. The more heightened his desire to fight, the more Shahab starts to interact with the air around him. In open air places this has little to no effect, but in enclosed spaces (buildings), the entirety of the localized air will become infected. This 'air' causes nausea, blurred vision, head pain, and eventually unconsciousness if breathed in for too long a period. While this affects more then just Persona users, only users are capable of actually seeing the faint 'smog' in the air.]
  
  likes
  
  ¤ Fame
  ¤ Occult
  ¤ Fashion
  ¤ Fog
  ¤ 'Freedom'
  ¤ Coffee
  ¤ Cold Weather
  ¤ Cats
  ¤ Nightclubs
  
  dislikes
  
  ¤ Famous People
  ¤ Being Mocked
  ¤ Persona Users
  ¤ Spicy Food
  ¤ Shahab's Appearance
  ¤ Dogs
  ¤ Insects
  ¤ Cars
  ¤ Rivers
  ¤ Reporters
  ¤ Overly Obsessive Fans
  
  [broken] homês and sãd ta|es
  
  Satarel Darcie, a name known across the entertainment industry as a 'blow out show stopper who's fallen on hard times'. A name that some house holds can utter in suspense, and one that most can look up to and respect. You can flip open a magazine and see his image in the finest designer clothes, order his autobiography that released last month, or even watch his video chat conferences every Thursday at his personal homepage.
  
  The reason for such fame and popularity? Young Darcie has, for the past ten years, been a prevalent media force and 'psychic' who gained the ability to channel the dead and see the future following a near-fatal car wreck off a bridge that claimed the lives of his half sister and father. It was a national sensation as the perfect mystical rise to fame story. It had everything. The prologue of a poor, hardworking family who had recently had a baby daughter as part of the father's remarriage following his wife's death in childbirth. It had the meat of the story, the sadness of a widow who had lost her new daughter and was left with her husband's child of a previous marriage to raise. It had the sensational 'spooky' elements of Satarel being the only one in the car not harmed, despite two deaths and the step-mother having to spend days in intensive care due to almost drowning.
  
  How could they not eat it up when, only a few months following the accident, the surviving child's step-mother came forward with the fact that he could see spirits and speak for them. A story that would have been swept aside had it not been for other's reporting the 'psychic force' of a traumatized child telling the future. Satarel Mikk Darcie, he could see the spirits and deliver their message to the living. The public ate it up to the point that he became a star almost overnight. Magazine reports led to TV appearances, and TV appearances led to the status quo of being a fashion symbol as well.
  
  That was his childhood and teen years, if one could dare to name them as such. His step-mother remarried but never released her control on his life. Instead she basically fed the boy to the dog's through-out his teen years. He was 'better', 'superior', her 'little money bag' (he was not supposed to hear that one). Not only was he kept from the 'lower social classes' with super elite private schooling, but often he was so busy with trips that private tutors were the only way to go. Friends were never long lasting as he would inevitably say something scary, and the adults always wanted him to tell their future.
  
  Perhaps it was for the best when he, at sixteen, 'broke'. It was a rumor at first, one deeply rooted in the occult mysticism. Satarel survived a fatal wreck at a weak age, gained abilities from the trauma, and there were reports of strange 'images' around him. There were those who knew the truth of what had occurred, a truth buried in lies and demands of silence from his caretaker. At the age of seven he had awoken as a Persona user gifted with the foresight and sense of the dead. He was no medium in the traditional sense that the media tried to sell him as. No, there were those who knew the truth. Those who hunted and those who feasted on their fellow victims of circumstance.
  
  Perhaps the 'attack' was a good thing for him. Sixteen years old was a rebellious period. Satarel would constantly try and avoid having to do the work and live a normal life. There were reports that he had a stalker, but the boy never listened. Security could handle something so simplistic. It was not until one night, while vomiting up sake in the toilet of a seedy club where 'no one would recognize him', that Satarel learned the difference. Attacked in a bathroom for all that was at stake. He had thought it to be some kind of rape case about to happen, but instead his attacker was not only a woman, but a Persona wielder. She was a 'consumer', a newly awakened user, and she knew exactly what she wanted. The more well known the figure then surely the stronger the persona?
  
  To this day it is still attributed to mystery how a bolt of lightning knocked out that bathroom wall. The same for how other bolts blackened much of the alleys until a chain fence a good two minutes run away. At that spot the day after the incident they found several things of note. On one hand there were lightning bolt marks everywhere, but there were also several strange piles of dirt like a strong wind had come through. Worst of all though was the woman sprawled on the ground, lolling back and forth and muttering about beautiful white birds with rainbow wings taking away her...something. She was never coherent enough for the proper authorities to figure out that it was anything more than inane babble.
  
  He had done it. Only one indeed, but he had still done it. The attacker had become the victim, and Satarel's persona Shahab, a bird of Paradise, had stolen from this woman her soul. He had only watched in transfixed horror as his paradise devoured the sickly looking death horse that the woman had called upon him. Satarel could only listen to her agonized screams as the last wisps of her persona were stolen away and taken within Shahab. There was no attempt to confirm her life nor help her, no, instead he merely ran away from the scene and attempted to repress it.
  
  It takes only one puff of air to start a tidal wave though. Weeks passed and he could only feel he urge growing. There was a point where Shahab had been his comfort in the darkness, but now it left him feeling terrified. His firs consumption had been a consumer, and his bird of paradise hungered for more. It was inevitable that he would cave to the pressure and do it again, again, and again. Each time was worse than the last, each time was more premeditated, and each time the wait and grief periods became less pronounced.
  
  It was not only Satarel that changed. His persona went through a change as well. It's beautiful white feathers fell out or turned black, and it's beautiful siren calls turned into horrid shrieks that pierced the night. Over time so did it's function discover change. Less and less could he see the positive future, while more and more dd he start to sense the dead and feel the bitter sting of their emotions. Both things that Shahab, the Bird of Paradise, had protected him from. Yet no longer with him was paradise, and now he knew only the call of a bird from the depth's of depair, come to haunt his every waking moment with cries for, 'More!' Now he can only ghost the spot light, wavering perfection of his 'foresight', and give in to that carnal design.
  
  For those who fall from the top it is a long way into the gutter.
  
  additonal in[fo]
  
  + Shahab was a Light Persona, but degenerated into a Dark Persona.
  + Satarel is still a well known celebrity, but many are cluing in that he lost his power.

[Ocular Penetration]

Satarel • Darcie
°° T e l e v i s i o n . P s y c h i c ¤ Consumer
'Never forget those from the bottom, take advantage.'

"This is everything you have on them?"

The brunette sounded more annoyed then anything. His subordinate, a girl who looked barely out of her teens, said nothing. Not a peep as the man flipped through the report in his straight backed chair behind the desk. One hand held a cup of coffee (mostly forgotten) and the other a pen to correct errors. The pen was green, but the paper turning that color rapidly every few lines. Words read with a scowl and derisive snort in an almost synchronized timely fashion. Displeasure was so plain that it almost hurt. Then again it was also so expected. Maybe that is why the girl only looked uncomfortable and was not already crumbling.

"This is garbage! Why are you wasting my time?!" Did he really need to angrily slam down the papers so that a few would glide off onto the floor? Did he really need to yell at the poor girl? Did he really need to slam his coffee down and get some on a few pages. No to all of the above, but they all certainly improved his mood vastly. That wsa certainly the only one improved judging by the expression she was giving at the fourty page report. Hand typed, single spaced, almost a thesis on the subject. A thesis claiming that they basically had...

Nothing. Oh how it pissed him off.

"Sir! We have not received new informatio-" She shut up. Not like the Lieutenant was listening to her at that point anyway. Oh no, instead he had his 'thinking' face on. Chin was plopped down into his right palm supported by an elbow on the table. His other hand was busy making the motions of drinking his coffee. It would have been easy for the girl to escape the inquisition in the office if she were quiet. But no, she stayed, if only due to the fact that other's had tried it before. The Twelfth Squad Lieutenant would eventually notice, and excelled at holding a grudge.

A truly tense moment broken by the flashing of a red light on the desk. No sirens, no noise at all in fact. Just a spinning red signal that lit up for no apparent reason but captured the attention of both room occupants. Before she could even turn and leave the Lieutenant was up and gone in a flash step out the open door. Obviously, he would get there way before Squad Member 23.

Akihiko was out of breath on arrival. Not because the survey center was too far away. No, instead it was the series of jumps. It would have been easy to walk, a mere two minute difference maybe, but one he dared not afford. First responders were those who got ahead. Then again, so were the obsessive ones.

"Situation now, is it them?" Was that excitement in his voice? Interest drowned in the storm of activity, reporting in, and people busy at work. All busy taking in information on the real world and the recent activity there. On who had traveled to and from, how many were reported, and other such vital information. Normally had someone spoken and it not been technical or data oriented they would have been shushed, ignored, or totally missed.

Luckily one of the head techies had the sense to toss back a, "Five Arra-No, Six Arrancar have been confirmed in Karakura town! The damage is escalating!" It was followed by another voice from across the room with a, "We have a Shinigami moving to the scene!" There was a great clamor of voices at that one. Even Akihiko seemed more alert as he moved closer to the tech checking that.

"Send out the Hell Butterflies to inform those available above third seat!""

"It's Captain Souma, Lieutenant Saburo!"

'What the hell is the Captain of the Fourth Squad doing there? She is supposed to be healing people, not off getting killed!' Maybe if it were anyone but the Fourth Akihiko might have had some faith. In this case, he was pretty much writing her off already. Not a word of those thoughts escaped his lips though. Instead the brunette settled for a stance behind one of the technicians to stare at the panels over the guy's shoulder. Watching what was going on and coordinating as it were. Basically doing his job.

Something so few people did in Soul Society these days.

♪ Prominent men tell prominent stories
Prominent men tell prominent lies
Prominent men kiss the a** of dame fortune
Prominent men will tear out your eyes ♪

[Ocular Penetration]

X X

• Tesla •

Tesla, to his credit, was never late for much of anything, and more often then not was so far ahead of the turn that it seemed like precognition. Typically he would be up late, late into the night working on a bit of homework due as much as a few weeks away. Often double the homework, both his and Nnoitra, were being accomplished at the same time. Did the other have any idea that the blond was yet again doing his work? It was likely, after-all what were the chances of the other getting around to do it? By now he should have simply assumed. The black haired giant had much more important things to be doing with his time! Tesla, on the other hand, was good just to be able to do this. After-all he was good at the 'boring paperwork' like this, Not to mention that he, due to insomnia, would have been up the whole night anyway. Why not put it to use in a way that served them both? Not to mention that, though Tesla did not register it, this was the only way that he would get his work done. Best friends though they may have been the two seemed to have radically different (at least unspoken wise) on the idea of homework.

The key was to have similar answers but make Nnoitra's a little better and more detailed. Even if the teacher did catch on then it would be him accused of cheating, and not his friend, as obviously it was a sloppy copy job. Not to mention the benefit of having no evidence to the contrary. A masterful system that he -- No, No, the two of them! -- had managed to work out. There was no chance of it having an effect on his (Tesla's) grades because the tests were so easy (to study for), but Nnoitra did not seem to ever study. More important things to do had to be the case. Or maybe the other just felt he was better than the teachers? It was, after-all, true that Nnoitra was a genius. He just decided not to show it as often as some other's wanted to require it of him! It was the right thing for Tesla to be doing as his friend. This way they, as a team, could stick it to the teacher's when Nnoitra flew by on homework grades alone if need be!

'What kind of teacher assigns a chapter before school even starts? Hopefully that was accurate. Knew I should have actually gone and talked to them instead of just calling in! What if this is the wrong page? If so it'll just already be finished but that'll mean I missed a night of sleep fo-No! No! That's not the right answer!' At least it was his page with the error on it. Tesla merely went ahead and corrected the formula on the 'Nnoitra Notepad'. His former thoughts of the wrong page were irrelevant now. Instead he went back into 'blank zone'. One hand answering questions when not swirling the pencil, and the other supporting his chin. It was not like any of this took much effort. Tesla held little doubt that he was insanely far ahead of his class, as all he had to do was sit and study or read in the late hours. So while doing the work blandly, his pad and then better in the other, he just kind of drifted off into daydream. It was at least more interesting even though all of them seemed to revolve around the similar things.

He would imagine the giant Nnoitra and him graduating with honors, but it was always hard for him to imagine the other in a cap and gown. From there he would have some amusing thoughts about what kind of tricks Nnoitra would play on the faculty. Supposedly this new school had a rather strict staff going for it. Then again so had the last one, and Tesla had seen first hand (as an accomplice) how his idol had dealt with that. Not to mention that this school was supposedly full of both weird and strong people. Tesla cared mostly about the former, but Nnoitra was all about the later. Tesla had already thought ahead to make a list of some particular names that he had come across. It was actually the first page of Nnoitra's notebook even. A nice, tidy list of names color coded in red, blue, and green by how 'strong' they supposedly were. It included names like: Ichigo Kurosaki, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, Madarame Ikkaku, and her.

The rest of them Tesla had found about through by paying close attention to rumors, but she was different. He knew that b***h personally. The pencil snapped due to how hard he was squeezing it. Tesla, still mostly off in thought, barely paid attention as he tossed it in the trashed and fished out another. She, also known as Neliel Tu Oderschvank, had long since been a thorn in the blond's side, if only because Nnoitra was so obsessed with her. The blond was not even sure that she really knew his name, but he knew her's all too well. She was the only person in the list to get her name in red as a high class, this person's strong enough to target first marker. Not that he'd known any of Nnoitra's attempts to get one over on her before had ever worked, but this was a new school and a new semester. It seemed just the way to start his idol's semester off.

His one visible golden eye, the other hidden behind the patch, shot to the side just long enough to check the clock. It was defintely time to make his leave. Soon enough his parents would wake up and want to talk to him, which Tesla did not want. They always had the same horrible advice for him to stop hanging out with Nnoitra. That was obviously stupid, and he had no intention of hearing it again. With that in mind Tesla slipped both notebooks and his own textbooks into a simple black backpack. There was no need to change as he'd been wearing the uniform since trying it on at seven the previous night. Smooth out some wrinkles, finally toss aside the tie, and then put the collar down from being popped all night. Tesla only took the time to brush his teeth before making his leave. He did not even stop to fix his hair, array as it was from having a hand run through it all night, before popping open his window. That's right, he had no intention of taking the front door. Instead Tesla dangled himself out the window, let go, and fell onto the garage. From there it was easy to get onto the ground.

It took Tesla a good ten minutes to get to school from his house by bike. That's right, by bike, not by walking, and I certainly do not mean a bicycle. About fifteen minutes later Tesla rode into school on his older looking golden triumph, marked with a few dents and paint scratches, into the first packing place available. By no means was it one set up for student use, but Tesla had no reason to worry that anyone would mess with his bike. It had been something of a statute at his last school that it'd go untouched, because no one wanted to test the wrath of whoever rode a bike to school. Not that he was in any way really concerned considering how his parents had insured the thing when he had, against his pride, begged them for it and paid himself for the classes to get his license. It was something of a mark of pride for him to be able to drive himself to school, even if Nnoitra would typically not accept a ride.

As for the school itself, Tesla was rather apathetic. Just another school to deal with over the course of the day, and to leave then he got bored of it. Well, Tesla did not really get bored of anything much, Nnoitra did often call him a boring person. But when the other decided to leave you could expect that his golden eyed partner would be along for the ride. That low opinion of the place was oozing from every pore upon entering, and dripping with every glance on the way to first class. It was highly unlikely that his idol was here yet, and so Tesla did not care. There was no reason to harrass anyone yet or get started on any large stunt, so he'd just troll the halls looking for class in the mean time.

It also allowed for a view of the other students. Most of them were just as freaky as the rumors had expressed. It was by mere habit that the big guy and mummy boy (Stark and Hisagi) recieved barely a glance from Tesla as he swept passed them. Just long enough to make eye contact with the mummy via raised brow, then switch gears to give a nod and small recognition of, "Stark," to the taller teen. Not once during it did he stop. Instead he kept right on walking. It was a pause long enough to turn up his nose, and project enough apathy that it would have put a challenge to Byakuya's if they met.

[Elevar]

º just when light appeared in your H E A R T
You seemed to put it out, is there anything left you can ¤ FEEL ?

- - - - - "General Cross!" Another one, beckoned by the clap of those work boots hitting the floor. Yet another noble minded assistant to the good Mr Rouvelier was passing by. Looking, hunting, searching for something. And by no means was it the shadowy figure who had just slipped into a room and quietly pulled the door shut. A figure who even took the time to clasp a free hand over the burning cigarette tip to hide it. All until the bumbling flunky went by and turned the corner did that door remain tightly closed, save the space for a single eye to poke out and observe. It was all quite mysterious with the darkened room illuminating nothing, but the hall light bringing out the definition of that single eye...and that smirk.

"And yet another moron lost his job."

First came the puff of freed smoke and then came the opened door. Out stepped the man himself, cloak ruffling around him and hat tipped low. He looked just as satisfied as he did after a rough tumble with a bottle of wine and a woman, but for an entirely separate reason. It was becoming something of a game this new found hobby. Rouvelier would send one of his assistants to hunt down the wayward Marshall, and so they would begin. Cross would make himself scarce so as to not be found by the hunter. A small rebellion this to send one of the manager's dogs running back in failure, immature even, but no less entertaining for it's merits. It was by far better (and easier) this game than to attempt a run for it. After his short trip, or as they called it his 'four year abandonment period', the Order was keeping something of a tight leash beckoning on his person. Be damned their newest excuse that it was safe to have him home bound in case of attack.

Ah, he had found what he was looking for at last! When a particularly hurried assistant was attempting a run by, Cross was quick to grab the offered arm. It was enough to bring the brunette man to a jerking stop and papers to go flying everywhere. One would almost think it was exactly as the red head had planned it to be! "Ah! My report was not even stabled! Director Reever is going to be so ma-" Cross was quick to interrupt. Quick grind of his boot into the man's shoe shut that one up right nice. "Nevermind all of that man! Far more important matters are at hand." Someone more accustomed to Marian would have taken that as the excuse to run. Allen would have likely already killed himself to stave off the coming disaster. This man was a fresh one though, he had no clue. "Yes sir general! What is it you need?" The man even saluted, awkwardly, and stood up straighter.

"Have you seen Klaud Nine around? I need to have another chilled glass of wine with her." The man answered "No Sir!" before the question had really registered, and once it did he almost fell over in shock. "Marshall! I really need to go and meet with Mr. Reever if this is not impo-" Another boot on the shoe, this man would have to learn patience. "Have you seen Miss Lotto then?"" The little scientist looked ready to cry, but managed to get out a quick head shake. "Useless bugger. What about that other prime example, the new girl. Lillian or something like that. She had a rather pretty fac, The man was shaking his head again. Cross sighed and let go of the offensive arm that he had degraded himself to holding. "You are quite useless. Were you aware of that?" Another frown on the Marshall's face when his 'conversation partner' gave another silent shake of the head.

"Well you are." Smash. Scream. And Cross was off again at a nice, leisurely pace, leaving behind him a hopping scientist who had not handled that final foot stomp very well at all. Something that the good general Cross had already forgotten all about. His mind was turned to other matters of great importance to the whole. Those being the exquisite quality of women that were somewhere in this building just beyond his current reach. This was truly a shameful thing meant to be rectified.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Do you . R E M E M B E R . what it's like to care ?

[Elevar]

º just when light appeared in your H E A R T
You seemed to put it out, is there anything left you can ¤ FEEL ?

- - - - -Subaru Sumeragi was not ever meant to be a morning person. If anything he was just unable to cope with the whole process. It was a steady cycle. First his alarm had to go off and cause him to stir. That was easily solved, as you can just grab it and throw. Even the singing of birds outside his window could be solved by a steady regime of ignoring them. He had been raised in a Shinto temple, surely he could 'meditate away' some annoying chirps. That would buy him at least another ten minutes. But there was no way in Heaven or Earth that he was going to be able to ignore his fraternal twin sister Hokuto as she attempted to beat down his door. She was consistent and did not let up with the banging. No manner of meditation was going to get rid of that. Not to mention that it was impossible to throw her. If anything he was lucky there was a locked door between them or she'd likely throw him from bed. Such was the root of his bad mornings in every way.

"Subaru! You're going to be late! Remember what I told you last night? Grandma is supposed to take us out for breakfast this morning!" As usual, Hokuto sounded authoritarian and parenting, and as usual Subaru ignored her. Granted that he was awake, both eyes open and staring at his ceiling, but he made absolutely no effort to respond. A couple pounds later there was a frustrated sigh from the other side of the door. She'd surely had to billow out her lungs to make sure he heard that one. "Subaru, you promised you would come today!" Another pause as she awaited the answer that he never even considered giving. At last she let out another bellow, "Fine then! I'll tell Grandma that you did not want to see her!" Subaru smiled, he really had not wanted to see the family matriarch anyway. Nor did Hokuto really, but she was a far nicer person then he now wasn't she? The brunette barely listened to the sound of his sister storming across their apartment and slamming the front door behind her.

And with that, Subaru finally sat up in bed. Across from him the alarm, where it had survived it's encounter with the wall, was blinking a red '6:30' at him that he chose to ignore. The great big yawn he gave andstretching his arms out was far more important. As was the morning ritual of checking himself: run a hand through the hair, swing his feet off the bed to see if they were asleep (low blood pressure sleeper!), and then check his breath to realize that it was bad, and have that as the motivation to get up and venture forth from his room into the bathroom. At least after a few minutes of sitting there staring blankly at the wall. One would have thought he was doing morning meditation (surely not!) before getting up and venturing into the day.

Except that, as usual in Subaru's life, there were detours. First he absolutely had to put away the dishes Hokuto left out on the table. Since he was in the kitchen though, there was obviously no way to avoid making coffee for himself since his sister drank only tea. After that he obviously had to dig in the refrigerator for something light to eat. By the time he had his toast eaten, cup of coffee drank and in the sink, and finally left the kitchen that clock in his room was blinking a red, '6:56'. And he was just getting around to taking a shower.

Subaru, as tradition tended to impose, was going to be late again.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Do you . R E M E M B E R . what it's like to care ?

[Elevar]

[ Subaru Sumeragi ]

I CAN'T SEE THE MEANING OF THIS LIFE I'M LEADING ...
- - -i try to forget you as you forgot me ...
- - -there is nothing else for you to take and this is goodbye ...



Subaru Sumeragi was not ever meant to be a morning person. If anything he was just unable to cope with the whole process. It was a steady cycle. First his alarm had to go off and cause him to stir. That was easily solved, as you can just grab it and throw. Even the singing of birds outside his window could be solved by a steady regime of ignoring them. He had been raised in a Shinto temple, surely he could 'meditate away' some annoying chirps. That would buy him at least another ten minutes. But there was no way in Heaven or Earth that he was going to be able to ignore his fraternal twin sister Hokuto as she attempted to beat down his door. She was consistent and did not let up with the banging. No manner of meditation was going to get rid of that. Not to mention that it was impossible to throw her. If anything he was lucky there was a locked door between them or she'd likely throw him from bed. Such was the root of his bad mornings in every way.

"Subaru! You're going to be late! Remember what I told you last night? Grandma is supposed to take us out for breakfast this morning!" As usual, Hokuto sounded authoritarian and parenting, and as usual Subaru ignored her. Granted that he was awake, both eyes open and staring at his ceiling, but he made absolutely no effort to respond. A couple pounds later there was a frustrated sigh from the other side of the door. She'd surely had to billow out her lungs to make sure he heard that one. "Subaru, you promised you would come today!" Another pause as she awaited the answer that he never even considered giving. At last she let out another bellow, "Fine then! I'll tell Grandma that you did not want to see her!" Subaru smiled, he really had not wanted to see the family matriarch anyway. Nor did Hokuto really, but she was a far nicer person then he now wasn't she? The brunette barely listened to the sound of his sister storming across their apartment and slamming the front door behind her.

And with that, Subaru finally sat up in bed. Across from him the alarm, where it had survived it's encounter with the wall, was blinking a red '6:30' at him that he chose to ignore. The great big yawn he gave andstretching his arms out was far more important. As was the morning ritual of checking himself: run a hand through the hair, swing his feet off the bed to see if they were asleep (low blood pressure sleeper!), and then check his breath to realize that it was bad, and have that as the motivation to get up and venture forth from his room into the bathroom. At least after a few minutes of sitting there staring blankly at the wall. One would have thought he was doing morning meditation (surely not!) before getting up and venturing into the day.

Except that, as usual in Subaru's life, there were detours. First he absolutely had to put away the dishes Hokuto left out on the table. Since he was in the kitchen though, there was obviously no way to avoid making coffee for himself since his sister drank only tea. After that he obviously had to dig in the refrigerator for something light to eat. By the time he had his toast eaten, cup of coffee drank and in the sink, and finally left the kitchen that clock in his room was blinking a red, '6:56'. And he was just getting around to taking a shower.

Subaru, as tradition tended to impose, was going to be late again.


AND I SHOULD CONTEMPLATE THIS CHANGE ...
- - -and I should step out of the rain ...
- - -summer is miles and miles away ...
- - -and no one is asking me to stay ...

[Elevar]

[ Subaru Sumeragi ]

I CAN'T SEE THE MEANING OF THIS LIFE I'M LEADING ...
- - -i try to forget you as you forgot me ...
- - -there is nothing else for you to take and this is goodbye ...



The morning so far had left him nice, quiet, and content.

First off he was much earlier then usual. His homeroom also seemed to be lacking in idiots so far. Okay, so there was some giggling girls in the back. Those were a standard for any type of school, and they were easily ignored. He could just look out the window and watch the birds and trees or something until the teacher got there. Whoever it was that was supposed to be teaching his home room. He passionately hoped that it was not Wong Reed again. That had been an absolutely hellish experience.

...And then his thoughts were derailed by that man.

Subaru had been leaning his head on a propped up hand. All nice, casual, and relaxed, where-as now he had whirled around quick enough to threaten whiplash. What to say? The brunette always felt like he had to be on guard around this one. Well, as much as he could be. This was after all a teacher. The real issue though was that the man had absolutely no respect for personal space. By the time Subaru got out the slightly stammered, "A-Ah, m-orning Sakurazuka-sensei." the school doctor was already taking his temperature. The man would probably also notice how it was quickly rising with the flush in the boy's cheeks. Especially as he heard the giggling stop, the senseless chatter, and the a louder crescendo of the chirping giggles.

"Sensei, I'm fine! Y-you should be ch-checking on some of the others ! Y-you know I never get s-sick!"

Subaru wanted to melt into a puddle of embarrassment, irritation, and sickeningly enough adoration. After-all, it always was nice to have someone pay attention to you over others. Having it at the expense of any dignity and social image though was not so nice. Not like he would ever tell the man he liked it. Lord, he thought he had put an end to the rumors about him and the '***** school doctor'. If the man's conduct and the background noise had anything to say about it thoug there would be a reemergence.

He let out a huge puff of irritated sigh while staring at the man.


AND I SHOULD CONTEMPLATE THIS CHANGE ...
- - -and I should step out of the rain ...
- - -summer is miles and miles away ...
- - -and no one is asking me to stay ...