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[x-Tariraritarara-x]

【xxj ı ɳ ɳxxm o ɾ e ɑ uxx】


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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxｃａｌｍｎｅｓｓ

The night had been so short, it seemed, and Jinn spent most of it staring up at the ceiling while lying on his back. Sleep eluded him, but for a reason about which he wasn't entirely sure. His nurse had explained to him the day before that he would finally be allowed to return to the outside world, a promise he never thought he would ever hear. Perhaps it was excitement that kept him awake, but he shook the thought away. He hadn't felt true excitement since beginning his "relaxation training," so the emotion had become nearly foreign to him. Years before, he would have wondered about the reason until he came to an answer, or been bouncing off the walls with elation to be let out at last. But now such things no longer mattered to him. With one arm bent behind his head and the other draped comfortably across his chest, Jinn tried to remember what life had been like before his isolation. The images of flowers, parks, other children, sunsets, and various trivial things remained firmly ingrained in his mind, and when he thought about them, he became restless. But each time, he shifted his focus to his breathing and counted the seconds it took to inhale and exhale until his mind had reclaimed control. But then it would drift back to the outer world and the cycle would repeat itself.

When he could take it no longer, Jinn sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. It was chilly in the darkened room, but somehow rejuvenating. He ran his fingers through his bobbed hair, brushing out any tangles, and then clasped his hands in his lap as he decided what he could do to pass the time. He caught a glimpse of the clock he had hung on the opposite wall and noticed the time. 4:53, it read. Later than he had expected, which meant he didn’t have to waste too much time before the day’s events began. As soon as he stood from his bed, as if on cue, a light knock drew his attention to the door. A subtle smile spread across his lips and he dipped his head to greet the surprised nurse who had entered and flipped on the light.

"You're awake."

Jinn nodded. "I couldn't sleep."

Concern flashed briefly across the woman's face, as she had heard those words from her charge too often, but she composed herself with a smile. It was nothing a dose of melatonin couldn't fix, after all.

"That makes my job easier," she joked. "Will you shower this morning?
I can pack your things for you."

"Thanks, but I can do it myself. Actually, I'd like to do it myself," Jinn answered, his voice completely level. "I'll opt out of the shower this morning."

The nurse smiled and approached him. "Are you sure? Do you need me to help you with anything?"

Jinn let out an amused laugh, but immediately covered his mouth with his hand as he shook his head. "I'm okay, really. Thank you though." He gave her a final look and then turned to his dresser and began pulling out clothes and other trinkets that he kept inside it. The nurse stood watching him for a moment, the pain of soon losing one of her patients obvious on her face. She lingered without saying another word, content to simply watch Jinn as he went about his room in such a controlled way, as if he weren't about to embark on a trip that would test everything he had been taught for the past thirteen years. Not a trace of sadness, anxiety, or regret crossed his smooth features, and his dark chocolate colored eyes remained as bright and observant as ever. At last, she could watch for no longer and so she quietly slipped out to wait for him at the lab's entrance.


Having changed into a fresh T-shirt and a pair of black cargo pants, and with bags in tow, Jinn exited his room for the last time and followed the long hallway to where he remembered the front door to be. His mind was turning flips as he tried to determine what he should be thinking about the entire situation, but he kept his emotions in check just as he had been instructed. His boots clapped the tile floor that he hadn't seen since his last escape at age twelve. They hadn't changed. As he watched the reflection of the fluorescent lights bouncing along the linoleum before him, he couldn't help but wonder about Jori. Would he finally get to see him again? Had he changed? Jinn had, and yet he hadn't at the same time. Appearance-wise, he was only a taller version of his child self, as his face remained young and his haircut was nearly as boyish (or girlish, in the opinions of some). But he had matured far beyond his age and had such a frightening grip on his emotions that he displayed no feelings without first thinking about them. Little did he know that his brother hadn't been so fortunate, but to prevent unwanted emotions from taking over, Jinn pushed the thoughts aside for now.

The same nurse from before stood by the door and greeted him again by taking his luggage -- although he was a little reluctant to give them up -- and leading him outside for the first time since he was a boy. Jinn followed, but his eyes wandered about, taking in all of the old things he had loved so much in his former years. The grass, the sky, the birds, even the cars. But Jinn regarded them all with a collected coolness. No excitement. No happiness. Nothing but peace, yet his heart did beat a little quicker.

"Good luck. You'll be missed," the nurse said to him, choking back a few tears as she held the taxi door open until he had slipped inside. Jinn flashed her his usual smile and said his goodbye. She tried to keep herself just as composed, but found it difficult meeting his steady gaze, so she looked down. He reached out and pulled the door shut, waved a farewell, and the car sped off.

Jinn occupied himself by watching the scenery flash by, trying to count how many things he remembered. He had missed this world. The ride was a quiet one, but passed by quicker than Jinn had hoped. Before he knew it, the taxi pulled to a stop in front of a lovely little house. It wasn't extravagant, nor was it small. Jinn thanked the driver and stepped out of the car, but the man insisted on helping him with his bags, so he let him without protesting. Jinn expressed his gratitude once more when the man set his luggage down, and faced his new home. It was an inviting little place that reminded him a bit of his mother's first house. Recalling memories from so long ago surprised him a little, but that was quickly replaced by tranquil satisfaction. He dragged his bags toward the front door slowly, wanting to reabsorb everything that had been stolen from him, but soon spotted another figure and nearly came to a complete stop. His roommate, he wondered? Jinn put on his most amiable expression and approached the redhead.

"Do you live here?" he inquired with natural friendliness. His eyes then lifted to the open door and he followed the other inside. "Oh, you must be from the lab then," he concluded with a gentle smile. His gaze swept the entrance where they stood and then he added, "So am I. My name's Jinn."

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

███████▐╏██████████▐╏ ↻ ♚ ↺ ███▐╏ ⥽ ｃｈｉｌｄｒｅｎ　ｔｕｒｎｅｄ　ｉｎｎｏｃｅｎｔ


ｉｎ　ｔｈｅ　ｄｒｏｐｓ　ｏｆ　ｌｉｇｈｔ　ｌａｕｇｈ　ａｔ　ｍｅ。


ｓｔｅｒｉｌｉｚｅｄ　ａｎｄ　ｈｉｄｅｏｕｓ、

ｔｏ　ａ　ｂａｓｅｍｅｎｔ　Ｉ　ｓｈａｌｌ　ｂｅ　ｔａｋｅｎ　ａｗａｙ。

Ｉ　⥼xx ` xx⤶xx █████▐ █████████████▐ █╏ x♚ x⤀xxxx " doubt "xx ↳ ` jori moreau

The old taxi rocked and shook as it bumped along the road, over potholes and other places that gave away how little it was cared for. It jostled its passengers -- an old, dark-skinned man and a silent, brooding figure -- around inside so that reading proved to be a near impossible feat. It was a wonder that they even stayed on the road, as the driver's eyes were trained on the rear-view mirror more often than he paid attention to what went on in front of him. When didn't think he was noticed, he stole glances at his passenger, intrigued by the odd style of dress and long, pin-straight black hair. The object of his focus, however, remained uninterested, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to even notice. He stared outside with a dull, apathetic gaze and tried to come to some sort of conclusion about what was happening. Was it real? Were the doctors tricking him again? He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. They promised freedom, but were they simply trying to break him further? Jori battled with these questions, but couldn't determine the answers.

"You're lying!" he had shouted at his nurse when she broke the news to him. She hadn't expected such a vehement reaction, but it didn't scare her and she stood her ground. "The doctors said I'd never leave again," he added, but the nurse only smiled and returned a simple response: "Did they?" And that had quieted him and made him compliant. It was enough to have him doubt his memory.

Jori slipped his hand into the folds of his coat and withdrew a little silver key his nurse had handed him before he left. He looked down at it for a moment, at the warped reflection of himself, and then gently brushed his thumb across the grooves. It seemed real enough. He turned it over and examined the other side, but through his hair out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of something that caused him to jump and turn to the seat beside him. His crimson lips parted and his thin, dark eyebrows knitted. His nurse sat there, hands in her lap and expression placid. Jori stared at her until she flashed him a smile.

"I knew it," he hissed, startling the driver with the first words he had spoken the entire ride. "Liar. You're not letting me leave." The nurse just continued smiling and the old man behind the wheel cast a confused glance at his mirror.

"Beg your pardon? You're leavin' sure as I'm drivin', kid." But Jori paid him little mind. He hid his key in his pocket again, unwilling to give it up. It unlocked something, he knew it, and if he was being taken back to the lab, he would use that key to escape if it was the last thing he did. His dark eyes narrowed.

"This is another test, isn't it?" No answer. "Why won't you talk? Talk! Even if it's lies, talk!"

The driver frowned and turned around in his seat as he pulled to a stop at a red light. "Me? I'll talk if ya want me to, kid." But when Jori wouldn't pay him any attention, his frowned deepened. "What're ya doin'?"

Jori glowered. "Stop smiling and answer me!"

"Kid... No one’s there..."

Jori fired his anger at the man. "Liar!" He glanced forward as the driver turned around when the light turned green, but when he looked back at the seat beside him, the nurse wasn't in sight. His dark expression released itself. Jori stared at the empty chair for a long time and then slumped down, hiding his face with embarrassment.

"You okay?"

But Jori didn't answer and so the driver gave up trying.


When at last they pulled up to the house, it took an additional fifteen minutes for the driver to coax his stubborn passenger out of the car. He had even carried all of his bags to the front door before Jori finally decided to get out of the taxi. But he didn’t move far, and instead chose to stand by the yellow vehicle for another moment as he took in what stood before him. The breeze picked up a little and pulled at his hair and clothes and the late-May sun warmed the black cloth. Despite it, he still insisted to dress as if it were the dead of winter in such bizarre garb that people passing by on the sidewalk stopped to stare.

“Your things’re at the front,” the driver pointed out. “So’s another guy about your age.” Still nothing from Jori, but after another tense moment, he walked cautiously up the sidewalk to the front door. He stopped again a short distance from the stranger who stood patiently on the doorstep as if waiting for someone to come and open the door. After the situation in the taxi, Jori was reluctant to acknowledge this stranger, and so when he finally urged himself forward again, he brushed wordlessly past the brunette. He slipped his pale hands into his coat and fished out the key he had been given. It didn’t have any sort of identification on it, but he knew that it wouldn’t hurt to at least try it. And much to his surprise, the door clicked and opened.

Jori pushed it wide and turned to grab one of his bags. His physical frailty was obvious in the difficulty he had manipulating just one bag, but he said nothing and silently fought with his luggage until he managed to drag it inside enough to close the door. Then he stopped and faced the other boy like a frightened animal. He regarded him with a guarded, defensive gaze, but uncertainty swirled within his dark eyes as well.

”Are you real?” he asked at last.

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

firstmiddlelast
❝ role ❞


█xx➽ `x preferred namex
█xx➽ `x age
█xx➽ `x gender
█xx➽ `x problem

█xx➽ `x username




✯ `x fact
✯ `x fact
✯ `x fact
✯ `x fact
✯ `x fact (add more if needed)

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

lyraindigodrennon
❝ the friend who stayed behind ❞


█xx➽ `x lyrax
█xx➽ `x twenty-two
█xx➽ `x male
█xx➽ `x bipolar I

█xx➽ `x x-tariraritarara-x




✯ `x I've been ignoring what doctors diagnose me with since I was nine.
✯ `x My older brother and younger sister both have normal names ; I don't know what the hell my parents were smoking when they named me.
✯ `x That being said, my brother always tormented me for having a girl's name ; actually, my brother tormented me for everything.
✯ `x Whether or not I'm truly guilty, it's always my fault.
✯ `x In high school, I was reprimanded and suspended more times than I can count, but I was never expelled.
✯ `x I was bullied for years, first for having to go to therapy, then for having to take medication, and then for the way I chose to dress before I finally grew a backbone.
✯ `x I won't apologize for my colorful vocabulary.

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

Jori Moreau

" Jori "

Born February third in Nice, France

Height: 5' 8".

Weight: 130 lbs.

Seems to be showing signs of paranoid schizophrenia.

• Both visual and auditory hallucinations
• Impulsive and unpredictable
• Impaired social cognition








Am I м ą đ?

⊰ Jori and his brother, Jinn, had a peculiar upbringing. Rather than having a mother and a father, they had several mothers and no actual father. Their birth mother, Mira, had been married for several years to a husband who had loved her. They lived together for years before even thinking of letting a child come between them, but at last they both decided that a child would be a good thing in their lives. Of course, they both got a surprise when the child turned out to be children, but it only made them happier. Unfortunately, shortly after Mira learned that she would be having twins, her husband received news that many of his friends and coworkers had died in a construction accident. He mourned for months, saying over and over to himself that he should have been there with them. Mira tried to cheer him up, but he only distanced himself further. His grip on reality was slipping until at last he did the unexpected – set their home on fire and swore to kill Mira. He was thrown in jail and she took refuge in a home for battered women where she gave birth to her twin boys.

Mira spent the rest of her life fearful that her husband would escape and try to kill her again, but she made sure not to let her boys know it. They grew up happily in the shelter and had many doting pseudo-mothers to care for them (although many tried to convince them that men were evil). Jori, being the oldest, took it upon himself to look out for Jinn and to “protect” the other women. Even at such a young age, he displayed the beginnings of a chivalrous gentleman and a watchful brother. He and Jinn were never separated for long and served as entertainment for the battered women who truly needed laughter in their lives. While Jori did enjoy joking around alongside his brother, he was happiest when he could help others and would even hide his own problems – such as when he became sick. But Jinn always knew and it concerned him that his brother always seemed sick more often than he was well, so he brought it to the attention of their mother. Several trips to the doctor had Jori diagnosed with an immunodeficiency and a life predicted to be filled with illnesses. But that didn’t stop Jori. At least, not at first.

By the time the boys had turned four, Mira had finally gotten into her head that she wanted to live in her own home. Her husband was securely in jail and the divorce was nearly complete. They lived a happy life together for many months, although Mira could provide little more than the necessities with her meager job. But with Jori’s constant visits to the hospital, she soon found herself struggling below the poverty line. Jori began to notice that his mother didn’t smile as often and soon associated it with the expressions she made when he got sick. Jinn assured him that everything would be okay and never left his bedside, but Jori still worried that it was his fault that their family was falling apart.

For thirteen years, Jori's life was spent primarily in the hospital while his brother and mother fought to stay off the streets. Having little to do stuck in a hospital bed day-after-day, his mind worried constantly about his family. He always wanted to be with them when he couldn't. As he grew older, his subconscious began whispering that his family was trying to leave him. At first he ignored it, as his hospital stays were becoming rarer and rarer, but winter often kept him confined to a bed all season with nothing to do but wonder if it was all just a plan between Jinn and his mother. His trust in people began to fail, convinced that everyone was trying to trick him. His subconscious started only as a whisper but soon became horrible voices that confirmed all of his fears. As a result, Jori became an angry and uncooperative boy. He didn't want to be sick anymore.

Jinn visited regularly and witnessed this personality change. It worried him, especially when Jori began speaking of things that weren't there. Jinn tried to understand what was going on with his brother, but he had little knowledge about things like hallucinations. Jori, however, wouldn't listen to anyone who tried to tell him that what he saw wasn't real. Before long, he no longer could tell reality from fantasy. He became reserved when it came to screaming his hatred at the nurses, too afraid that the “nurse” would simply be the wall of his room. Sometimes he wasn't even aware that Jinn was by his side, as he was too concerned with the vulture he claimed lived with him. Even when he came home, his mind never truly left the hospital.

Jinn couldn't stand seeing his brother in such a state. He would simply sit on his bed, and ignore the world that he no longer could tell was real or fake. Jinn tried to find help and after a long conversation with one of the doctors, they decided to send him to Rutledge Asylum in London. Their mother knew it would be expensive, but she decided to move to London with Jori. Although he would be committed to another hospital, she couldn't stand sending her child away to another country by himself. Jori hasn't changed much since his commitment to Rutledge, but he has become lucid enough to notice that Jinn can't visit as often as he once had.

Jori doesn’t trust the guidance of others, but he doesn’t trust his own decisions either, which leaves him frustrated and confused the majority of the time. He sees lies in everything and would prefer simply to remain in social isolation for the rest of his life. Jori’s state of mind can easily be described as “blind.” When problems arise, he knows that he must choose a direction and go with it, but such decisions are made without much insight. One side might be a trick… but so could the other… such thoughts send his mind spiraling. Due to his distrust toward everyone, Jori tends to be a prickly person to get to know. Not only does he doubt the words of others (and in some cases, their existence), but he fears getting close to anyone. ⊱



ą u † ħ ø я
⊰ x-Tariraritarara-x ⊱

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

███████▐╏██████████▐╏ ↻ ♚ ↺ ███▐╏ ⥽ ｈａｖｉｎｇ　ｇｒｏｗｎ　ｎｕｍｂ　ｔｏ　ｔｈｅ　ｃｏｌｄ、


Ｉ　ｌｉｋｅ　ｔｈｅ　ｔｏｕｃｈ　ｏｆ　ｙｏｕｒ　ｆｒｅｅｚｉｎｇ　ｈａｎｄ


Ｉ'ｍ　ｎｏｔ　ｔｈｅ　ｓａｍｅ　ａｓ　Ｉ　ｗａｓ　ｙｅｓｔｅｒｄａｙ、

ｓｏ　ｉｔ’ｓ　ｍｅｌｔｉｎｇ　ｉｎｓｉｄｅ　ｍｙ　ｈａｎｄｓ。

Ｉ　⥼xx ` xx⤶xx █████▐ █████████████▐ █╏ x♚ x⤀xxxx " snowflower "xx ↳ ` lumi fiore

The snow had been falling for days and I had watched it from my little hospital window as it blanketed the yard and the far-away trees. It was such a beautifully clean white that it nearly brought tears to my eyes when I looked upon it. Such perfection. Such purity. I touched by fingers to the glass and reveled in the cold that gently stung my skin. Tonight was the night. Outside, illuminated only by the bright round moon and the glowing snow, was calling to me. I could feel it in my heart. It was yearning to be free from this sanatorium. My dear mother must have prophesized this the day of my birth twenty-one years ago when she named me Lumi Fiore – “snow flower.”

My mother had been the kindest woman in the world, but her poor mind was never “together.” She had a fatal deficit that left her husbandless, jobless, homeless, and nearly childless as well, but she fought hard to keep me. I didn’t see anything wrong with her. Perhaps I had always known the truth, but never dared to acknowledge it. She was my mother, after all.

I was born one blustery December evening. My father had already filed for divorce and stayed only long enough to see that I had a safe birth and to escort me into the hands of a state worker. But Mama wouldn’t have it. She saw a fairytale that night, and it began with my name. Mama loved languages, although she had never formally learned more than English, and she loved the snow, although she had never truly seen it. Had it not been for the gentle advice of our neighbor, I would have been named Lumi Elurra Nevar Qana – all words meaning “snow” in various languages. Even so, I heard variations of those names as I grew up. “Lumi-flower, bring Mama that, please” or “Mama knows best always, Eli.” She had found a particular interest in “Nevar” because of its similar sound to “never,” but couldn’t properly execute it in a clever way.

I smiled at the memory of my mother as I gazed outside. She would have loved to see it. But I hadn’t much time to waste thinking about such things now. I turned away from the window and knelt down on the cold tile to reach under the bed for a tiny bag I had packed days before with all of my dearest possessions. After knocking off the light cobwebs, I slipped the strap over my head and rose to my feet.

I left my room as soundlessly as possible. I wasn’t dangerous, so my door was never locked, but I did have a bedtime. I had feigned sleep flawlessly, being careful not to turn on any lights and to leave my noisy heater running as I did every night. I checked both ends of the darkened hallway, hearing nothing but the various sleeping noises the building made. Not even an orderly or nurse, as I guessed that they had all gone off to enjoy one of the end-of-the-year staff parties. I made my way through the maze of hallways to the dayroom, which had a door to the fenced-in yard we could sometimes play in. But that door had an alarm and required a key to open. I had simply come to this room to grab my “outside clothes” – a hooded black drape and a pair of snow boots – and then continue on to the cafeteria. I carried my shoes in one hand, knowing that wearing them would make too much noise, and listened carefully for anyone who might be coming. But it was so wonderfully tranquil that I couldn’t help but smile to myself.

The cafeteria was as dark and empty as the hallways, as the staff would never consider having their parties in such a smelly place. I wrinkled my nose at the overwhelming stench of mildew, bleach, and rotted food. I wish that the others would clean up after themselves. It’s no fun eating in a dump. But I pushed those thoughts aside. Soon they wouldn’t be problems to me. I walked slowly along the right wall, weaving around the folded up wooden tables as I counted the windows. I stopped at number five and gave it one forceful thrust upward and out. It opened just barely, but enough to fit through. Using one of the folded tables, I carefully climbed up to the windowsill and slipped through the tiny space into the frigid air. Before hopping down into the snow, I pushed against the window so that it shut again and then sat down on the ledge to pull on my boots. I was free at last. I took that moment to absorb it all – the beautiful white blanket, the bright round moon, the icy wind, the owl hooting in the distance. I closed my eyes and let my feet dangle centimeters from the snow. If I could, I would sit there forever. But I had to leave.

With a soft crunch, I landed in the snow and started for the forest that surrounded the hospital. After several steps, I stopped and looked back at the deep prints I had left in the perfect snow. It was sad to see it ruined, but the little flakes that drifted down from the sky brought my smile back. Soon my prints would be covered like they had never existed in the first place. Suddenly, with a wide grin, I took off carelessly across the snow. My legs were long and carried me a good distance. I threw my arms out to both sides and spun around, head back as I let the flakes catch in my hair and on my eyelashes. I had never felt so happy in all of my life. I kept running and running. I didn’t know where my feet were carrying me, and I didn’t pay attention to the dark pines that flashed by on both sides of me. I lifted my eyes toward the moon and thought I saw my mother’s smile glowing faintly on its surface. I smiled back and slowed my running. My breath came out in wispy clouds and I hummed a song to myself.

I ventured deeper into the forest, at a slow pace this time, and looked around at the dark shadows the moon created from the tall-standing trees. I came to a clearing, perfectly smooth like the hospital’s field, and as I came to the center, I held my arms out and gazed up at the sky. All of the stars were twinkling, appearing to dance overhead. The moon smiled. The breeze whispered in my ears and tugged at my thin pajama pants, which had grown wet and icy with the melted snow. And yet I couldn’t feel the cold. I closed my eyes and then fell backwards. Suddenly, I wanted to sleep. My chest was tightening. I opened my eyes slowly and saw the sky spinning overhead. Everything was growing hazy. And then… blackness.

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

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ＡＰＡＲＴＭＥＮＴ ２２Ａ

INABA SHINICHI ▇▇▇ TWENTY-TWO ▇▇▇ MISTER DELICATE FLOWER ▇▇▇ TBD

ＩＤＥＮＴＩＴＹ

TIMID ▇▇▇ THOUGHTFUL ▇▇▇ EFFEMINATE

ＣＨＡＲＡＣＴＥＲ ＢＬＵＲＢ

Born and raised on the outskirts of Chicago, Illinois, Shinichi -- or Shia, as he prefers to be called -- never knew much about his heritage. His parents divorced shortly after his birth and his mother, needing to work to keep a roof over their heads, hardly had enough time to spend with him. He grew up being passed from one caretaker to the next, and so his mother witnessed very few of his childhood developments. As Shia grew older, and paying for a caretaker became too expensive, he spent more and more time by himself. He tried making friends in school, but he was such a quiet boy that hardly anyone ever noticed him. So he turned to making friends with the class pets instead, which he realized that he enjoyed. At home, with his mother always at work, he had to learn to cook and clean. And yet he didn't mind any of that either. In fact, cleaning acted as a sort of stress relief and cooking made him feel like he could actually accomplish something. He would cook dinner for his mother -- who never seemed happy around him -- in an attempt to cheer her up after work. But she accepted what he cooked just as she accepted his school grades -- "okay." Shia spent the rest of his childhood perpetually trying to please his mother, who never seemed to care, or seeking her love, which never seemed to be there when he needed it. As he entered middle school, his feminine tendencies and gentle behavior labeled him "queer" rather quickly. He spoke softly, had taken up botany as a hobby, and kept himself better-groomed than the other boys. For these reasons, he tended to have slightly better luck befriending girls. But even they didn't pay him much attention. Despite it all, Shia remained incredibly polite and docile to anyone who so much as spoke to him. Everyone he met held his respect in one way or another, and he feared offending people, as his mother frightened him when she was offended. As years passed though, Shia grew used to being alone and so he immersed himself in his studies. In high school, he had decided he would study to be a biologist of some sort in college and began practicing early. He had a knack for sciences, but also literature and other creative disciplines. The like-minded individuals in his biology classes gave him his first "friends," but he still never became particularly close to any one person. As expected, he excelled in university, and so looking for a change of pace, he took an interest in study abroad programs. Originally, Shia wanted to learn about his heritage by visiting Japan, but to study in Japan, he needed to be at the intermediate language level -- which he certainly was not. So he turned to the closest alternative: Korea. His school found him a cheap apartment, all expenses paid as long as he attends all of the classes and activities assigned to him for the semester.

ＹＯＵＲＳ ＴＲＵＬＹ

X-TARIRARITARARA-X

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

█████▐ █████████████▐ █╏ x♚ x⤀xxxx shinichi inabaxx ↳ ` mister delicate flower

It had been nearly a month since Shia had moved to Korea for his school’s study abroad program, and that month had passed smoothly. Despite the language barrier, the foreign food, and the prospect of living on his own in a foreign country, he hadn’t been nervous. It was like none of those negative feelings that usually plagued his mind existed for that one month. But perhaps it had been due to the culture shock – too much to see and understand that his mind didn’t have the time to worry. But now, as he took his usual route from school back to his new apartment, the thoughts that he should have had in the beginning suddenly welled up inside him. He tightened one pale hand around the strap of his bag and watched his plain black boots carry him across the sidewalk.

Another semester. Another roommate. Another schedule. Another school. All four Shia hoped would be better than the last. He exhaled and watched his breath billow out in a white cloud into February's late afternoon sky. Anything would be better than last year. Leaky shower, molded walls, rats – he didn’t care as long as it meant never seeing him again. Fortune smiled on Shia though and gave him quite a nice, clean living arrangement, but that had been only one of his problems. His other problem was his roommate situation. It had been three months since he and his old roommate had parted, and during that time, he had never once crossed his mind, but as he walked home, suddenly that sultry voice, those cool, mysterious eyes, that body… Shia bit down hard on his bottom lip, tasting blood, and refrained from slamming his head into one of the lampposts to dissolve the unwelcome thoughts. But they wouldn’t go away, even as he tried busying his mind by looking into all of the shop windows with the labels in a language he only had an elementary grasp of. Seoul was so different than his American suburban hometown. And all at once that difference slammed him like a brick wall. He wrung his hands, panicking at all of the foreign symbols that surrounded him, and tried to think of other things. His cats. He dropped his gaze to stare firmly at the sidewalk again. Oh, how he missed his cats. They were the only living things he allowed into his life. Three of them. Strays. The furry faces managed to push out the previous images and his heart rate eventually slowed. His shirtsleeve, which had wrinkled terribly in his slightly sweaty grasp, almost breathed a sigh as he released it. No need to panic, he told himself. He wouldn’t see his old roommate again. He hadn’t even chosen to study abroad this semester. And he would soon have a limited grasp of the Korean language. He simply needed to relax.

But as hard as he tried, Shia couldn’t keep Nico out of his mind.

One would think that he had been horribly violated the previous semester with the way he panicked, going to all ends to ensure that he would never see Nico again. Perhaps such actions were understandable had something traumatic occurred, but they were irrational for just a few sweet words and casual flirting. Regardless, it was something so harmless that scared Shia senseless and awakened feelings within him that he had never felt before. Love for another man? He had never even thought about it before… until then. His attraction to the few girls he had ever crushed on didn’t compare to that fire that started in his chest and flooded his entire body whenever Nico spoke to him, or even so much as looked his way. He went home and saw every possible doctor and psychiatrist he could contact, hoping for someone to assure them that nothing was wrong. But it didn’t work out. He couldn’t talk to complete strangers about his feelings, and his relationship with his mother was already strained enough without pushing his worries on her. And friends? Well, his cats couldn’t exactly give vocal feedback.

But he didn’t have to worry now. Not anymore. Nico lived in the United States. For all Shia knew, he dropped out of school. He wouldn’t have to see him again, so for now he simply needed to enjoy his time in Korea.

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his coat to keep them out of the cold. His dark eyes remained firmly on the sidewalk beneath his boots for fear that he would panic again if he looked up, and he focused on his white breath. He had memorized the walk to his apartment from school by this point and had no need to look for landmarks. In fact, his feet seemed to know the path completely on their own and carried him right up to the entrance, passing a young woman struggling with luggage. Finally registering in his mind, Shia stopped and turned back, an expression of apologetic surprise on his smooth face.

”I’m sorry. Ah… help?” he tried in clumsy Korean, hoping that his gestures to her bag would help get his message across. He approached cautiously and then crouched down to look at the wheels, his bag slipping off of his shoulders. Then he stood up again, set his bag aside, and pointed once more to the girl’s suitcase. ”May I?” Receiving an affirmative – or what he thought was an affirmative – he gave a firm kick to the bottom of the suitcase, just enough to jar it, and pulled back on it, praying all the while that it would come loose. Nothing worse than having a person witness one’s failed attempts to help. But to his pleasure, the bag did move and he lifted its wheels out of the grate. Shia offered the handle to her and smiled shyly, eyes glancing away. He lingered awkwardly for a moment and then, clearly embarrassed, bent down to pick up his own bag. He felt like he had just invaded her personal space and so he just wanted to run away. After flashing another uneasy smile, he muttered an apology and turned toward the doors. But then his feet stopped him again. He was sure he looked like a fool to her, unable to make up his mind like this and being overall completely nervous.

”Live here?” he asked, accompanying the question with a point toward the apartment building behind him. Then a voice in his head chastised him, “Of course she lives here, you idiot. Why else would she be carrying luggage to the doors?” Shia blushed furiously and looked down. Why did he have to stop again and bother making small talk? He shook his head and apologized for the third time in a five-minute span. ”S-sorry. I’m stupid. I should go.” But even though he knew he should leave to avoid further embarrassment, his feet wouldn’t move. It was like they were telling him, “no, you will be social and talk to this girl even if you die of humiliation.” And he was afraid that would be the result.



korean
english

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

▶kuya minabuchi - twenty-six
▶none
▶august 5th
▶cigarettes • performing • music
▶humidity • bad shows • being ignored
▶egotistical • self-absorbed • inventive • blunt • daring
▶debuted on the music scene at age nineteen
▶eyes are naturally blue
▶highly popular for his bold stage performances
▶hospitalized after a near-death experience with meningitis
▶once barely 120 pounds, now weighs around 150 and is nearly deaf in his left ear
▶the musician
▶akira
▶x-tariraritarara-x








▶amsi luo - twenty-nine
▶raze
▶july 10th
▶women • alcohol • making money
▶bad fashion • being broke • competition
▶greedy • manipulative • reckless • lively • impulsive
▶isn't as attractive as he thinks he is
▶spends money nearly as quickly as he earns it
▶half-chinese, half-egyptian, American-born
▶loves to party
▶music producer
▶best friend 1
▶shuuji ishii
▶x-tariraritarara-x








▶shallow xie - thirty-one
▶scyph
▶january 27th
▶techno • high fashion • curry rice
▶fast food • "trends" • mainstream
▶levelheaded • dedicated • quick-witted • eccentric • observant
▶parents named him after a character from shakespeare's play, henry iv, to prove that they were well-read in english literature
▶known for dressing wildly
▶plays keyboard, guitar, and any other instrument he can get his hands on
▶prefers the underground scene
▶appears standoffish to people who don't know him
▶best friend 2
▶sadie pink galaxy
▶x-tariraritarara-x

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

xxxxxxxxx BIPOLAR I DISORDER
tab ▲ LYRA INDIGO DRENNON
tab ▲ TWENTY-THREE
tab ▲ MALE
tab ▲ HETEROSEXUAL
tab ▲ Lyra has had bipolar disorder since he was only nine years old. Having been diagnosed so early in his life, he never got to experience a normal childhood. He was constantly reminded to "take his medication" or dragged to therapy. At that time, he simply wanted to be like everyone else. Of course, his brother -- older by ten years -- would never let him forget that he wasn't like everyone else. Not even Lyra's parents gave him much comfort, as they didn't understand his illness and simply thought him a "trouble child." As he grew older, he received his fair share of bullying for his girlish name (and eventually his feminine appearance), and his teachers hated the way he scoffed at authority and disobeyed rules. In high school, he took on the "goth" stereotype to cut ties with his cookie-cutter family -- dying his naturally copper colored hair black and covering up his freckles with white foundation. Most of his school years he spent either in hospitals after suicide attempts or in alternative school. In his most recent endeavor, his (now ex) girlfriend rescued him from the roof of their apartment complex during a manic episode and decided that she couldn't live with that anymore. So she committed him to Gateway. He still resents her for it.
tab ▲ X-TARIRARITARARA-X

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

x
x

【xxʟ ʏ ʀ ɑxxԀ ʀ ɛ ɴ ɴ o ɴxx】


_______________________________________
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxｂｉｐｏｌａｒ

Lithium, the reason he could never be considered normal; the root of most, if not all of his problems. Deemed “out of control” by his parents, he grew up taking that drug, among others, to stabilize his violent mood swings. His deep-seated hatred for taking medication began perhaps the day doctors prescribed him lithium, before he even took a pill. As a child, being handed a bottle and being told to take its contents as instructed left a bad taste in his mouth. Taking the pills meant acknowledging that he had problems – a thing no normal nine-year-old wanted to come to grips with. And Lyra was what one would consider “normal” back then (albeit still effeminate). He just wanted to fit in and live life like his classmates. But being “on” something and having regular visits to a therapist loudly broadcasted that he wasn’t normal – that something was, in fact, wrong with him. Even more, something wrong with his brain. And so Lithium was put (sometimes injected, if the pills weren’t working) into his bloodstream, typically without his consent. After all, he didn't understand why feeling happy, productive, and ambitious -- like a constant high without the drugs – carried the negative connotations of mania, and feeling sad needed to be called “depression.” Last time he checked, everyone felt sad. Because Lyra often felt the need to burn himself rather than cry didn't mean he needed medication. It simply meant that he had a different way of copingwith his sadness.

Life continued that way: Lyra’s parents forced the medication down his throat and put up with his tantrums when they dragged him to therapy, and Lyra fell more and more into the preconceived notion that he was, and never would be, like everyone else and that his overworked parents just wanted to turn him into an obedient little puppy like they had created out of his older brother and younger sister (who was also bipolar, but dealt with it far less vehemently).

He had wanted friends at one point, even if he never admitted it out loud. He grew up stuck between wanting to fit in and wanting to rebel; wanting to conform and wanting to burn everything characteristic of conformity. That left him with almost nothing. Lyra regretted many of his past choices, as he didn’t particularly like where his life had led him. After all, waking up every morning to white walls and a cupful of pills shoved at his face wasn’t exactly like he had imagined his “grown-up” life to be. Perhaps white walls without the pills…

No, not even that.

He sometimes wondered what his life would have become had he been the submissive son his parents wanted. He would probably still be in school -- or out with a good job, at least – and hardly need his medication. Just like his sister. But that was the crucial part – he wasn't like his sister. Aside from their common illness, their personalities were on opposite sides of the spectrum. The day Lyra became subservient like Kendall was the day he conformed to his Aunt Catherine’s fanatic Catholicism. And that, of course, would be the day of the apocalypse.

Lyra sighed and sank down lower in his chair in the back of the van when he thought about his aunt. It had been her ravings about demon possession and satanic cults that probably most influenced his interest in gothic garb, as he loved to set her off. He knew she’d wanted to drive a stake through his chest since he was just a boy, so why not see how far he could go before she came at him with that aforementioned stake? Much to his disappointment, she just twisted up her little face and wildly clacked her rosary. Perhaps she prayed for the Lord to send down a stake that just so happened to puncture Lyra’s heart in the process. He was never quite sure what went through that mind of hers – just that it was never pleasant when he was around.

Just then, Lyra felt the corner of his mouth twitch. A smile, was it? That was unusual, unless the previous night’s round of medication was already beginning to wear off. Either way, a nurse would be coming around soon to give him a new batch. Then he remembered, as if waking suddenly from a dream. His amber eyes flickered to the occupied seats at the front of the van. He wasn’t at Gateway anymore. And he wouldn’t be going back as long as he could help it.

He had taken a sleep aid the night before, as he had been having trouble sleeping for several weeks. It left his head fuzzy and his senses numbed. Had he not been so determined to escape Gateway, he wouldn’t have woken up so early to run away with the rest of the group. Granted, if he had possessed the means to escape alone, he wouldn’t have agreed to join the group at all – Lyra wasn’t much of a people person. But now here he was, sitting in the backseat of a van flying at 100 mph or more down the interstate.

”Who the hell gave her a license?” he wondered, folding his arms across his chest and gazing out the window. The conversation circulating the vehicle wasn’t interesting enough to hold his attention. He didn’t care about their petty arguments or what they would do once they stopped. He just wanted to get close enough to public transportation that he could take a bus back to his apartment in Portland. However, Ezra was beginning to grate his nerves. Who would want to continue living at Gateway if the opportunity to escape and live a normal life arose? Lyra had wasted too much of his life in hospitals. He wanted return to independency.

A question to Sarabelle turned his attention as well. He glanced to the seat between them and saw her pick up a wallet that had been hidden there in the cushions. When she announced the value, his crimson lips parted in awe.

”What the ******** is someone doing with that much money in the back of a van?” he exclaimed incredulously, his first words since the trip began. ”Did it ever cross your mind that we might be stealing a stolen vehicle? ********. If we get caught, we’ll be locked up with the psychopaths.” Lyra didn’t like the idea of anything disrupting his opportunity for freedom, and if was charged with criminal behavior, it would destroy any chance he had at a new, successful future. If he wanted a job, he couldn’t have mental illness and felonies on his record.




_____________________________________________________

███████▐╏██████████▐╏ ↻ ♚ ↺ ███▐╏ ⥽ ｉｆ　ｔｈｅ　ｈａｔｅｄ　ｐａｒｔ


ｏｆ　ｍｙ　ｅｍｐｔｙ　ｓｅｌｆ　ｓｏｍｅｄａｙ　ｄｉｓａｐｐｅａｒｅｄ、

Ｉ　ｗｏｎｄｅｒ　ｗｈａｔ　ｗｏｕｌｄ　ｂｅ　ｌｅｆｔ？xx↞x♚x█████▐ ██████▐ █╏

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

✯ ʜ ᴇ ʟ ʟ ᴏ, ᴍʏɴᴀᴍᴇɪs -
emmest "zo" ogura
✯ ɪᴛ's ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜɪsᴍᴀɴʏ ʏ ᴇ ᴀ ʀ s , ᴅᴜᴅᴇ -
twenty-five
✯ I'ʟʟ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʀ ɪ ɢ ʜ ᴛ ɴ ᴏ ᴡ.
Overall, I consider myself to be fairly average. In Japan, 178 centimeters (5' 10" ) is giant, but here, I tend to be about the same height, if not shorter, than most other guys. I used to weigh a solid 60 kilograms (133 lbs), but food has been hard to come by lately. I've dropped down to 54 kilograms (120 lbs). Since I'm Japanese, my hair is naturally black, but I've been bleaching it since secondary school. I'm so used to it being blond that I don't think I'll ever stop, no matter how bad it is. I don't really have a good tolerance for pain, so no tattoos for me. I did manage to get my left ear pierced twice though.



✯ ᴀɴᴅʜᴇʀᴇɪsᴡʜᴇʀᴇIsᴛᴀʏ.
Floor one, room three
My room isn't too big, but it's better than the streets any day.
✯ ᴀɴᴅ I'ᴠᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ʜ ᴏ ᴍ ᴇ ғᴏʀ -
About four months, I think.
✯ I ɢᴏᴛ ᴍᴀᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ -
Women... I think.
✯ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴀ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ sᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ -
Recently unemployed, but I'm looking!


✯ ᴛʜɪs ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ.
leave this blank for now. character relationships will be discussed in the OOC thread. [:


x-tariraritarara-x

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

❝xx ｕｎｔｉｌ　ｍｉｄｄｌｅ　ｓｃｈｏｏｌ　
Ｉ　ｗａｓ　ｒｅｓｐｅｃｔａｂｌｅ　
Ｉ　ｗａｓ　ｒｅｓｐｅｃｔａｂｌｅーーーー


Ｉ　ｄｉｄ　ｕｎｒｅａｓｏｎａｂｌｅ　ｔｈｉｎｇｓ　
ａｎｄ　ｂｅｃａｍｅ　ａｎ　ｉｄｉｏｔ　
Ｉ　ｂｅｃａｍｅ　ａｎ　ｉｄｉｏｔーーーーxx❞



➤ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ➤





A honk on the street outside sliced through the gentle tranquility of the third room on the first floor and its inhabitant jumped awake suddenly. The cot rocked and his head hit the wall, sending a tremor up to the shelf above that jostled the few trinkets he had placed on it. He hissed a curse and shut his eyes, a hand on the now-sore spot on his head. He knew he needed a longer mattress, but it ordinarily didn’t trouble him too much. At least he was awake now. Careful of the shelf, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge. Another horn honked outside, but it didn’t feel as loud now that he was conscious.

”Sure are a lot of angry people this morning,” Zo mused, standing up and going to the large window. He pulled back the shades to a dreary grey morning and leaned against the glass to see the street. Dirty snow lined both sides of the asphalt and piled up around the buildings. Perhaps it wasn’t the greatest sight for the majority of the city dwellers, but for Zo, who had never experienced snow before, it still contained that hint of magic that came with seeing a field freshly blanketed in white. A smile pulled at his lips as he gazed outside, ignoring the chill of the glass against his fingers. He was notorious for being too optimistic. For someone who had seen more bad luck than good, it almost seemed strange that he didn’t spend his days moping. But such hardships had taught him to appreciate the little things. Like day-old snow, or the refreshingly crisp winter mornings. Had it not been for stomach, which growled right at that moment, he would have been out in the snow already.

Zo pulled himself from the window to gather up some clothes for the day. Although he kept his room somewhat clean, he had the habit of strewing his clothes all over the floor. Dirty, clean, it was difficult to tell. But he had lived out of a suitcase for so long that he wasn’t used to separating anything. He scooped up a pair of jeans and dug out a T-shirt and a heavy sweatshirt from the tiny dresser in the corner, checking briefly for wrinkles before changing into them. He snagged a pair of socks on his way out of his bedroom to search the rest of his apartment for something to quell his stomach’s growing irritation.

His living room remained in perfect order – empty save for a threadbare sofa, a dining table, and a box of magazines. His guitar occupied half of his sofa in the same place he had left it when he finally decided to go to bed. Zo hadn’t spent his Christmas out partying like everyone else, although the idea did cross his mind. Most of his friends in the building had gone to visit their families, or were working (unfortunately for them). The bar scene appealed to him, but he knew it would be crowded, so even though it meant he would be spending his Christmas alone, he passed it up. Instead, he stayed home and watched movies, read his magazines, and played his guitar. To say that he had been completely happy with that outcome would be a lie, but he didn’t mind. It had been enjoyable, at least. He had even treated himself to a bit of cheap wine that he had bought from the CVS down the street.

A knock at the door pulled Zo from his thoughts and his brow knitted. Being only the day after Christmas, he didn’t expect anyone to be home yet. But his curiosity led his feet to the door. After a precautionary check through the peephole, he unlatched and opened the door to a wrapped box at his feet. He smiled. Santa had visited him after all and made his day even brighter. Zo picked it up and took it to the dining table to unwrap. ”From Lea?” he read on the card, immediately calling forth the image of the tiny bartender. ”Lea Claus.” Now wearing the famous red and white hat. He chuckled and opened the box -- a shot glass, which he would use once or twice in the future, just for her; a box of dye, which he would use in the very near future, as his black roots had grown out about an inch; and a flag with the familiar red circle in the center. Zo examined this last gift. Sometimes he did get homesick, if he could even say that he still had a home in Japan. The flag was a thoughtful gift and one that reminded him that he would need to buy something for Lea in return.

Zo took the gifts to his bedroom to add to his collection on the shelf above his bed. His stomach growled to remind him of his original goal, but he knew his kitchen was empty. Kegan. He hoped the resident chef was home. And he hoped that he was in a generous mood. Slipping into the bathroom, Zo combed the tangles out of his hair and grabbed the orange prescription bottle from the sink. He tennis shoes awaited him by the door, so after pulling them on, he left his room and took the stairs to the fourth floor two steps at a time. He had more than enough energy this morning, most likely because he hadn’t been out until the wee hours having fun.

As he reached the top, slightly out of breath, he saw Clark and Kelly – and just a glimpse of Dulce – outside of Kegan’s door. Perfect. He was home. Either that, or he had left his room unlocked, as Dulce had just stepped through. Zo joined them, smiling. He didn’t know Kelly very well, but he adored the other two.

”’morning,” he greeted, happy that he was no longer by himself and that he was about to receive a breakfast bounty. It took all of his willpower not to follow Dulce straight into Kegan’s apartment, but he told himself to stay back and wait for the other two to go in. It was only polite, after all.




➤ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ➤




❝xx Ｉ　ｗａｓ　ｐｕｔ　ｉｎｔｏ　
ａ　ｐｒｏｐｅｒ　ｈｉｇｈ　ｓｃｈｏｏｌ　
ｓｏ　ｉｔ　ｗａｓ　ｐｒｏｐｅｒーーーー


ｉｔ　ｗａｓ　ｔｅｒｒｉｂｌｅ；　
Ｉ　ｂｅｃａｍｅ　ｓｔｕｐｉｄ
ｓｏ　Ｉ　ｂｅｃａｍｅ　ｓｔｕｐｉｄーーーーxx❞

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

【xxs o ɾ ɾ ɛ lxxɑ l ʋ ɛ ɾ s o ɳxx】


_______________________________________
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxｇｏｂｌｉｎ

Silence enveloped the little bedroom with the tick, tick, tick of the black and white wall clock breaking it periodically. Regardless, that silence was the deafening sort, where noise must be made to ensure one’s ears had not stopped working suddenly. A narrow bed took up the corner beside the window, which remained hidden behind thick black drapes that blocked most natural light from trickling in to wake the sleeper. Had someone been sleeping, of course. Sorrel was wide-awake – or at least in a conscious trance – on his back with the sheets entangled about his body, staring at the blank white ceiling. He couldn’t remember sleeping at all through the night. His mind had been turning over the events of the previous day and all of the information he needed to process. It wasn’t easy realizing that the past twenty-four years of his life had been a total lie; that he didn’t actually belong to the family that had raised him. But perhaps he should have noticed that something had always been a little off.

Sorrel shifted and slid his arm beneath his pillow. His siblings had always been so much taller than he was. Even his mother and father were both fairly tall. That should have been the first indicator that he didn’t belong. Even in the mortal world, Sorrel had always been small, hovering right around five feet and four inches. His two older brothers broke six feet by the time they were sophomores in high school and his sister grew to be nearly as tall. There was a good ten years between Sorrel and his brothers though, and so he had grown accustomed to looking up at them from an early age, but always with the hope that maybe one day he could look them eye-to-eye.

Not forever stand a foot – now a foot and a half below.

He clicked his teeth and turned to his side, coming face-to-face with the bright red lights on his alarm clock. It was later than he had expected, having thought that it couldn’t be any later than eight. But seeing that it was nearly noon spurred Sorrel out of bed.

He snatched up some clothes that were draped over the back of his desk chair and quickly changed, opting for a shower later in the day. His clothes all but engulfed his body now. He looked down at his black cargo pants, which hid his feet and dragged the ground even when he pulled them up. His grey shirt slipped off his shoulders and the sleeves extended several inches past his fingertips when he stretched his arms out. Sorrel sighed, clicked his teeth again, and shook his head. So the previous day hadn’t been a dream after all. But there wasn’t much he could do now. He bent down and rolled up the bottoms of his pants a little and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows before stepping out into the hallway to the kitchenette.

Sorrel prepared a pot of coffee and leaned against the counter to wait for it to steep. He held out his left hand and examined it – his chewed down fingernails, the faintly purple nailbeds, the blue veins against the surface of his pale skin. Then he turned it over and looked at his palm. As far as he could tell, only his height had changed. He dropped his hand down to the counter again. Partly, he hoped a new, awesome feature would show itself later on to make up for his diminished height, but the rest of him hoped he wouldn’t change any more. He could deal with being short, but what if he grew a tail? Sorrel grimaced at the thought and then yawned. No more than half an hour out of bed and he was already thinking about returning to it. But he hadn’t slept all night because of these same questions and “what if”s, so he knew sleeping wouldn’t happen until he got some answers. Or at least until he met up with the seven other new Halloweentown residents again.

When the pot had finished, Sorrel took his time to enjoy two cups before deciding that he couldn’t just stay inside his house all day and expect Halloweentown to just go away. So he dropped his mug into the sink and went to the bathroom to freshen up. He was reluctant to look into the mirror at first, expecting his face to have become disfigured or monstrous in one way or another, but he was relieved to find everything the way he remembered it – even his crooked teeth and drooping eyelid. But he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he wasn’t in the clear yet.

After washing his face, brushing his teeth, and other morning necessities, Sorrel headed out to greet the rest of Halloweentown for the second day. Of course, seeing all of the strange creatures strolling the streets hadn’t yet settled with him as being the norm, and so it was still a shock. But they all certainly looked like interesting fellows, and they acted just as civilly – if not more so – than humans, so he had no reason to worry. He slipped his hands into his pockets and started toward the main square with its giant pumpkin statue – his first real memory of the place. As he approached, a human figure sitting on a bench caught his eye, and Sorrel quickly recognized him to be one of the seven he had met the day before. He shrugged his right shoulder compulsively and changed directions.

“’morning,” he called to the other man as he came near. “You’re one’o’th’ new ones here, too, right?” While Sorrel could vaguely recognize some people, he had a terrible time with names. Mainly because he had the tendency to be too self-absorbed to care about anyone else. He removed his hands from his pockets and pulled back the fingers of his right hand before returning them to his pockets.

“’guess you haven’t talked to anyone else yet, huh? Mind if I wait here with you?” He leaned against the wall of the shop behind the bench and looked out across the square. “Well, assuming that you’re actually waiting here for somebody.”

Sorrel cast a sidelong glance at the other, searching for any physical changes but detecting none. Certainly one of the seven had to show up looking completely different. They couldn't all be humanoid, as the population of Halloweentown - from what he could observe - had a variety of oddities, making the probability of that low. He simply hoped that he wouldn't be the one of the seven who ended up looking like an actual monster.



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