⋨ ғєαтнєя's ғσℓℓч ⋩ ⒟⒩⒫

[Feathers Fool]

Telling me how you're going to outlive your body

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Weaving her way past loud street vendors and the poor souls just now shuffling home from work in the industrial buildings that towered off to the left, peering even through the hazy rain at the ants who would live and die within their grimy walls, hoping one day to make enough, Amira's boots slid up the grimy steps and eventually found themselves in The Hole in the Wall. Smokey and humid, and as dimly lit as always, she still couldn't help but smile, at the sounds of food sizzling in the back, nearly drowned out by laughter and conversations at various levels of inebriation, all the while serenaded by Korean love ballads piped in on speakers too scratchy to distinguish individual words. Not that she spoke Korean anyways. It had never stopped the elder Korean woman from attempting to communicate with her in the past, and as the stooped lady, who reminded her rather terrifyingly of her own grandmother, burst from the kitchen, eyes narrowing in on Amira, it didn't seem as if it was going to stop her tonight either.

In the barrage of obvious happy recognition, mixed with disappointed shakes of the head, the old lady tugged at Amira's jacket, clicking her tongue in apparent annoyance. While she didn't understand a word, she could easily guess as to what the commotion was all about. It didn't matter the temperature outside, nor the temperature of the rain. The slightest drizzle was the potential harbinger of pneumonia and eventual death. Everyone knew this, and how silly she was to be out and about in it, like a little child. Her eyes quickly scanned through the building. To the right ran the bar, nearly the length of the tiny restaurant itself, well equip with the usual fair, and even offering a few not so usual drinks if one knew enough to ask for it by name. A few factory workers sat toward the front, chatting. To the left ran the booths, and the few sad tables that could be crammed near the front, usually set up outside, if it weren't for the weather. It was a slower night than usual, though with the weather, she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Regardless, she'd wandered in about five minutes later than she'd suggested they meet, and Mikael still hadn't shown. By then the elderly lady had successfully managed to wrangle Amira's coat from her, and was gesturing with the menu toward the back, off toward her usual spot near the kitchen.

"Typical." Amira muttered as she followed the woman, still yammering away about what she could only guess, as she slid into the booth. The light that hung above swaying every so often at movement upstairs, not having seen a wash rag for decades at least. But the table was clean, and from the half dozen times she'd found herself in the kitchen, for one reason or another (usually to explain how to make a particular dish, though just as often just because she felt like leaving that way) the kitchen was clean enough. The woman paused, awaiting Amira's nod, before setting down an extra menu. So help her if he stood her up a second time. Because this wasn't typical. Far from it. And while she logically understood that her annoyance stemmed not from him making her wait, but him making her worry, and how dare he make her care, she would no doubt find a way to rationalize being angry about it on principle. He had ten minutes, she reasoned, before she left, and he'd have to hunt her down himself if it was so important.

Pulling out her personal phone, just to be certain he hadn't cancelled at the last moment, and also silently debating if now would be an appropriate time to send another, less understanding text message, she frowned at the text message flashing on her screen.

Message from Syd:
How do you know if you broke your spine? I fell a story, well I kinda did. I hit an awning on the way down and that really softened the blow! Oh sorry for missing the meeting! I feel bad that I wasn't there to sit next to you today.

She sighed, fingers flaring to life as she typed a response.

9:07pm To: Syd:
Where are you? Chances are if you're not in enough pain to make texting impossible, you probably just bruised something. Start slow, try moving your neck, and work your way down from there. Don't over do it. If you're in Varo, text the doctor, they should be headed that way.

She sighed again as she hit send. It was a bit later than prudent, she supposed, but better a response than none at all, and anyways, she could only assume the girl had figured it out and gotten the hell out of there. Then again...she could assume a lot of things that seemed logical to her, and yet, seemed to surpass other people. Like being on time, for example, or not sending in the doctor and the mechanic to find a busted phone. She shook her head. She never should have let them go off by themselves, and what now with the kid busting her a**, quite literally, what was she doing, sitting here waiting around for, anyways?

Looking up just as she'd made up her mind to stand up and leave, Mikael came into view, and she instinctively opened her mouth to let him have it. How dare he make her wait after standing her up before, with no word as to where he went, or why. How dare ask her for favors when he didn't trust her enough to let her know where he was going. How dare he have the audacity to make her care at all, what happened to him. She didn't care about people. She couldn't. And yet there he was, sauntering up in here like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her eyes flickered over his face and what was showing of his neck, and she snapped her mouth shut, eyes still obviously running through her various grievances, but her mind obviously having decided better of them, body shifting from the obvious intent to shout and leave, to a more resigned annoyance as she leaned back, waiting for him to sit.

"What happened?" She didn't deem it necessary to outline the specifics of the question.

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After everything, after everything. Left in the sun, shivering.

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Location:The Hole in the WallCompany: Mikael Mood: Annoyed/ Concerned Health:100%
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[Feathers Fool]

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All they wanted was a villain, a villain, and all they had was me.

Kika flinched as the doors burst open, silently cursing that they hadn't gotten the hell out of there sooner. She had to admit she was a little surprised that it was poofy bangs who'd decided to take offense and come out screaming, having assumed it would have been the red head instead. Not that when one was being screamed at, it particularly mattered who was doing the yelling. She immediately opened her mouth to defend herself, quickly jumping through all the pitfalls in the spiders argument that she could get worked up about. Yet she snapped it right back shut as Launo started speaking. For a moment she almost smiled, certain he was going to defend her, though could tell his thoughts her elsewhere as he spoke. Damn woman, coming out here talking about fire. She crossed her arms, still confident that once the bluejay was done being philosophical, he'd let her have it. Coming out here, getting all mad. Unacceptable.

She blinked though in surprise, as he turned to scowl at her. Luckily he'd shifted his focus back to the angry one quickly enough not to see the flicker of hurt on Kika's face, before it quickly shifted into a scowl of her own. I was defending you, you a*****e. She internally muttered, eyes going to mentally bore holes into the other woman's head. It was not a particularly new phenomena, that Kika managed to transform more troublesome emotions into anger, and then shift that onto other people, particularly when upset with Launo. She might have been content with mentally picturing chucking daggers into those poofy bangs of hers if Launo hadn't decided to strike up a conversation with her newly declared, though obvious enemy. Because now it was on, and Launo could scowl till his eyebrows touched for all she cared, because she couldn't keep her mouth shut this time.

"First of all, Bangs" as she had now dubbed her, "Don't talk about me like I'm not standing right here. I said we should all be adults, not that I personally was one. I just got done telling a b***h to sit down, is that very adult like behavior? No! If I were an adult, I'd have sat quietly, and listened to people talk s**t about my only friend, and then gone home and talked s**t about those people. Like an adult. Second, I had no idea you were a spider. I don't even know who you are. All I know is that your bangs are poofy, and I had just gotten done making a complete a** of myself, and happened to bump into you. Should I have handled it better? Maybe. But I just commented on your bangs. You just called me a bigot. You can call me a hypocrite for not setting an example if you'd like, but don't use my behavior to justify your own." While her previous rant had been relatively calm. Accented perhaps, but calm, this next round of words was anything but. And it really didn't have anything to do with Cassandra. Her words might have sparked it, but she was hurt, and she needed to vent it. Not that she'd ever admit it, of course.

She lowered her voice though, for the last part. "So I apologize for bumping into you," she glanced back at Launo, in typical, 'are you happy now,' fashion, knowing he'd want her to apologize, before glaring at Cassandra. "But if you want an apology for anything else, you can come get it over my dead, maggot ridden, rotting body." She finished. Perhaps not the most solid of starts toward a friendship, but she'd always had a way with words. Not a good way...but a way, none the less.

With that, she turned to Launo again, expression unusually blank. "I'll meet you at home." She muttered. Meaning his home, of course.










All they wanted was a villain, a villain, so then they just took me.
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Location: Outside Town Hall Mood: Pissed Company: Launo, CassandraHealth: 100% Watch the Feathers

[Feathers Fool]

Telling me how you're going to outlive your body

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Amira generally prided herself on the ability to pick up on even the more subtle social cues. After all, her profession necessitated the ability to read and manipulate peoples emotions, and respond with an appropriate emotional response in turn, even if one was entirely dead inside. So she silently cursed herself at the flicker of reaction on Mikael's face at her initial question, surprised. She should have assumed, as he'd never failed to miss a meeting before, that this situation was different. Instead, she'd allowed herself the unacceptable luxury of focusing only upon how his disappearance had made her feel, and the fact that it had made her feel anything, assuming, no, perhaps hoping, that he'd have a sheepish smile on his face, and a story of a bar brawl. Something totally unrelated to work. Something not life threatening. She'd be justified in her annoyance, but they could go about their night much like they'd always had, with no thoughts of mortality. No self reflection of the life they'd chosen to lead, and the price they had to pay.

The look on his face, even behind the bruising; the look in his eyes that he seemed determined to avoid meeting her own, told her before he'd opened his mouth, that the conversation she'd been clinging to was not about to happen, and another one, much darker, was going to replace it. There was no way to mentally prepare for the story he launched into, though she attempted to steel herself, just the same.

She interrupted when needed, and felt momentarily justified in her frustration with him as she told him how much of a moron he was for not at least mentioning what he was investigating, or that he was on a case at all. She'd heard of the disappearances of course, but it was Roe, and hadn't thought much else of it. I might have been able to help, or at the very least known where to start looking the night you disappeared. She'd sighed. What if he'd been killed? How would they have known? Would they have? Would they have assumed he'd decided to take off, disappear, just as many W.O.L.F.E members had done? Would she have assumed that? Would it have been better than the alternative? What if he died? Why was that such an upsetting question? Members died every day. This is why she didn't make friends. This is why she had no friends, instead forging fake connections with contacts, infiltrating their life, knowing more about them than their own parents most of the time, and yet never giving up a shred of herself to them in return. Why was this different? Why did she allow it to be?

She rolled her eyes as he spoke about going in alone, wanting again, to remark on how he could have at least sent a text, with an address even. She'd have understood. Instead she kept quiet, examining his face, as his eyes refused to meet hers. She nearly flinched at his gaze as his eyes finally moved from the table, to her own. She'd seen some terrible things, had passively, and at times been actively involved in situations she was not proud of. The shadows in his eyes though, and the deadness of the expression on his face had to be one of the most terrifying, heartbreaking scenes she'd ever been forced to bare witness to. This was not a person in pain, physical or mental. This was pain, bent and twisted into the shape of a person. It was it's own being now. Pain, and so much of it, that one was past the point of hurt. Was this the price they paid? Was it worth it? She was torn between demanding they leave right that minute. They didn't pack, didn't go home, just got on a train and disappeared. To a place where she didn't have to be anyone else, and he never had to ever look that way again. They could be broken and twisted in another city, far from this place. Time would heal. And what time didn't, death eventually would. It was that, or throw her hands over her eyes and attempt feebly to scrub away the mental image of him looking at her, looking through her rather. But as he spoke, her surprise and immediate realization of what him speaking Chinese meant pinned her to the spot as surely as if she'd been stabbed through the chest there, eyes baring into him because she couldn't look away. Like some ******** up train wreck, she watched as his words crashed through his brain, and rolled, broken and hollow, over her.

"Ránhòu. Tā... Tā qiángjiānle wǒ..."

"And here I am."

Amira sat in silence, heart breaking as he searched for her to respond and eventually looked away. She had no words for this, no fall back script. She had no persona to invoke that would fit this situation. Not with him. He deserved better than the shadows she gave everyone else. Her eyes flickered over the bruises, the marks. Perhaps if she'd known what her eyes were doing to him, she'd have closed them, looked away. But she didn't, and she couldn't. And he was waiting for her to speak, and she had no way of making this all okay, and he was looking at her now, and oh god, could she just hug him, would that be okay? Would he want to be touched, but there was a table in the way, and she'd have to stand, and she felt if she moved everything would just shatter into a million pieces and she'd never put it all together again. But Tenaga was dead, though that wasn't a solution. Yet that was her only solution. W.O.L.F.E's and perhaps the worlds solution to everything. Death. But you couldn't kill someone twice, and anyways, what in the hell was she going to say?

"Wǒ...wǒ xīwàng wǒ kěyǐ jiù nǐ. ...Qǐng kuānshù wǒ." I...I wish I could save you. ...Please forgive me.

She spoke in Ji-Lu, instead of her native Xiang, to ensure he understood. She spoke softly, not because she felt he was somehow more fragile than before, but because even in vulnerability he seemed so much stronger than she did, and she had nothing but 'I'm so sorry's to offer in return. She broke her gaze then, for the first time since he'd sat down, and put her head in her hands.

"Wǒ hěn bàoqiàn" I'm sorry.

Should she have told him about the time she'd been assaulted? Should she have told him anything at all more personal than the surface information he already knew. He'd just relived an emotionally devastating trauma. Bared his soul, or at least that scarred portion of it. And she had given...nothing in return.

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After everything, after everything. Left in the sun, shivering.

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Location:The Hole in the WallCompany: Mikael Mood: Numb Health:100%
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[Feathers Fool]

Lie down with me, my dear. Lie down.
Under stormy night, tell nobody.

My brother, where do you intend to go tonight?
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Adalia stretched, fingertips brushing against the oaken headboard of her carved bed frame, cool white sheets brushing against her bare arms. Steely blue eyes peered out from her comfortable cocoon, eyes searching outside her window to estimate the time of day. Sure she had a clock, ticking away somewhere at the back of her wardrobe, much preferring to guess, usually accurately, at the time by the position of the sun. It couldn't have been much past 4:30 in the morning, and she sighed in frustration at her body's inability to rest like a proper human girl should. She'd lain awake the majority of the night, and had debated at various times throughout her restlessness to slip away and go wandering. Let the forest sort out her insomnia, and maybe put some of her anxieties about the coming event to rest. Whenever she stirred to do just that though, her fathers equally restless pacing, or later in the evening, his light snoring from a few rooms down the hall forced her to lay down again. She may have been young, but she wasn't a fool, and was more than aware of her elder brothers absence and just what he got up to in the dark. Let their father worry about one child, she thought with a small touch of resentment. And it would be just her luck that she'd have run into her wayward brother during her late night walk. She could forgo the lecture that would certainly follow.

Instead she waited for the familiar creak of Stephano's window sliding open, and then back shut, and his exhausted self falling into bed, before rising. Their rooms were pressed right next to one another, which had allowed them easy access to one another in the middle of the night as children when they'd go on adventures. Now she was just glad he didn't bring his dates home, as she made up her bed out of habit. It was not sneaking out, really, she was much too old for that, as she swung her feet out of bed, padding lightly upon the chilled wooden floor before sliding into her slippers. The sun was already creeping up by that time, and one didn't sneak out in the morning. No, she concluded. She was merely an early riser. That was all. Or so she told herself, as she rolled up her white cotton pajama bottoms to keep the dew upon the grass from soaking them, before moving soundlessly from her room, down the stairs and out the front door. Still dark, the suns rays barely brushing through the mist covered trees, the light was sufficient enough to light the small underused path behind their house, and she moved swiftly in her leather slippers through the trees, quickly losing sight of the only home she'd ever known.

The mist chilled through her thin cotton top, clinging to her skin. She smiled. The pond wasn't too far off, and as she rounded the last corner, her smile widened at the lazy fog steaming from the body of water. Blue, glowing flies still swirled about, not yet intimidated by the approaching sun. Fairies, she'd insisted they were when she was younger shaking her head adamantly at Stephano's suggestion that they were not. Mother had agreed with her, of course, as mothers do, which immediately provoked her to stick her tongue out at her brother. But that was a long time ago.

Now, though, she proceeded to strip. Myrkvior was small, and the pond was relatively isolated. One would have to go out of their way to visit it, and in all the years she'd been going to bath in it, she'd not seen a soul apart from the deers. Relatively modest by nature, and more obedient than perhaps was healthy toward her father, she relished the small bit of freedom afforded to her in the morning before even the birds decided to wake. Free from judgement and expectations. Naked, she stepped purposefully into the water, ripples moving outward as she disturbed the otherwise still pond. Free from thought. The water quickly rose to cover the scars that started at her hip and clawed their way upward, and before she knew it, she was diving under. When she was younger, she was convinced that one day the water would wash away the scars. Wash away most things. But that too was a long time ago.

Too soon, the sun started to break from the trees, burning away the mist, and just as quickly her thoughts started to turn toward the day ahead of her. Floating motionless in the center of the pool, she closed her eyes. She hadn't seen Marzipan or Cullen in years, and she had to admit she was more than a little nervous at the thought of seeing them again. What could she say? The years spent exploring Eden felt like lifetimes ago. Would they even recognize the person she'd become? She wasn't certain she would be able to recognize herself if she were asked to, from the child she'd been, chasing after Stephano and strong arming Cullen to help her plot her next grand adventure. And Marzi. She had fascinated the young Adalia, as if she'd came from another world altogether. Adalia opened her eyes, and sighed. It was time.


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Adalia ran the warm water through the bath and stepped in. She'd ran home, letting the wind that rushed past her dry her slightly, hair still dripping as she'd crept back inside. The cook had already started breakfast as she tip toed past and back up the stairs. Unsurprisingly, Stephano still slept, and so did her father, giving her leave to dart to the bath, and scrub away her morning escapade, significantly less exciting than her brothers, perhaps, but none the less purposeful. It wasn't long before she was toweling off and headed back to her room. She started though, at the white box with blue ribbon laid upon her bed, and quickly turned toward the doorway that a moment ago had been vacant, and now held the large, and potentially imposing, though all the more comforting, figure of her father.

"You needed a proper Edenian dress." He spoke with a smile. "Wouldn't want those socialites to think we're barbarians, after all." He didn't say more, never having been a man of many words, before he disappeared, allowing his youngest and only daughter the time to get ready.

Immediately moving to unwrap the box, she couldn't help but smile as she pulled out the sparkling blue dress. Completely impractical, and certainly constricting, she had to admit it had been a long time since she'd had an occasion to dress up. Slipping it on, a little surprised at how well it actually fit, she sighed at the mess that had, and always would be, her hair. No matter what she attempted to do with it, it forever remained a poof of wavy locks, never quite settling right. She didn't attempt to tame them anymore, instead calling it what it was, good enough, and slipping out of her room and down the stairs, just as the sound of Stephano emerging from his room echoed behind her.

The next hour or so was a blur of rushed breakfast and last minute packing, helping as best she could in a dress that allowed little movement without seriously hitching up the skirt. By the look on her fathers face however, as she'd attempted to help with morning chores, he was anything but thrilled by the idea that she be doing any sort of activity other than standing around and looking pretty in the dress he'd just bought, and so she sat back down, enjoying the thought of an entire day spent confined less and less as the minutes ticked by.

It wasn't long after that Stephano chose to grace them with his presence, immediately headed for the door. Adalia sighed, turning to their father as his arms moved to encircle her. "Make us proud." He muttered, a hint of sadness tinged in his voice, one that she had to assume would always be there. "Look after Stephano." He added, before pulling back. How long ago was it, that he spoke those words toward Stephano about her? She nodded.

"Of course, Father." She responded, with a small, sad smile of her own, before turning to follow after her brother. Stepping onto the runway and entering the ship, she wordlessly took a seat behind Stephano, watching as his blond head inevitably fell back asleep. Sighing, she focused her own attention out the window to her right, chin rested in her hand. It was going to be a long, silent flight.


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Lightly tapping his shoulder, Stephano blinked awake. She waited, as he situated himself, before making her way off the ship. She'd watched the landscape slide past them, changing, throughout their flight there. She'd watched as Eden had slowly shifted into view, and as the dock had came toward them. She couldn't help but smile even, as Stephano shooed away a determined Eden servant. Like country folk in the big city, something about them would never quite belong in the place with so many people, and so many lights. Sliding into the carriage, her face once more resting against the window pane, her body already missed the shelter of the trees, but her eyes couldn't take in enough of the bustle that was the capital city.

"Do you think they'll even remember us?" She asked quietly, to which Stephano had promptly shrugged but made no comment. She briefly wondered what he thought of all this, if he thought anything of it at all. She considered asking him, as she'd done when they were children. "What are you thinking." Was a common question, one she'd pestered him with constantly because she needed to know. He spoke before she got the chance.

"Oh Stephy," She sighed, as if he'd withdrawn so far as to truly think her a fool, "no one's going to trap me with a line. After all, I learned from the best." She spoke quietly. What would have been a joke years ago, was now no more than a quiet truth. He was cold, and nothing she said had brought him back to be her brother thus far. Nothing would, she'd decided, but she'd be damned if she didn't continue to try. Still, she was tired.

Saved by the creaking halt of the carriage, she silently took Stephano's hand. Any other occasion would have been a reason to laugh, Stephano being so formal. Now though, with the mixture of a tight dress, a new yet somehow familiar city, and the pressure of representing her family properly, she allowed the formality, holding his arm as was custom. While she held her head high, her mind was elsewhere. Remembering how she'd ran her fingers along the same wallpaper that lined the hall now. Or how she'd hide for an hour and a half underneath the ballroom tables, of which she'd built a fort, before Marzi and Cullen had found her. Looking up at Stephano, she watched as his expression changed as soon as they entered the ballroom. Looking ahead, she decided that if he could do it, so could she. Taking a deep breathe, hand on his arm tightening ever so slightly, she smiled too, eyes looking upward toward the chandelier as Stephano scanned the room.

Adalia shifted her attention as she felt Stephano tense though, watching as what appeared to be a giant alligator slid into the room. Why one thought a creature remenicant of a dragon was an appropriate party guest, she had no idea, but there was one there, none the less. One obviously not pleased by Stephano's presence. Releasing Stephano's arm, she picked up her skirt, just as the monster decided to lunge, moving away from her brother, but keeping her eyes on him, opposed to the alligator barreling his way. She had no way of knowing for certain that the strange white haired woman would be able to manage getting her water monster under control, and certainly no way of knowing that Stephano wouldn't be it's next meal, the small look of worry betraying what her otherwise expressionless features refused to. Still, through it all, she watched him, eyes flickering toward Jack and the gator periodically, only coming to rest on them fully after it became apparent she'd subdued the pet named Frost.

She bristled as Jack spoke though, words laced with threats and suspicion. Her eyes hardened, as she moved to stand next to her brother once more, to his side, but slightly in front of him, eyes searching the Antilian woman's face much as the woman had searched Stephano's a moment before.

"How fitting you should mention safety. One should always be careful to watch ones footing, especially when suggesting accusations upon a complete stranger. We're all indebted to you for that reminder." She spoke pleasantly, as surprised as any that she'd spoken at all, flashing the smallest of smiles. She had nothing against the woman, of course, but her pet had just attempted to attack her brother, and she herself had just threatened him. Neither was acceptable, and she was going to make certain that the Antilian knew that.

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In the quivering forest, where the shivering dog rests, our good grandfather built a wooden nest...
Terrible am I, child? Even if you don't mind.



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Company: Stephano, Jack, Cullen, Marzi Location: The Ballroom
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[Feathers Fool]

Lie down with me, my dear. Lie down.
Under stormy night, tell nobody.

My brother, where do you intend to go tonight?
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Adalia fought the urge to roll her eyes as the first words out of Stephano's mouth were some of the very lines he'd warned her so sternly against not but a half hour before. While she no more approved of her elder brothers relationships choices, or lack their of, than anyone else, she had made it a point to keep relatively silent about it, choosing on a few occasions to bring it up with him privately, asking him just what sort of void he though he was filling with meaningless sex. Unsurprisingly, the conversations had never gone well, his responses cold and unmoved. There had be a time when his responses where so clipped and near angry that she'd started crying out of frustration and a reaffirmed loss of the brother she'd once had, who could speak to her about anything. These days she made no comment, publicly or privately, though he had made it a point to try and keep his skirt chasing from happening so flagrantly in front of her. As his hand moved to rest on her shoulder though, she couldn't help but mentally sigh, glancing up at him with a small smile to affirm she understood. She could never be mad at him. Hurt, and sad, and frustrated certainly, but never mad.

Her attention shifted back to Jack as Stephano introduced them both, nodding politely. She couldn't help but admire the woman. Then again, what was not to admire, after one has just wrestled an alligator, suspicion of her brother aside? But it was not exactly physical strength she found so particularly impressive about the pale woman, but a strength more fundamental that was clearly written all over her face. How her brother could be so oblivious to what stood so apparently right in front of him, as to think the same script he used to pick up country girls in Myrkvior would work on Jack was beyond her.

She mentally cringing as Stephano continued on the same vein. He could sense Jack's pain, but not her strength, or her pride? He used to be such an apt judge of character. Headstrong and perhaps only slightly less self centered when they were children, but nonetheless more tactful than now. Torn between wanting to jump in and fervently apologize, to attempt to save him some face, as well as Myrkvior, and hopefully derail the impending dispute that was no doubt about to erupt, she also didn't want it to appear as if not even Stephano's own family supported him. To publicly play damage control, and to make it appear as if even his own sister did not respect him enough to allow him to make his own decisions and stand by his words, however ill placed... No. She would stand by him in uncomfortable silence and pray that it would click in his head that he was speaking to a noble now, not a maid, before he made a complete a** of himself.

She breathed in a sigh of relief as her name was called, not much caring by who, though quickly smiling in surprised recognition as Cullen approached. Smiling in slight embarrassment as he kissed her hand, his formality solidly marked just how long it had actually been since they'd been in the same room, let alone the same region. Was this really the same boy she'd explored with, the same one who introduced her to the vast and yet undiscovered servants passages when on a visit to Eden when she was six, getting lost yet in awe of this underground network he seemed to navigate with ease? She had been the runt of their group, and she knew it, but it never deterred her from running to keep up, as her elders plotted their next great adventure. It always seemed Stephano's mission to impress Cullen, and so naturally if Stephano needed to impress him with his abilities, than surely so did she. Marzi had seemed like this untouchable goddess to Adalia, wiser than them all, and on a plane forever unattainable to the forest daughter of the duke. Cullen though, Cullen she was convinced she could keep up with.

Yet look at him now, appearing so regal. Before, they had all just been children. Now, now he was a true prince. And she had no idea how to properly respond to this, whether it would be more appropriate to nod her head politely, formally. Whether Cullen, through her years of absence, was as lost to her as Stephano appeared to be, no more than an acquaintance she used to know, or whether somewhere beneath his stately appearance, he was still her second brother, and her childhood crush before she was even old enough to truly know what a crush was, or meant. She was banking on the latter as she threw her arms around him, even in heals not anywhere nearing his height, hugging him.

Stepping back, she was practically beaming, with no hint of embarrassment for breaking protocol. So perhaps there was still sadness and an unnameable emptiness that tinged the edges of her eyes. And perhaps Cullen was no longer the best friend she had looked up to as a child. Perhaps Marzipan no longer remembered her, and perhaps Stephano had truly become the wayward son the rest of society had marked him to be. Tonight she would pretend.

"I'd be honored." She responded politely, taking Cullen's arm, glancing back at Stephano, shooting him a look that was a mixture of, "Behave yourself," "I know what I'm doing," and, "Please, God, don't get in a fight." A fairly standard look, as far as looks she gave her brother went. Still, even then, she appeared happier than she'd been in a long time, and whether it was all a shadow not based in reality seemed irrelevant.

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In the quivering forest, where the shivering dog rests, our good grandfather built a wooden nest...
Terrible am I, child? Even if you don't mind.



┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
Company: Stephano, Jack, Cullen, Ball Guests Location: The Ballroom
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[Feathers Fool]

Lie down with me, my dear. Lie down.
Under stormy night, tell nobody.

My brother, where do you intend to go tonight?
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Adalia's expression flickered momentarily at the cold expression Stephano had chosen to flash her in return, though her smile stayed firmly in place as she turned her back to him and focused solely upon Cullen. Her brother's distance, once a source of pain and confusion, was now merely a sore, yet familiar wound, no longer surprising. It was a challenge, if nothing else, and despite her generally accepting nature, she had inherited as much of a stubborn streak as her wayward brother had, though admittedly it appeared in a much less abrasive form. Still, she cared for the man, and would stand by him, regardless of his cringe-worthy womanizing behaviors, and regardless of how he chose to treat her. Loyalty, dependency, and perhaps unhealthy, it mattered little at the moment, pushing thoughts of her and her siblings strange, estranged relationship to the back of her mind, listening, of course, for the almost inevitable slap that Stephano undoubtedly deserved as she followed Cullen out onto the center floor, her brother and the strange woman in white's conversation fading into nothing amidst the chatter and music.

Her eyes followed Cullen's as they moved through the ever growing throng of patrons. Settling upon a group of women she had never personally met, yet could only assume to be nobility, she couldn't help but note how incredibly out of place she and Stephano must appear in a room full of nobles. Growing up, there was certainly a time where Eden had felt as comfortable as Myrkvior, filled with just as much to explore has her beloved forests were. A time where there was little difference where Marzi and Cullen, her and Stephano played, be it boggy marsh or plush carpeted guest rooms. But that was a long time ago, and now she couldn't help but note that she was surrounded by princesses who hailed from sculpted castle walls, and kingdoms so vastly different from her own. It was not jealousy, nor awkwardness really, that she felt, but more like odd surprise that while she slept in the same modest cabin her family had built, she could rank much the same as the princesses from much wealthier states. That she could feel both so familiarly comfortable with her hand on Cullen's arm, yet still hail from what felt like worlds away from the glittering electric lights.

She flashed another comfortable smile as Cullen's eyes once again met hers, seeing both the little boy she'd tried so hard to outdo, and the crown prince of an empire she barely knew, all at once, moving with him, the steps equally familiar and foreign, though never missing a step. "Things in Myrkvior are as you might expect. Any unease truce has been established, though it still stands to see whether or not the defectors will actually come to see reason." She responded easily enough, having slowly taken over more and more of what had once been Stephano's responsibility in Myrkvior affairs, even as their father held out hope that Stephano would outgrow what distanced him from his family and his people and take back the place Adalia was only temporarily filling. She purposefully left unsaid the reason behind the current lessening of tensions, assuming that Cullen, as knowledgeable as he was with how politics operated, would understand that now Myrkvior looked to see who of the Azaroso siblings would inherit Myrkvior rule. "Though, who can say for certain? Rationality has not always been a Myrkviorian strength." She added offhandedly, alluding no doubt to her brother's attempts to bed the Attillian noble, though certainly including herself in the statement as the song came to an end.

"Please." She responded with a polite nod at the prince's offer of a drink, accepting without hesitation. Young as she was, she did live with Stephano after all, and Myrkvior's stance on alcohol consumption was considerably more lax than some of the larger kingdoms, and more culturally accepted. While Stephano, as with most things, took things to the extreme, most Myrkviorians grew up from a young age consuming alcohol in admittedly small amounts. Besides, refusing a drink when offered would have been incredibly rude. As she followed Cullen's gaze toward the odd pair off to the side of the room, she stiffened, glad Cullen's hand was no longer upon her waist as her grip on her glass tightened slightly and she quickly moved her eyes elsewhere, and flinched in surprise as the lights flickered out and then back again. She stayed rooted as Amet suddenly appeared before Cullen, and therefore before her, eyes flashing toward Casper a moment involuntarily before staying unreasonably calm upon Amet. Not that her eyes stayed on the man for long, as he magically dragged a woman forward, destroyed Cullen's drink, and spun his shadowy story, leaving her wishing very much she did not have front row seats to the whole affair. But then the witch appeared to be addressing her, though obviously, thankfully, not in search of a response, as in a flash both him and his quarry were gone, disappeared just as quickly as he'd appeared in front of them. She could not help but feel bad for the twisted, sad woman who had stood before her just a moment before, and was gone the next. Sure, she had targeted a childhood friend, and she easily would have traded the woman's life for Cullen's own, regardless of the years of distance that currently separated them. Still...to be so close, she could have touched the woman...

Her eyes quickly jumped to Cullen, searching for a reaction, a cue as to how to react, hands still gripping her own untouched glass, stomach oddly soured at the thought of champagne.

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In the quivering forest, where the shivering dog rests, our good grandfather built a wooden nest...
Terrible am I, child? Even if you don't mind.



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Company: Cullen, Ball Guests Location: The Ballroom
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[Feathers Fool]

Telling me how you're going to outlive your body

※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※

TEXT I SHOULD HAVE WRITTEN A LONG TIME AGO

※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※

After everything, after everything. Left in the sun, shivering.

╔═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
Location:The Hole in the WallCompany: Mikael Mood: Numb Health:100%
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[Feathers Fool]

Aili Feng
▰ ▰ ▰ ⊱ ⊱ The Reluctant June
⊡⊰ Twenty Four⊰ ♀
⊡⊰ Distrustful⊰ Aloof⊰ Private⊰ Indecisive


You never asked for this, isn't that how the saying goes? Then again, you never seem to ask for anything, as you never seem to speak. Not to most anyways, yet it seems like you've got the whole world talking now baby, talking about what you've seen, yet refuse to share. You've been afraid your whole life, but it's too late for the shy act to pull you out of danger this time, isn't it? Because you followed that voice, right down the hole. Just what were you searching for? And how would you know if you'd found it, as you can never seem to choose? The Inquisitive March is chipping away at that silent shell of yours. What's he going to find under there? And the chance to be something more than what you are, how can you pass up a possibility like that?


✗✗✗ Feathers Fool
✗✗✗ When ever you call, I'll be there. I jokes, my schedule's usually pretty hectic, as I'm a full time student, and work full time in a pretty high stress job. That being said, I'm always able to find time here and there and can post once or twice a week without issue. And I'm usually good about letting people know a head of time if something's coming up (barring a complete hard drive melt down of course).
✗✗✗ Samples! Not that you weren't already stalking me anyways >.>

[Feathers Fool]

_____________________

Ｉ ｎ ｔ ｒ ｏ ｄ ｕ ｃ ｔ ｉ ｏ ｎ ｓ　ａ ｒ ｅ　ｉ ｎ　ｏ ｒ ｄ ｅ ｒ__⊰⊰ ✖ ❋ ✖ ⊱⊱_ _ _____________________
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _____________________

What? I wasn't listening...My apologies. My name is Aili Feng. I'm twenty four, born June 23rd, for whatever it's worth. I don't know you, I'm not sure I like you, so if you'd excuse me...

_____________________

Ｌ ｅ ｔ ’ｓ　ｔ ａ ｋ ｅ　ｔ ｈ ｉ ｓ　ｎ ｉ ｃ ｅ　ａ ｎ ｄ　ｅ ａ ｓ ｙ __⊰⊰ ✖ ❋ ✖ ⊱⊱ _ _ _____________________
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♋ Quiet. Quiet is safety, and I'd take a still room over a crowded street any day.

♋ Privacy. I don't believe that's too much to ask.

♋ Music is calming, and I find myself more comfortable when music is involved somehow.

♋ I pray. Illogical, perhaps, but it's all I have left of my past life. And you have to have something to hold onto when your world ends. Right?

♋ I love my home and take great pride in it. ...Not that I'm prideful....

_____________________

Ｎ ｏ ｗ　ｄ ｏ ｎ ’ｔ　ｇ ｏ　ｐ ｕ ｓ ｈ ｉ ｎ’　ｍ ｙ　ｂ ｕ ｔ ｔ ｏ ｎ ｓ __ ⊰⊰ ✖ ❋ ✖ ⊱⊱ _ _ _____________________
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _____________________

♋ Nosiness is unbecoming. If you'd kindly stay out of my business, I won't go meddling in yours. Not sure of a more polite way to say this.

♋ I'm not chatty, and so I don't understand people's need to chat me up when I don't know them. I don't believe myself to be rude, but if we're not friends, than I don't see the point in you telling me about the absolutely cutest green dress you bought yesterday. Please, keep it to yourself.

♋ People tend to underestimate me because I'm quiet. Just because I choose not to speak, does not mean I'm incapable of intelligent thought.

♋ My fear, my inability to be comfortable in almost any situation. I do not want to talk about this, but it is a trait I find insufferable in myself, and more insufferable in others. Isn't that always how it goes?

♋ The Bunnyman situation. That is all I will say.

_____________________

Ｉ’ ｍ　ｉ ｎ　ｔ ｈ ｉ ｓ　ｔ ｈ ｒ ｏ ｕ ｇ ｈ　ｔ ｈ ｉ ｃ ｋ　ａ ｎ ｄ　ｔ ｈ ｉ ｎ __ ⊰⊰ ✖ ❋ ✖ ⊱⊱ _ _ _____________________
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _____________________

♋ I was born in Hern, actually, though I would appreciate it if you would keep that to yourself. Not that I'm ashamed of where I originate from, I've not lived in Philos long enough for that sort of aristocratic nonsense. More because it is quite frankly no ones business but my own, and lord do the Aris like to talk. My family were....are...fishermen along the coast there. I was the eldest of 6, and spent most of my childhood in a shack be the sea. It's where I was happiest...if I remember correctly.

♋ I was smart though, or at least appeared to be. My father taught me to read, and from then on, whenever they went searching for me, that was always what they would catch me doing. Perhaps if I had focused a little more on helping the family, they would not have decided to send me away. It was my father's decision I'm sure, as he was always going on about how I wasn't made for a Dian life. When I turned ten, they sent me to a boarding school in Ophion.

♋ From ten onward, the boarding school was my home. And while the teachers insisted, as my father had before he'd sent me off, that my family had saved enough to pay my way. But I, just like the children around me, knew that wasn't true. Couldn't possibly be. A Dian saving enough for a year of school, let alone a full ride was absurd. I spoke differently, dressed differently, played differently than the other children. I did not belong, and none agreed more than myself. I attempted to run back home, many times, but I was always caught at the border, and sent back. I never spoke with my family again. They abandoned me for their version of a better life. I repay then, as I do most of the world, with silence.

♋ I made a friend, another Dian who became an Aris, and her family was the only solace I ever found in Ophion. I accepted my place as an outsider, that I would never see my home again,

_____________________

Ｔｈａｔ‘ｓ　ｅｎｏｕｇｈ，　Ｓｈｏｗ　ｍｅ　ｗｈａｔ　ｙｏｕ　ｇｏｔ _ ⊰⊰ ✖ ❋ ✖ ⊱⊱ _ _ _____________________
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _____________________

♋ Now this is the fun part! You get to explain what your character brings to the table. It might not seem like it right away, but the characters of this story will be pulled to and from an alternate world, solving the riddles of the worlds and why they are merging. There are sure to be quite a few baddies along the way, so it’s best to be prepared!.
♋ Depending on if your character is an Aris or a Dian may help you figure out what they might be able to do. A point I’d like you to consider is that if you’re an Aris with a “primp and proper” upbringing, you might have something a Dian, “survivor of the wastelands”, may not, and vice-versa. Anything you can consider a skill that could help them, from weapon handling, to fighting, to conversational skills. Put. It. Here. .
♋ Also, I am allowing few on both sides that may have had genetic alterations/mutations due to the contaminants Terra has gone through. This doesn’t mean I want you to go ahead and be a Mary Sue. Consider your options and if you feel like putting some minor ability as a skill, feel free to run it by me. But honestly, I’d like more learned abilities than simply granted ones. Use your judgment or pm me.
Keywords in firebrick.

_____________________

Ｂｕｔ　ｆａｔｅ　ｏｒｄａｉｎｓ　ｔｈａｔ　ｄｅａｒｅｓｔ　ｆｒｉｅｎｄｓ　ｍｕｓｔ　ｐａｒｔ _ ⊰⊰ ✖ ❋ ✖ ⊱⊱ _ _ _____________________
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ _____________________

✗✗✗ Feathers Fool

[Feathers Fool]

First Last
Age
Feathers Fool
SOMETHING Faction Leader
Three adjectives to describe in general your planned character. I want everyone to be diverse to a point. Please don't use general words such as nice, kind or mean... Get creative.
Samples

[Feathers Fool]

Name: Amelia Wynn
Age: 27
Occupation: Clinical Psychologist
Bio: Amelia specializes in abnormal and neuropsychology. She was previously employed at a prison before accepting employment at Rainbow Hospital.

[Feathers Fool]

MY NAME IS ::: ◇▰▰▰▰xxxx Amelia ! Wynn

oo1. A b o u t M e . . .

◇ ▰▰n i c k n a m e s
xxxxx Amelia. Just Amelia.

◇ ▰▰a g e
xxxxx 27

◇ ▰▰h e i g h t
xxxxx 5'5"

◇ ▰▰w e i g h t
xxxxx 90lbs

◇ ▰▰e y e s
xxxxx Grey

◇ ▰▰h a i r
xxxxx Black


oo2. G e t t i n g P e r s o n a l . . .

◇ ▰▰p e r s o n a l i t y
xxxxx Amelia is a bit of an enigma. Withdrawn, and generally to the point, she doesn't banter. Somewhat cynical, she is not the happiest person to be around. If you catch her laughing, it's usually because she finds something ironic, not funny. She's honest though, and will say exactly what she means, or nothing at all. But sometimes exactly what she means is more convoluted than a lie.

◇ ▰▰b i o g r a p h y
xxxxx Her mother was a renowned clinical psychologist herself growing up, and her father was a detective for the city. For a time growing up, her life was stable if not outright privileged. At 12 years old, her mother, being the analytical type, determined that the life she currently had was not the one she felt worth living and elected to instead leave her daughter and husband to pursue a life with one of her clients she'd been having an affair with for over a year. Her father took it particularly hard, and as demanded of such situations, threw himself into booze and work. She did her best to take care of him, but around the time she turned twenty, he left for a case and never came back. She in turn threw herself into school, somehow believing that everything wrong with us, and the world we create is entirely mental, and if we could just reshape our mental spaces, maybe our physical realities would follow suite.

◇ ▰▰t i m e
xxxxx She's a new hire.


oo3. S p e c i f i c s . . .

◇ ▰▰l i k e s
xxxxx Clean spaces
Interesting cases
Worn out faces
Organization


◇ ▰▰d i s l i k e s
xxxxx Personal questions
Unnecessary conversations
The color orange
Chaos

◇ ▰▰f e a r s
xxxxx Emotional connections
Madness
Being implicated in a crime in which she did not commit


oo4. E x t r a s . . .

◇ ▰▰t h e m e x s o n g s
xxxxx Mad World- Gary Jules



Feathers Fool !

[Feathers Fool]

𝕬𝔩𝔢𝔎𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔦 𝕬𝔫𝔱𝔬𝔫 𝕸𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔬

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

Swallow him whole like a pill that makes you choke and stills your soul
You have the nerve to look me in the eyes and lie

Smile sliding right off his face, his arm, which just moments ago had been about to wrap itself around Leah's waist, slid just as limply to his side. Eyes flicked from Launo to Leah, and the look of betrayal in them must have burned because Leah stepped back like she'd been slapped. Eyes sliding back to Launo the silence hung like a noose.

"Alek-" Leah started.

"Get out." Alek cut her off, his tone carrying a particular flatness barely veiling a silent anger Leah was entirely unfamiliar with but one which Launo had undoubtable experience with. He didn't bother to wait for a response before turning on his heals and slipping right back out the door, the nonchalant footsteps of a man just come home decidedly gone from his now determined footsteps echoing off the wood floor.

Flashing Launo an unreadable look, Leah turned to follow him, rushing to catch up as his back disappeared into the bedroom.

"Alek, he's your brother." She started again quietly.

"I know right who he ******** is, Leah. He seethed, shrugging off his suit jacket and throwing it down onto the bed before moving to tug at his tie that was suddenly too much too tight but wouldn't ******** come loose.

Leah grabbed his hands and gentled pushed them away to do it herself as Alek sighed in frustration but relented, snatching the tie away from her as soon as it came loose to throw it just as unceremoniously on top of his jacket.

"He can't stay here. I want him out." He repeated as if he said it enough times, and with enough force he'd not only shove Launo back out on the street, but shove this entire moment in time right out of his life. "You had not right-"

"I had no right?" Leah shot back in mock indignation immediately shifting from quietly apologetic to quietly aggressive in an instant. But she'd lived with him long enough to know how to direct, and redirect his anger as naturally as she knew which color pallet would work for her well paying clients. "We're about to have a baby, and you have a brother I never knew about? How are we supposed to start a family if you're hiding things from me?"

Alek glowered, shifting uncomfortable for want of a retort.

"You told me everyone had died-"

"They are dead."

Send him back
I'll share the trap that you have me in

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[Feathers Fool]

𝕬𝔩𝔢𝔎𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔦 𝕬𝔫𝔱𝔬𝔫 𝕸𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔬

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Swallow him whole like a pill that makes you choke and stills your soul
You have the nerve to look me in the eyes and lie

Leah whirled on Alek, eyes flashing the way they sometimes did right before she was about to let him have it, and he certainly wasn't disappointed as they instantly narrowed in on him. He sometimes wondering if she'd been a sniper in a former life, how she was staring bullets right into him that way.

"You call him back," she growled, "right now, or so help me, I'll pack everything up right now and go stay at my mother's." She shoved the picture in the broken frame onto his chest, and grabbing it reflexively he sliced his hand open.

"The ******** woman-" He huffed as she'd pushed the air out of his lungs, but he didn't get much else out before she started in again.

"Tossing your own brother out on the street like that! If you can't accept the family you have now, you don't deserve one." She snapped, eyes still glowing in anger before slowly starting to well up. At just as quickly as she was gloweringly angry, she burst into tears, pushing past him and slamming the master bedroom bathroom door behind her.

"Ah ******** jesus." Alek sighed in utter frustration. Leah'd been upset at him, sure. But tears always signified the worst, and they'd only gotten more frequent since the pregnancy. She'd never threatened to leave before though, not even when he'd forgotten their anniversary and had come home late as well as drunk from a particularly fruitful client meeting.

Prying his hands from the photo, he glanced down at the broken glass, and the family judging him beneath stains of blood he was quick to wipe away, ruining his shirt before it stained the photo itself.

"Ah ********." He muttered again, scowling as he heard the front door swing open, everything in the damn house seeming to echo.

"Launo!" He shouted manipulative little s**t. He stepped to the doorway of the bedroom holding his hand wrapped with the helm of his shirt, and looking downstairs to the front door where Launo stood. The bathroom door creaked open. "You can stay."

If ever there were words he'd swear he'd never say.

Send him back
I'll share the trap that you have me in

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[Feathers Fool]

Amelia slid into the building as the sliding doors parted, nothing in hand but a small leather bag. She'd been interviewed for the position at Rainbow Hospital a few weeks previous, and had accepted the job on a number of small, but personally crucial conditions. First, that she'd slowly transition her office from her previous job at the prison to her current office at the hospital, giving her time to organize everything properly over the weeks, and be ready immediately on her first day. Second, that only the doctors whose patients she'd be working most closely with were to be informed that she'd been hired at all, which made the first stipulation somewhat of a feat. Even moving small boxes around and into the empty space she'd be setting up shop would have attracted attention eventually, which is why she chose to do so mainly after hours. The night nurses would recognize her perhaps, but still not really know who she was until she hung the name plaque onto the door, currently wrapped within her bag.

Pausing to let an ER nurse rush past her, she remembered the third stipulation. Not to be given a tour of the hospital. A customary practice for a new hire, she understood, but she much preferred to find places herself, or be given spontaneous assistance. She had no desire to be shown what the administration of the hospital felt was important to note, but what he patients felt important. What the doctors she'd be working with felt was good to know. If she'd been hired as a staff psychologist, as she had been at the prison, her requests would have been different.

She knew the way to her office, however, that having been well established over odd weekday nights in her transition period, and that's the direction she headed now, not helping but notice how decidedly different everything looked, and felt, during the day.

Stepping aside to let others pass her near the doorway to the cafe, she paused again in her otherwise determined pace. She was not what she would consider an "eavesdropper" by nature, generally electing to ignore most of what she stumbled upon hearing on accident until a person felt fit to tell her so themselves, if they ever felt fit. But catching the tail end of Mikoto's conversation with Dr. Ikaia presented exactly the opportunity she'd been hoping for by electing to forgo the complementary facility tour.

"Pardon me," Amelia spoke politely as they both emerged, "but would you mind if I joined you? My name is Dr. Wynn."

She was sure she had other doctors to meet, and files waiting on her desk to read, but how often does a youth not only agree, but actually suggest 20 questions of their own accord with an adult no less? With their peers perhaps, but this was rare. Whether Mikoto was on her caseload or not was still to be determined. What she could learn about the hospital, and about the man with the chart in his hand, who she could only assume was a doctor here, was invaluable though. Her files, surprisingly enough, could wait.