WELCOME TO LALA LAND [TEST][ DNP ]

[Asphyxial_Aoi]

Name: Shu Xinho
Species: Kirin
Origin: China
Age: True age unknown, but physical appearance suggest around 17 or older.
Gender: Male
Height/weight: 150cm, 48kg ; 4'9", 105lbs.
Orientation: Confused.
Powers/ability: Manipulation of fire, healing, agility.

The past: Too many years had gone past for him to really remember the early part of his childhood. Born in one of the respected family in the kirin community, life was one of the few somethings that never worried young Shu until the day he found his mother dead in a small forest where they always went to feast on the lush grass and delicious flowers, her dried blood leaving dark stains on the petals and grass where her head had been severed and her body exposed to the local predators. It was a horrifying sight that would hunt Shu for some years ahead upon realisng that the perfect world which he called home had now turned into a hellish prison, with humans and other more powerful predators lurking in their shadows. Kirins disappeared mysteriously one after another although there had been rumours that they were being hunted down by humans, driving most of the community into a fear frenzy. It reached its peak when their small little settlement was burned down in the middle of the night, driving the kirins deeper into unknown lands and father apart from each other.

The present: Living the life of a mystical creature wasn't as mystical as anyone thought, at least in Shu's opinion. Being young despite his age, Shu was getting tired of being worshiped everywhere he went and the ridiculous beliefs by the community relating to peace and prosperity to the lucky owners of a kirin's horn. He was tired of being hunted in the forest, of having to watch his every move or risk getting an arrow skewered across his throat. His folks were simply indifferent to the situation, saying that there was nothing much for them to do about their fate but decline further into the forests and make as little contact to the outside world as they could.

Personality: Kirins, as the legends described, were in general peaceful little creatures living in cool meadows and eating crisp grass under the sunshine. Shu, however, was the exact opposite of what their non-kirin community believed; he was rebellious and aggressive, and disgusted that his folks did nothing to change their fate. Kirins were always being hunted by the greedy and the selfish, and if Shu wasn't out looking for food he would often inflict some sort of trick on the humans, a sort of payback for their unforgivable deeds. Due to his behavior, Shu made little friends and was avoided by many other kirins in general which was fine by him. Alone or not, he would never bow down to anyone and subside to their greedy needs.

Extra:
Appearance: Human form. ll Kirin form.

[Asphyxial_Aoi]

_____נυѕt мє αη∂ tнє мυѕι¢

נσнηαтнαη • ωяєη • єαѕтωσσ∂

On a normal day, he started the day two hours earlier than everyone else in the whole neighborhood, stuck in a slummy alley about four blocks down the cheap apartment his old folks rented from an old couple who may or may not had anything to do with the local gangster, leaning against the grimy alley wall while taking a quick break from his paper delivering job. He couldn't remember the last time he had any decent rest or the last time he'd ever hung out with friends after school hours, in the end finding himself slouched in the sofa of the living room in pitch darkness after spending half the day doing various errands for the grocery shop just a few blocks down. Mom said you had to work for things in order to achieve it, just as she did when she sold herself to the local hen house in effort to get some extra money for the family and finance his schooling. You know, so he can be clever.

How his life ended up like this was something Wren had problems trying to figure out. It may had started at the point when Dad got kicked out from his job as a clerk for some obscure company in town and started using up all the family savings to become a professional teetotaler, specializing in Chinese 'medicated' alcohol and other crap under the same category. He heard that the old man had been laundering money to pay off ancient debts, hence the sole reason why he got fired but couldn't be sure, not that he cared much for the old man anyways. Or it may had been because of her mother all along, always hanging out with guys she'd met in random pubs that in the end she got hired for real money; so long as she was ready to work out of office hours. Perhaps that was the reason why his parents got married in the first place because they're both idiots. And Wren knew all too well about sin to hate them.

But of course that little intro had nothing to do with what was happening to Wren now, dropping his newspaper bag and jacket as he tried to struggle free from the overhanging tree branches that had caught against the fabric of his jacket. He could hear the heavy thumping of boots somewhere not far behind him, getting closer and closer as the seconds passed and yanked his arms free from the sleeves just in time to hear one of the pursuers commanding for him to stop running in a thundering voice that seemed to shook the ground. Wren had no idea what caused those guys to chase him or who they might e in the first place, unable to recall their faces anywhere in the neighborhood before. There was a huge chance that they might be thugs, but as far as he was concerned no one had ever bothered to claim the little shortcut that cut across the park between the apartment and his workplace, flailing out in pain as he slipped and lashed his face against an overhanging branch, feeling blood oozing out from the cut on his lower lip. He couldn't even remember the park being so alien as this!

Another menacing voice called out from behind him and Wren ran faster still, his dirt-covered blond hair flying crazily as he darted between trees and stumbled over thick bushes, trying not to panic. He was aware of the sky growing darker and the air starting to grow heavier as if he had entered a high altitude ground, panting heavily as he forced his tired legs to move. His eyes were bleary from dried tears and dirt but he swore to God he just saw something in the distance, like a huge house or something some hundred yards away. He could make it. Perhaps he could ask to borrow a phone and report the gangsters to the police or maybe just hang around until everything was safe again, literally throwing his body towards the bushes in a stupid effort to cover up what little ground was left between him and safety, holding out his palms to protect his head from skidding against the hard pavement and likewise add more injury than necessary, arms shaking with fatigue and fear as he pushed himself up.

To see two cosplayers standing right before him, looking as if they had just came back from one of those epic-awesome conventions they always held in town. Although just as silly. "Aughh God" Wren groaned between heavy wheezes before he could hold his tongue back, looking over his shoulders at the bushes. The heavy thumping of feet against hard ground was distant but discernible enough to indicate that his pursuers were closing in fast, turning around to face the two elaborately dressed couple since there seemed to be no one else around to ask for help. "Please.. call the police. Some guys are chasing me down an' they wont stop no matter what.. One or two or three, armed maybe, I don't know. Can you please help? At least lemme borrow your phones or somethin'?"

1nsʇ ɯǝ ɐup ʇɥǝ ɯnsıɔ_____

[Asphyxial_Aoi]

Druggie intro

Quote:

He started the day two hours earlier than everyone else in the whole neighborhood, stuck in a slummy alley about four blocks down the cheap apartment his old folks rented from an old couple who may or may not had anything to do with the local yakuza gangs, his mind fogged in thick smoke and a stick jutting out between his dark lips. He couldn't remember the last time he had any decent sleep or where he had been hanging out the whole night, in the end finding himself slouched in the sofa of the living room in pitch darkness. Mom's door was locked tight so he wasn't about to trouble himself finding out what was happening inside, grabbing a ragged sack he called a school bag and went out without even bothering to lock the door. That had been around four. By seven his stick was gone and the young male staggered down the street amidst the bustling sidewalk, ignoring the crowds as he made for school. The weed effect was wearing off anyways so he might as well spend the rest of the day somewhere productive. You know, so he can be clever.

How his life ended up like this was something Hitoshi had problems trying to figure out. It may had started at the point when dad got kicked out from his job as a clerk for some obscure company in town and started using up all the family savings to become a professional teetotaler, specializing in Chinese 'medicated' alcohol and other s**t in the same category. He heard that the old man had been laundering money to pay off ancient debts, hence the sole reason why he got fired but couldn't be sure, not that he cared much for the old man anyways. Or it may had been because of her mother all along, working in a hen house belonged to a group of yakuza to support her sick mother in the village. Perhaps that was the reason why his parents got married in the first place because they're both idiots. They were ********' meant for each other.

It was a few minutes after eight when he finally arrived at the school, climbing through the rear wall because he knew the stupid guard at the from gates wouldn't let him in, landed unhurt against the concrete ground and strutted towards class. The school had its own strict lines of rules and regulations but to Hitoshi they really meant nothing; the teachers never bothered to help him and judging by his appearance it was obvious why, with his badly bleached and untamed hair and the face of a drug addict, dark rings forming under his eyes. Although he never indulged in needles, his body was lean despite his height and his lips and fingernails had turned to the color of bruise. To think that girls would go crazy when their favorite stars dressed up like wannabe addicts.

He realized that class was already in session judging by the cacophony coming from inside, scanned himself up and down in one last effort to make himself look presentable before sliding the door open and stepped inside. It would had been interesting if the movies were real, when a lone vagabond enters a private saloon in the middle of nowhere and all eyes turned to look at him with awe and suspicion. But there was no suspicious much less awe going around as he walked towards his seat at the farthest corner of the room and sat down, not interrupting anyone in particular as the chattering went completely unfazed by his presence. Well perhaps the teacher, since the guy looked like he just got graduated from high school yesterday. The man'll get used to this sooner or later.

[Asphyxial_Aoi]

Apocalyptic (tribal) intro

Quote:

No one remembered where they came from nor how they managed to find the paradise in which they had come to accept as their homeland, like a small fragment of a priceless jewel among the now contaminated debris that made up the Earth's soil. That was probably the reason why some of them still had problems recalling the past, having survived through the traumatic radioactive hailstorm that took place some years, decades before, the chemicals having degenerated their minds to a point where breathing was a process that had to be taught over and over again. Though they still had reasons to simply forget about the past and the destruction it had done to their lives.

Start anew, that was the sole reason they were here in the first place. Striped off from the luxury of modern life the people of Orissa, taken after the same name of the land they now called home, were forced into learning the basic necessities of survival on their own. Everything was back into the Jurassic, and to imagine that these folks came from varied corners of the world with nothing to their name but the clothes on their backs, facing head on with the untamed wilderness of the East Indian soil required several rapid adjustments; thanks to the radiation flux some years ago, several animals inhabiting the area was also effected and mutated to a stage that could not only delight scientists but also pose great danger to the community. Despite their great tastes, of course.

But when the rumours of a newcomer arrived into their land and began to set up his personal properties, the people were naturally sore about the matter. In fact there had been several internal disputes regarding whether the man should stay or leave; while most of the elders wanted to welcome him, the repulsive ones insisted that the Orissian jungle had enough mouths to feed and that another one would disrupt the balance. Plus how do they know whether this man was good enough to be trusted into their community? Determined to settle the uproar, an elder volunteered to send his son to the stranger for a certain period of time and investigate his true intentions; if the man proved to be harmless then they would welcome him, if not then the son would simply put an end to the stranger's life before further damage is done.

Democracy relived at its finest.

Though to be honest Kou would had preferred a more challenging task than just sit around with a stranger and evaluate whether they could reach a mutual agreement together or not, making sure that his spears and daggers remained sharp all the while. But perhaps his elder did had a good reason for sending him forward because for one, he had a softer heart compare to his five other biologically unrelated brothers with an undeniably clearer head. He was also good at speaking just as he would at hunting, with a matured expression that betrayed years of experience and hard labour, his skin a soft tan due to hours of exposure under the new equatorial climate. And to think that he came from a Chinese origin, a race so complexly developed that they were a mix of every type of human available in the world.

So there he was, darting between shadows of overhanging tree branches and thick bushes in the general direction of the stranger's settlement, keeping low while looking out for any wild animal who also roamed the area for food. He wore a simple thin tunic-like garment that seemed to be made out of reptile skin, barefooted, a long quiver slung over his waist where he kept all his weapons and a leather back-pouch that contained whatever he managed to grab before heading out. His hair was the colour of mud and tied back in a tight ponytail so that it wouldn't get in his eyes, squinting between overlapping bush stalks in effort to get a better view of the concrete ruins just half a yard away. A soft monotonous sound that was anything but animal rang in the still air.

Thinking that he had no reason to wait any longer Kou crawled out of his hiding and stepped out into the clearing, keeping his eyes locked on the ruins and his ears out for any movements in the bushes he'd just left. It took him a moment to realise that the monotonous sound was actually a man's voice singing, walking towards a tree where it came from. Was the stranger really mad for being out here all alone and making noises that could surely draw danger to himself, frowning as he bent down to pick up a dry twig and snapped it into two. No use walking straight towards the tree, it could be an ambush for all he cared and he didn't want to appear like a hunter assuming that the singing did belonged to the stranger, hoping the snap would attract the others' attention.

[Asphyxial_Aoi]

He couldn't remember how long he'd been staying in the palace, how long he'd been imprisoned behind thick stone walls surrounding the entire perimeter of the sacred ground that homed the royal family. They were the very same family that had kept and isolated him from the outside world for so many generations under the sole belief, regardless of how foolish it may sound, that his presence within the premise would bring peace and prosperity to the owners; that had been in China, and after being hunted down and shipped to Japan under the emperor's request he realised that the beliefs varied very between the two countries. It didn't took long for the young kirin became accustomed to the new cultures especially regarding the emperor and the powers he held over the land, its people and the creatures who thrived on it. Why even back in his own homeland the rulers were the least bit shy to show off their influence by meddling with the most humblest of citizens and taking everything they had for his own benefit.

Humans, regardless of their positions in the eye of God, will always remain as one of the most degrading creatures to ever walk the earth. Or at least that was what Shu Xinho's impression of the prison-like heaven he was forced to live in. It wasn't as if they treated him badly; they gave him the best clothes and food and wine the district could offer and the benefit of walking around the palace grounds at any time he wanted so long as he stayed away from public view, but he would give everything to be free again, just like a real kirin.

Although as the years passed Shu began to feel a certain air of unspoken decline in the royal family, noticing and hearing rumours being whispered around by the numerous palace maids if they had just realised that myths were nothing more than myths after all, wondering if the kirin had anything to do with the downfall. But then again he knew that he wasn't about to get the blame himself; the new emperor sounded like a sloth and seemed to do little to improve situations. Unlike the previous generations the emperors would often make some sort of offering to the young kirin as a symbol of mutual understanding of the others' duties in the palace, but Shu barely remembered the current emperor's first name. Of course such things weren't exactly worth worrying about as long as his meals were prepared on time everyday and his tea ready after his ritual strolls.

That morning had been a rather chilly one so Shu had to control his impatience as the maids went over the tedious process of dressing him in thicker outfits, making sure that they were careful with his delicate pale skin and silky fine furs, even paid more attention to his dark mass of hazel hair than necessary. A ribbon was tied around the base of his horn, a sort of seal that limited his powers harmless. By the time he managed to break free from the maids and walked out of his chambers the sun was already peeking over the horizon, sighing discontentedly at the delay those humans had caused. The palace garden was a real sight to behold but unfortunately today he would had to rush things a little, strutting along the corridors in the general direction of the emperor's quarters where one would catch a good glimpse of the rising sun as it shines across the land. He had just rounded the corner when he caught sight of a human standing right in front of the doors, stopped short in this tracks.

"And who might you be, dear sir. Is there any way that I might be able to assist you?" he said as politely as he could muster despite the flat tone that came with it, taking a step closer to have a better view of this human. Evidently, this was not his day and he wasn't about to turn back just because a palace staff decided to meditate in front of the emperor's chambers in an unlikely weather.

[Asphyxial_Aoi]

[Asphyxial_Aoi]

н ι т σ ѕ н ι . к α м ι η є

[Asphyxial_Aoi]

Quote:

What I expect from you;

◆TOS for God's sake.

◆God mod is a total no-no.

◆Faithfulness. If you think the plot is lagging out, then drop me a note saying you're not interested anymore. Same goes if you're going offline for a long time. DITCHERS WILL BURN IN HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

◆Contribution. The story wont go anywhere if your character just sits in the throne and wait for someone to start an intergalactic war automatically. Same goes for plots; unless you already have one in mind, please suggest something so we can work it out together.

◆Backbone. I'll lose interest in an rp FASTER if the character who is supposed to be some fearsome demon warlord with 216351 years of experience in the battlefield but ends up a fluffy little softy when facing a neko boy of merely 16 (or the other way around). NOW THAT'S MESSED UP. Same goes for sob-stories and the Sue's family *v*

◆Grammar and spelling. I'm not a perfectionist because I'm a sucker for grandiloquent English but please do a little effort to add a little sense in your posts.

◆Pretty post is not a big issue for me so long as its not obstructive and has something to do with the rp. Same thing goes for anime or real life images.

◆Before sending me a PM please bear something definite in mind. I don't want to waste time and go through endless discussions about what craving I have in mind regardless to the fact that I already stated my preferences in the listing above. Rping isn't supposed to be a demonstration where everybody shows how creative and resourceful they are compare to anyone else. But if you think I'm just being cocky then about this matter then, well, I guess its just not your effin day.

◆Please don't give me the 'I only play submissive characters', its getting old. And its a huge peeve of mine when people go so far as too telling me what my characters should appear and behave; while their personalities can be changed depending on the theme, my OCs are not full time romantic romeos..

◆And for the love of God, I'm not rping with the sole intention of watching the characters going cyber on each other. If you want that sort of cheap entertainment then this is not the thread for you; the gender relationship stated above are just a part of the theme and has nothing to do with the characters going off on each other every five minutes! I can't stress that enough >:[ If you think you've understood my rules so far then put 'tiddlywinks' as the subject of your pm (because I'm tired of replying to crappy rpers who has no idea what literacy is).

◆Admit that Robert Downey Jr is frikkin hot.

◆Maybe I should change the header to "bitchy uke inside"

◆HAVE FUNNNNN

*clears throat*

[Asphyxial_Aoi]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx" BLOOMING ECLIPSE "
☷☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☷

----【--н ι т σ ѕ н ι . к α м ι η є--】

---------------" WILTING SUNSHINE "
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[Asphyxial_Aoi]

╔══════════════════╗

♔ Alexander Eastwood♔

╚══════════════════╝
xxxxxx❞Open lips, keep smiling for me❞

● Alex
● 20
● Gay
● Oh anything pleasant really, like ice creams and jazz and beer and pretty corner boys; 's long as its sexy.
● Ugh where do I even begin?! First off there's that fat lecturer, followed closely by assignments and tests in between, loud girls, idiots, nerds, pollution. Yeah.
● Asphyxial_Aoi




blunt★outgoing★just a tad bit lazy★possessive

[Asphyxial_Aoi]

x

----【--м α я ι υ ѕ . α ℓ є χ α η ∂ є я . ℓ υ ¢ α η σ--】
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For guilds;

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[Asphyxial_Aoi]

He liked winter. From the moment he came to know this world along with the strange and colourful things that came with it, he had always looked forward to a time when he could watch little drops of cotton-like ice falling from the sky all day around and blanketed the grassy earth in a thick layers of dazzling white. He was told that those things were called snow and would melt away by the time spring came. It was a shocking realization and for some time this caused strange sensations to occurred as his tear ducts swelled, overfilling his eyes with clear water that would slid down his pale cheeks whenever he thought about it; how could such beautiful things disappear in so easily? Did that meant everything else would disappear sooner or later? Being a doll, he was made to understand that he was different and would last longer compare to other living creatures, and so to think that there will be nothing left of this world except for his own kind was too much for him to bear alone.

But of course, being a caretaker he had no time to entertain such thoughts when there were so much work to be done regardless of the fact that only one person was living in the house and making all the mess while several hundred others just waiting to become alive. It was a doll maker's house and for many generations the family had been doing nothing but catering orders and making perfect dolls for customers all across the land, and generations-worth of debris can be found no matter which way you turned; on the floor, on the table, in the bedroom and storeroom and along the porches that ran half the perimeter of the house, the workplace. Especially the work place. It seemed the only place that remained clean and neat throughout the years was the guest room, where the family would receive customers, discuss about their requests and settle the financial side of the trade. Impression were crucial and had to be maintained if the family wanted to remain in business and attract more potential customers. But of course the hardest thing to maintain was no one other than the current proprietor himself.

Not that he was about to start complaining but being a caretaker Yue had always been concerned about his creator, Masamune Date. Yue would try his best and do anything he could to make sure the young man had everything he needed; good food, clean clothes, making sure that there were sufficient food and tool supplies around the house, enough resting hours while making sure he wouldn't miss his due date with a customer, an organized workplace, even forcing an occasional walk around the neighbourhood to make sure his limbs were still working and familiarize himself with the people. And when there were deliveries to be made that required a lot of walking, Yue was there to make sure Masamune had everything he needed; clothes, money, some light weight snacks for the journey, traveling passes, agreement papers, emergency doll-making tools and the doll itself.

And now that the leaves were turning and the temperature dropping to a point where thick clothes were especially essential to keep out the cold, Yue's work around the house became more hectic. Every room in the house had a small stove and each morning he would light them up one by one along with a few lavender-scented incense sticks so that by the time his creator awoke the temperature in these rooms would warm up to a comfortable degree. Then he set about to prepare the morning meal, chop up some logs for the kitchen or a quick visit to the local market for some food or spices. Always a quick visit because his presence never went unnoticed by the local people. Oh, they weren't mean to him. And would always say something nice and pleasant or a quick remark about the weather or asked how Masamune was doing whenever they bumped into him. But then again there were times when things just got awkward and Yue found himself unable to think up a single answer, spending the rest of the day wondering about these 'rumours' they were talking about. Once he made a trip to the harbour and got flirted by a group of foreign fishermen who just arrived at the village that morning. Luckily he never saw them again.

It was almost dark by the time Yue entered the kitchen with a pile of logs in his arm, shoving the woods under the stove to make sure the fire would last a little longer and went back to preparing the evening meal; today it was rice with bean curd smothered in thick sweetened soy sauce, fried octopus fresh from the market that afternoon and chicken dumplings, one the creator's favourite dishes. He was also thinking of making some confectioneries for dessert, something simple like wagashi or dango but he might need to ask Masamune first considering wasting food was absolutely against his calling. Closing the lid of the steam pot firmly, Yue assumed it wouldn't hurt to take a break now and see what his creator was doing while the bean curds cooked, walking out of the kitchen and began looking for the young man. He was wearing two ribbons that held his sleeves up and a tight ponytail, and just walking along the unheated corridors was enough to send chills along his bare arms.

But upon finding him sitting on the porch, perfectly asleep, Yue couldn't help but scowl disapprovingly before heading back inside towards Masamune's room to fetch a kosode. The young man was still asleep by the time Yue returned and placed the thick fabric across his chest, hoping that this could help him warm up. Then he reached forward and placed a palm against Masamune's forehead, letting his thermo-nerves feel for any increase of temperature. Given the option and strength, Yue would had simply carried him inside but then again didn't want to risk waking the young man or damaging his cogs in the process.

[Asphyxial_Aoi]

[imgleft]http://i278.photobucket.com/albums/kk117/ORO19/OC4/Vassalord01achl-1i.jpg[/imgleft]

The voice through my head... Asphyxial_Aoi

The name given to me... Marius Alexander Lucano

What I am willing to reveal... 28 years old

I am a... Human

I can assure you, that I am... Male

I prefer... Men, women. What makes the difference?

I've been told... I'm one of those guys who couldn't cook to save his own life. I'm one of those pathetic novelists who only knew how to write and make deals with his publisher, visiting the local pubs a few times a week to escape from that two-stories terrace-like tomb I call a house so you can say that I'm a fairly outgoing guy, impatient, silent, stubborn like any good novelist, and slightly old fashioned. People say that I'm too serious and mean, but that's not entirely true. I live alone, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it nor I'm dying to have a wife and kids all over my front lawn.

Where to start... I suppose its quite common for every published story to start its first paragraph from the first moment the protagonist opened his eyes to the world and acclaimed with innocent foolishness that he was going to achieve something big one day, something that would bring great benefit to the pathetic community in which he was born and liberate the harshness of reality from their shoulders like dusts blown by the cold wind. Apparently his parents also share the same wretched vision as their son possibly because at some point of their lives they had failed to do just that, sending him to the best school using whatever spare change their pitiful salaries had to offer, while at the same time managing the protagonist's other older three siblings with the challenges that came with the teenage years. Despite several domestic ans somewhat materialistic problems, the loving little family continued to strive on as strangers living under the same roof; just like any other family in this grey world.

Now at this point, after giving the reader a basic impression on the protagonist's family and a quick glimpse of his early childhood life, a novelist usually reverts the reader's attention to the boy's friends, teachers, rivals, his exceedingly impressive exam results, pets, soccer team, his favourite food, the first girl he approached, his first supervillian encounter and how he had to accept the fact that the fate of the world now rested in his hands etc etc. But for that the novelist could had turn the protagonist into a tap-dancing, sparkling vampire with an eye for candies and this was thought to impress the readers without fail.

And yet I'm sorry to inform you that I am not that kind of novelist, the kind who would invent fantastic frivolities when reality sounded too dull because instead of making any friends, rivals or joining the local soccer team the protagonist spend almost half of his childhood in a small room where the walls were painted in a sickly white glow with wires and translucent tubes intertwined among the bluish web of his youthful veins. The doctors and nurses were his parents and when it became apparent that he wasn't about to fight off a surpervillian and save the world from destruction, the boy started ignoring the pain in his body and began to write; he started to write with all his heart, pouring his emotions and his desires and his unfulfilled dreams on that accursed piece of paper that the nurses kept in supply if only he'd promise to keep them hidden from the head doctor. By the time he was discharged from the hospital it was natural for his 'mothers' to recommend him to a familiar figure in the publishing industry and before he knew it the protagonist was seeing his name encrypted on book covers that bore his story, his soul and his life. Before he knew it the leukemic boy had become a novelist of penny dreadfuls and making just enough money to buy another person's life.

Yep, you just figured whose life I'm talking about.

What I'd like on a collar... Fire, gloves, leaf. Yellow, silver, gray.

I am known to be... While I'm not making this up, suspicion and cautiousness has always been a part of my life so don't think that I hate you just because I don't talk to you. I believe that every creature, be them slaves or not, had the right to talk and act on their own. Of course if I catch you trying to kill me then I wont hesitate to kick your a** into the streets. But then again you might as well think that I'm making this up anyways so why did I even bother to.. Never mind.

My property... The job's still vacant.

[Asphyxial_Aoi]

House plan

Outside view 4

Kitchen and dine

Master bedroom
Smaller bedroom

Lounge 1 << Header

Office

Small library

Welcome to Marius Alexander Lucano's humble yet poorly maintained abode set back in an urban neighbourhood where everybody gamely tried to survive in genteel poverty. The neighbourhood's location was pretty strategic anyways, just within walking distance of the town's two largest commercial attraction which also happened to house the publishing firm whom Alex was tied to for the next eight years, hence the probable reason why everybody got poor so fast. Possibly.

Anyways back in its golden days the place was alive with the sounds of shrieking pets, voices of children emanating from every corner of the room, occasionally joined by a deafening cacophony of argument between husband and wife. The family was in total love with the place that they ended up, God knows why, naming the premise Angel's Playground. But by the time Alex came around the property with the estate agent the place was already falling into ruins... Wait, why am I talking so much about a frigging house?

The Angel's Playground has two storeys; on entering the front door on the ground level you will come upon a lovely little lounge that seemed to look as if it had came straight out from one of Alex's urban crime novels. Its not a popular novel. Moving further down the corridor you will come across the stairs on your right that leads to the second floor and also a door of the small library that would guarantee to give you a headache; it was a small cluttered sanctuary filled with books on varied subjects in which Alex had drowned himself in effort to produce his masterpieces. While he wouldn't admit this, the room needs serious cleaning.

The first thing you'll find on reaching the second floor is an office where Alex worked his brain into words but you can bet your bottom dollar that he often slipped downstairs and use the lounge as a refuge whenever he wanted to procrastinate from doing work. This is also where you'll find the laundry, a small toilet, a state-of-the-art kitchen complete with a dining room in matching colours, still in mint condition from the first day it was installed in the house.

Well you can guess what's waiting on the third floor; bedrooms! One for the master, one for the slave, and one mysterious room at the end of the corridor with its door locked at all time (ugh, it doesn't rhyme!). Each bedroom has its own private bathroom. Only the master bedroom has a balcony so unless you can come up with a good excuse then don't even imagine of getting inside to have the best view of the whole neighbourhood. Especially during sundown.

[Asphyxial_Aoi]

This was not his first visit to the Market and yet it didn't meant that he enjoyed every single moment of it. For reasons unknown he always found public places to be quite unsettling, with all the noises and the smell and the continuous flow of human that never seemed to show any signs of slowing down. As if he could do anything to change it. People were living in a fast paced world where everything was done in a hurry and there was really no time to stop and enjoy the beauty nature had to offer, but in the Market there was always time to stop and enjoy especially its various exhibits.

The first time Alexander Lucano came here was with a friend under the pretext of dining in a new cafe the friend's friend had just established along the street; he left the area soon after arriving and spent the next few days trying in vain to shove all the horrible images of strange creatures strapped with chains and imprisoned in cages much suited for animals, not to mention the poor living condition. It was here that he saw the young and the old, the strong, the weak and everything that came in between were auctioned off by obnoxious slavers as if their lives had no meaning whatsoever. Even though he was not a humanitarian it seemed quite wrong to treat people in such a condition and yet managed to get away with it. As he left the Market Alex could still hear the hopeless cries of slaves that hung in the air like a curse. Living almost half of his life stuck in a hospital where pain and misery go hand in hand, he realised that there were more hellish places on Earth than he had imagined.

But many years had passed since that innocent little realisation occurred and by thirty Alex had pretty much gotten himself used to accepting the fact that the slaving industry and all the operations involving the business would always bear a significant presence in his life. In everybody's life. He often used the Market itself as a reference setting for one of the scenes in his previous novels. On other days, when his dateline was weeks ahead and no reason to start rushing his work, Alex would wander along the street and chat with the guards or just hung around the square until the sky turned into a dark shade of blue, savouring the atmosphere that was slowly becoming a part of his soul. Occasionally he would accompany friends in auctions and watch people trade away their fortune just to purchase themselves a lovely little companion. These type of people never failed to irk him and he was about to end up in the same list.

Recently though, after a bad visit to the local physician, Alex finally made up his mind and decided that it was about time he'd start straightening his life out and find someone who could help maintain the house, his increasingly bad health and yet wouldn't end up being his wife in the near future. So after a quick dinner of beer and some frozen mess he'd found in the microwave, Alex pulled his car down the driveway and head straight for the Market. He had no idea what sort of slave he was looking for, as in whether they should be humans or other creatures, male or female, young or old. He didn't trust the collars the slavers used to label their wares because, well face it, it wasn't like the slaves personality would remain the same throughout its entire life. Unless they were heartless robots, which Alex had no intention of buying at all. By the time he reached the Market the parking lot was already full so that left him with no option but to leave his car near a gas kiosk some blocks away, walking the rest of the way before allowing himself to disappear among the ocean of creatures.

At first he'd planned to survey each shop for a slave that would fit his needs at the best price available, but judging by the crowd it was almost impossible to walk in a straight line without bumping into someone and thus decided to not waste time and buy whomever he could get his hands on. The first few shops didn't had the kind of slave he was looking for, holding down the urge to head back to his car and maybe return on another, less busy day. It was probably the tenth or twelfth shop he came upon when he heard a sigh coming from one of the cages that lined the display platform, stuffing his hands into his pocket and made his way towards it. The figure inside had long blond hair so it was safe for him to assume that it belonged to a female, but with her chin pressed on her knee it was hard to read her collar without having to step up and talk to her. Dodging a passing guard, Alex straightened his leather black duster as he approached her cage and tapped the metal bars gently with his hand, just hard enough to catch her attention.

"Excuse me" he said with the best smile he could offer; while his search wasn't showing any result it wouldn't harm to be courteous, especially if he wanted to avoid being lunged at by an offended slave. "Do you mind if I have a better look at your collar? How long have you been here?". The last question was a tip from a friend; the longer the slave had been living on the shelves the more problem it would cause to prospective masters, though the theory was nothing more than a working hypothesis.