Welcome to Gaia! ::

(( Any way we can work Honesty into this? X3 ))

Roc read the note out loud and then mulled it over in his head. He looked to the front yard, the street, and to his tired feet. It was then that he decided he'd need a tour bus sooner than he expected.

What's worse is he really wanted a lot of questions answered that his old man had no time to answer. A tea reader was the next best thing, right?

In his frustration, he banged his head on the door a few times before turning around to slowly head down the steps and back home.

"Man..."

Roc turned back around to hear the door, then his head swiveled to see a face poking out of the window. Boy, was this guy pale!

"I thought your sign said..." Roc shrugged. "Yeah, I got questions n'stuff that my old man can't seem to answer. I thought maybe you could help. Not sure who else would know."

Roc stepped back up to the front door to be let in.

"You allergic to birds, mister? Do fellas with feathered wings count 'cause I can't really do anything about mine? I promise I don't have any mites or anything."

"Who died?" Roc asked to be conversational, looking around as he went in. "It smells like... like... oolong, allspice, and..."

He took a long sniff.

"Patchouli?"

Roc looked around for a place to sit as the older Phony talked to him from the other room.

"Umm... is it only the future you can tell? 'Cause I need to know other things. For one, I never met my mom and I wanna know who she was. My old man doesn't even know and I have no idea how I got here if my old man doesn't remember."

Roc backtracked a bit in his thoughts as he hunkered down on the couch, his head (and where ever his eyes were hiding under all his hair) shot around the room. "Wait, so someone did die? People die here?? I've never even SEEN an old person!"

Roc was so round in the middle that his body sunk into the overly plush chair. He felt as though he were in comfortable quicksand and that eventually the chair might swallow him.

"I think the murderer was your couch, mister," Roc said, struggling to shift positions in his chair. "Well, you may not cover those kinds of questions, but you answered some of it, anyway. What kinda questions am I supposed to ask you, then? You mean, I can't ask you where the building is or if they'd even let a guy like me in?"

"Oh, I know what to do for money," Roc tried to ootch his bottom up as the cushion kept on swallowing him in. "I figured I'd do parties and gigs until I can find or form a rock band. I just kind of want the answers to things my old man can't give me. He's a great dad, but... ask him anything other than 'how do you bake a bran muffin?' and he'll just stare for a moment then bring you back a sandwich."

He clambered up again, gripping the arm of the couch for support.

"I think your couch is alive, mister, seriously. I'm glad we're leaving it here."

"I never really thought about it," Roc admitted. "I mean, I don't even know how I happened. Not really sure what I should feel, y'now?"

Roc slung his pack onto his back again to follow Cirrus. He really hadn't thought of it until the moment Cirrus mentioned it and a flood of new questions rolled into his thoughts. Would she be older than his dad? Younger? Does she love music like he does? Does she eat as much as his old man? Cherpumple didn't even have photographs of anyone other than Roc and himself and none of them looked older than a year or two.

"If she's dead, would you be able to talk to her?" he offered. "I mean, I don't think taking little round guys like me to offices is really part of your job description. I appreciate it, though, mister."

It was then that Roc felt that he'd eventually learn the truth about life in Phonyland. He knew how things were run, how things were bought and sold, and even how everyday life went on... But there were gaps in the daily equation that he knew wouldn't add up until he kept asking questions from people who knew.

"Maybe one day I'll be able to return the favor."

Mooncake was as excited as a little bookworm like himself could be as he dragged his brother to the light blue house at the end of the lane. He'd heard the owner was a ghost and he couldn't wait to see if it was true. Having read all about ghosts, ghouls, Yuki Onna, banshees, and any other spirit one could think of, he couldn't wait to find out that they actually existed. If ghosts actually existed then other things might too. Dragons, demons, werewolves, gods, and monsters. If the stories were true he'd be ecstatic and would have to find all the creatures himself.

"C'mon Paper. We can't keep the spirits or destiny waiting." He begged his brother to pick up the pace as he darted towards the door. He made a gentle knock on the painted wood then sat himself down with a look of expectation, waiting to be awed.