Braving the Elements: Part II (O/A) New characters welcome!

[N 0 U N 0 U]

x x x Kolby x x x

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Kolby awoke with a start, something loud rang in his ear. Still groggy with morning fog, rolled over to see the extremely disheveled, mouth opened, drooling Serena. He jumped back, forgetting where he was and who she was. Her slow and heavy snores made him remember everything and he held back a laugh. She was not in her prime. Kolby got out of the bed and stretched a little. Not before long did he hear heavy footsteps out in the hallway. He thought about waking up Serena but... Snores filled the room and he decided to let her sleep some more.

He easily went out of the room in silence, tip toeing through the hallway and down the stairs. By the time he reached downstairs he could hear food cooking and it smelt heavenly. “If you tell me you're a vegetarian, I'll be forced to mercy kill you.” That was definitely Tabor. Kolby peeked his head in the kitchen and saw that Phoenix was with him as well. As if on queue, his stomach growled rather loudly. He internally sighed and walked into the kitchen, pausing by the two before moving on to the cabinet. “Good morning, Phoenix, Tabor.” He felt it more proper to acknowledge the female before the male, he even bowed his head a little to her.

In the cabinet he found ingredients for oatmeal, though he felt that was not heavy enough. Moving to the fridge he found the protein. He contemplated whether he should make food just for himself, or for himself and Serena, or for the whole house. Besides, it was only polite.

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[Taidine]

RYAN MCKORMICK
-
CELESTE ABELIA

< | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | >

Meanwhile,

back

at

the

lab

...

McCormick didn’t see the dream himself, of course, but he had experienced previous dream-sendings of Abelia’s, and she briefed him on the contents of her message, so he knew what it would be like. Abelia did not know enough of the air wielder they were targeting to contact him specifically. She simply shaped a dream and cast it into the aether, minimally tuned so only those of a certain aura – air-affiliated, and strong – would intercept it. Geographically, it wouldn’t hit Valhalla. The chances of a sufficiently strong air wielder besides the target picking it up were low at best. There was Grayson, of course, but his wards would eat the thing. Barring the unforeseen stirrings of the Nexus that had formed, it would arrow into the mind of the man who had attacked the Organization’s targets without brushing anyone else along the way.

The environment would be determined by the dreamer. There were plenty of gaps for the recipient’s subconscious mind to fill. The most heavily predetermined image was Abelia herself. She would appear in her astral form, of course, distorted by her own perceptions and the flavor of her magic: her body smaller and more slight than she was in real life, so she looked almost cartoonishly well-endowed in comparison, her chin-length black hair perpetually ruffling in an unfelt breeze, her eyes opalescent white rather than their true pale grey. She wore the traditional garb of a Seer of Thoughts, the diaphanous layers of white and grey and silver embroidery floating around her in a phantom updraft, and the suggestion of feathered wings would flicker about her back, rooted, she explained, in a childhood of ancient tales associating air wielders, especially telepaths, with the angelic. When he had been at the receiving end of her dream sending, he had been caught between a kind of involuntary lust, inspired by her apparent fragility, and disdain, for the pretentious trappings. He knew nothing about an astral image was a conscious affectation, but hers seemed to reveal a dreamy softness beneath her professional exterior which was disconcerting and a little troubling.

Nevertheless, she was a good tool. Without the coordination of telepaths, the Organization would never have survived, let alone succeeded in their mission to resurrect the magic of the world. It was comforting to know that even if the plan failed now, as they collected the pieces, their most important goal had already been achieved…

Abelia would appear, and interact. Most of that, too, would be provided by the dreamer, in the same way their slumbering mind created any of the cast in their dream. She might well be out of character, since only the slightest imprint of her personality would be borne by the magic she sent out. She would converse, most likely in the oft-nonsensical fashion of dreams. There were three invariant points that the conversation would be inexorably lead to, however. An introduction; I am Abelia. An explanation. The group that you met, the ragged gathering. They are trouble. I mean to defeat them. Can you help me? And a means of contact. Follow the river a day’s walk to the west, to the waterfall with the stone bridge. I will meet you there.

There was a whisper of magic bound up in those pivotal bullet-points. If the dreamer gave their name in response to the first, it would make it back to Abelia. So, likewise, would their response to the second question; and if it was not positive, if they expressed no interest in fighting the ragtag band of the Organization’s targets, the third point would not be triggered; they would not be given the contact information. The dream, or at least Abelia’s influence on it, would end. It was completely possible she would have made enough of an impression on the sleeper's mind that her astral form would remain, but it would be a mere image animated by the dreamer, incapable of telling them anything they did not already know.

She sent it out at sunset, while McCormick was outfitting Mirage. It would dissipate with the sunrise, whether or not it found a target; and then they would know how to proceed.

[everlonley]

Samiel Kalba
Samiel had fallen to sleep almost instantaneously when he had hit the fold out couch, hell he would have fallen asleep on a rock he was so tired. Then the ritual began, it had been like this ever since he left his village. The blackness of his mind engulfed his form and slowly rays of dying sun could be seen reflecting off the hard stone edges of the houses and caravans that had lined the village streets. A podium had been erected in the center of a back ally which was so crowded people were almost trampled under foot. This was perhaps two years ago when His brother had been at the height of leading a rebellious uprising of angry fathers and families who's children had died in a war no one understood. The field of vision sharpened and landed on the figure at the center of the podium, it was Harry, Sam's brother and he was dressed in a large red trench coat and holding a sword in one hand a look of fierce smugness about his young teeenage face. "Listen to me my brothers and sisters, this is the day we find the truth, no longer shall we be denied the reality behind this war we so pointlessly fight. Rise with me all of you and we shall take this to the very doors of the council, for we will not be denied." he roared his voice filled with a strange sense of vicious purpose.

The crowd responded by raising their fists and letting out a bellow of support. Jumping from the podium he made his way through the crowd a small path way appearing before him in the massive throng. Then Harry stopped as a figure barred his path, it was Sam in a dull brown cloak looking at Harry with a look of pleading "Brother stop, can you not see. all you are doing is bringing the war away from the battle field and into our streets. Our very homes." he said his voice straining with urgency. Harry looked at Sam with a mix of contempt and bafflement. "Was it not you brother who first told us of their deceit, wasn't it you who told us we must make a stand if we were to be heard. Well here we are making a stand as you said." Harry said in a voice of clear anger. Sam looked at him exasperatedly "This is not what I meant and you know it brother, stop this foolishness and we may all live. Do you really want these good peoples' blood on your soul?" he asked his voice growing bitter.

With a growl of frustration Harry pushed Sam aside and marched on "Tonight it will all change brother, remember that." he called back as the alleyway emptied after him. The memory faded slowly and way replaced by one much more vivid, fire blossomed everywhere the whole scene illuminated by the brightness of the moon. People were screaming and running in every direction fire bursting into life at random moments as the fire users fought one another, once again Sam came into view huddled over a bleeding body wearing a red trench coat. Holding him tightly Sam's face was dripping with tears as he griped Harry whose side was bleeding profusely. "Why brother? why did you have to do this?." he whispered through shuddering breaths as Harry's eyelids fluttered slightly. "I did this for you brother, because you were right. Somethings wrong with this world. I guess I wan't strong enough to fix it." Harry whispered his body stiffening as his voice became softer and died. Letting out an anguished scream the dream faded.

Sam woke up sitting bolt upright his eyes wet with tears, wiping them off he sniffed and tried to compose himself before going to see the others. Looking around him as he silently cleared his throat he noticed Jeremy lying on the floor near him and managed a small smile, stretching a little he slowly stood up and crept over to his sleeping body "Wonder if I could make the poor guy some new glasses?" he thought to himself as he noticed for the first time the absence of the small spectacles.

[Taidine]

Jeremy.Grayson

Wit Acuity Intellect Perception Speed Curiousity
AIR





Oblivion was a gift. Jeremy passed out minutes after lying down and slept like the dead in the early hours of the night, untroubled by the pangs of either injury or conscience. He welcomed the darkness of un-thought, and would have been more than happy to remain unconscious well into the morning, or longer, until his battered body and mind had healed. Sleep wrapped him like black velvet, muffling the pain and silencing his thoughts.

He couldn't have expected the fire. It ran up the edges of sleep, licked at the rich soft black, gold and red and orange, consuming his peace. The crackle of flames mingled with frantic screams and a growing sense of horror. He was not lucid enough to be confused, a mere voyeur to the macabre display of pictures and emotions that danced around and through him, a mental spectator. Nonono, why did you do this, why didn't you listen why couldn't I stop it? Terror and rage were a whirlwind in his head, the fire danced in time to his beating heart. Tears dried on his cheeks in the hot, parched draft off of the flames, he mouthed useless questions, knowing as blood ran down his arms that the broken body he held would not, could not answer them. The alien emotions rang as strong as his own, resonated with his own helpless frustration, the world was falling apart around him like shattering glass, was burning, all around him and in him until there was nothing but fragmenting flame...

The cry that tore out of his throat woke him, more from the abrasiveness of his voice than from its volume, and he surged up from the floor, into a kind of half-seated crouch. Pain exploded as his burnt hands scraped against the floor, and he choked back a second shout, trying desperately to reorient himself. There was nothing here he recognized, and nothing was burning, and according to his inner ear he had been falling, but everything else disagreed, and he was in pain, and hungry, and as he reached out to steady himself, his hand encountered a pair of legs.

Samiel... He identified the person standing over him, and the rest of his memories resurfaced. He was in a house owned by that Earth wielder - he still hadn't gotten her name. He was wanted by the government or something. He was surrounded by death. He released his grip on Sam's thigh, too distracted to be embarrassed, and eased himself backwards, so he was resting more solidly on the floor. That didn't explain the previous scene, though, the burning, the storm of emotions...

"Dreaming," he muttered, half to Sam and half to himself. It was both a thrilling and an unsettling thought. Jeremy could not recall the last time he had dreamed. Not since he was a child. Maybe not even then. "God. Just a nightmare." He tried to dismiss it, as others might, but he couldn't shake his own unease. I must be seriously messed up if I've started dreaming....

He tilted up his chin, looking at Sam, trying to keep his anxiety from his expression. A beam of sunlight speared in from a small, high window; it caught on Jeremy's eyes, making them gleam a liquid gold, and outlined Samiel in a soft glow. God, he's beautiful. The thought was unexpected, and for a moment it was enough that his control over his expression faltered, his fragile mask slipping for a fraction of a second, his brow folding with worry, but he recovered quickly, schooling his features to sheepish impassivity. "Um. I hope I didn't wake you," he tried, apologetically. As he trailed off, drawing breath for some other banal phrase, he caught the unmistakable scent of breakfast - eggs and pork. "Is someone cooking?" That he asked with unfeigned eagerness; reminded of the existence of food, his hunger pushed insistently to the forefront of his concerns, immediately distracting him from Sam, injuries, dreams, and anything else that might demand his attention.

[everlonley]

Samiel Kalba
Samiel smiled kindly to Jeremy as he slept. He took a step back as the sleeping form jerked out of it's blissful tranquility with a yell. Kneeing down he put one hand on Jeremy's shoulder as a sign of comfort "Having nightmares too huh? Guess its natural looking at the resent drama we've all faced." he said trying a quiet soothing voice, grabbing one of the pillows from the sofa bed he flushed it up and eased it behind Jeremy's head. Now that Jeremy mentioned it there was a heavenly smell of cooking wafting through the house and his stomach growled angrily at him for his neglect. "You stay here, I'll see about getting you some breakfast ok?" he said gently as he got to his feet and stretched his arms clicking a little, he smiled slightly as he looked inside him and found his energy reserves back up and ready "It may not have been the best sleep but it's better then nothing." he thought making a walk way to the door.

Smiling one last time to Jeremy before he left the room he shut the door behind him and made his way down the hall his ears picking up familiar voices. Reaching the top of the steps he descended into the lounge and moved over to the kitchen where Phoenix, Tabor and Kolby were. Smiling to them he looked over at the frying pan hungrily, "Morning, is there any breakfast left the smell is delicious." he said cheerfully his stomach grumbling in agreement making him go a little red. Sitting down at the table he ran a hand through his hair which was alot messier then normal wincing as he met knots.

[Taidine]

Jeremy.Grayson

Wit Acuity Intellect Perception Speed Curiousity
AIR





Samiel's gentle smile was enough to stir Jeremy's guilt. I still don't understand why he's so kind to me... the air wielder thought, looking down at the floorboards as a comforting pat on the shoulder and a pillow were bestowed upon him. He wasn't lying down, and didn't really intend to remedy that, so he clutched the latter to his chest in order to have something to do with his arms. He thought it smelled faintly of Sam, but that might have been his imagination.

At least his friend reacted with no more than his standard disinterested concern. If he had been perceptive enough to guess even the depth of Jeremy's anxiety, if he had questioned him on anything that hadn't been directly stated, Jeremy would not have been able to sustain his outward serenity. But no, Sam was reassuringly oblivious. It seemed Jeremy had no need to fear anything he did not say outright would become known to the fire wielder, be it in regards to dreams, conscience, or dubious crushes.

“Stay here – I'll see about getting you some breakfast, okay?”

Jeremy exhaled sharply, vaguely irked by the implications, and looked up in time to intercept another bright smile that almost made him miss responding. “I'm not an invalid,” he grumbled, a beat too late, as Sam stepped over the threshhold of the room. “I'm not even the one who passed out yesterday because I drove myself nearly to destruction.” It emerged more cuttingly than he had intended, but really, Sam's recklessness was unconscionable. If he should die... it would be worse than losing Lana. Far, far worse.

The thought of the earth wielder shook Jeremy's fragile equilibrium, but it was not as sharp a pain as it had been yesterday. He took a steadying breath, then chanced rising to his feet.

Everything hurt, of course. Every muscle protested stiffly to his choice of furniture – or lack thereof – for sleeping. A dozen bruises added their dull notes of pain to the symphony, and the gash on his side tugged warningly, as though the wrong move might pull it open and start it bleeding again. His throat was scratchy from heavy breathing and lack of water, and his head pounded from his overuse of magic, a throb that seemed to start between his eyes and radiate out through his skull. And he had gone right past hunger into nausea. It was the queasy, dizzy light-headedness of low blood glucose that most nearly defeated him in his efforts to rise, but despite it, he managed to get himself upright, tossed Sam's pillow onto the couch, and headed towards the aroma of food.

His aura-sense had returned to its usual intensity, the deafening effect of whatever he had done yesterday having worn off. He needed a moment's concentration outside the kitchen, shifting his focus away from the distracting clamor of magic-song before he entered, a part of his brain identifying the occupants. Sam, of course, Pheonix, Tabor, and Serena's boy – the name escaped him. Just core members of the group, then, none of the new hangers-on, people he knew and could predict. He walked in, paying more attention than should have been necessary to keeping his posture straight and his gait smooth.

“Morning,” he greeted, tersely, but not without warmth. His gaze flitted over the room, searching for food with unconcealed eagerness. “Where's our hostess?”

[LOBOTOMYartist]

[[T a b o r. S c h w e r t.]]

"Feeling paranoid, true enemy or false friend? Anxiety's attacking me and my air is getting thin. I'm in trouble for the things I haven't got to yet. I'm chomping at the bit and my palms are getting wet." - Sweating Bullets, Megadeth


The group seemed to be waking up all around the house, drawn to the smell of food like moths to a lamp. Samiel walked downstairs and asked sheepishly about breakfast. Tabor looked up from his plate and the then nodded toward the stove counter where a couple dishes loaded up with the rest of the eggs, bacon and pancakes sat waiting for the rest of the group. Maybe Kolby didn't trust Tabor's cooking or else he felt threatened taking his food like a scavenger. Tabor couldn't care less in fact, he was just happy to finally have a full stomach. It felt like it had been days since he'd had a decent meal.

Not surprisingly, Jeremy found his way downstairs soon after Sam. Tabor nodded him a greeting and got up from the table to put his dish away. The morning felt too calm and frankly, too normal for it to be real. Ever since they became a group, every moment was confusion and conspiracy. There was nothing they could do normally, life wasn't about that. Tabor crossed the room and rinsed off his plate, placing it in the sink. Camille's kitchen was the very essence of quaint. It would have fit very nicely into any variety of Home and Garden Magazine.

"Where's our hostess?"
Tabor shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't seen stem nor leaf of their hospitable native. Most likely she was sleeping in, probably recovering from having to deal with the rantings and ravings of her less than stable house guests. "Haven't seen her." He said and then turned when he saw another person enter their midst. Sasha's hair stuck up awkwardly in the back, suggesting a restless night.

She walked passed the group, a bleary look in her eyes and went straight for breakfast. At least she was still human enough to appreciate bacon. Her thoughts wandered as she grabbed a plate. Something was off, more off than usual. She felt almost as if they were under surveillance. Knowing their pursuers, it was unlikely that weren't being followed but this felt different. It was as if they were already inside.
"We will leave soon." She said, dipping a strip into maple syrup. She was distracted, a lot of time thinking would do that to a person. Especially a person running from a dangerous Organization while harboring fugitives.

[NyteMary]

☣șᾃy ɕoodϐӌɘas we ם α и c ɘ with the 𝔇𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 ＴＯＮＩＧＨＴ

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ρhoeиix✰e∂αиα✰кαиαρiмα
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Phoenix rose from her place on the stairs and drifted back into the kitchen, as if returning would somehow force food to magically appear on the table or encourage her to go a-hunting for something to eat. It didn't. She stood there for a moment, her eyes fixated on the fridge, willing it to come to life and cook its insides. She sighed,crossed her arms over her almost non-existent chest, and paced the room. The scene in the window over the sink pulled her attention from her hunger to a strange looking bird perched on a branch in a nearby tree. She leaned forward and stood on her toes to get a better look at the thing. It was really hideous. Who the ******** would create something so ugly? I bet it tastes delicious.. If she could catch it, she string it up on a spit and serve that ******** up like a Christmas ham.

She didn't even hear Tabor's heavy feet on the wood floors. " Thanks for the ******** wake up call," he said dryly. Phee turned slowly, rubbing one of her arms like a crackwhore looking for a fix. She probably looked like one too, with her hair as ******** up as it was. " If I was gonna be up, you were too." It was said simply. She watched as he helped himself to Camille's supply of food with a little excitement. Hell, with a lot of excitement. At least someone was bold enough to prepare food in the woman's house without fear of being eaten. She plopped happily in a chair as she waited patiently for him to finish searching and begin cooking. Phoenix watched him with a hint of intrigue and admiration in her eyes. Who knew the guy could actually do something other than kill and move rocks?

There was no way that she was a vegetarian. She didn't say anything as she watched him dig into his own plate. She would always find the way a man ate entertaining. There was the savage eater who ate like he hadn't eaten in years, the priss who never made a mess, the meticulous who ate everything at one time, taking his time, and then, there was Tabor. A combination of the three. Smirking, she tackled her own plate breaking bacon, cutting pancakes, and forking the s**t out of her eggs.By the time the others came down to join them she was pushing her plate away and sighing contently. It felt good to be full.

" I'm all for leaving now," Phoenix said in response to Sasha's announcement. It wasn't meant to be one of her snarky or bitchy comments, but it sure came out that way. But she was not about to apologize for it. " No sense in departing all at once if we're separating anyway." She was interested in getting as far away from this house and this woman as possible. Where she would go when she left, she had no idea. She would probably gather some clothes or other things from her place in Valhalla and then hightail it out of there to a neighboring neutral city.

.

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♫яock the boat, the boat, and then you rock the body baby♫

ғiяeтяibe
ぷ

ＤＯＮ'Ｔ yѳυ 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔢 ｌ ｏ ｏ ｋ @ him нəя iи the ЄΥЄ

[ThisIsATempNameWhoo]

Adele Rose Lilliette
"We rode on the wind, became a whistle, and ended up in an unknown place." -'Illusion'


Adele and the boy spoke for a short while until they'd agreed on her staying with him. She sat around the fire until he'd headed off to bed with the promise she'd properly put the fire out. Within a few moments of him slipping into the tent, she'd peeled off her dress and taken in the cool night breeze, her slip shaking with the breeze, but it's straight structure kept it from flying too far. Her eyes wandered up to the sky, her favorite place. Constellations and the moon--it must have been the night sky she'd loved so.

Those eyes followed the dots--lit brighter now that they were away from the larger cities--to form many shapes until the sun started to rise and her eyes finally began to droop. As promised, the fire was snuffed out, and she began to fall asleep. Unfortunately, her body had no intention of following her plan of sleeping on the ground. Pulling her dress with her, she kicked off her shoes and wandered into the small tent as quietly as she could, lying on the opposite side of it as him with her dress draped over herself. The ground was hard, but she was okay with it. At least she wasn't surrounded by death.

She took in the shape the tent was in, patches and all, and sighed with the smile of a mother whose child was being fussy but quite adorable. After a few moments, she'd fallen asleep finally, eyes shut, long dark eyelashes fluttering no longer.

When she dreamt, she dreamt of the people she'd met that day. Jeremy, Pheonix and their companions, the strange air user whose life they'd taken, Ward, Alex... Mostly, though, it was focused on the head of blonde that'd slapped her hand away twice in one day. Whatever was wrong with him, she didn't exactly know, and it hurt her to think that she might have made it worse. With a couple of tear stained cheeks, she slept 'til either woken or noon, never one to prefer day to night.



“A whirl enchanted us 'til the darkness took over. I clenched my teeth; we’re back to the usual place again.” -‘Illusion’

[Taidine]

Jeremy.Grayson

Wit Acuity Intellect Perception Speed Curiousity
AIR





Jeremy spotted the food spread on the counter and dove for it like a hunting bird, snatching up a griddle cake and only waiting long enough to introduce it to a pat of butter before he began eating it, one-handed and a bit curled to keep the slippery spread from escaping. He was habitually fastidious when eating, but the desperation of hunger tempered that penchant; he was dexterous enough not to lose the butter entirely, as he simultaneously devoured the pancake and clattered open a few cupboards looking for a plate, but it was a near thing. Presently, he found the chinaware, stacked his plate with a generous helping of everything available, and moved into an unobtrusive corner of the homey kitchen, making way for Sasha at the counter.

“We will leave soon,” the dark-haired woman said as Jeremy walked past her.

“I’m all for leaving now.” Pheonix was lounging in a chair at the table, an empty plate in front of her. “No sense in departing all at once if we're separating anyway.”

Jeremy looked up from his plate at that, although he had to swallow hard before his mouth was free to respond. “We’re separating?” It was the first he had heard about this, and to him it sounded like the sheerest stupidity. “You can’t be serious. We don’t stand a chance if we don’t stick together. They’ll hunt us down one by one.” He and Serena had been able to defeat one rogue air wielder, barely, but that was nothing like the government coming at them in force. The mere thought of losing Pheonix’s explosive power or Tabor’s steadier strength made him mildly worried, and that of having to control either of them without Serena’s quiet compassion was even worse. Sam… well, Sasha didn’t care about Sam, so Jeremy didn’t have to worry on that point, at least. Or rather, he only had to worry about Samiel leaving of his own accord, not as part of any scheme. “Look, I was skeptical about your conspiracy, but that's over. I saw people from every element working together in that base, and I can’t imagine us ultimately surviving them unless we do the same. Is this a temporary measure? Is there some sort of plan here?” His indignation softened on those final questions, and he looked at Sasha inquiringly. “Frankly, this is the first time I’ve felt safe in weeks, and I’d like to stay at least a few more days.” To fix Sam (the thought prompted him to dart a furtive glance in that direction). He was much better today than he had been yesterday, but he still did not think he was up to any sort of real conflict with the malignant power that had insinuated itself into the fire wielder. He didn’t want to face that thing a second before the seal he had put on it broke, and he intended to take every second of that borrowed time resting and replenishing his reserves, both magical and physical.

[everlonley]

Following Jeremy's suit Samiel dived for the food as if it were gold. Renting a cupboard open he grabbed the first thing he could find to support food which turned out to be a large jug and grabbed a few handfuls of food shoving them inside. Taking a moment to look at it his face broke slightly into a grin and he raised the jug to them all "Bottoms up." he said with a chuckle tipping his head and the jug back and letting the grease from the food help it slide into his gaping jaw. After a few good mouthfuls filled with alot of chewing and once a near choke as a piece of bacon decided it wanted to travel to his lungs instead, he put the jug down and looked up wiping the egg yolk smeared all over his lips and chin off with a tea towel on the side bench. Taking a moment to clear his throat he suddenly heard Sasha talk about splitting up the group, looking up to her his eyebrows raised so high they almost vanished under his hair and his mouth screwed up like a spider web as if he was fighting back a nasty reply.

Looking to Jeremy as the other spoke about how stupid the plan was he had the distinct impression the the last comment was directed at him, it could have been the hard look or just a general feeling but it set him on edge either way. Holding a final sausage in his fingers like a cigar he slowly munched off pieces and looked directly at Sasha not speaking until he had finished "The fighters we met in the base. I doubt that was the last we will see of them. When we fought them we fought each alone without much success, yes we escaped but all I mean to say is that alone we may have a chance but together we may win. I know you couldn't care less what I have to say Miss but I just felt it needed to be said." he said speaking slowly and purposefully his voice a little harder then normal. He really didn't like this girl.

Leaning back after he had spoken he moved a little around the table before sinking into a chair. His eyes now moved from each of the people sat there, inside his mind there had been since waking up the slow throbbing ache from his hand and he knew the seal on the Dragon's tear wouldn't last much longer. It felt almost as if his hand were wrapped in a Tupperware glove that was under pressure he could almost feel the hairline cracks as they slowly formed as the rage within the gem pushed against it's cage in a wild bid for freedom. Now that his mind had wandered to the gem the idea that had come to him the night before resurfaced the main idea ringing in his head "Purification through an act of good, what is more good then new life?" This crazy though had gathered momentum in his mind and seemed almost plausible in the rejuvenating light of day.

[mardaxe95]

XXXXXXXXAlexander Craft

Alex rolled over onto his side, the sunlight pouring in through a few of the weaker area's of the tent and into his eyes. He stared at the fare haired girl from last night, all he remembered was talking to her, the words blurry and unfocused. He'd spent most of the night just listening, and monitoring her emotions for any sign of ill will, until finally he'd given up and said goodnight. Her chest moved up and down slowly as she breathed evenly, not that he really cared. He pushed himself onto his knee's and crawled out of the tent, looking around the clearing, slowly for a second, the bright green grass glaring at him, light cawing from birds off in the distance or up close he couldn't really tell met his ears as he moved over to where the fire had sometime through the night died.

He looked at the dark black and gray ashes of the pile for a second, his hazy mind not focusing for a second, wandering to the noises to the forest. He closed his eyes and shook his head, his hand raising to massage the bridge of his nose for a second before he set about piling up the twigs he had gathered the night before before heading to bed. Slipping into his mind as he did the mindless chores he normally did in the morning he though back to the night before, to the girl. She'd been so upset when he'd first met her but as the night went on shed seemed to liven up.

He'd barely spoken any words, just nodded and mhm'd often. He pulled himself away from the fire and put a pot with some water over it before going back into the tent and looking at the girl slowly for a second. Pulling himself from his thoughts fully he reached out and tapped her on the shoulder, "Hey, it's morning... wake up.." He wasn't exactly sure what to say after that. By his estimation it was probably, about ten or eleven in the morning, then again he never was really good at telling time. He tapped the girl again doing it a little more vigorously this time.

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[ThisIsATempNameWhoo]

Adele Rose Lilliette
"We rode on the wind, became a whistle, and ended up in an unknown place." -'Illusion'


Adele's repetitious dreams came back and back, repeating the days events over and over. It was hard to believe; hard to swallow. Two people she could have helped died right in front of her. The dreams plagued her until she felt several taps on her shoulder. At first, she ignored them, but then they got a bit harder and forced her into the submission. Her eyes opened slowly. It took them a while to adjust; all she saw was a blurry picture for a while as she avoided the light coming through holes and thin areas of the probably canvas tent. Eventually, though, she could see more, and began to remember where she was. Who he was. The dress she'd layed upon herself as a blanket had slid off to the side, revealing her short white slip and giving her both reason to have been chilly that night and reason to be further flustered that morning. Her mood was much better, although it was only because she'd surpressed everything the way she had a habit of doing.

She sat up and rubbed her delicate hands over her eyes once more, obviously taking her time with getting up. Her thumb rubbed against the long eyelashes she'd been blessed with, taking away the sandman's gifts and also noticing the dryness along her cheeks where tears must have fallen the night before. Her face flushed again, wondering if he'd really seen her cry, before she shook it off. "Thank you," she said sweetly, and with earnest. It was both directed to everything he'd done for her that night and also waking her up, for she would have never woken herself up. Her other hand pulled the dress back over her. Adele finally pulled herself all the way up with one of her legs bent behind her slightly.

Her eyes took in all the boy, grateful to finally see him properly compared to the night where her eyes were all watered down. That night, after all the crying and such, he was just a blob. It had gotten darker and darker, and, though her eyes had dried, the fire wasn't providing enough light for her to really see him. Then, though, she could. Brown hair, along with other traits that had alluded her, popped into her head as she examined the man who'd woken her. Hoping he didn't take it as staring, she finally smiled. "Ah... One sec?" She turned away from him and, with slight grogginess, stood up a bit to pull the dress over her head. "Alright..." She didn't know if he had turned away, but it just seemed right to say so. The front dress fell to around halfway down her thigh, and then lengthened in the back to a frilled point around her knees. It was just enough to cover the slip--the silky underskirt--without even showing the bottom lace.

She pulled her straight blonde locks to her chest and fumbled around with the laces along the back of the dress, struggling to get them tied right. They were a sloppy, she realized, even missing a few spots. 'It'll have to do...' She sighed quietly, seemingly with submission to the lacing.


“A whirl enchanted us 'til the darkness took over. I clenched my teeth; we’re back to the usual place again.” -‘Illusion’

[mardaxe95]

XXXXXXXXAlexander Craft

Alex moved backwards her eyes fluttered open and she subconsciously wiped away the eye boogers she'd gained while asleep. Her eyes moved around the tint for a quick second before focusing on him and he tilted his head to the side slightly, his mouth opening for a second as if he meant to say something. As she spoke, asking for a second of privacy, h e nodded, turning and realizing through out the night and morning he'd yet to put his shirt back on. Not that he cared if she saw his scars, or even his well toned body, it was just the slight chill in the breeze raising goose bumps over his upper torso. He glanced over his shoulder before turning back o his sleeping bag in search of his shirt.

A few minutes later the girl spoke, queuing him to turn and look. She was wearing her dress. Only now he could make out the details of the fashion. It was pretty, very pretty. Especially on her. He smiled sheepishly before twisting back around and snatching his shirt out from under his sleeping bag where it had somehow ended up. Pulling it on he slipped out of the tent and turned to her, "You were heading To Valhalla right?" He asked, before turning to tend to the fire, the water was boiling now, he pulled out a packet of powder and noodles and dumped them into the water, before turning back to the girl, "Can you get the bowls, Their right there..." He pointed to a dark green pack that was resting to the side of the tent in front of a patch that looked like it was made from the same material as the pack.

Picking up a stick he prodded a few of the thicker sticks, rolling them over to the other side. the fire flared up for a second before going back to it's normal height, He paused for a second, dropping the stick back on the ground, before picking up a wooden spoon that had been resting on one of the rocks surrounding the fire. Lazily he stuck it in the water and started to stir the Ramen. He'd had Ramen for so long now it was starting to get bland, though it was quick and easy to make after a while it grew dull and tasteless, he just hoped the girl wasn't allergic or anything.

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[ThisIsATempNameWhoo]

Adele Rose Lilliette
"We rode on the wind, became a whistle, and ended up in an unknown place." -'Illusion'


Adele nodded in response to his question, turning around to find that he had put a shirt on. She'd noticed the scars, but... It wasn't her place to ask. He was graciosuly letting her stay at his camp--he even let her eat his food--and she had no intention of bringing up anything bad for him. At least not then. She pulled the opening of the tent back and slipped her feet in her shoes. Dark eyes wandered over the camp, taking note of everything she could, before hearing him ask for something. "Of course," she accepted. Adele picked them up and gently placed them on her lap as she sat next to him, though on a log around the fire.

Again, she traced over him, this time his back. She wasn't used to being around kids her age... Maybe that's why she had such an issue with the boy from before. He was only a year or two older than her, she figured, and maybe she was akward or did something wrong... She'd always been with children or older people, generally helping out. The girl knew she didn't have bad people skills. Maybe.

She shook yet another thought off and turned her attention to the noodles he was making--Ramen, was it? Adele tried to surpress a smile. 'Maybe I should offer to cook next time. I like ramen, but eating it all the time must get tiring for him. Plus, it's the least I can do.' She knew a few people who were really big fans of it, but ended up saying it lost flavor. Plus, it didn't have any nutrition, though it didn't look like he needed anyone telling him how to be healthy.

Adele leaned back and looked up at the sky, her hand blocking out the sun. Yes, it was definitely prettier at night.




“A whirl enchanted us 'til the darkness took over. I clenched my teeth; we’re back to the usual place again.” -‘Illusion’