—ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ sᴀᴍᴘʟᴇs

[Mokonae]

o-mokona-o's roleplaying/writing samples. they are sorted oldest to newest to the best of my ability.

[Mokonae]

word count: 2731

• The night rain drizzled on the glass of the bathhouse windows, quick and steady just as the ticks of a watch. It was raining hard outside, despite it sounding otherwise. The noise distracted Lyons from his duties, though in all honesty, he didn't mind much. He had to clean the big bath tonight, which was a disaster all in itself; since it was huge, it took forever to clean. And on top of that, a majority of the time, the gunk from the previous user would be left in and only removed when the bath was needed again, so that meant even more work. He was just thankful that he was isolated from the other workers so he wouldn't be even more distraught. He was also thankful that he had started before the bathhouse was open, which made him come very close to finishing as opening time came around. Just a quick rinse and he would be far, far away from the stinky hell hole.
  
  With his cleaning equipment packed and loaded, he placed them near the door of the bath room. He had to return anyway, so why bother bringing the load? Lyons made his way down the maze of washrooms, finally reaching the bath token desk. It wasn't hard to find at all, seeing as how it was in the middle of an open area and near the bathhouse's entrance.
  
  Bath tokens were, well, tokens—for baths obviously. They were exchanged for herbal soaks which basically meant water. There are several different levels of bath tokens, ranging from just simply water to heavy-herbal soaks. Usually, only paying customers and workers came across these; the higher level the worker is, the better the token they would receive. After acquiring a token, the worker assigned to a particular bath would open a small hatch hidden within the wooden walls of the bath room, usually in the back of the room. Inside the opening, there would be a small but very stretchable red string. This string is attached to the boiler room. When attached to the string and pulled, the tag will automatically be brought up to the boiler room where the boiler mixes special herbs into the water to be sent back to the bath via a wooden pipe. The water can then be accessed by pulling down on a rope that comes along with the pipe.
  
  Once arriving at the desk, of course Lyons already knew the reaction he would get—either getting just simply water or getting brushed off. Despite so, he decided to try for a token anyway. Besides, it wasn't as though he was at the bottom of the pyramid. Coming up to the spirit at the desk, Lyons gave a big grin. "Hey Fulton, how are you today?"
  
  As though ignoring Lyon's question, the toad spirit answered with a rude, "What do you want, Lyons? Let me guess, a bath token?"
  
  "Obviously I'm not just here for talk, Fulton. Though I probably could talk to you if you want me to. I could use a little free time after cleaning that big bath for a good two hours now—by myself, if you wanted to know."
  
  "Don't get smart with me Lyons. Just because you're a human spirit..." He almost mumbled the last part. Lyons was always aware of how jealous Fulton seemed of humanoid spirits. The spirits of humans and animals alike were conjoined in the spirit world, thus so they lived amongst one another. A common language was bestowed upon all spirits to make sure everyone could understand one another. Yet, sometimes spirits who didn't have figures as humans did seemed a little distraught. Lyons had always wondered why; humans and humanoids didn't have anything about them that made them special, Lyons included. Though since a majority of spirits working in the bathhouse were humanoids, Lyons could sort of understand Fulton's response. It must have been frustrating to have to put up with smart-mouth, humanoid spirits all day. But at the same time, how cool was it to have toad arms and legs compared to boring human limbs? "Anyway, the best you're going to get is a normal water. You just need it for rinse, don't you?"
  
  Lyons pulled on a frown. "Come on, Fulton! I deserve at least a low herbal soak, don't you think?" Lyons leaned on the desk, his arms propped up in front of him. "Besides, remember how I..." Lyons raised his brow. "You know what I'm talking about. I'm sure you wouldn't want me spreading that around."
  
  Fulton turned a bright red, despite his green toad skin. "Lyons! Don't you dare! Fine, fine! I won't even give you a low one. Here, the highest token we have! Take it, and don't mention that to anyone. Especially Arvlyn. She will have us both slaughtered if she finds out—no, all three of us!"
  
  Lyons gave him a sly grin, taking the red, gold-striped token from his toad-fingers. "I appreciate it very much, Fulton. I'll be seeing you." He turned, but before he completely walked away, he glanced back. "And Fulton, don't you know that Arvlyn already knows everything that happens in the bathhouse? And if she doesn't, it won't take her long to find out." With that, he crossed back to the big bath room.
  
  He had always loved teasing and taunting Fulton. It was hilarious to see the expression that came out of him. Lyons felt a bit guilty at times though. Shrugging the thought off, Lyons followed procedure and moved to the back of the room. Opening up the hatch and latching on the token, he pulled the tag and watched as it flew away with the string. After a few minutes of waiting, nothing happened. Confused, Lyons turned to look inside the hatch. Maybe something was wrong. Giving a sigh, he waited a few more minutes. Nearly twenty had already passed before he finally decided to go confront the boiler.
  
  He hadn't bothered to look for an umbrella, which was something he regretted. The rain pelted him like he was nothing. By the time he came down the side of the bathhouse and into the boiler room, he was already nearly half-drenched. Opening the metal door of the forge, he stepped inside and shoved his foot behind him to clang it shut. Rubbing at his obsidian-colored hair, he walked down the short hallway full of steam and gears and other stuff that he didn't take care in. The mist clouded his vision; thankfully there were no turns or corners, otherwise who knows how many times he would've hit a wall. Coming into the light of the room, he saw the soot sprites at work. They each carried a lump of dark coal, making them look thrice their size. Ignoring them, Lyons slipped past the gremlins and to the boiler's desk. The desk was laid in a vertical position, facing the incinerator. On the side facing out was a wheel with a line of cartons full of herbs and wine. The desk rose high into the ceiling, though it was reasonable seeing as how the walls were embedded with cabinets filled with herbs and whatnot that needed the extra height to reach them. "Nice job making me run all the way down here, Malz—and in the pouring rain too! Do you have any idea how hard it's raining out there? I'm drenched." Lyons took a breath, pulling his hand from his hair. He had expected a response by now, but none came. "Anyway, what's up with the water, Malz? It's been—" Lyons was cut off by a familiar voice, though it did not belong to Malz, the boiler's voice.
  
  "Ahh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lyons. I'm trying to go as fast as I can but..." The voice was worried, filled with disappointment and a few other things Lyons couldn't put his finger on, or care about.
  
  Lyons had been busy trying to dry up that he had yet to look up and see who was sitting at the desk; when he finally did, he saw Malz's assistant, Shen sitting in place of where the boiler would originally be. Shen had been working for Malz a number of years now. Since Lyons always came down to the boiler room to waste time away, the two of them were fairly close with one another. "Shen? What are you doing up there?" He turned his head softly to the side. "You're so short I couldn't even see you were up there in the first place." He muttered under his breath.
  
  Shen seemed to not hear that last part, or if he did he ignored it entirely. "Malz is.. Well, he's busy right now. He asked me to take over."
  
  Lyons nodded his head, though he doubted Shen could see. He was focused on attending to the tokens that just seemed to be pouring in. "Where is Malz anyway? He usually doesn't just leave in the middle of work."
  
  Shen looked down at Lyons. "It's... It's somewhat of a long story. He's in the back room over there though." He gestured his head to his right, towards the small wooden door near the corner of the room. Lyons could see his face reddening as regret quickly filled his eyes.
  
  "Thanks." Lyons quickly spurted as he made his way over to the door.
  
  "Y-you shouldn't go in, Lyons! He said he doesn't want any company!"
  
  Shen's voice had already faded from Lyon's ears as he opened the door to the back room. Though the door was still cracked open, the noise behind him was distant. Stepping into the room, he turned the corner to see Malz hovering over a body. At first Lyons was confused, and then anxiety hit him. He had wanted to rush over and see what the boiler was hiding, but he could already feel the presence of what was underneath him. "Malz, is that..." He began, his voice full of shock and worry. "Is that a..." Lyons couldn't seem to finish, but Malzar knew what he meant to say. And so the boiler slowly nodded in response.
  
  "Shen just found her outside a few minuets ago, when I asked him to gather some fresh herb from the garden." Malz muttered, tense. It seemed as though Malz hardly believed it himself. Stiffly, he stood from his spot, turning to Lyons. "You mustn't let anyone know that a human is here. Everyone will freak out and there will be chaos." He moved toward the door, poking his head out and letting Shen know to summon the bathhouse's headmaster's henchman. Without caring to hear a response, he came back to Lyon's side. "What are you doing here anyway?"
  
  Lyons had been inspecting the human girl; taking in the color of her damp locks, her slightly parted pink lips, her dark, curled lashes, and her relaxed face. Everyone had always been told of humans, but in truth, no one had seemed to have seen one themselves. It startled him to know that spirits and humans looked almost identical, in general of course.
  
  Malz's voice took him out of his thoughts. "I was just wondering why it was taking you so long to send the water up. Everyone's been waiting for a while now. In fact, I won't be surprised if a few others follow in my footsteps and come down themselves..." Lyons moved from his spot, coming out of the room. Malz followed, closing the door behind him with one of his many arms. "Well, I should probably get back to my station. I wouldn't want to be yelled at for not doing my work." He said, trying to get out of the situation he didn't want to be in.
  
  Malz lightly shook his head. "Lyons, actually..." He paused, as though uncertain how to continue. But of course, he found his way soon enough. "Actually, since Ieyth will probably be here soon, I want you to go with him and the girl—help to find out information about who she is and where she came from. I would do so myself, but I have a job to do."
  
  "Wait, what? You want me to tag along and check up on her? I'm sure Ieyth and Arvlyn can handle doing that." In truth, Lyons was just a bit conflicted with being near a human for the first time. Though he was curious, he didn't want to actually want to know anything about her—or well, he didn't want to be the one who had to consult her and take care of her.
  
  Malz gave a small chuckle. "Do you really think that Ieyth, the guy who hates just about everyone, would do it? I'm sure Arvlyn would, but I honestly wouldn't rely on that seeing as how she is the bathhouse owner and busy with other things. I wouldn't be surprised to see that they pin her on someone else. And when that happens, you'll be there to take the place!"
  
  "That doesn't sound any more convincing than what you said the first time."
  
  Malz gave a soft sigh, his expression hardening as he took a step towards Lyons. "Look, I'm serious Lyons. This is... This is the first time in centuries that a human has come to the spirit world. I'm certain she came here for a reason, because if she didn't, she'd be dead by now—the barrier would have turned her to ashes. And if we just hand her over to Arvlyn, who knows what will happen with her..." Malz's voice faded off, as though he knew something and was keeping it a secret. It also struck Lyons that perhaps Malz didn't trust Arvlyn as much as he thought Malz did.
  
  Before Lyons could continue his protest, a figure emerged from the fog that clouded the boiler room's entrance. Ieyth. He walked through the coal sprites, seeming to glare them down as he did. He came to a halt when he was in front of Malz and Lyons. "So, where is it?" Lyons looked to Malz who was looking at Ieyth. Without a moment of hesitation, Malz directed Ieyth to the backroom. Instead of following, Ieyth looked to Lyons. "Well? What are you waiting for? Grab her and let's go. I don't have all day."
  
  "R-right." Lyons muttered as he made his way into the room to grab the girl. He was weary of Ieyth. His hatred of just about everyone gave off this vibe that couldn't be ignored. Sighing it off, Lyons carried the girl out of the room; one arm was around her shoulders as the other was under her knees. Ieyth quickly surveyed her before turning away just as fast and making his way out of the boiler room. Lyons looked to Malz who was still watching Ieyth. "Look what you got me into. Now I have to stick with him too." He muttered before sighing, following Ieyth who led the way back into the main building.
  
  "Sorry Lyons. At least you're off your shift for the night!" Malz shouted at Lyons' back, trying to cheer him up, if only a little bit.
  
  They had walked in the rain once again, though at least this time the distance seemed shorter to Lyons (which was surprising as he was holding a human in his arms). Nevertheless, the three of them were wet by the time they made their way back. However, instead of going through the main entrance, they turned halfway from the walk back and came into a secret door. Opening it revealed a small elevator; only the higher ups who were close with Arvlyn knew of this passage. And in fact, Lyons was a bit taken aback that he hadn't noticed the door before. They stepped inside, and as Lyons guessed, it led straight to the door of Arvlyn's office.
  
  Ieyth had told Lyons to stay put as he went to inform Arvlyn of their arrival. After a brief delay, Ieyth reappeared, gesturing Lyons inside. As Lyons moved toward the door, he felt the girl slightly move. He quickly glanced down to see her lashes begin to flutter. But before he could say anything, he found himself inside of Arvlyn's office.
  
  Her silky voice penetrated the silence, the flames of her fireplace adding a pinch of wickedness. "Well now, what do we have here?"
  

[Mokonae]

word count: 786

• Lyons studied the conversation between the head of the bathhouse and the sudden human guest, who claimed to be Ardea, if he remembered correctly. He was surprised Arvlyn was being so... tolerant. He would have imagined that Arvlyn would have turned the poor girl into a pig or a hen, or maybe she would've just killed her on the spot. Okay, maybe that was a bit over exaggerated; Lyons wasn't actually sure what Arvlyn would have done had he and maybe Ieyth not been there, but her being tolerative surely wasn't what he expected.
  
  "As for that potion," Arvlyn continued. "Say that I can help you—I'm not going to be willing to do it for free." A hint of a smirk clouded her face as she watched for Ardea's reaction. Before Ardea could respond however, Arvlyn rose from her position at her golden desk and strode toward her; her footsteps were eerily slow and silent, like a shadow passing between figures in the night. Lyons couldn't help but to have his gaze follow the owner's path as she approached the girl. Arvlyn halted in front of Ardea, inches separating them from one another. Since she was a few inches taller, she slightly bent down, pulling her face close to the girl's. After a quick second of silence, she spoke. "You know, I hadn't realized how... bizarre the color of your eyes are." Her own eyes narrowed as she kept staring into Ardea's irises. It was like she was examining something within her eyes. Giving a soft chuckle, she pulled from her position; her back straightened and she clasped her slender hands together, lightly clapping. "Fine, let's make a deal." Arvlyn turned, walking back to her desk. "In exchange for this cure for your brother..." She leaned against her desk, her arms anchoring her. "You will give me the color of your eyes."
  
  Lyons' brows slightly furrowed. It didn't make sense, not to Lyons anyway. Why of all things would Arvlyn want the color of someone's eyes? Were they really that beautiful that she felt she needed it for keeps and for herself? Lyons wanted to ask questions, but he felt deter to; if he were to speak out, he wouldn't be surprised if he got punished—that was definitely nothing he wanted. So he kept his mouth shut, standing as still as a statue. 'Maybe if I don't move, everyone will forget I'm here and I can just leave without trouble.' He thought to himself. He glanced backward to look at Ieyth, and to his interest, the henchman was no longer there. 'What the...' A look of confusion stuck on his face as he turned back to the women who were striking a deal in front of him. 'I swear Ieyth was just there a few seconds ago...' He mentally sighed. Perhaps he should have waited outside. but surely Arvlyn would have said something if she didn't want him listening in on the conversation.
  
  "However, under two circumstances—well, three if you really want to count the last one." Her voice faded into a murmur as she ended her sentence. It didn't last long as he voice rose again. "One, I will personally be returning to the human world with you to cure your brother. I wouldn't want to give you a potion and have you... lose it." She seemed to hesitate at that last bit. "Beside, wouldn't it be safer if I went and cured him myself? That way at least we'll know for certain that he's no longer ill." Arvlyn moved back to her seat now. Sitting, she continued. "But, spirits aren't allowed to leave the spirit world—unless it is one of the... "special" days: the solstices. That being the case, until the next solstice, which is the winter solstice, you will be working as an attendant here at the bathhouse. But fear not, our dear Lyons here will be your mentor and help guide and look after you." Her eyes shifted over to Lyons. They hinted a bit of menace. "Won't you, Lyons?"
  
  Lyons' eyes widened just a bit. He wasn't sure why he was shocked in the first place, it wasn't like he wasn't expecting it. In fact, Malz had warned him that he would probably be pinned with the duty of caring for the human. Trying to keep his protest down, he instead answered with a weak yes before moving his gaze down to his feet; it was a sort of a half nod, or at least he hoped so. He remained silent as Arvlyn led the conversation into a close.
  
  "Great! Well then, do we have a deal?" Arvlyn turned to Ardea now, that same clouded smirk on her face once again.
  

[Mokonae]

word count: 786

• No words could describe how relieved Lyons felt once they had finally left Arvlyn's presence. It was as though a heavy weight was lifted off his shoulders as the large, colorful and decorated doors to her office closed behind them. It had been his second time meeting her face to face like that, though at least this time he didn't have to talk to her... much. He and Ardea made their way back down to the boiler room; the rain had stopped but the ground was still extremely wet. Luckily they were able to walk on a stone and paved path rather than just solid dirt. They walked in silence as they made their descent down the wooden staircase that slid down the side of the building. Lyons wondered what was running through the girl's mind. Was she scared? Did she regret coming to the spirit world in the first place? Lyons tried not to think about it, doing his best to clear away his thoughts as they approached the olive-colored door of the boiler room.
  
  They were greeted by Shen who was covered in dark soot patches. Usually he was much cleaner than this, which meant Malz probably had him clean the incinerator or the soot holes. Lyons would have made a teasing remark had it not been for the situation they had just come from. After a briefing of what happened, Lyons hinted for Shen to offer Ardea a place to sleep. With that established, the human girl began to speak after the passing of a few split seconds. She sounded tired and confused to Lyons' ears, which only made him question more what she had gotten herself into. Striking a deal like that with Arvlyn—that sure as hell wasn't something to see everyday. "Well," Lyons began, his voice a bit gravelly. "I believe you've just made a deal with the devil." Lyons almost regret saying the last part, but it was true: just about everyone thought Arvlyn was like the devil himself; she was terrifying and manipulated people to her will... with words. Her eyes were menacing and her voice was sly. What else was she if not a metempsychosis, a transmigration—a reincarnation of the devil?
  
  The night sky had darkened and the stars had awaken to glitter in the drab sky. They were so dim however, that they seemed to almost not be there at all. It had been such a while since Lyons had been able to be outside when the sky was as pitch black as it was now, and when he finally had the chance, the only downfall was that the stars refused to shine. Dragging his cold hand through his ink-colored hair, he spoke with a half drained voice. "Ardea, you should go rest up. You've been through a lot and you'll need all of the energy you can get for tomorrow." Lyons paused, trying to suppress a yawn. "I'll come in the morning and we'll start with your tour and training then." He glanced to her, trying for a small smile of some sort. Not caring whether or not she saw, he gave his attention to Shen who seemed to be freezing in his work uniform. "Shen, I trust you'll relay what happened in Arvlyn's office to Malz."
  
  Shen nodded. "Yeah. I'll let you know what he has to say."
  
  Lyons slightly nodded, exerting a weak thanks before turning to leave. Before he did however, he stopped at Ardea's side. He couldn't tell whether she was tired or not; he couldn't tell if she was still thinking about the deal or if she just wanted to be away from everything here. Maybe he couldn't tell because he himself didn't know how he felt about it all. He was honestly just glad he wasn't in her shoes, for who knows if he would have had the strength to do what she did. Raising his hand, though hesitantly, he rested it on her shoulder. His palm gently cupped it, her warmth sending an almost shiver through him. He wanted to give her words of wisdom and hope, but nothing came to him, so instead he just turned his head ever so slightly, looking at her with his weary cerulean eyes and hoping to be able to convey his empathy. With a silent puff of air, he let go and made his way back inside the inn. It was nighttime, and there was only one thing he wanted to think about: sleep.
  
  Shen led Ardea inside where warmth from the incinerator instantly embraced them. Malz sat at his desk, tending to the few bath tokens he had just received; since both customers and employees were just about done for the day, little to none of the baths were being used any longer hence the reason he only got a few more to finish off the night. Malz, though exhausted, welcomed and greeted Ardea. He gestured her toward the small backroom door, telling her she would find her belongings and bedding in the corner of the room. Shen had also brought her a pail of warm water so she could wash up for the night. He left her alone in the backroom, returning to Malz's side to help him with last minute duties, saying they would retire when they finished and for her to go ahead and sleep.
  
  The night was long, but when the sun begun to rise, Lyons had wished it was still dusk. It was a new day. A day of eccentricity. He just hoped everything would go well.
  

[Mokonae]

word count: 1631

• The night wind was cool; a mixture of winter's ending reign and spring's lushful birth. Though thin layers of dirtied white snow continued to layer the streets outside, the trees' fresh scents and the flowers' strong aromas could be smelt cleanly in the air. Just as it was the start of a new season, it was also the start of a new life for Jae Min. He sat in his room, his dark eyes gazing out at the open window and to the full white moon floating in the wide night sky. In front of him was the small wooden table he used for meals and other daily activities that required the usage of a flat surface. The candle that he had first lit when dusk began had long gone; the room was entirely dark—dark and cold. But the thought of engulfing darkness and the thought of the icy cold did not touch Jae Min's mind. Instead, images rolled through his head as he recalled the meeting he had had with an old man earlier that day. The old man was unfamiliar to him. Having lived in his home for a few years of his life now, he knew for a fact who lived in the area and who didn't. This man certainly didn't. But that wasn't the strange thing. The man had come to him knowing his secret: he committed crimes, sometimes horrendous crimes, for money.
  
  "I need you to kill someone. It's not just anyone though, it's someone very important—but that's why they need to die." That was the first thing the man had said to Jae Min. At the time, the man's body was shaking with either fear or excitement, or perhaps it was both, Jae Min couldn't tell. In fact, he had considered simply brushing the task away if it weren't for two things: the payment and the target. "You want this money and I want that person dead. It seems like a fair deal." That was the man's justification on why he wanted his target dead. Jae Min of course had a slight clue as to why the target was who it was. The princess of Joseon. Beloved by the whole country. If she were killed, there was a possibility that everything would be thrown into chaos. Questions and answers alike would be nothing but words of the dead—useless. Instead, if a culprit were to not be found, blames, threats, and perhaps even wars would be brought forth to justify the princess' death. Though it would make no sense to an outsider, it was a thought that would make anyone of Joseon shudder, but Jae Min wasn't just any regular person who lived in Joseon. He was a person willing to commit murder for money. He was someone the very kind king would gladly hang in front of the country, while eating and laughing and drinking his way to his own death.
  
  In the beginning, Jae Min didn't hate the royal family at all. But that all changed when the king decided to visit the towns near the palace and wreak havoc amongst the people. Though he didn't do it personally, he had his guards kill anyone he didn't like. And within those people were Jae Min's family. Just because his sister didn't want to spend the night with the king, they were all killed when night came. The only reason Jae Min wasn't slaughter along with the rest of his family was because the king decided to "spare" his life, leaving him with the words: "Be sure to remember this: you always want to please the king. This will be the price your family has to live with for not allowing me to sully your sister. This is what you have to live with." And then he laughed. Laughed and laughed as he walked from the blood that had stained his guards' swords. Laughed as he walked far away from the murdering of Jae Min's family.
  
  In order to survive, Jae Min had to sell his home. He had to steal and lower himself to such a level where he could no longer feel ashamed of what he did. And eventually, that led to him taking the lives of others. Three years back, a person had approached him. They knew of his situation, knew that he needed the money, so they asked him to kill one of the guards of the village. Jae Min had declined to do it. He was willing to stoop down to lying and stealing, but killing? But the client asked him to reconsider. The reward wasn't bad, and after watching the guard who wandered about the village causing pain and suffering to the villagers, he felt the world would be better off without the guard being alive. Yet, he still couldn't bring himself to kill. And so he maimed the guard, thus gaining half of the reward. Overtime, he got more requests from the same client. He continued to decline and reconsider. Then he made up his mind: he would only take the lives of those who caused hardship unto others. Though he felt it was not just sins he committed, he couldn't help himself in continuing. With each kill, people grew happier. With each kill, there were less rotten people in the world. In a way, he was helping the town. But, in a way, he was destroying his everything: his name, his future—it all went down the drain. And though it mattered to him, he knew there was no turning back. There was no longer any way for his sins to be forgiven, so why bother searching for a way out? So one after one, he took the lives of corrupt others. Perhaps the screams of his family haunted him so much he had to erase them with the screams of others'. Or if not that, maybe he was just entirely pleased with the blood that would stain his hands and face when he slit the throat or stabbed the chest of those he had to kill.
  
  After hearing it out more, Jae Min became convinced, just a little bit at least. For killing the princess of Joseon, Choi Jin Ae, he would in turn get enough money to fill his entire home. As proof that the man was as wealthy as he claimed to be, he even brought along a sack as big as Jae Min's head which was filled to the brim with silver. Jae Min was flustered at first, but it settled in in no time. As in advance payment, Jae Min kept the sack of silver and told the man of his plan. Sneaking into the palace and killing the princess and then slipping out was simply too... rash. Anyone would know in an instant that it was a civilian of some sort. Not just that, but he still didn't know whether or not he would be able to kill the princess. With no clue of the palace's layout and no clue as to whether the princess was corrupt or not, how could he do such a thing?However, if he were to infiltrate the palace, then he would have an advantage. He would be able to map out the palace grounds as well as keep an eye on the princess and determine whether or not he would kill her. It would also no doubt stir trouble within the court—especially if he were to kill the princess and leave obvious clues that the murder was caused by someone from within the palace. But that wasn't all. Within time, the king would no doubt be inquired. Even if he wasn't found guilty, he would be overthrown by others who wanted the throne. With no heir to the throne too, he would simply be eaten alive by those he's done wrong to. All in all, it didn't sound like a bad plan. The only thing that troubled him was the fact that he had to kill the princess. Maybe she was as evil as the king, Jae Min had no clue. But if he hesitated, he knew he would never get the opportunity again. And that opportunity? The military exam.
  
  The old man left, smiling as though Jae Min had already killed the princess. As Jae Min watched him leave, began to wonder how the man had found out. There was only one or two other people who knew what he had done for the past three years. Surely he wasn't associated with them. It still rang quite suspiciously in Jae Min's mind, but he knew it was no time to think of it. The military exam was only days away. If he were to pass, he would need to hone his skills, both physically and mentally. The first criteria was physical skills. From his past experience, he had picked up a few nifty skills. Pressure points, body locks—but those were just cheap tricks. If he really wanted to pass the exam, he would need the skills to fight with and without weapons. Thankfully, his father had taught him the way of the sword before he passed and he had taught himself hand-to-hand combat when out fulfilling his "tasks". The next thing was an oral examination. It tested one's knowledge of the Confucian canon as well as certain classics of military thought. Jae Min had not been as studious as his dear sister, but he knew well enough of the topic he felt he would do fine. In all honestly, it was all based on luck. If he passed, it would be a golden opportunity. If he failed, no doubt would his life be at stake.
  
  Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and rested his head on the table.
  

[Mokonae]

word count: 903

• Excruciating pain surged through his body as though fire had been set upon him. He wanted to scream from the anguish, but with every last ounce of his will, held them back instead. He couldn't bring himself to ask for help, be it from human or demon. Even if his mind had been corrupt and he did request assistance, who in their right mind would help someone like him? He was a fox demon with a forte of killing. Anyone with their head screwed on accurately would stay far away from his very presence. Tetsuya took in a whimpered breath, inhaling the damp air of the dark cave he had just entered. Rain had started to pour outside, dousing the entrance of the cave he hid in. He had to crawl his way to the very back of the small cavern to be exempt from the water's touch. But even so, it was not much dryer at the end of the cave as it was at the entrance. Leaning upright against the stone wall, he began to reflect on what had just happened moments ago.
  
  He had approached his long time enemy and rival: Yaso. They had proceeded to discuss matters that Tetsuya had to admit he did not recall. After what seemed like a taunt from Yaso, Tetsuya unhesitantly attacked with his fox fire. The blue flame danced around Yaso, igniting him almost immediately. But as quick as lightning, Yaso had vanished and Tetsuya found himself instead surrounded by beasts of darkness: reavers. They were demons so lost, Tetsuya wondered if he could even consider them demons anymore. It had been his first time encountering reavers, as he had previously only heard of them from rumors. They were grotesquely big, probably three or four times his size. Black smoke-like fume emitted from their figures as though they were created from the shadows and darkness itself. Three ravers had stood in front of Tetsuya, and he was unable to count how many surrounded his backside. Some of the beasts stood on fours like behemoths while others were on two. To Tetsuya's surprise, they all looked fairly similar: canine-esque, beefy, sharp clawed creatures with dual horns and wild manes. Even their weapons, large saw-like swords, were the same amongst the bipedal entirety that he could see. Upon seeing the beasts of darkness, as some called them, he was sparked with curiosity as to how one could turn into a reaver. A killing spree? The murder of loved ones? Some sort of sacred ritual? Or perhaps they really were beasts of the darkness and could only be called upon. From rumors, he had heard that they were summoned creatures. Regardless, they were monsters who held no mind and no intent other than to kill. And without a moment of doubt, they charged and tore at Tetsuya like the savaged beasts they were. Even with all of his strength, Tetsuya could not escape unscathed. With every trace of his remaining strength, he managed to fend off and flee from the scene. After limping for miles, he finally found a place to hide. Lumping into the very cave he was in now, he only had a second to breathe until rain tumbled from above and forced him to relocate at the rear of the cave.
  
  The memories flashed quickly through his mind like bursts of sudden light. Tetsuya took another soft breath, gently placing his head back against the wall he leaned against. He was still uncertain as to why reavers had appeared. "Had Yaso...?" He muttered to himself. But it was impossible to summon beasts of darkness unless, that is, the summoner himself had offered their body to a reaver and become one with it. And not to mention the amount of reavers there had been, it would have been difficult to summon even more than two. Questions floated through Tetsuya's mind as endlessly as the downfall of rain. However, as much his mind was active, he could feel his eyes growing heavy and his body burgeoning numb. His breathes had turned thin and it was difficult for him to focus on staying awake. He knew that, inevitably, he would soon lose consciousness due to loss of blood.
  
  Just as the thought occurred to him, a panting figure slipped into the cave. The sound from the figure was something similar to a lost child who was looking for his mother; something between a soft cry and a whimper—Tetsuya could not pinpoint it. He tried to say something directed at the figure, but his throat was dry and unwilling to emit sound. His blurred vision watched as the figure slowly approached his impaired body. With the dim light from outside, he could see that it was a woman. She was young, probably barely peaking twenty. Her hair was long and brown, oddly reminding him of a tree with her fir-tinted eyes. She was cloaked in white and red, resembling a sort of shrine priestess. She continued to approach Tetsuya as though she was not afraid. Though her steps were slow, they were continuous. Tetsuya felt nervous for a reason he could not find. He willed his body to move, but it did not. Finally, his throat unclogged and a rasp sound roared from him. He couldn't remember the exact words he shouted, but he knew that the seconds that followed were dark—that he had gone unconscious.
  

[Mokonae]

word count: 1425

• It was to be an evening full of sparkling bellies and clouds of laughter, for celebrating the starlights always inevitably brought an insurmountable joy that words could not express. Though the Feast of Starlights happened only once every few centuries on the night of a blue moon, no matter how somber a mood or dim the sky, the feast growthed an illumination of hope for all of elvenkind. Perhaps the satisfaction of the feast was due to the fact that it enabled a day dedicated solely to the cherishment of the underappreciated light of the stars, which were the brightest in the universe; or, perhaps it was just simply the idea of gathering with kin and being able to toss away all pains and sorrows for an evening. Nevertheless, whatever the cause, the feast was magical in a non-magic involved way.
  
  A half-hour prior to the beginning of the feast, a graceful figure stood at the edge of the elven castle's round pavilion, which situated the highest floor of the castle and overlooked the vastness of forest leaves and the tips of Troven Realm far into the horizon. Celairiel Valeth. Albeit orphaned now, she was the sole daughter of Ardugas Valthon and Celedra Wyeth. Her mother had died in child labor, and her father had fallen during Battle of Three Kings not soon after. As a result, the King of Idran, Theryos Valthon, husband of Melethiel Valthon, father of Erynon Valthon, and best friend of Ardugas Valthon, had vowed to take her under his wing and raise her as his own. Therefore, since childhood, she was raised as a princess despite not possessing any royal blood. Adding onto her already unfortunate history, unbeknownst to her, Celairiel also possessed the powers of a Seeress: the ability to foresee the future. Fragile, weak, and faced with a sad fate—at least that's what most thought of when they heard of that term, Seeress. But that did not define Celairiel. She was a warrior, strong and determined, coming up to par with the skills of the Crown Prince, Erynon Valthon. In fact, with her hardy attitude, it was difficult to fathom her undesirable fate. But death it was: inevitable and to-be-premature.
  
  On this particular evening, Celairiel was draped in an elegant silk gown. It was one that she had spent nearly a year to produce, although that seemed at all no time to her. Since many decades ago, Celairiel had developed a love for constructing her own garments; she had created all of the attire in her wardrobe. She had even made a few outfits for the Prince, Erynon. Creating things for herself brought her delight. Doing it for others brought her ecstasy.
  
  In truth, the factor that lead her to develop her hobby was the King's strict enforcement of her activities; when she made articles of clothing, she could exert control, which was the one thing she wanted most in her life. Control. Yes, she desired it, yearned for it. However, she didn't want authority over the Kingdom of Idran, or even the lives of others—no, it was simpler than that. She merely wanted to be able to govern over her own life, over her own actions.
  
  The gown that she wore tonight was undebatably one of her best product as of yet. It possessed a white tint, portraying the starlights above. Overlaying it was a thin sheet of sheer-like tulle pressed with a pattern of white florals; the same fabric wrapped around her arms and formed a bateau neckline. Golden lace applique embroidered down the bodice before fading into droplets of vines against the skirt of the gown. Resting upon her shoulders was a sleeveless long trained silk coat. A light ply of sheer akin to the layer atop her dress flared from it, golden applique also twisting down its backside from her shoulder blades. Her head was adorned with a golden headdress matching the applique, and on her wrists were bracelets of the same style and hue. Celairiel knew that the attendees would be dressed exquisitely, and thus, she had worked extensively to fall into that category as well; in the time which she had been working on the gown, she had sometimes wondered if perhaps she were too untraditional with her design. Nevertheless, she adored the dress, and showing it off was a pleasure.
  
  In all of Idran, Celairiel was perhaps the most beautiful. Indeed, if a foreigner were to set eyes upon her at that moment, they would have undoubtedly thought of her as the Princess of Idran, if not the Crown Princess who was to marry the Crown Prince. In fact, as the two reach the age of marital status, rumor had begun to spread throughout the Kingdom of Idran that Prince Erynon and Celairiel were to be wed. Of course, that was an entirely false statement. But in a sense, there was some truth to it. For you see, Celairiel was a prime candidate to be the Crown Prince's bride. If she were to be seated on the throne alongside Erynon, her love and kindness would flow throughout all of Idran and there would be peace until she were gone. The King favored her, the Queen favored her, even the Prince himself fancied Celairiel. However, it was doubtful that she would take the position of Queen. The King, as much as he loved her, knew that that would not be her fate; he knew better than to dwell on a path that could not be.
  
  Celairiel's hands were neatly clasped together in front of her, dearly holding a silver pendant. Her gaze was unwaveringly set to the scenery before her, but her mind did not think of the allure of the colorful forest nor the distance of the cold mountains. Instead she found herself reminiscing of the past that seemed all too blurry to be her own; contemplating the mother she never set eyes upon, the father she loved but never knew, the life she could have lived were the two still alive and well. And being an only child only added to that loneliness.
  
  "It is a brisk night," came an all too familiar voice.
  
  All at once, the thoughts in Celairiel's mind dispersed. She sent a soft beam to the Prince who was standing beside her. "Must you always approach so silently?" She didn't want to admit it, but she adored Erynon's neverending ability of arriving at the correct time—even if it were without a sound and nearly startling the life out of her.
  
  "I called your name at the entryway. Perhaps you were too deep in thought," he spoke softly, his gaze held on her as though taking in her beauty. "What hinders you?" Growing up together, Erynon had seemed to learn everything about Celairiel, as she him. To see her alone on the pavilion with her father's pendant in hand only meant that her mind was elsewhere. And her not being in reality worried him, for he knew how frail she could be. And yes, he also knew how incredibly strong she was as well. He pulled his hands behind him, his posture gallant as he reluctantly turned his eyes overhead.
  
  "I was thinking of a present unlike this," she admitted. Her thumb felt the gloss of the pendant, the thin linked chain of silver—the only memory of her father.
  
  It had not been the first time Erynon had heard those words, although it was not to say that Celairiel mentioned that phrase much. He drew in a breath, unable to find the correct array of saying to comfort her. Instead, he conveyed the first sentence that arose in his head in hopes of raising her spirits. "It cannot be helped—it seems your fate is to be stuck to me,"
  
  Celairiel emitted a gentle chuckle that easily lost its sound in the autumn breeze. "It seems my future will be very bleak then," she replied, although in her heart she knew the statement was a lie.
  
  Erynon spoke without hesitation to dispute her claim. "It will not be. No, not in the slightest—not if you are with me."
  
  The words passed through Celairiel's ears. She would have completely missed his message had she not reflected on it. "Was that a confession?" Her eyes were upon him now, like emerald stars shining down on a lake.
  
  Erynon simply smiled, avoiding eye contact with her. "The night is cold and the feast will begin shortly. We should return to the warmth of the castle."
  

[Mokonae]

word count: 1204

• Celairiel and Erynon had moved from the pavilion on the top floor of the castle toward the first, where the gathering would be hosted. The sky was hastily darkening and the feast was just about ready to begin. By now, elves from all over the kingdom would have filled the hall. In addition to all of the elves, it would have been unsurprising to see a few foreigners and travelers as well. Though the feast was essentially for elves, all were welcomed so long as they sought to maintain peace and arrived only for the enjoyment of the celebration. The elves were kind folk who sought bliss and good-heartedness, and thus they often shared their everything with everyone. They were a dearly loved species, but they were also hated by some.
  
  Myth has it that once long ago, a heated debate between the elves sparked a civil war and as a result, the elves were divided into two: the Light Elves and the Dark Elves. The Woodland Realm, to the west of the dwarven domain, nested the home of the Light Elves; any elf from Idran, Ettendi, or Aenor would be considered a Light Elf. As for the Dark Elves, many believe that far off into the east, beyond the Troven Realm, and hidden in the Direwoods, lived the remainder of the group, whom were mostly wiped out after the civil war and the journey to the east. Of course, this was all speculation, for no one had been permitted to enter into the eastern half of the continent since the end of the great Battle of Three Kings many centuries prior. However, the idea of Dark Elves always hinged on the mind of Celairiel. She didn't know why, but she just felt that there was a truth to them—a truth she couldn't pinpoint. A connection.
  
  "Ah, Celairiel," Erynon started. "There will be many who tell you this tonight, but I will be the first to compliment you when I say that your gown is as beautiful as the stars. It is beyond what I could have ever imagined. Although you yourself will forever be the most beautiful creation."
  
  Celairiel stopped her footsteps. "First, a confession. And now, you flattering me... Have you really fallen in love with me, Erynon?" Her words were merely for tease, however, her face had begun to flush ever-so-lightly. She enjoyed when the Crown Prince praised her.
  
  Erynon had continued his stroll, but halted after hearing her words. He now stood a few steps ahead of her. Turning to face her, he countered her inquiry. "And have you not fallen in love with me?" Celairiel narrowed her brows, a shy smile on her lips. She took a few steps, and soon they were side-by-side once more. "Father says I am to marry soon. As he pleases, I am to announce the plans for my be-wed tonight."
  
  "You have already established your bride? I have yet to see a maiden enter the castle!" Celairiel bantered. She was curious to know who the Prince was marrying. A new elf residing in the castle! That was certainly something to be excited over. And yet, she could not help but to feel a tug in her heart as the subject pressed on.
  
  He raised his nose slightly upward. "You will have to wait to discover who she is! But, do not worry. She is someone more than suitable for the throne."
  
  The two continued their way downstairs, their bodies so near that their hands were merely millimeters from touching. Chatter and laughter filled their surrounding silence, echoing the empty halls of the castle in which they strolled. Whenever they talked, the day seemed to pass so speedily. When they finally did come to realize the passage of time, they found that they had reached the first floor of the castle. And just in time, too! For the King of Idran, Theryos Valthon, had just arrived a minute prior. Upon his entrance, a loud boom of ovation erupted, ending only when the King took his seat beside the Queen.
  
  The King gestured Erynon over with his gaze. Erynon urged Celairiel seat herself at the high table with the royal family, but she knew that despite living as though the princess of the castle, it was not her place to be up there. And thus so, she politely declined—as she did every time that Erynon asked during the Feast of Starlights. Before hesitantly stepping toward the high table to be welcomed by the King, he left her a brief message, silent in the murmur of people: "Celairiel, remain in the audience. Remain somewhere I can find you after the King's speech. There is something you must hear."
  
  Once again, curiosity aroused in Celairiel. Her mind rounded up all of the possible statements he could tell her, both logical and absurd. As she thought, she carefully made her way through the crowd of people. As Erynon had predicted, many had begun complimenting her attire as she passed by. Kindly thanking them, she moved to a half-empty table.
  
  Applause from the audience had begun anew and only after the Prince took his seat did it slowly fade. After overlooking all of the guests, the King begun his speech. In honesty, Celairiel had heard the speech so many times, she was sure she could recite it if she had to. Of course, the King always changed a few phrases or substituted words, but the message was always the same: the Feast of Starlights was a joyous occasion no matter how dark the time; may merry be all.
  
  The speech continued, and although her respect for the King was strong, she couldn't help but to gaze upon Erynon. Like a hidden shadow in the darkness watching the light, she studied him. Erynon was such a perfect elf, prince, and friend. He was unquestionably handsome and graceful, a top tier marksman and swordsman; he was intelligent and knowledgeable (albeit debatable when compared to Celairiel), protective and caring, kind but not naive, and stern yet compassionate. If Celairiel truly wanted to, she was certain she could write an entire novel of Erynon's perfection, though perhaps that was a bit too excessive.
  
  When Celairiel looked at herself, she felt that there was something in her that made her incomparable to him. Yes, she was beautiful. She possessed excellent bowman and swordsmanship as well, her ability to make garments was unchallenged, her mind was broad and her knowledge vast, her heart incredibly amiable, and her poise of the most elegance. Yet, she felt that there was just something about her that made everything not seem up to par. And she couldn't put her finger on it. It tore at her to know that she would never feel as though she were on the same level as Erynon. No matter how perfect she was at everything, there would always be an invisible, unchangeable difference between the two.
  
  She lowered her gaze to the wood of the table, the corners of her lips ever so slightly curving upward as though she wanted to laugh. Laugh at her love for Erynon, laugh at the fact that they could never be together—laugh at herself.
  

[Mokonae]

word count: 1025

• The King ended his speech, and after a few words from the Queen, the King turned to Erynon. "Crown Prince Erynon, have you any words to share with our beloved guests?" The King's voice seemed to bounce from the walls.
  
  "Yes," Erynon started. "As the King has already stressed, we appreciate you all for being able to attend our Feast of Starlights! It is a very special evening for all of elvenkind, as well as to all who join us—it is a day where peace, love, and happiness are able to flourish almost effortlessly. And as much as we celebrate the stars, it will forever be a day in which we take our serenity for granted. Therefore, cherish the tranquil of tonight, and celebrate your worries away!" Applause erupted, followed by screams and hollers.
  
  The Crown Prince raised his hand, silence taking over promptly. "However, before the feast can begin, there is something I must say to someone very dear to me." The King narrowed his brows at the unexpected statement. Celairiel herself straightened her already vertical posture. "I have lived my entire life not having to consider this thing that I have always found trivial: marriage. But, inevitably, the time has finally come for me face reality and realize that I have to find a queen to sit beside me when I ascend to the throne. A life partner. A person I love whole-heartedly. And I would have never thought, even in a hundred thousand centuries, that there would be someone who is capable of becoming that person. She is someone I care so much for that my heart seems to be obsessed. I find that I cannot wait to see at the start of my day. Or even just hoping to pass by her in the halls of the castle. This woman has taken my heart. And without a doubt, she is someone who is more than suitable to be the future queen of Idran. I am certain many of you already have a guess of whom I am speaking of, for it is not a secret that I wish to hide." Erynon paused and glanced at his father. The King's gaze was hard on him. The King knew what the next line would be, and he was clearly not pleased. Erynon stood from his seat.
  
  Before Celairiel could hear the last of the Prince's words, a knight hastily approached Celairiel and whispered into her ear. This knight was Sidhion, one of the best swordsman in the military. He served as one of the Prince's personal guards, although in truth Erynon was perfectly capable of protecting himself.
  
  The reason Sidhion had approach Celairiel was due to the fact that she was the second in command of the troops. Prince Erynon always had final say, but when he was busy as he was now, Celairiel took the reigns. According to him, another knight had not returned from his rounds. They had sent someone to check, and the second knight had also vanished. On a night such as the Feast of Starlights, security was of utmost importance. For something like this to happen, something was incredibly wrong. "Let us be on our way at once." Celairiel rose almost immediately. Before following Sidhion from the hall, however, she turned to look at Erynon. His eyes locked on her, confliction written on his face. She gulped down the guilt of not being able to hear what he had to say, hoped that he could comprehend the urgency of the situation, and then hastened her pace to pursue Sidhion.
  
  Erynon tightened his jaw. What issue had arisen that needed her attention with such imperativeness, he wondered. The King gave a light clear of his throat, snapping Erynon from his slight dilemma. Hoping to improvise, he bent to pick up his glass of wine. "However, as much as I want to reveal it to the world, tonight, under the watch of the stars, let us instead hope that our love is eternal. For, even if we cannot be wed, I will vow to love her until the end of time. And I hope that you, too, will be able to love your friends, and families, and lovers with such dedication! Now, with love in our hearts, let us celebrate the Starlights!" He raised his glass.
  
  An outcry of applause and hooting filled the room. Words of adoration and gasps of joy and envy floated throughout. During the whole of it, Erynon and the King kept their eyes locked. Erynon didn't understand why the King seemed so against his and Celairiel's marriage. The King loved Celairiel so much, and had many times wished that the next queen would be someone just like her. It didn't make sense that he wouldn't want Celairiel herself to take the seat.
  
  Erynon had inquired the King once not too long ago, and he had replied that fate had different plans for Celairiel, that Erynon would never be able to wife her, that their being with each other was not meant to be. But those answers did not suffice. No, it wasn't that they didn't suffice. It was that Erynon knew, in his heart, that his father's words were false—that fate was on their side. But, if it did indeed turn out that he was the one who was wrong, even if fate wasn't rooting for them, he was not going to let some mythical, supernatural power such as fate prevent him from loving Celairiel—prevent her from loving him.
  
  Yes. He would not let fate prevent her from loving him. You see, Erynon knew almost exactly what Celairiel's emotions towards him were, even despite her efforts to hide it. He always felt her gaze on him, and he always felt the tension between them when they neared each other. The longing to see each other, the yearning to speak with one another, the pain of separating. It was undeniable that they both possessed the symptoms of love. And he had no desire to let go of this feeling.
  
  He would never stop protecting her. And he promised that a long time ago.
  

[Mokonae]

word count: 1815

• The concept of parties always seemed more entertaining than the actual parties themselves. When it came to formal events, Alice always tried to make it seem as though a fantasy-come true. By over-exaggerating the amusement that she would have, and preparing elaborate gowns and accessories to adorn herself with, that's where she received all of the fun from; it was about the journey to the destination rather than the destination itself, or, in this case, the party. With the Academy's banquet however, Alice felt regretful that she wasn't able to hype up for it a day or two prior. It was just her first time hearing about it. As much as she was delighted with the idea of it, she was only ecstatic to a certain extent. If anything, the thought of Thirty-Four being able to enjoy something different than the activities within the walls surrounding him was what really pumped her up. She understood that he wasn't used to parties, or anything boisterous as a matter of fact. Sometimes, she even wondered how he got accustomed to her, with her loudness and all. But, in spite of that, she always felt as though he constantly sought for an adventure of some sort. And with the banquet, he would surely be able to achieve that experience.
  
  "...N-No....p-p-part...y..."
  
  Upon hearing Thirty-Four's response however, she could not help but to feel slightly taken aback. In actuality, she should have anticipated and expected his reaction. It must have been due to the fact that she was simply just too caught up in the moment to think rationally about what his reply would be. Nevertheless, she still couldn't just shrug this opportunity away. Although it was skipping all of the small steps towards building him up mentally, it was undoubtedly a great way for him to garner up some self-confidence. Even just him wanting to go would be great progress.
  
  Alice had considered working with Thirty-Four on his social skills multiple times. Starting with minor things such as attempting to go outside, maybe even trying to talk to Eden who seemed so eager to acquaint herself with him. Were he to encounter any medical difficulties while they were out, the latest technologies would definitely help him in that manner. All he needed to do was be brave and have courage. But, she knew that it would make him entirely uncomfortable, so she had restrained herself all this time. With this newfound opportunity, maybe it was time to move past that barrier. She had parted her lips to speak, but before she could whisper out a breath, Thirty-Four added in a sentence that twitched her brows.
  
  "A-cad'y....b-bad."
  
  What did he mean? The Academy was... bad? Sure, they had flaws, even Alice could admit that without hesitation. But, they worked to run Academia so smoothly, one would think that those flaws could be overlooked. As of right now, they were doing a rather swell job maintaining serenity and equality within Academia, and that was all Alice could ask for. As she continued to dwell on his words a second longer, her mind seemed to suddenly shift to a rather crazy probability. Was it possible that Thirty-Four was involved with Xenon activities? Everyone who seemed to be anti-Academy was sided with Xenon one way or another. 'Maybe he was somehow involved in the explosion back in 3007,' Alice muttered in her head as she considered his current state. It would definitely seem to make sense if that were the case. If he lost his home, or his family—if both. That would definitely give him reason to hate the Academy and view them in a bad light. Now that she thought about it, Alice had discovered a few minor burn scars here and there on his body while giving him a physical exam. But, his wounds seemed to be older than five years, which made no sense with history. It wasn't as though there had been some other big explosion before 3007. If there were, it surely would have exploded over the media, wouldn't it have?
  
  Alice forced her lips to curve into a gentle smile. "Thirty-Four, I know it may be uncomfortable, but maybe we could just give it a try," her voice softly flowed between the cracks of his silence. "We don't even have to go for long. If you want, we could just get dressed up and make it to the door and come back." With all of her heart, she didn't want to force him to go if he really didn't want to. Yet, she also didn't want him to just stay put and not try something new. Of course, the final decision was up to him. "I'm going to go make a quick call—uh, a patient. I have to check up with a patient. While I do that, I want you to think it over, okay?" Her lie seemed abnormal, but she left before he could say something to counter her.
  
  Dodging into the empty bathroom, she shut the door with as much normalcy as she could. Leaning her back against its frame, she took a deep breath before she quickly began touching her Holocell. The chimes as she gestured at it brought her ataractic. Even despite the calmness of the sounds though, she couldn't stop her mind from swirling with curiosity and a sense of anxiety. Her previous thought about Thirty-Four being involved in an explosion seemed to pound at her mind, like a truth trying to be released into the world. Her desire to know immediately made her attempt to search for any information regarding an explosion before 3007. As terrible as it sounded, it seemed entirely plausible for Thirty-Four to be involved in such a terrible accident. "I mean, why would he say that about the Academy? Unless he's been tuned into politics... It just.. It just doesn't make sense. Something must have happened between him and the Academy... But..." Her voice was less than a whisper as she stared at the holographic screen in front of her. Alice closed her eyes, drawing out a sigh. There were no results aside from the 3007 explosion. The only other major fire that Alice was aware of that was placed in time before 3007 was the one outside of Academia, with the orphanage that she lived in as a child. But, it wasn't as though Thirty-Four had been one of those orphans there with her. No. Surely, she had recalled him telling her that he had lived in Academia his entire life. After a minute of no conclusion, she crinkled her nose and resorted to her only other source: Cyrus Gyerllo.
  
  She was disappointed that she couldn't find the answer with her own effort, but that's why she was lucky to have Cyrus. He was like a brother to her, them being childhood friends and all. In truth, she sometimes wondered if perhaps he could be the one to take her from her past, if he'd be willing to be the one to destroy her desolate delusion. But, she was terrified that the same thing might happen as it did many years ago. It haunted her every single day, and it was perhaps the only reason she closed her heart so tightly. Hence so, she shut that idea out of her head long ago.
  
  It probably didn't take long for Cyrus to respond to her dial, but for Alice, every millisecond the phone rung, it seemed as though ten minutes passed. He was usually always quick to answer calls though, from Alice at least, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt. Despite the fact that she didn't need to rush, something inside her urged her to. She couldn't pinpoint why she needed to know the answer so urgently, but she just did. Was it the settling of uncertainty? She didn't know. As soon as he answered however, she immediately began speaking. Although her voice was moving rapidly, it was clear and fluid. "Cyrus, there are two things you need to do for me as soon as you can," she drew in a breath. "The important one is the Academy banquet later tonight. A situation came up, so I have to get a ticket in. That one should be fairly easy. As for the other one," she paused, as she realized that she had no idea how to explain it simply. She didn't even know if it was something true; it was all just speculation on her end. "It might be impossible, but... I need you to search for something—an explosion, or some type of fire that happened in Academia before 3007. There's something that I need to conf—"
  
  Before she could finish relaying her message, her call was disrupted. Her Holocell began malfunctioning, blinking all sorts of colors. She was flushed with a mass of confusion. And then, as though the end of a seizure, the screen glitched open, a phrase rigidly plastered across it:
  
  The Academy knows. Run.
  ./aK
  
  A puzzle seemed to click together in Alice's head. Without delay, she closed the interface of her Holocell and rushed out of the bathroom. Not caring whether or not things were placed into their proper slots, she hastily packed the medical pack, throwing it onto her back as she finished. With herself prepared to leave, she came to face Thirty-Four. She didn't know if this would be the last time she would see him; she didn't know if it would be the last day she would be alive. All she was sure of was that Alkaline was alive, somewhere, watching over her. And if she didn't get out, if she didn't take Alkaline's warning seriously—didn't get away from Thirty-Four as soon as she could, it would maybe end up being his last day as well.
  
  "Thirty-Four," she began, her voice as sincere and natural as she could make it. "There's an—uh, a patient that needs some urgent help. I have to get to them before things get worst. I'm gonna be back later, maybe an hour before the party, at six? Please, give it some more thought, alright? I will be sure to stop by. If you want to go to the banquet, we can go. If not, that's fine as well," she clenched her teeth. "I just really hope that we will be able to spend one more time together." A stiff grin covered her face; she could feel her eyes were beginning to water lightly. Her hand began rising towards Thirty-Four's face, but froze before her skin could touch his. There was no time for tears or emotions. "I'll see you later, Thirty-Four."
  
  With those final words, she rushed out the door. If she was really being targeted, she would have that happen nowhere near anyone she cared for. Not Thirty-Four, not Eden, not Cyrus—no one.
  

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