The northeastern corridor leads to the parking garage. The Parking Garage is an underground complex that houses most of Balamb Garden's road vehicles including the SeeD Personal Carrier Vehicles for student transportation. The parking garage is accessed via a road that travels past the Balamb Garden front gate.
You'll need a SeeD ID to rent a vehicle. But there are Taxi's that go to town every afternoon.
A boy comes over to you, "OH hey! Uh.. You looking to go to town? Sorry, the taxi is getting work done. Should be ready soon, though! I hope..." He turns and runs off.
Senna reclined against the side wall centimeters from the entrance into the parking garage. Her heart ached with heaviness and, secretly, found relief that the male sauntered out of the wings. The young blonde sighed through her patient wait yet undoubtedly lost the concentration to acknowledge any abrupt changes to her environment. Today's news struck the woman harder than a wooden judo stick slamming against the sensitive sides of her lower arms. She obliterated the snowy haired girl's note from a person who may be kin. The librarian may concoct misdeeds to extinguish the flames of tenacity in the aforementioned student's soul. The less exciting announcement of the day was the dull spoon carving into her tender stomach subjecting her legs and thighs to quake. Balamb was overrun by flan.
Why her? Why Balamb town? All she expected from this test, she was already in the way of her fellow cadets. Senna Lloyd was the ultimate dead-weight. What can her fists do to those slimy b******s? Besides, her chance of choking on a mundane mission like this were maximized by her disability to formulate positive phrases at her own expense!
Senna groaned as her gloved fingers twitched involuntarily, and to diminish the sensation, she guided the ten digits behind her backside and forced her weight onto them, making them press roughly against the wall. She maintained a casual stance as if standing with her hands away from her acted as a normal trait of hers. Through the shift of childhood memories and stealing determination from words her parents said during her first two years at the Garden, the anxious teen waited for other seeD cadets and their leaders to be announced. What will be in the best interest of everyone was if she refused to not pretend to be a mute. Her hometown's wellbeing was officially on the line...
The boy made his way into the parking garage, which smelled like motor oil and a strange musky burnt smell that he couldn't place. In his hand was his weapons case. His arm slung nearly haphazardly over his shoulder, with the case lightly bouncing on his back. He had changed into his uniform, his hair was much less shaggy, as much as it would allow itself to be tamed. The snow haired boy raised a hand to his face, one finger slipping over his lips as he tried to hide the grin. "I think its hilarious really... The town being overtaken by flans, they don't do much so I don't know what the big deal is." He looked around to see where the instructor is. "Have you been assigned a squad yet?"
RenEtwal generated a random number between
1 and 100 ...
75!
There was no regards for the city outside of the garden he transferred to: this was the intial conclusion the blonde formed upon the words uttered in reference to her home when the voice of the boy from earlier waltzed with an air reeking of less kindness than what he emitted before. Taking his demeanor into account with a quick glance, the maiden chatised herself internally. He must have been a wayward misfit from the very beginning. Shimmering blues glistened brightly upon her recollection of the library quite a time before all cadets were seated for lecture. Senna allowed weakness to hang vividly from her soul. All either of the two had to do was yank the fringe until the teen unraveled like a ragdoll treated brutally by a spoiled child. Suddenly, the Balamb city born cadet averted her straightforward gaze to the tips of her uniform shoes, feeling the sting of offense marinate in the mental sea of anguish.
The scents of mechanics taunted at the female's nose and figuring out the distinctive smells were the main activity she thought she can do during this wait. By the time, the stockier male strolled into the garage she assumed, like a school of fish, smaller groups will migrate through the doors. His question can be directed towards one of them, despite the close proximity his tone carried through the echoing space in her direction. Because of her uncertainty to be conversed with or not, she ignored the latter. Until a definite clause aimed itself balantly at the fighter, answering the easy to respond to inquiry would be her next action...if she doesn't self-distruct in the process.
After being so rudely interrupted during a very interesting class session, Seymour made his way to the garage to see just how many students are going to take on this little pre-exam. Yes, someone came to his class room, pulled him aside and told him about the incident in Balamb town. And from then he was instructed to be one of the squad leaders. god knows why, if there was only just a bunch of Flan in the village then there shouldn't be much to worry about. The cadet's could probably handle this one themselves. But orders are orders. A corn roll turned in his stomach as he paced himself to the garage, his mind forming the beat to his stomping feet, his lips following suit, creating a tune that didn't exactly flow, but he liked the sound of it.
It was around this time that, out of the corner of his peripherals, there stood two figures within sight. He rose his head, taking a look back and forth to either one of the cadet's currently in the garage. A hand rose to slide through his blond locks, still wet from what little shower time he had short moments ago. It took him a moment, looking between the children once more, and a huff of frustration escaped him.
Another silent moment was taken as he strut a few more steps before facing them. His hand gestured between the two, then to the garage around them. "So, what... Don't tell me you little prons are the only ones to show?" He sighed, shaking his head and looking down to the ground, resting his hands on his hips. Disappointed, he was. For sure he'd thought a few more cadets would brave lowly Flan for some chance to show off their skills. "This... this can't be it. There has to be more brave souls in this Garden, or else we're S.O.L if yah know what I'm sayin."
Nervously, his hand rubbed against his chin as he begun to think. What ways could he exploit to waste time as they await the arrival of more cadets? He rose his index, keying in on the white hair boy with regard. "What's your name kid?"
Eljhas generated a random number between
1 and 100 ...
17!
Posted: Sat Jun 22, 2013 1:26 am
Azazel
"The cold is not so bad." Age: 15 | Height: 5'2" Magi Trabia Cadet; SeeD Candidate ; G 1167 Gil | HP 200 | MP 25 Weapon: Fuuma Shuriken Axe (4) ; +1 Adept Companion: n/a *:Wicked Blades:* *:Stand Aside:* *:Shiver Blades:* *:Arcana:*
Flan, yeah that was hilarious to him, who was used to being forced to fight snow lions- Which didn't look at all like lions, by the way- in the frozen mountain peaks of Trabia. He'd glanced away as he thought about it, his gaze shifting to look at her out of the corner of his eye. The boy noticed the changes, subtle as they were, in her demeanor. The boy blinked, raising a brow as he looked at her. "What's wrong? You know I was just joking, right?" A soft, kindly expression passing over his face as he took a step toward her. "Actually, I was testing you. Sorry. Just wanted to see what type of person you were. Cause if you were the type to agree, and laugh about their current misfortune, I would have lost my nerve. Haha." Laughing nervously, though he displayed a sort of care free, awkward demeanor, the feeling of it didn't reach his eyes. "Hey I'm Azazel. Didn't get to ask you before what your name is." Hand outstretched in a silent suggestion for a hand shake. Sly grin twitching at the corners of his lips that he had a hard time keeping at bay. At the sound of the instructor's approach he turned, looking up at the man. "Eh... Azazel Gladstone. Trabia Garden transfer, sir." His demeanor changing slightly to sound like he was regarding the man with respect. "I'm really not required to be here as I passed all my tests and just await the SeeD Field Exam... But I just feel like the people of Balamb town need my help."
Senna Lloyd "The worse loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself." Age: 17 | Height: 5'4" Sentinel Balamb cadet/seeD candidate; G 1313 Gil | HP 150 | MP 10 Weapon: Gloves (3) Companion: N/A *biggrinraw Magic:* *:Steel Pressure:* *:Iron Resolve:* *:Metal Moon:*
Was she wrong in her comprehension of Azazel's remark being laced in animosity? Was her genuinely as subjected to nerves and worrying quirks as the taller young woman? The blonde lifted her lowered head, taking in the height difference between the more masculine cadet and herself, and her cheeks warmed to the color of bashfulness. The extended hand and introduction pacing evenly from his lips like a dedicated jogger signaled to the other how less of an antagonist he might be. Oh, how in the future, she may discover her previous thoughts about him were the real truth. Senna was a target who can be manipulated, a teenager who has yet to construct her own voice and discover the wide scope of her sexuality. Anyone can bend her to their will if they noticed her as the pawn she was; it was a shame her talents were wasted on someone who whined before speaking up. Her childishness birthed her thoughts of how anyone can be friendly to her while she herself never had the motivation to leave the critique box to join her subconcious by its side.
Seymour's approach from around the corner thwarted Senna's awkward pause in aiming to shake Azazel's hand. Hearing the croon of a dominanting figure, she positioned her hands to her sides under her hips and situated her spine to stand in an upright manner. Her lips quirked to complete its task in responding with a shaken "I'm sorry" but the instructor immediately pointed his amusement towards the younger male. The blonde silently switched the weight from her dominant left foot to her right while peaking at the elder blond underneath her flaxen-hued lashes.
Senna's expectations on the men conversing amongst each other while the slender figured cadet blended into the background were quite high. Every instance played out this way. The infectious personalities drew in people who may transform into life-long friends and lovers. Personality cannot blossom on the field alone. Her heart admitted to pure envy towards the seemingly social pair at the mental image of friends and lovers, realizing she has yet to experience such blessings. She knew a part of her gripped her strings from her adventure into adulthood, and her slight perfectionism wasn't the main enemy to her consistent flaws. Why did she plant the weeds that sprouted into blinds to her self-worth?
'...If I thrust myself out of my comfort zone, I-I can recover... I've trained for years to be a solider. I need a larger goal... I want to be noticed, but I'm afraid of being noticed. Didn't daddy surround you with fish to help you get over your fear of them? I can do this. All I have to do is do great things until people know who I am.' Everything, every pep talk to boast her morale, was easier said than to set into motion. Senna had to have someone, or a group, to smack the negatives out of her system. Unfortunately, if Azazel or anyone else in her life played her like a violin, she may never be the mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually strong woman she wished to be.
Eljhas
Nauscica
Trance Harper
Nauscica generated a random number between
1 and 200 ...
134!
Posted: Sat Jun 22, 2013 7:45 am
Instructor Seymour Alistair Age 25
The instructor was not swayed at all by the Tribea boy and his charming yet fake display of duty. This instructor, and possibly others older tham himself, sees the act for what it is. Though the boy spoke his name clearly, he would speak it wrong, call him by another name, and generally deprioritize him. Seymour had no patients for play acting in the game of battle. Social status was something lazy political lumps created to make them feel superior to those truly able. If the boy wanted to play the popularity game, he was hell bent on ruining or delaying his rise. After all, everyone can afford to learn some humility.
"Ok Adrian, you'll be on my squad. And you." He turned to the girl and looked down at her. Was she trying to hide in plain sight? Her demeanor caused a small memory of when he was a cadet, and a girl he met acting similar. Thi little one seemed to be in a worse predicament emotionally, making him smile warmly down at her.
A hand extented towards her, his index finger cupping her chin in an attempt to coax her to reveal her face to him. In his mind, he studied her, çombing over her ever curve and detail as a mental rapidly sounded off, crossing off all girls who did not fit her description. Within the Balamb student body, and the transfers, he narrowed it down to three names fitting her personality and features. When he was sure of his guess, he spoke to her. "And you. What's your name?"
As Harriet entered the garage, her Claymore and its scabbard in her hands rather than its far more convenient location on her back, she could not help but immediately notice the almost overpowering smell. Barely through the doors and she stopped and put her free hand up to her face and crinkled her nose. "Verdammt, it smells like a bad radiator in here. What is that?"
She quickly sneezed, platinum hair flying over her shoulders (it had come loose during her jaunt from the locker room to retrieve her weapon as she hadn't done anything to properly secure the braid she'd woven in the library). Shaking her head to clear her senses, Harriet spotted the two cadets she'd seen earlier in the library now in conversation with a taller man who looked like he was probably an instructor. What a stupid assumption Harri, he looks young enough to be a cadet, she thought, rolling her eyes at herself. Although he was dressed a little differently from the rest of them.
Harriet marched over to the group of them and without a word deposited the giant sword on the ground at her feet, a small golden key chain attached to the hilt jingling against the floor. She then retrieved a yellow ribbon from one of her pockets and, slipping it between her teeth to free up her hands, began to braid her hair in a most uneven fashion, winding together one half of the long almost silver strands of blonde hair and twisting them back on themselves while completing ignoring the other side of her head. She secured the looped braid with the yellow ribbon and stooped to pick up the 5ft sword and buckled her scabbard across her chest and under her right arm.
Now finally sorted, she looked up and offered a lazy smile at the blonde girl from the library. "Hey..." Harriet paused awkwardly and her face went blank before contorting in frustration as she realized she didn't know that other girl's name. "... you..."Dummkopf.
Translations: verdammt ~ dagnamit, dummkopf ~ idiot Non-uniform attire: duck jewels Out Of Chocobos: oh Harri...
Unfunny Memes generated a random number between
1 and 100 ...
33!
Posted: Sat Jun 22, 2013 11:36 am
✭✥✯ ⓗⓔⓒ〶ⓞⓡ ⓦⓐⓡⓡⓘⓝⓖ ✭✥✯
SeeD: F , Magi Hp:200 Mp:15
▶ ▷ Don't get in my way of fulfilling my mission...◀ ◁ ▶ ▷...I just might have to kill you if you do... ◀ ◁ ▶ ▷ ...Because, making the world a better place is my job...◀ ◁
Abilities: *:Wilhelmine's Disks of Flame:* *:Thunder, Fire, Blizzard:* *: Reflect, Aero, Cure:* *:Staff of a Thousand Flames:*
▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄
Hector walked into the parking garage and walked past the cadets and next to Seymour "Hello again Seymour" he said as he put his foot against the wall and began reading a small pocket sized book. Then spoke again "Are you prepared for....Flan monsters?" he said laughing scouting the cadets and seeing Azazel "See that one right there with the long whitish hair? The boy not the girl. His name is Azazel and I'm ready to see what he can do." he said going back into his book.
Senna Lloyd "The worse loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself." Age: 17 | Height: 5'4" Sentinel Balamb cadet/seeD candidate; G 1314 Gil | HP 150 | MP 10 Weapon: Gloves (3) Companion: N/A *biggrinraw Magic:* *:Steel Pressure:* *:Iron Resolve:* *:Metal Moon:*
Senna's eyes scanned from the gravel in shock then sauntered to the ground anew after noticing attention heading in her direction. The shade of her sapphires complimented the pink hues highlighting her fair skin until she glimmered in a faint glow. She wished to depart into the hood of a jacket she didn't have when the instructor enclosed himself in her bubble and gingerly gripped her chin to align her face with his. Her wounded girl-heart swooned from the platonic contact and the previously mentioned heart raced to fall back in line after halting two beats. Usually, it was her parents who intruded the murky layers. To not have Seymour's action and direction go in vain, promptly, the garden candidate locked eyes with his own.
She mustered a coherent reply, "My name is Senna Lloyd, sir. Balamb Garden candidate for the SeeD exam, sir..." As if suffering from a juvenile fright, she blinked at a snail's pace. Would her answer please the man asking as he had, came to mind for her. While anticipation amounted to a burning flame running through her insides painting her visage a color redder than the fabled Irit's hide, another recognizable face trekked to the garage. If given the ability to do so, she turned towards the girl who greeted her.
Harriet's friendliness still surprised her but no logic stemmed from her reasoning. Senna restrained her exertion of smited her idiocy with a facepalm action. Her left hand darted into her skirt pocket where it fingered the deformed letter. Gulping in fear, the blonde stretched her hand outwards, holding the note securely in her fingers as if it were a printed promise of bounty. "M-my name is Senna," she repeated. "Here...I crushed this in the library...i-it's yours. I'm sorry." Through her nose, she coaxed herself to breath evenly and subject herself to positive thoughts. Each positive led her at least one negative.
The newer male hadn't gone fully unnoticed. Her focus laid on the judgment of her superior and a likely squad mate (and Azazel if he lusted for conversation).
Eljhas
Nauscica
Trance Harper
RadioHeadache
Trance Harper generated a random number between
1 and 100 ...
91!
As the taller cadet joined them in the garage, Harriet tried to listen to the names that rolled off his tongue like they were second nature. Seymour... the taller guy that might be an instructor. Aza-whatsits... that punk shorty from the library. He seemed to know both of them well, although she got the gist that whoever he was he'd only recently met Azazel, or at least not seen him fight. Maybe he's an instructor too...
Harriet stared for several seconds at the crinkled piece of paper thrust hesitantly towards her by the blonde girl, Senna... like a cenapide... nope, that's wrong... cen... cen... something about the legs... no, that's right, cena means 100. Although as she told herself this something still seemed wrong about it. Her mind returned to the moment at hand and she carefully reached for the letter, her thumb ring catching the light off one of the overheads. She straightened out the paper and squinted at it, recognizing the handwriting. After a moment, she sneered a little and crumpled the note, shoving it into her pocket.
"Don't even worry about it, it's going in the rubbish as soon as I find one. But, thanks I guess for giving it back. I would've completely forgotten about it." Harriet said. The words in the letter, she knew they were meant to be encouraging but somehow they just left her annoyed for some reason. She huffed an exasperated sigh and bit the inside of her lip.
After a moment of internal raging at the men in her life, Harriet looked around at the small group. "So, does anyone know about these Flan things or whatever? I didn't see them in any of the books." Not that I was really paying that much attention... On the off-chance either of the two men she hadn't seen before were instructors, the fact that she'd barely absorbed anything from the volumes she'd been mostly sleeping over was likely best kept to herself.
Translations: n/a Non-uniform attire: duck jewels Out Of Chocobos: oh Harri...
Trance Harper
Sparkly Fairy
Offline
Unfunny Memes generated a random number between
1 and 200 ...
26!
▶ ▷ Don't get in my way of fulfilling my mission...◀ ◁ ▶ ▷...I just might have to kill you if you do... ◀ ◁ ▶ ▷ ...Because, making the world a better place is my job...◀ ◁
Abilities: *:Wilhelmine's Disks of Flame:* *:Thunder, Fire, Blizzard:* *: Reflect, Aero, Cure:* *:Staff of a Thousand Flames:*
▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄
"Flans are gelatinous blobs that vary in color. Physical attacks won't work well on them since your weapon will cut right through it and then it will reform itself. Use magic on them depending on their color depends on the type of magic. If red use fire, blue use blizzard, yellow use thunder. Hector said walking between all the cadets " Now I know none of you..except for you Azazel if everyone would please give me your names." he paused "where are my manners he said putting his hands in his pockets "I am Instructor Warring, you may call Instructor Warring or by my first name Hector." he said with a faint smile. Waiting for the cadets to tell him their names.
▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄
Trance Harper generated a random number between
1 and 100 ...
100!
Have I ever got about the worst luck on this side of Galbadia. First, have to come back here for the SeeD exam, then have my quest to locate a particular treasure of interest interrupted by a class call, and now we don't even have class but have to go rescue the town and that devious Instructor Lambard, pretty or not, insists we are in uniform. As if to exasperate him further, Rpry felt the back of the jacket collar begin to scratch his neck again and yanked on it sharply, wishing he could be allowed to at least were a scarf to protect the delicate skin there. He'd been sorely tempted to wear his scarf anyway as he changed for the second time in the last 30 minutes and stared begrudging at it sitting happily folded up in his locker.
"I hope this is worth it, but I can't really believe it... Flan are nothing, you can get rid of them with a garden hose..." Rory muttered to himself as he stepped through the doors to the garage. The scent of engines was surprisingly refreshing and he felt nostalgic for the time when he was 10 and he'd gotten it into his head that he would take his father's recreational vehicle apart and put it back together, by himself, just to see what the inside looked like.
He quickly spotted the group of other cadets along with the man he'd spotted earlier on the training grounds. Of course, the man hadn't seen him, but nonetheless. Rory was a little disheartened to see that of the six of them he was still several inches taller than the next tallest person. The mental acknowledgment made him slouch a little, subconsciously. He still hadn't gotten over his height as compared to others, despite being more than a little accustomed to being far taller than the rest of his adoptive family... Probably never will, he mused.
He fingered the cartridge hanging from his neck with one hand while tapping the fingers of the other against the belt of his gun holster. Bringing both hands to the gun belt, Rory stepped closer to the group and offered a smile, deceptive though as he took analysis of each. Let's see, white hair, short, looks familiar somehow, that weapon... probably long range... Blonde girl, looks shy and if I'm not mistaken embarrassed, don't see any weapon so she must be a martial artist or have a lot of magical prowess... Taller girl, that sword is about as big as she is, probably tough, maybe a bully... Guy from the training ground, might be an instructor or at least squad leader, he looks like he knows his business... Tall guy, also might be an instructor... Rory's analysis was quick and concise since he didn't want to make too many assumptions before he'd seen any of them move or even heard any of them speak very much.
"Hey guys, ladies, I'm Rorschach Hatake, call me Rory at your leisure, or Cadet Hatake, either, any, I'll probably respond to "Tall Boy" so, take your pick." He paused to let it sink in, he was all too familiar with the typical first responses to his name. "So, who's our fearless leader against the mutant crème caramel?"
Translations: N/A Non-uniform Attire: rorys bling Out Of Cartridges:
