Welcome to Gaia! ::

[[An interesting little event we have here, folks, you go on and read up, I cleaned it up best I could~ ;D]]
Graficcha: Vin: : | Aoi have you been munching?
Roots: Aoi: Huh...? o.o
Graficcha: Vin: you feel heavy.
Roots: Aoi: I do...? Well, I've felt different lately, but...Not really possible to fit more food in me than I already normally eat. xD
Graficcha: Vin: : /
Graficcha: Misha: *pokes by* he's got a pooooint O.o .... *snuffles Aoi*
Roots: Aoi: o.o; My Essence has felt a little weird, especially...like, my energies. *lets his mist seep out, seems much thicker than usual, a vein of violet here and there*
Graficcha: Misha: O°°°°°O
Graficcha: Vin: *seems just as mystified* you're not sick are you.
Roots: [[Thick as in...Practically not even transparent anymore. xD]]
Roots: Aoi: Nah, I feel really good, like I did when my magic got all stronger, my mist's bein' the same way it was, too, but....my magic's not any stronger, the extra must be going somewhere....
Graficcha: Vin: strange... O.o *pondering*
Graficcha: Misha: .... *licks at the essence, somehow* .... that's Orphy's. *dry*
Roots: Aoi: Maybe that's why it doesn't feel foreign. o.o
Graficcha: Misha: clearly not you.
Graficcha: Vin: how did you get his essence in yours? Oo not even a healing shiv' does that
Roots: Aoi: Well...hmmmm.....we've been somehow...closer, lately, can't...quite put to words how....
Graficcha: Vin: ........
Graficcha: Misha: <.<'
Roots: Aoi: What. o.o We've felt closer in...soul, I guess? lately.
Graficcha: Misha: *PONDERS*
Graficcha: Vin: *PONDERS MOAR* *all stern-thoughtful looking*
[11:51] Roots: Aoi: Well, we were talking about kids...trying to figure out what makes them for our species. Maybe the concept made us feel closer?
Graficcha: Vin: O_O *feathers flatten*
Graficcha: Misha: O.o you...
Graficcha: [[Misha hasn't caught on yet]]
Graficcha: [[Vin has]]
Roots: [[Apparently. xD]]
Roots: [[We're thinking of making the conscious decision part having happened a little while back, by the way. Spark's been incubating for a long while. xD]]
Graficcha: [[hmhm]]
Roots: Aoi: We were just wishing we could, together...raise something that's part of both of us, y'know? Just a dream, I guess....
Graficcha: Vin: O_o ... hooboy. this generation is crazy.
Roots: Aoi: o.o?
Graficcha: Misha: <;Graficcha: Vin: *runs a hand through his scruff all phew, madre mia* O_o"
Roots: Aoi: Well, hmm...there's just something that feels different about age...
Graficcha: Misha: oxo *total chaste*
Graficcha: Vin: I assume you did not....~
Roots: Aoi: Huh...? o.o
Graficcha: Vin: that never worked for us... not with most not half as human as everyone is today... *thinking aloud* no reproduction in proto stage either, most were in that back then... you... *glance*
Roots: Aoi: It's possible?! O.O
Graficcha: Vin: How would I know DX<
Roots: [[total 'hodamn o.o' moment here]]
Graficcha: Misha: O.o' *not sure if want to have a clue*
Graficcha: Vin: you didn't do the adult thing did you. : |
Roots: Aoi: Wait so, his Essence, mixing with mine? It could.... *has long since figured that his kind's reproduction isn't physical* Wait, we don't mix that way, all the repro-'organs' don't work....right? It'd have to be this that would....*points at one of the purple streaks, thinking*
Graficcha: Misha: that's Orpheus' essence in you. how'd that even happen : |
Graficcha: Vin: O_o ..... linker and... hooboy.
Graficcha: Vin: *flashback alert*
Roots: Aoi: How? Well, it started after we had that talk a while back.....*looks over to Vin, mind already starting to reach out, albeit sluggishly*
Graficcha: Vin: *wards off rather curtly* lemme think. ********* this is all so long in the past*
Graficcha: [[like a sparky slap on the hand]]
Roots: [[All Aoi needed was a no. xD]]
Roots: [[Reaching out, not reaching IN yet. >w>]]
Graficcha: [[he's focused xD]]
Graficcha: [[kinda like how you see a kiddo reaching for the cookies]]
Roots: Aoi: o.o *just watches quietly*
Roots: [[Mmhmm.]]

Graficcha: Vin: ... Linker and Tatiana had this happen once. maybe it's the same.
Graficcha: Misha: x.x *so confused*
Roots: Aoi: *nodding, listening* *shuffles over to hug Misha just because*
Graficcha: Misha: <.<
Graficcha: Vin: ... we never did find out what that was all about... ": /
Roots: Aoi: *confuuuuusion*
Graficcha: Vin: .. err... they were.... 'friends' of mine <<" Link got killed not long after we observed this oddity.
Roots: Aoi: I'm...sorry....
Graficcha: Vin: he was the one to get that odd sort of taint from her... I think Sunchase had her suspicions... *lost in forty years ago*

Roots: Aoi: *softnod, feeling a bit woozy, mist spreading*
Graficcha: Misha: *holds onto him* you okay? D="
Roots: Aoi: I..dunno, Ijus...*wobbly legs* *veins turning a much darker violet as the green mist comingles with them*
Graficcha: Misha: D:"" *picks him up so he doesn't fall*
Graficcha: Vin: *looks up from reverie* ... O.o
Roots: Aoi: *veins all sharply contract into his anthers, the green cloud compressing a bit* *perfect sphere around him much* *two thuds, one soft, one louder, one of Aoi's head hitting Misha's shoulder, the other of a rather noticeable rock falling from above his head and hitting the carpeted floor* *surrounding itself with its own sphere of mist, dark violet*
Roots: Aoi: *konked out, feeling all weird and pinprickly on his skin*
Graficcha: Misha: O____________O
Graficcha: Misha: *holds onto tightly*
Graficcha: Vin: *jawdrop*
Graficcha: [[like. dude. he just. gave birth?]]
Roots: [[Reminds me of a fuel-air bomb, cloud shoots out, just to get sucked back in and....boom.]]
Roots: [[xD;]]
Graficcha: [[xD]]
Roots: Aoi: *rather rushed with all his returning energy, can't quite move* *kertwitch, nevermind*
Graficcha: Misha: areyouokay D8>>>
Roots: Aoi: *can't even think straight enough to even try to reply*
Graficcha: Vin: *stiffly kneels down to look at the essence spark, recognizing it as a genuine one* *knees crack* ... o.o
Roots: Spark: *kerploofing little spurts of purplecrapmistessencewhatever here and there*
Graficcha: Vin: congratulations O;o *owly noise*
Roots: Aoi: -.o;;;; *mumblemumble* .........huh..........?
Graficcha: Vin: usually one would say something like 'it's a girl' but err.. it's a... spark O_o damn.
Graficcha: Misha: *squeak* oxo
Roots: Aoi: *almost jolts awake but fails, slumping again* asparkwhuh....?
Roots: [[Might call it a 'waking failure' xD]]
Graficcha: Vin: *looks up at* you alright there?
Roots: Aoi: Ifeelallfunny.......
Graficcha: Misha: ... Oo you had a spark popping out of your head. of course you feel 'funny'
Roots: Aoi: .....huh.......? ....aSpark....?
Graficcha: Vin: this is a spark. with a new essence. it's neither you nor orpheus. *staring at it dully*
Graficcha: (technically Aoi's essence is purple, too but hey XD))
Roots: Aoi: *rather trying to freak the hell out, but just can't quite manage*
Roots: [[>w>;]]
Graficcha: Misha: o.o *petpets* I'm not sure but I.. think you and Orpheus made a baby.
Roots: [he got an artificial essence dye-job at the local salon. :’D]
Graficcha: (( xD his main magic output's green yo))
Roots: Aoi: .....whoa.......*all he can manage*
Roots: Aoi: *loopysnrks a bit at something Orph had said about 'two brahs' not making a baby*
Graficcha: Vin: *carefully, a little tentatively picks it up into his hands* .... *feathers out to the side*
Roots: Aoi: L'me see....
Roots: [[If Fe turns out asexual, I'm gonna call him a him anyway, so will Aoi, he hates the term ‘it’ for a living thing. xD]]
Graficcha: Vin: *turns a little to go and-* ... *cuss*
Graficcha: [[I was considering leaving its chest bare but hey, all protos are neutral]]
Roots: [[Mmhmm.]]
Roots: Aoi: Huh.......?
Graficcha: Vin: *knees locked up, can't manage to get up* heh. give me a moment.. *holds spark in one hand, uses the free one to shove himself over to his butt* *tries to stretch out a bit to get up again*
Roots: Aoi: P'me down, I'll go to him......
Graficcha: Misha= *plops him down on the carpet carefully*
Graficcha: Vin: *scuffles a round a bit, leans over and hands aoi his 'baby'*
Roots: Aoi: *just hugs around it all x<*
Graficcha: Missha: *pats his shoulder* *all whoaaaaaaah D8 *
Roots: Aoi: I...
Graficcha: Vin: *halfempty stare*
Graficcha: Misha: *shnugs around from the back*
Roots: Aoi: I....sparked.....*heheheheheeheehalf-dazedgiggling to be had*
Graficcha: Misha: owo' you did
Graficcha: Vin: D :
Roots: Aoi: *cuddletherockandrabbit*
Graficcha: Vin: D :
Graficcha: Misha: *shhhnug* you soooo need to tell Orpheus
Roots: Aoi: *nodnodnodnodnodnodnod* x<
Graficcha: Misha: ..... I'd never heard of anything like this before 8° ... I don't think master DeLonghy even knows this is possible
Roots: Aoi: I guess we...should tell him too..."xD
Graficcha: Misha: ... I'll ask timka to inform him then, if you don't mind xvx
Roots: Elst: *coming back in from growing an entire tree out in the foresty area from scratch* What in the world....is....that reminds me of Aoi's Spark, how curious.
Graficcha: Vin: <_Graficcha: Misha: *leaves aoi to deliver the message*
Roots: Aoi: x< *cuddling the rock so very gently*
Graficcha: Misha: Roots: Elst: Wait, that isn't another Spark, is it....o.o;
Graficcha: Misha: *nod* OwO
Roots: Elst: But, how...? Wait, Aoi said he felt peculiar....but for the life of me can't recall him saying he felt pregnant....*voice so very calm*
Graficcha: Timka: WHAT?! *curious yell from the kitchen* *that word shouldn't be uttered here in daily chat, what*
Graficcha: Misha: *petpets his brother proudly*
Roots: Elst: Timka...I think I may have a grandchild now.... you may wish to come in here....
Roots: [[One of those rare times he'll actually call her that. xD]]
Graficcha: Timka: *comes bobbling over* O.o whatwhat? ... .... O.O
Roots: Elst: *comes over to her, soft hug, directing her vision to the Alter hugging the Alter that's hugging the Spark while watched by the Essentic Essentic*
Roots: [[xD;;]]
Graficcha: Timka: .... *hand to her lips lightly, staring* ... how.... oh come on, what...
Roots: Elst: From what I can piece together, well, I suppose Essentics can have children.
Graficcha: Timka: O///o ... that'ssssss.... whoah. Er. My-my... um. er. Congratulations, Aoi oO''' *HOW WHEN WHAT WITH*
Roots: Aoi: Heh, hee....thanks....*half trying to sit up*
Roots: Elst: *calm* It would seem he and Orpheus are very close....
Graficcha: Misha: *supports gently*
Roots: Aoi: *still just all x< *hug* *
Graficcha: Timka: *getting entirely wrong, wrong ideas* but th-they're both boys *good god ew ew what*
Roots: Elst: well, I don’t believe they reproduce with their bodies....Aoi's not precisely aligned with a gender, anyway, not mentally....*so calm it's probably getting annoying*
Graficcha: Timka: someone EXPLAIN this to me then D8
Graficcha: Misha: ... ""
Roots: Aoi: Our...Essences mated, not our bodies xD *finding this humorous is he on pot or something*
Roots: Aoi: *mist still flecked with violet*
Graficcha: Timka: .... *shudder*
Roots: Elst: *hugs her a little more fully, don't you worry nw, nuuu* What is the matter...?
Graficcha: Timka: *tries not to feel quite so revolted suddenly* >_<
Roots: Elst: *can't even grasp the concept of being even the slightest bit perturbed by any of this, trying to comfort her*
Graficcha: Timka: *muttermuttering something in russian under her breath that sounds anything but pleasant*
Roots: Aoi: *looks over at her* Well, if 's any consolation....only reason I'made m'bodt look maleish 's cause everybody kept calling me a dude as a Proto....woulda been inconvenient t'be anything else...*drifting brain*
Roots: Elst: : < *why is the love of my life so unhappyyyyy D:*
Graficcha: Timka: D8< ....
Graficcha: Misha: shhhhh x3x"""
Roots: Aoi: :c
Graficcha: Timka: *wiggles out of elst's hold and stomps outdoors to ragerage*
Roots: Elst: >:
Graficcha: Misha: she's very uncomfortable with... us, how we work. in general x;x'
Graficcha: [[RACIST NARF]]
Roots: Aoi: Figured as much..... x.x
Graficcha: Misha: don't worry about it... ": <
Roots: Elst: *rather lost now*
Roots: Aoi: *x< *back to Sparkhuggling*

[[And there you have it, folks, EBI can has babeh, durhurr. :B]]

|| Please check the first page, Relations section for further information on Marten~||

A sharp clink of a steel hinge.
The scratch of flint and the hiss of fresh ignition.
A moment's pause.
The soft sound of air taken in.


The filth-coated windows of a cheap, one-night motel room were smothered shut by aged blinds, each separate hanging piece a cracked tooth in an ancient grin. Thin daggers of early morning light intruded carefully through the cracks; They were merely threads in the thick quilt of musky darkness within the room. Two more threads, weak lights, accompanied them.

The sickly green glow, near-death, of a low-end digital clock bore blocky numbers, sneering the excruciatingly early hour of 3:11 AM as a ring of pungent smoke sighed out around the faint ember perched upon the end of a long, thin cigar. A fine label had once sheathed this slow-burning addiction; it seemed to be the sole object of quality within the cheap room full of trashed relics; reminiscent of the long-past decades where the motel was more than some trashy host for one-night stands.

Teeth stained deep with nicotine gripped the non-lit end of the peculiar cigar, careful not to break the soft tobacco-leaf skin that bound it, while equally certain not to let the coffin nail slip. Dry, chapped lips further ensured the stability of this small, charring luxury. Each drag was sluggishly savored; the smoke rested upon his tongue several moments before it was allowed escape with a breath vented between his lips.

A damn good morning to you too, old companion.

Marten remained still, seated upon the precipice of the budget mattress he'd slept on for the night, thinking over what was to come. A rusty creak whined from within the mattress as he shifted his weight, stretching out sore muscles and scratching the rough stubble that had collected upon his chin since he last had shaved.

Nothing too special today. He'd been following the man for nearly a week now, sleeping along the way in whichever motel seemed least likely to catch attention, while still being nearest to the fancy five-stars the target seemed to enjoy. His car, today, would be leaving at four o' clock sharp this morning, less than an hour from now. Sleek black compact of some sort, subtle yet stylish, or at least it was in that man's mind. These appearances mattered little to Marten; what he focused on was the security. Bullet-proofed glass, armored exterior. These were easy enough to bypass, for the man sat in the back seat, whose passenger doors possessed vertical glass instead of an inclined windshield which could potentially change the path of the bullet. The problem was the driver. Or, at least, he would have been. He was not to die, Marten knew, he was one of the key informers for this job after all. That was easy. The trouble came in with a small detail; this driver couldn't get any heat for this. Hard enough to ignore when a high-caliber round liquefies your boss' skull, yet alone explain it to others as well.

But there was a golden detail hidden in the problem. The idiot liked his privacy a little too much, and this car was equipped specially to make sure the driver knew nothing of what occurred in the back seats. Why is this so idiotic? Well, the guy still kept the sound-proofed barrier between the two rows of seats up, even when nothing demanded the privacy. And that was Marten's opportunity.

Use a small, dense round to avoid shattering the glass by instead putting a tiny hole through it at a high force. Through the window, through his temples, through the seat, out the lower portion of the door. Nice and easy. The driver wouldn't hear a thing, and when he parked in the meet-up point with the higher-ups of this particular mob he could explain the obsessive privacy needs. The target was already the subject of ridicule for this; it'd be no great surprise to his 'colleagues' that he finally got offed.

Marten had to wonder where the cash was coming from, the stack of bills the client, the driver, had paid up-front, but he didn't truly care. It certainly didn't match the low-rate salary chauffeurs got weekly, so the money was obviously stolen, but…so long as Marten spent it in the right places, he wouldn't have to give a damn who it was stolen from.

Nearly two hours later. 5:02 on military time. Next job wasn't till nearly 13:00. He drove for a short while; a new location was always good to have after a kill. The vehicle in question was some old, average car, just so he could get far enough away from his last job site. Cars were a bit expensive these days, but it was a cheap model, and he needed speed. Enough said.

Either way, the job was done, and he could use some food, groceries, amongst other things. Time to restock. Conrad should be in this week, if he recalled correctly; the man always had damn fine cigars to sell and it was damn fine cigars Marten wished to buy.

As he went to join the tedium of weekly shopping, his thoughts barely even crossed the day's earlier job; all he had to do was nest in the right spot, choose the right round, fire once in the right place, and get the ******** out. The later job was just to find some info on someone, no big deal. Just another average day.

Frank liked to keep an eye open and an ear to the ground. He knew opportunities when he saw them, and made sure this talent was never wasted. People trusted Frank. This guy had a family, kids, ran a nice diner that got customers every now and then. He even served as a waiter for the whole place when he could. Not that this place was ever too whole.

It brought in business, sure, was even one of the nicer places in the area, but if you let it get too nice, people are gonna start wondering where all the swank money’s coming from. And that’s exactly what Frank didn’t want people to know.

Today, business was just the usual, the regulars passing in and out; hey Frank, how’s things? Me? Yeah, she’s a b***h, ain’t she? Same s**t different day, you know the drill. Just the usual words of the regular people on an ordinary afternoon. Frank dished out a few orders on his own, but eventually, casually, allowed his two hired hands to take over.

Joey was a nice enough kid, face gone to hell these past few years, but he worked well, didn’t complain, even helped cook when needed. Kept that damn greasy, long brown hair out of his face too; that helped. His long, thin frame got a bit clumsy at times, but he’d never dropped anything before, and hell if he was gonna let anything drop now. Susan’s only complaint was that Joey scared away the customers, but she was quiet most of the time, having that rare sort of wit to her that needed few words. Subtle curves, silky red hair, and a charm capable of stunning an elephant helped bring in the tips, too.

While those two kept things under control, Frank carefully sat himself down in the corner booth, reading the newspaper. His eyes only left it when the door’s bell unleashed its cheery chime and a man with bold blue eyes came in, carrying a long guitar case on his back. A nod from the man stated that he’d seen Frank sitting there. The first person to reach the booth, though, was Suzie, carrying a tray loaded with soul food; the food Frank had requested to share with his expected friend. The food was taken by Frank as Suzie filtered into the white noise that composed the rest of the diner. The apparent musician sat down across from Frank, and the newspaper, carefully folded, was laid to rest upon the small table.

“Got another easy one. ‘s been a good week for ya Marty. Don’t even haf’ta waste a shot this time.”

A slip of paper was slid across the unkempt table; the transition hidden under the crisp, oily papers that laid askew across the table, discarded once unwrapped from the burgers they had formerly protected. The corners were bent, roughed up and wrinkled from a trip in Frank’s pocket with dabs of cooking oil sinking into the tattered edges. It fleeted across the surface, landing neatly on Marten’s lap, and neither man paid it any heed. Just a folded-up napkin was all, Marten must have asked Frank to pass him one, nothing special.

Frank was what Marten liked to call a safe agent. Kind hazel eyes, wavy brown hair wet from the sweat of one too many days of honest work. His face held refuge to a bit of stubble, the possible result of his choice to start a light beard, or of having slept in. He was a little on the heavy side; hadn’t added another chin just yet but he had the makings of a slight belly. His age allowed a few lines to crease his face; his eyes released their own marks, slight bags.

The thing was, Frank looked like any average, middle-aged guy. He looked like a man who comes home tired from a hard day at work, kisses his wife, has dinner with an extra helping of Donna’s special mashed potatoes, and goes to bed to the sounds of the evening news. Frank looked like a man you could trust. Such men were growing slim in these parts, and the ones that looked a little too trustworthy always had other things in mind.

But Frank? He was a safe agent. Just trustworthy enough. Marten got some good jobs through him; way better than he could on his own, and all Frank took for himself was a sliver of the pay, just enough to cover the work it took to find the job in the first place. He took more from his other clientele, but he and Marten…they had an agreement. Marten had been getting jobs from Frank and doing them well for years, and Frank only ever took what he deserved, while Marten went home with his proper share of the cash. It worked. It always had.

These two men, blue eyes meeting worn hazel, shot the s**t for a while; how’s the wife, did Conrad have the good nails and all that jazz. The background noise drained out enough of the men’s conversation, so it mattered little anyway.

No one noticed the slip of paper disappear; they never did. There was even an odd, quick-molded key replica that joined it. This crowd never noticed anything. All the better.

The job was as Frank said, real simple. The cheap key-copy only made it easier. A quick break in, borrow some documents while the owner was out golfing. Fetching evidence, mostly. Proof that he’d wronged someone else, so they could wrong him. The key spared Marten from even having to break down the lock, and freed him the efforts of making it look like a simple robbery, or having to make the lock look like it hadn’t been broken. Just make sure there’s no hidden eyes, cut the power for a while, unlock the door, and walk on in. He’d be careful to check for any further security of course, but it was clear that this particular man wasn’t too good at protecting his valuables, that was obvious. Some documents that could easily have fakes made to replace the originals, and all in good time before the guy got back.

He’d never even notice anything was missing until the client knocked on his door for a little negotiating.