She's writing a letter as fast as she can, but it's hard to know what to write about when her life is so dull. *** feels bad when she can only write a few paragraphs to Kettil, words padding the paper to make it seem like she's really having a good time, that she's happy to hear he's having fun over there and that she wishes she could join him. Amity sounded so exciting . . . Better than her current rinky dink school.
She is writing about how her music lessons are going (but he must be so bored of reading about those, she ought to think of something else) when her paper is snatched from her. Dual giggles ring like bells as the twins strike.
"***'s writing a looooove letterrrrrr!"
In an instant she's on her feet, pen thrown on the table as she gives chase. "You stupid brats--!" But it's not fair, because their saw whet owls come and distract her, smacking into her face and pulling at her voluminous hair and hooting with their own maniacal laughter.
"Who's it to?" Paige asks as they pour over their prize.
*** was too busy trying to claw the owls off her to pursue them as the twins scurried away--and the saw whets fled with them shortly after. Not that it mattered; they knew she had been writing drafts of a love letter to a boil at school and had been curious ever since. She knew they wouldn't find the actual pages; she'd incinerated them whenever she messed up.
But she did tell everything to Kettil and, by proxy, now they knew who it was by reading the paper. This was going to be a long day.
[ main blessing 1/1 ]
Posted: Mon Aug 19, 2013 4:07 pm
[ Main Blessing: 4/5 ]
"Welcome to the best division."
Finally, a party. It wasn't anything large scale like she was used to. In fact, it was relatively small. Just some fast food a guy picked up, nothing special. Still, it was friendship. Camaraderie. She could appreciate that.
"What's got your tail in a twist, sweetheart?" She remembered the sour man- he was in her division, wasn't he? Sun. *******'s cheeky grin was bared for all to see. She never understood why some people were always so grumpy. She was very go with the flow, that was for sure.
chiickadee
Princess Hoarder
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Inle-roo
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Posted: Mon Aug 19, 2013 4:07 pm
*** didn't have an artistic bone in her body, and she knew it. Why was she even in this booth? She couldn't bake--the burnt and rock hard cookie on the plate in front of her was a testament to that--and her attempts to decorate it were even worse. Still, it made her feel a little less bad when the ghoul running the booth commended her efforts.
*** still wouldn't have eaten it, though.
((Creative))
Posted: Mon Aug 19, 2013 4:08 pm
[ main blessing one]
There was a group of about ten kids not too far off from him, their boards were on the ground and their instructor starting off with a little lecture before he probably went into the more practical applications. His eyes were trained on them, as if eavesdropping on the lesson though he couldn't hear what was being said.
"####!" His father called from behind him, his feet in the low surf that broke upon the beach. He was waving his free hand out, beckoning his son over. It took a moment for the boy to pull away and join him.
"Papa, shouldn't we do what they're doing?" #### asked, his hand pointing at the group. He looked a little worried standing in his wet suit, his tiny grip on a surf board much too big for him.
"Nah, we #### men don't need that stuff. We just jump in and learn as we go. Come on, it'll be fun." His father grinned, slapping him gently on the shoulder and ushered him into the water.
chirigami
Swashbuckling Sentai
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Smerdle
Scamp
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Posted: Mon Aug 19, 2013 4:08 pm
He'd heard rumors that Herryk had disappeared. **** rubbed at the puckered scar that stretched across his neck, grunting with dissatisfaction as he recalled how poorly their last fight had gone.
It was conceivable that the draugr had simply run away or gone back home, but **** kind of hoped the hunters had found him and put him down for good, or at the very least, twisted him into one of their weapons.
He supposed it wasn't worth dwelling on. All **** knew was that if he ever met some skinny human with an undead-looking black sword, he was going to snap the thing over his knee.
[ vengeful ]
Posted: Mon Aug 19, 2013 4:09 pm
[ main blessing two]
They looked sad and his mother was actually crying. She never cried, always keeping her Japanese pride with a straight face and a graceful attitude, but here she was with a tissue dabbing at her eyes. His father looked like he was holding back something, he could feel it with the clap on the back and the manly hug he gave before gently pulling his sister into his arms.
"You be good and take care of each other," their mother told them with the same stern voice they had learned to live with. It was fighting through the sadness, not wanting to say goodbye to her two children, heading to the mainland. Jirou looked indifferent behind her.
"Don't join a gang," their brother smirked, learning a dreaded look from Mama #### (Though, he did catch his father giving Hana a look of 'really, don't let him').
"Aloha oe," as rare as it was to see her cry, it was as rare to hear her utter anything in Hawaiian. But here she was, extending the farewell and kissing them each on the cheek.
"Until we meet again," their father finished.
chirigami
Swashbuckling Sentai
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AyeAvast
Sparkly Bunny
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Posted: Mon Aug 19, 2013 4:12 pm
Coaxing people into telling her things, into saying and divulging the information she is interested in is an easy task. Part of it is because the witch is so sweet, always smiling and friendly. Why should anyone refuse her anything? She just wants to talk to you, to hear what you have to say on the matter. Surely a small part of it is because she is cute and pretty and in possession of physical attributes that particular people find pleasing. But more than all that, *** is good at making friends. She is good at knowing what people want to hear so they will return the favor. But she abuses this power. She coerces strangers into spilling their secrets and friends into talking of things that hurt. Even if she doesn't mean it maliciously, the witch still finds herself continuing the practice. She only ever considers stopping it when she speaks to Sal.
He sits on the rock with her, his last little bit of home that is such a poor excuse for his origins that *** could cry right there. But she is not satisfied to tell him of her woes. She wants to hear his too. She wants to know if he's ever been in love. Of course someone as wonderful and sweet and charismatic as Salbei has been in love! What a silly witch to think otherwise! But what is more is that he never told the mare he loved her. They worked together, but she was taken away by the destruction of his lands. She died without hearing that he loved her. And Sal tells *** all this without getting nearly as emotional as she does. It hurts to hear, it physically pains her to think about her affectionate Horseman and that the scarves he wears twined about his boney body are from this woman. That this is all he has left of her. A bitter taste is left in the witch's mouth as she leaves, feeling sorry for him and feeling worse that she made him relieve the tale.
{Side Blessing- Sad}
Posted: Mon Aug 19, 2013 4:13 pm
[ main blessing three ]
The wind danced in his hair, tousling the brown strands lightly around his face as he ran. He didn't think to move it, to wait those few minutes to fight with the powerful force that was headstrong into him. He didn't think much really, here he didn't need to and just let his body move one foot at a time. It felt free, like being in the water weightless even though there were so many aches as he pushed his body. It couldn't last forever, as much as he wanted it to, his marathon was simply shirt sprints of a greater whole.
chirigami
Swashbuckling Sentai
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Smerdle
Scamp
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Posted: Mon Aug 19, 2013 4:14 pm
He'd thought she was joking at first. He hadn't done a thing with those ghouls. They were his friends. But she didn't understand how he could dance and joke and be alone with them and still be hers.
He made a promise to himself, as she clawed and hissed and he didn't fight back, that he would stay away from them all, at least for a little while. He knew it wouldn't be forever. He knew he would see that pain in her eyes again someday and that he would be the cause, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
[ sad ]
Posted: Mon Aug 19, 2013 4:16 pm
[ Main Blessing: 5/5 ]
The weapon felt odd, clunky in her hand. Another coat fluttered in the breeze in front of her. Sun. Just like hers. She was proud of the sun, proud of the way it glimmered in the training grounds.
The man was friendly. She was a newborn chick, still unsure of how to wield herself in battle. Evan- Evan though. He was a sight to see. Not bad looking, either. She wasn't sneaking peeks, no never.
Were things always going to be this way? Just lackadaisical fights in the training grounds? She'd heard whispers of past horrors and daily missions, but so far she hadn't been let out on any on her own. Maybe she was like the home defense- the easy route? That'd be a blessing.
Either way, she had some fine a** to kick, and her bow wasn't going to shoot itself. ******* shook her head- she couldn't think of this as lazy work, the leaders might be watching. "One more!"
chiickadee
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Sexy Cocaine
Greedy Guest
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Posted: Mon Aug 19, 2013 4:18 pm
[Main Blessing 4/5]
Hel reached for her shake and took another sip, staring out the window. “…I am still existing, so that is always a good thing, ya? Though…truthfully, friend…I think I am in the pit…but I think…I am still falling.”
"Existing doesn't always seem like a good thing." *** admitted, quick to follow up on her words. "There have been times when I wished I could just cease existing. Stop thinking. Halt at being anything but FEAR. I wanted to melt into the universe and embrace a lack of emotion, to be at peace."
It looked like the ghoul was being consumed by her thoughts. "Perhaps that's just me. Everyone handles it differently. Both the pain and the cold numbness that follows. Just know Hel that you too can reap what you sew, and with all the seeds you managed to plant in the hearts of your comrades, I think it's safe to say they'll always be waiting for you at the top of that pit."
“Heh.” Hel reached out and placed a hand over the top of ***’s. “Whether they are good or bad, right?” She mused. “…Thank you, ***.” It was a sincere thanks.
Posted: Mon Aug 19, 2013 4:18 pm
[ main blessing four ]
#### was at least glad for the hand keeping him kind of steady, he was sure the second step was going to be as bad as the first.
Well, it wasn't so much but being out of the pod and on more solid land was nice. "Thanks?" Unsure of for which, the help or the congratulatory remark. Maybe for both, was it really something to be alive here? "Howzit?" He flashed a more earnest smile, "And.. uh, where am I?"
"An island," he explained hesitantly, "in middle of Bermuda Triangle, I think. Is, uh, not so important the vhere as the vhat."
"Island is headquarters of Deus Ex Machina, the Hunters." Unconsciously he ran his free right hand through his hair. "And you are newest Hunter. On good day ve are protecting vorld from shadows and Fear. And all the things made of it."
"Heh, I admit is actually quite fascinating to see though... Is emotion, but matter? I can show you sometime the sciences behind it, is really very clever." His limited vocabulary couldn't quite convey what his voice did, shifting from awkward stuttering to quiet excitement. The life hunter's mind seemed to have wandered completely away from 'introductory speech'. He looked a good deal more comfortable and happy when he rambled about science, and seemed to realize it himself after a time.
"Vhat... did you say your name vas?" he asked, tentative once more.
chirigami
Swashbuckling Sentai
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AyeAvast
Sparkly Bunny
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Posted: Mon Aug 19, 2013 4:22 pm
This Hunter has talked for long enough. This stupid, sorry excuse for a living creature with a seriously poor taste in what constitutes as actual pants has spoken his piece and then some. *** had not expected to encounter this particular Hunter, not after everything she'd suffered through in the last few months and especially not when she considers their first meeting. They toss back insults (her obviously superior to his), and finally they get to the heart of the matter: Essentially they hate each other. He finds her an insufferable blight on his world, she finds him a nuisance who aims to harm what she loves. That simply will not do.
After an impassioned speech over how very proud to be Halloween she is, the witch pulls back one clenched fist. The first little lock of her bones is how he has continually insulted Mort. The second, further pull back of her limb is because this stupid boy has judged her from the beginning. The third, and most damning reason she clenches her fist all the tighter is because he tried to hurt Lifen. Months ago in the snow he dared attack the pretty Horsewoman who had been nothing but kind and giving to ***. The witch shrieks as she hauls her fist forward and feels it collide perfectly with his jaw, somehow powering through the punch enough that she knocks him on his a**. She grins down at him, wickedly happy to have done such but then he's gone.
{Side Blessing- Vengeful}
Posted: Mon Aug 19, 2013 4:23 pm
Was this the end?
Reflecting back, she realized that the memories were there. The ones she called, the good and the bad, they were still there. She even remembered the letter she wrote... addressing someone she clearly cared deeply for.
How could she have forgotten?
had they done that to her? Allowed these memories to remain sealed? What else were they keeping from her? Maybe there was a reason her heart was yellow, because she was damn paranoid...
She faded out with the briefest of sounds. Just a muffled noise from her lips. The universe did not die with a bang....but a whisper.
Memories
Memory 1:
She did not want to go back into the pods, but they hadn't listened.
She had disobeyed orders, and they took no prisoners... no mercy. She needed to be taught a lesson, so back into the trials she went.
She was a good girl... she would never let that happen again.
Memory 2: Meetings
Looking back a memory popped up, the first one she had encountering the male with the long white hair. It was pulled into a braid back then.
She remembered conversations of Miniskirts and comic books. Of hair and time spent in the pods....
Memory 3:
Another memory flicked through, and she felt herself blinking. There was horror, and not much... to remember.
Was she some sort ot insanity beast?
Memory 4:
There was a small of dinner cooking in the oven. Something she knew she had not made. Even more rememberable was the body beside her, curled together with him. Her fingers brushing through his hair.
Memory 5:
A sense of Duty, a need to see things through. There was a decision to be made, and a portal that people were dared to cross. She was not going to cross, not going to allow herself that. She only felt he need to cross once a particular gold haired male decided to go through. His quest for information gathering left her speechless. He was her boyfriends best friend, and she could not allow him to be harmed.
Rojand's memories held loneliness, the aching loneliness of being with people but never letting them close, and being held now made something unbearably tight ease within him. The decision would be easy, of course. He knew where he wanted to go.
Reap and Iron chose red, easily, like it was no decision at all either, and the words died in Rojand's mouth. He kissed them, hung back a moment and watched as they walked away, trusting that he would follow. See you on the other side. He'll make sure I don't do anything too stupid. And they were gone.
He looked to green - knowledge, answers, everything he'd always wanted.
No. Not everything. With a small sigh, he decided. It wasn't difficult, after all.
His Heart resisted being taken out; it had attached itself firmly to its temporary home, and he had to pry at it, tearing away bits and pieces --
Don't go.
Can't I just like a guy?
Hurting is important.
Why?
His Heart came loose in his hand, and he gave it up to red. He was transparent now, and tired, and as he faded away he heard voices calling him, calling a name --
♛♛
When the big man comes over to pull him into a bearhug, him and A-Two, ****** recognizes him, his voice and big frame and the confident way he walks. A-Seven, his right-hand man, and they've all got names now, names and faces. They've made it. He promised he'd be here on the other side of that door waiting for them when he said his goodbyes, and here he is, and here they are. Not all of them, but he has faith that they'll turn up. His team. His people.
♛♛
He packs a change of clothes, soap and a toothbrush, a few books, and the pictures of his family into his backpack. He keeps the folding frame closed, because right now he can't stand to look at Andy's smiling face, not when the numb hollow ache of loss is so recent and immediate. It'll ease a little with time, he knows, but he can't right now. He's in a bad state of mind to make any kind of decision, especially one that involves traveling to some unknown place with an unknown person, but the woman has said just enough to catch his attention. The shadows are real. They're not -- he's not the only one.
He goes to the window of his dorm room and pushes aside the curtain, looking down and out to the shaded place under the pines where something stands at dusk, watching everyone who passes by, its blurry fingers curling and uncurling slowly. At night, he latches the windows and keeps the curtains closed. It won't keep them out if they really want to get in, but if something starts trying the window he'll have enough time to get out the door, and if something out there is just looking ... well, he doesn't want to know. So much of his peace of mind at any time depends on trying not to see the things he shouldn't be seeing.
The woman in the hood suggested that there might be ways to defend himself. He closes the window and latches it, listening to the latch clunk into place. He doesn't know how long he's going to be gone, and if anyone - anyone human - gets into the room while he's not here, he'll be held accountable. He's going to miss some classes, but his professors are aware of the death in the family. They'll cut him some slack. He's not going to be expected to be on his normal schedule for a while. They might not even miss him. He pulls the sheets and covers on the narrow bed straight, tucks them in, takes a few more minutes to tidy up. When he leaves, he doesn't want to leave a mess behind.
♛♛
He's aware of the possibility that he's going to get punched, but there's mistletoe and the blonde guy in the Moon coat is really cute, and it's not like he got where he is now by not taking risks.
♛♛
His fifth birthday is on Friday. Right now it's Wednesday and he can't wait any longer. There are going to be presents and cake and his cousins are going to be here and so are all his friends, all of them, and he overheard Mom saying to Tia that she was going to need a drink after twelve kindergarteners in the backyard, which he doesn't understand, couldn't she just drink a soda too? Because there's going to be soda, which he's not allowed to have most of the time and it's going to be so awesome that he's gonna explode.
Andy is two years old and not excited. ****** doesn't understand why Andy isn't excited about the party, okay maybe it's not his birthday too but friends, friends and cousins, lots of them, but every time ****** tries to explain that there's going to be lots of people there and it's going to be so awesome Andy goes and crawls under Mom's chair or scoots around to hide behind her legs and stares at him with great big eyes that just say no no no. Andy is a chicken sometimes. That's okay, though. ****** is brave enough for both of them.
When he thinks that, a little glimmer of understanding starts to wriggle its way through. Maybe Andy doesn't like parties because Andy isn't the same as him.
This is a large, pointy, uncomfortable concept, and ****** can't hang onto it for long. When Mom pokes her head out the back door to tell him it's time for snack, he lets go of the thought instantly, glad to have something else to think about.
♛♛
It's not that he wouldn't talk about it if he was asked. Not like he never says anything about his family. He keeps the photos on the shelf by his desk (he doesn't know what he would have done if his room had been among those destroyed, if he'd lost the last concrete remnant he has left of them), and now and then he just stands there and looks at them. Once in a while, he does say something. But he's quietly and utterly grateful that his friends haven't asked, that the guys haven't asked, that he doesn't have to talk about it, that he can choose what to say and when to say it.
He knows little of his guys' families except what they've let slip offhand or revealed with or without meaning to. In turn, he respects their silence and doesn't ask either.
♛
He's been doing this for the past few weekends, long weekends with a Friday tacked on and sometimes a Monday, catching a ride at dawn out with Geoff and his buddies in that rattletrap of a van that Geoff calls the Shaggin' Wagon (nobody can take him seriously when he says it, including himself) and spending the day at the beach, out in the water with the sun beating heavy on his head (his hair's going to be practically white again by the time September rolls around) and his hands cold in the Atlantic as he paddles out. He's figured out how to kneel on the board without tipping himself off every time, a feat of balance in the rocking water that seemed impossible the first time he crawled on and immediately fell right back off, so he's learning something, anyway.
Sometimes, right after he's fallen off again and he's rolling under the surface with the underwater roar of the ocean in his ears and orienting himself to come back to the surface for another try, one more try, he feels like the two hundred bucks he scraped together from odd jobs and part-time stuff could've been spent better on other things, even if Geoff's buddy practically gave him the old board and suit (said that he never pissed in it, which made ****** immediately wary because why did he have to specify, but he couldn't afford anything more expensive and he washed it about three times before trying it on, just in case), but then the next time he gets up and tips over the gathering wave and for half a second he starts to slide down it smooth and elegant as - as - he doesn't know what, but he wants that and he's going to learn how to do it. He's going to learn.
The surface of the water dips under the board and he glances back and sees a good swell gathering, the ocean humping its back and preparing to rise up into the kind of wave you can ride, and he pulls his knees under him and waits for it and as it picks him up as effortlessly as a wood chip he paddles hard, gauges the crest the way he learned ages ago with a boogie board, and lunges to his feet as he starts slipping over the edge, catches his balance and leans almost accidentally into the path he's cutting down the face of the wave and holy s**t he's doing it he's flying for a few endless astonishing seconds --
-- and he leans too far and the board shoots out from under him and the water engulfs him in foam and noise, but when he surfaces and gets his breath and shakes hair out of his face he's laughing, giddy and delighted and proud, because he did it, and if he did it once he can do it again.
♛
The cool metal of the ring (gold, silver, gold, two Suns and a Moon) slips over his finger and settles there naturally, almost as naturally as ******'s ring, and there's a warm, sweet bubble of pure, proud, untarnished joy swelling up in his chest as he looks up at them, wearing the same brilliant smile, the same simple ring.
♛
The next 45 minutes are spent discussing Jerry's sartorial choices.
" ... No."
"Not with that color, seriously, dude."
"No."
"Try that one."
"Harrison has one of those in the closet."
"No flipflops. Get something that won't fall apart in an hour."
The total ends up being surprisingly low, and the pile of clothes that ended up in Jerry's bag are mostly unobjectionable, with the exception of a couple of loud shirts (****** had figured - correctly - that the concession would give him more leeway to veto worse things). ****** is also carrying a bag when they leave, though he's been pickier and his bag is therefore lighter. "That wasn't so bad, was it," he says cheerfully as they emerge from the store.
♛
He has a cup of coffee, and he's intending to keep this conversation calm and civil, but he's not going to make it easy. Every time Al starts up with his passive-aggressive little smilies, Rep gets upset, and ****** and Harrison can do something about that, but he'd rather not have to. It pisses him off that he has to do damage control. One of these days Rep will get to a point where it doesn't trigger a flailing defensive fit, but that hasn't happened yet and ****** isn't so sure it's going to be soon. Their fiance is a giant knot of issues, and untangling one often brings others slithering out into the light.
When the kid shows up, ****** is pleasant, polite, controlled, and he watches Al get progressively less comfortable, fidgeting, his voice pitching higher and his accent leaning harder on his words, and ****** is quietly, viciously pleased about that, because Al has given him a whole hell of a lot to be unhappy about recently, and he deserves to get uncomfortable about it. It's all the more satisfying that all he has to do is let the kid work himself into a ball of twitches.
It's possible that ****** shouldn't be enjoying that, but he doesn't give a s**t.
♛
As Rep walks away -- flees, really -- ****** sits down heavily on the cot, burying his face in his hands. He's been an idiot. He's out of breath, like he's been punched in the gut, except this punch was entirely metaphorical. He doesn't know how he didn't see it before. He should have, maybe he did, maybe waking up shoulder to shoulder leaning against the wall under the haphazard drape of a blanket and feeling more rested and more comfortable than he had in a week should have tipped him off to what he was doing to himself, but maybe he didn't want to see. Telling himself that it was just friendship, just that, let him keep that warmth, and anyway, even if he felt a little too strongly, it was safe, Rep wasn't interested and he could just keep quiet. Seeing would have meant stopping, and maybe he's selfish as hell, but he doesn't want to have to choose.
