Note: Most of these are pretty old. o_o;;
Go from most recent to oldest.
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Aiden Alexander Nightson
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"The secret side of me I never let you see, I keep it caged but I can't control it."
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Aiden was last.
Of course he was last, he knew he just had to be. The day was all ready presenting itself the most unfriendly ways. To begin with, he had nightmares. The man couldn’t remember for the life of him what they were about, but he knew with certainty they had been bad. No one awoke by jolting straight up with quivering muscles, sweaty palm and brow, and a painfully racing chest. To make matters worse, whatever had plagued his sleep must have been loud and obnoxious, for it kept him from paying any heed to his alarm. He slept right through the morning, and was on his way to dozing off into the afternoon. He could only imagine what they others would say or think when he finally showed up, after all of them had probably settled in and made nice.
“ Oh Aiden, you idiot. We decided to make an amazing awesome friendship without you. Sorry, you just weren’t here on time,” or, “Aiden you bipolarbear, way to be irresponsible and be the last one to show up.” He grumbled to himself, but didn’t have time to be lethargic. Aiden hated, hated, hated mornings. Even if it wasn’t technically morning, It was the time he woke up, and therefore as far as he was concerned, morning. He was the type that, to get to somewhere by nine, he would have to wake up at six. The usual morning routine would involve laying in bed, staring at the clock as the minutes passed, thinking about how he really should get going. This would go on for some time, before his bladder could hold out no longer and he would lumber off to take care of his business. Once on his feet, he would convince himself he made it that far, he might as well get dressed.
Every day.
But not today!
Today he was late, running terribly behind schedule, and needed to get going. Thank god he had more or less anticipated this. He usually procrastinated pretty badly, and had thought ahead. Most of what he owned was all ready stationed at his new dwelling. Good thing, too, because all of the suit cases sitting on his floor were completely empty. The brown-haired youth threw himself at the bathroom, doing his business and brushing his teeth half-heartedly. He didn’t bother with his hair, which was almost always messy anyway. Do his hair? Ain’t nobody got time fo’ that. Oh god, what was he going to wear? In his flurry of racing around his room, he stopped and looked at himself in the mirror. He wore only his navy blue boxers currently. Fairly thin, somewhat toned body. He examined himself critically. Taller? Maybe a little. More muscular? Yeah, he could stand to work out. Tanner? Probably a good idea. Placing his hands on his hips, he turned and puffed out his cheeks with dismay. He was…cute, supposedly, but not the handsome muscular studmuffin ladies seemed to go for. The short-tempered, (sometimes) socially awkward teen never had had luck with the opposite sex. Once they got to know him they realized what a weirdo he was, and decided they weren’t really all that interested.
No time no time!
Aiden jolted himself out of his wallowing and self pity, and threw on some old somewhat tattered jeans that his mom had been nagging him to throw away, and a plain black t-shirt. It hugged his chest and what slight abs he had, and made his arms seem more muscular. A hat, of course. Couldn’t forget that! The last of his belongings he stuffed without any folding or order into his suitcases, and decided that would have to be good enough. Slinging his bags over his shoulder, and putting on his heavy combat boots, he thumped noisily down the stairs.
“Bye mom, see ya later dad!” he called out into the house. They were probably…somewhere. He didn’t know, and didn’t have time to figure it out. It was likely he would see them within a week or so anyway, maybe sooner. The new house wasn’t terribly far away from the dwelling of his now old, not-living-alone life. The thought gave him chills.
Throwing his belongings into the sporty little black car, he hopped inside and bolted down the road. He sped, thank god there wasn’t a cop, until he made it to the lovely, roomy looking house he would be sharing with his childhood friends. It had been some time since he had seen them. The last time he had been in rehab for his drug and alcohol addictions…
Aiden swallowed worriedly. Would they judge him? Would they be completely different people? These and other questions raced through his mind as he pulled up and saw the other cars. So he wasn’t the last one here! That was good, and a relief. Aiden turned off his car, and pulled all of his luggage out. A brisk trot up to the door—it was unlocked. Tentatively, the youth swung open the door, and peered inside.
No one was about!
“They must be upstairs,” he thought out loud, thinking he heard the sounds of people. He scurried up the stairs. There were indeed people here, and it became very clear something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Placing his belongings down on the floor, he lightly stepped into the room where everyone was. His heart was racing anxiously. What he saw solidified his worry. Two girls were on the floor crying, Rachel and Palo, while Adam stood by stony with tense muscles and a set jaw. Matty (God forbid you call her by her full name) seemed oblivious to what was going on, though, and looked as confused as he felt.
“Uh…h-hi?” he said awkwardly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Has something happened?” He blinked, frowning now. He heard Palo then say something about marrying Rachel. Woah, when did that happen?
"Wait, what? What's this about marriage?"
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"So stay away from me, the beast is ugly. I feel the rage and I just can't hold it."
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The young lord, Prince Gabriel Drake, found himself sleepless yet again. His mind raced, head pounding ruthlessly, ears ringing without any sign of giving him relief. He lay in bed, the covers over his nearly naked body. Long, powerful arms were folded behind his head, and as he stared at the dark ceiling above him, the shadows stared right back.
He sighed.
Life was taking such sudden, drastic changes, and he wasn’t a fan of any of them. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The…the union of himself and that girl was supposed to bring peace to his people, and create a stronger, more balanced world for all. Dark brows pulled together in a frown, and he kicked the covers off of him in frustration. He didn’t want to get married. Didn’t need to. Governing his people on his own, that’s what he wanted, and was confident that he could do so easily. Why did there have to be a marriage? A treaty, an alliance, some sort of written paper stating that the kingdom of Determination would join with his own to be one powerful, united force, made much more sense to him. Marriage? He would much rather not. Women were bothersome creatures, fickle and needy, and proved to be utter distractions. He had no desire to become legally bonded to this woman. Perhaps, though, he wouldn’t have to be her husband. Technically speaking, yes, he would, but that didn’t mean they had to sleep in the same room or even spend any time together. Certainly she felt the same way about the marriage, and if she didn’t, it was her problem.
…Ugh, but that wasn’t fair.
The man rolled onto his side, stretching an arm out above him. He glared at the wall opposite him, laid there a while, and then sat straight up. Placing his face in his hands, he groaned loudly. Tomorrow. Tomorrow was the day that would define the rest of his life. It was horrifying and irritating, and he simply DID NOT WANT TO DO IT! It wasn’t fair to him, or this…girl, ugh, or anyone else who had to be married. He didn’t have much of a choice, though. Refusing the union was basically like saying he would rather the nation crumble and be weak. It was almost like saying he preferred war and fighting.
Although, to be honest, he might take that above this prison the people had come to call marriage. Throwing his feet over the side of the bed, the man stood to his full height. He was massive, stretching well over six feet when erect, and all lean muscle. Guards and friends would tell him how the women just simply lusted over him, stared at him, whispered about him as he passed, but he paid no attention to such nonsense. Physical appearance was unimportant. He was so fit and built because his body was a tool that needed to be kept sharp, and in perfect condition, to serve its purpose. There was no other reason. Really, he did not even consider himself ‘handsome.’ He didn’t know what he even looked like. Well, of course he knew what he looked like. Dark hair, gray-green eyes, tan skin. But in an attractive aspect, he was clueless. He was just…himself. Nothing special.
On his feet, the young man paced around his spacious room. There was his bed, but also long, tall windows, a desk and chair, several book cases filled to capacity, a rack of weapons. A glorious crystal chandelier hung in the center, with tens of candles situated on the various curves. There were wall sconces and lanterns as well, with a very grand fireplace being a centerpiece. He looked at all of these things, but found little interest in them at the moment. Shaking his head, he pulled a cloak over his nearly bare body, and pushed out of the door of his room. A pair of guards noted his departure, but asked no questions or made any move to stop him. It was common for him to come and go at ungodly hours, considering how little he slept. Especially lately, with so much on his mind and troubling him. He found himself at the horse stables, where he drew out his most beloved mount. A beautiful white steed, with silvery-yellow mane and tail and wide, obsidian colored eyes. She had been conditioned to need as little rest as he had, as he would often venture out for many days. There was no need for a bridle, but for safety he did place a saddle on her back. Leaping onto her with ease, he straddled her sides and rode out into the night. He needed air, to feel the night and moonlight on his skin.
He needed to relish in the freedom that would soon be ripped from him.
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As night drew to a close, and the sun glittered the countryside’s dew drops, the prince returned into the castle. The day was upon him, whether he wished it to or not. He couldn’t run from this; escape and fleeing wasn’t an option. Not today, and not ever. The palace was a busy mess. Frenzied maids and workers flew all over like swarming bees, trying to make sure absolutely everything was perfect for the arrival of the other royalties and honored guests. He would join them in preparation, but he felt he’d been bothered with it enough. For weeks he had been in the center of all of the planning; what color flowers, which music to play when, how the servers would dress and walk and speak, from the tiniest, most insignificant detail. They could wear pajamas and sweat pants for all he cared.
Withdrawing from everyone and everything, he retreated back into his lair of a room. He wanted to be alone. The feeling of…’God, I’m probably never going to be truly alone again,’ was wearing on him hard. Sooner than later, and by that meaning a few short hours, he would discover how real that was. A servant interrupted his thoughts when he stepped in, arms full of clothes.
“For tonight, your Majesty,” he murmured, and exited the room silently. Gabriel nodded to the man, and thumbed through the clothes that were chosen. It was quite traditional looking medieval garb, complete with a cape and belt-and-sheathe for his sword. With a heavy sigh, the man gave one last, long look at his life, before getting dressed for the evening.
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It was loud in the great ball room. Louder than the man would have liked. His head was all ready hurting a bit, and the booming orchestra didn’t help any. His garb was mostly black, and he walked with a very commanding presence. The greatsword lightly tapped against his hip, all but the hilt totally concealed by his cape. He certainly did look regal. And probably a bit lost. Not having the slightest idea of what to do, the man wandered for a while, before just settling down at a vacant table. Sitting with poor posture, his shoulders hunched over a little. A server walked by with some wine, and the prince hailed the man. The liquor was gone in hardly more than a gulp. He paid no attention to the sweet, shifting flavors.
A leg shook absently, more of a nervous tick, as he searched the various faces. Every so often a man, rather hulking and stern looking, would nod to the prince. Although it was a peaceful meeting, only a fool would hold a great ball with such important people without any security. Several dozen powerhouse-looking guards were on high alert for any suspicious behavior, or anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there. Gabriel didn’t think there would be too many issues, as most everyone in all four countries wanted this union to take place. But to be perfectly honest, if there was some sort of…upset, to keep him from being betrothed, he might not be totally against it.
Depending, of course, on what it was.
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A young woman sat in a carriage, her pale hands folded very neatly upon her lap. She sat erect, with perfect posture; shoulders squared, chin up. Really, what else could you expect from a princess? She was the only daughter of a great and powerful king, of course she was regal and elegant. At least…that was the norm, when around others. A guard was sitting across from her, clad heavily in armor. He seemed a bit of an older fellow, and the princess did her best to keep her eyes away from his to prevent any awkwardness. It wasn’t long, though, for him to doze off. The sounds of his snoring could be heard quite plainly. The princess cast a glance in his direction and, seeing that he was indeed asleep, relaxed. Her body utterly deflated, muscles allowing herself to slump against the side of the carriage. She looked as though she was bearing a heavy load, one that was wearing her down to the bones. Well, it was true, to an extent. She was worn down, and although it was not to her bones, it cut straight to her heart.
Her father was dead.
The thought itself was enough to cause a shock to go through her system. Tears welled in her bright green eyes, making them sparkle even more brilliantly. Her cheeks turned red, and she softly gasped out a little sob. She didn’t want to wake the snoozing guard. An audience was the last thing she needed. Bringing her hand up, she wiped the tears from her cheeks, trying to get a hold of herself. Everything was changing so quickly. She hadn’t hardly had the time to mourn before she was told she would have to relocate to the castle of…goodness, she didn’t even know his name. A friend of her father, somehow. Ah yes, she didn’t know the pact that her father and the man had made. He had died before he could tell her, and introduce them properly. Well, he had taken her to his castle a few times before, when she was very young, but she would not have been able to remember that.
Her mind went back to the rumors the maids had whispered in the hallway. Rumors of an evil, dark lord who never slept or ventured into the light, and wore a cloak of shadow and devoured souls and was Satan himself. The stories became wilder and wilder…but there was a definite theme. He was a mysterious man, one not to be trusted. Probably cruel. Evil? She wasn’t sure, but found it hard to believe her father would be close to someone who had a cold, wicked heart.
Indeed…her father was the one who had ordered this. Who had said if anything were to happen, she was to be sent to the Kingdom of this…dark shadow king. The princess’s mind began to wander. Leaning her hand against her cheek, toying with her long dark brown hair, she tried to imagine what would happen next. Surely if he was trusted enough to care for her, he couldn’t be all evil. Maybe there was even some good in his heart? She certainly hoped so. Fear took hold of her, nonetheless, and she imagined herself locked in towers, and having her soul ripped out of her body just by staring into his eyes…
“Princess Analeisia. Princess, forgive me, but we’ve arrived!”
The young woman gave a jolt, sitting straight up. She felt groggy, and her chest was cold. Her hands shook slightly, as the images of the nightmare passed from her recollection. The guard had awoken, and seemed a little impatient. Ana did not quite appreciate this, but decided against scolding him or being cross. She must have dozed off, for how long she had no idea. Regardless…they were at their destination. Smoothing out her skirt, she waited until the door to the carriage was opened by the driver. That familiar fear shook her, and she gulped. This was it. She was taking the steps to…god, she didn’t even know. The rest of her life, she supposed. Taking a look at the castle, she blinked. It was a massive structure, Gothic almost. Black, foreboding, with black trees looming taller than she had ever seen in the close proximity and black clouds hanging low all around. Her gaze went up to the highest turret, the tallest tower, and she prayed that would not be her roost.
While staring, a man rushed up to her, seeming quite out of breath.
“Th..-pant- The King…will be here to –pant- to greet you shortly. I’ve been sent to –pant- w-welcome you. So ‘welcome,’ your Majesty,” and he bowed deeply.
Analeisia nodded to him politely, much in the way a princess would. The little panting man then led her into the great front doors, which opened of their own accord as soon as they approached.
“Th-the king…this is where he will meet you. Wait here and d-don’t wander off.” The man paused, then looked at her sternly. “Please. Don’t wander.” His voice lowered then, and he crouched in closer. “If you know what’s good for you. Trust me. There are things in these walls that are better left undiscovered…sometimes I think the walls themselves move. I have worked here all my live and have not seen yet half of it, and that’s more than enough. Secrets. Just be careful, little one.”
With that, he straightened up and smiled in a very friendly, cheerful way. A complete turn-around. Ana frowned a little, now more nervous than ever. And…honestly, a bit…intrigued. Secrets, mystery…it certainly piqued her interest. Maybe there was some truth to the rumors.
“Ahh, he should be coming now,” said the man, and scampered off out of sight. Ana didn’t notice where he went, he was gone so quickly. Then it was quiet. The pretty young woman shifted her feet, and looked down at herself. Thin frame with wide hips and defined breasts. She was short…suddenly everything about her seemed to have a problem. Her hands, although pale and delicate, suddenly seemed stumpy and splotched. She felt her luscious dark hair was dry and flat, and her glittering eyes were dull. Her heart began to pound frantically, and she thought she would go mad, as she waited for the arrival of the Dark King.
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Rei raised his fist to his mouth, coughing a bit roughly, his body shaking as he did so, eyes watering just a little. He was not sick; well, other than sick with despair and shock. But no, instead it was the smog that hung in pinkish-gray clouds, draped above the roaring city like a thick canopy for a princess's bed. It was quite some time until he regained himself, and when he did, he did not bother to stand up straight. The great misfortune that had befallen him and the people around him was enough to weigh down the shoulders of even the most cheerful optimist. Yes, they were in the fascinating city of Japan, but they weren't able to enjoy it...at all, the main reason being that he didn't think that anyone bothered to change their currency to Japanese. He certainly had not. This brought up hundreds and thousands and millions of problems. Like...where would they sleep? What would they eat? HOW WOULD THEY GET CANDY!? He truly had no idea how long he could go without the sweet, succulent little sugar-jems. An old joke that was almost funny was that he used to say 'There's too much blood in my sugar-system.' It was pretty much true.
But that's how Rei was. His food groups consisted of Cake, Jello and Ice Cream, Poptarts and Soda and Pudding (Pop to some of you. I'm pretty sure the English call it Cola and Fizzy Lemonade...), Brownies and Pocky and Muffins, and then at the top, was Candy. Nothing in particular, yet he left no kids out; gummies, suckers/lollies, hard candy...it really just depended on his mood, what he would (or wouldn't) consume half of his body wait in (well...considering his lightness, it'd be more like 3/4ths). But now...now he could get none. Great waves of grief crashed into him, wet and cold, and it almost leaked out of him in the form of tears. He managed to hold them back, but did not try to stop a few little whimpers. At least he had his friends and bandmates her-Oh..right.
He shifted his gaze to the rival band, and his expression became that of a pouty, spoiled little child. Of all of the people to be stranded in a foreign country with, it had to be them. It figured that something like that would happen. He ran his long, delicate fingers through a mass of bleach blonde hair with loose strands of pink, then toyed with the many necklaces around his neck. At least he fit in, he thought, examining the other people that were clearly natives. He felt a strange kind of hate towards them, though...the way they just walked by, not so much as glancing at them despite their hopelessness.
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Suzu Shioki looked about himself, and a sigh passed through his paled lips. The action caused his chest to rise and fall gently, eyes closing for a moment. His hands rose, delicate yet powerful fingers rubbing the temples hidden beneath short cut black hair. Bangs swayed, and his brow furrowed with irritation. Currently, he was in a sitting position atop a large oak chair that closely resembled a throne. The arm rests were in the shape of of panthers, small topaz gems in the place of eyes glimmered threatningly within the brightly polished wood.
The man in the chair stood, and deep indigo silken kimono folds tumbled down his body, sculpted to perfection. The hakama was black, various white clouds strewn across the fabric. Necklaces jingled against each other with tinkling noises much like water. His height was impressive; a bit more than six feet of pure muscle. At his side hung a sword, long and freshly sharpened.
"You lost the shipment."
His voice was startlingly cold, such that it would make someone shiver, with accusations that could not possibly be protested against. The man that stood before him had goose bumps rising up along his arms, and his eyes were diverted from Suzu's. He looked to be about in his late twenties, not in the greatest shape, but there were hints of muscle beneath the piles of fat that were plastered onto the man's frame. His hands held each other to keep them from trembling.
"Y-yes, Panther...we were ambushed. Men dressed in black, the like I've not seen before. From another land, I believe.."
Suzu rose his hand, silencing the man. With the grace of a feline, he paced slowly, looking around the room. It was large, although a bit empty. wooden floors with bamboo mats, wooden floors covered in painted scrolls, mostly of panthers and tigers and flowers. Without looking at the man, he spoke again.
"Hnn. Dressed in black...Ninjas, perhaps? Maybe. It's a shame you didn't manage to save the items. They would sell for a very healthy sum, you know...more than you are worth."
His fingers tapped the end of his blade slowly. The other man looked up, startled, and gasped.
"P-Please! Master, don't..be unreasonable!"
Suzu drew the blade out of the sheath, such that it winked in the dim light.He stepped closer to the bowed man, and rose it up a bit. The man cowered and whimpered.
"No! Please d-"
The blade fell with a whoosh. The man's eyes closed tightly and he winced. Instead of having his head remove, his shirt was ripped open to reveal a once-bandaged wound. The cloth sliced away, it oozed a red liquid. Suzu frowned deeply.
"Hm. Looks like it came from south of here. Ah well. Set up sentries, take in anyone who seems suspicious. If anyone is going to rule this villiage, it's me. I don't want any foreigners messing with my plans. Now you..leave my sight."
The man nodded eagerly, and fled the room.
Minutes passed, and Suzu sighed a second time, sheathing his sword and stepping out of his home and into the light.
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Running, running, running.
Small velvet-covered pads strode briskly over the cold gray cement in a gathering twilight. The sky was painted with reds and oranges and pinks and blues, bleeding from celestial brushes of fantasy and onto the canvas of reality as the animal made its way. It ran with a strange deliberance that was lost on most creatures believed unable to reason, as though it had a set task.
What kind of animal, you ask?
It was a cat. A Ragdoll, to be exact, and purebred by the looks of it. Clean fur, deep markings on a cream colored pelt and saphire blue eyes that shone intensely with human intelligence.
There was no collar around the female's neck-for female she was-and it was an odd thought to think such an attractive feline would be without a diamond-studded tag.
Odder still was what was in the cat's mouth. Clamped tightly between the vice of tiny ivories was an envelope, inside which carried a note. There was no name printed on the white paper, top or bottom. Only a seal that looked like something that one would see on a letter a messenger delivered to a king.
Bizarre indeed.
Minutes passed, and the cat's pace increased. It moved surprisingly swift and agile for such a dainty looking beast, leaping over garbage cans and maneuvering the streets and alley-ways. She seemed to have boundless energy, this cat, but at long last, her gait slowed to a trot. A neighborhood. One that had become familiar over the past few weeks.
A dark barked, and she bristled and snarled in a way that made the brute stick his tail between his legs. Yes, this beautiful kitty could be quite fearsome.
Her pace stopped in front of one house in particular. A moment's hesitation, and she sprinted up the steps of the pourch, leaped with powerful muscles onto a tree, scaled the trunk and branches and jumped onto a bedroom windowsill.
His bedroom windowsill.
The Ragdoll shook herself (she would have begun to clean herself had her mouth not been filled) and pawed the window softly, claws making high-pitched squeaks on the glass, and she managed a muffled mew of summonce.
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It was then that a young man swaggered into the registration room. He had an arrogant look on his face as he gave his head a slight jerk, swooshing shiny snow owl-plume tresses from his line of vision. His long thumbs were hooked into his belt loops just in front of his narrow hips. Rabbit ears twitched atop his noggin.
His posture was that of someone who was very sure of himself. He held his tall, lean body proudly, though a bit lazily; he knew he was the alpha, and everyone else did, so why waste energy trying to act tough?
He looked around the room, catching the eyes of a few students he knew (more or less), flashing grins that would cause any girl's heart to throb and flutter and bring throngs of screaming fangirls. He then looked to the newbies, gaze resting on one boy in particular. Amber moons narrowed on the scuttling figure. He had Joker written all over him.
Great. Another puppy to train.
Approaching the registration table, he bent over and with an eloquent hand, picked up a feather pen and filled out the necessary information and put stupid and rediculous things in the other slots. Going to the school for seven years kind of gave you that right.
At his side, a soft clinking could be heard. Upon closer inspection, one would see that it came from his guns. Of course, they weren't filled with bullets. Never were. Today the contents were red juice-filled fruit snacks. A target would find themselves covered with the sticky stuff that closely resembled blood. Several times Zee had been playing around for shits and giggles with this particular amunition, causing several faintings. Good times.
Once finished, the young man stood his full height, turning on his heels to leave the room. The Opening Ceramonies would be starting in a short few hours...well, hour to be exact. He was required to 'say a few things' to encourage new students. This would be fun.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he whistled a little and moved out into the hallway. He had already put his things in his dormroom. Yes, HIS dormroom. He'd had it ever since...well, ever. The thought of someone else sharing it was irritating, to say the least. But he was assured that wouldn't be an issue.
"Look, he has bunny ears~!" he heard a girl behind his squeal. Yes. Rabbit ears. Completely natural appendages that caused so much uproar from the female population.
Another year, another new fanclub.
