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[IC] Worlds Apart Page 6

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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by jdh97
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jdh97 Hopeful

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Stormy

With the escapades of the rest many footfalls behind them, the group arrived at Silverbrook.

Stormy had wandered between everyone by random, self-absorbed chance, gravitating around Koda. The path had climbed its way up a hill, meeting a large chunk of stone, crumbling under the passage of time and the plants that now dug their roots deeper into the crevices.

Beyond it, the town rose up. Thatched hovels and leaning shacks of wattle and daub shambled towards the central square of stone and brick buildings, huddling close, clawing for the monolith that spewed smoke from great, red-clay chimney stacks. Close by were the drab-coloured canvases of a market, shouts and smells spreading like ink in water. Crofts crept over the surrounding hillsides, like pilgrims to the holy land. A grey quagmire tangled through most of the village, brackish liquids nesting in its grooves and divots. Flagstones paved the way for a single thoroughfare that barged through to the square and then left the town in equal hurrying.

Windows glinted like staring eyes, all focussed upon the party, this squabble of strange and strangers, as they approached.

Stormy squinted and frowned at everything, chewing her bottom lip. Occasionally a humming escaped her.

Perhaps an actually beautiful sight was the winding stream of quicksilver and liquid crystal. Its song even reached them. It came from the valley, the same direction as the flagstones, between two treeless slopes, threading through the town and taking off into the trees. Dotted along its banks were the statue-like fishermen.

As they grew closer, the ever-smiling and clean denizens looked at the party for maybe a handful of seconds between them all.

“Perhaps it is festival time?” She trilled to Koda, pitch rising at the end of her question. Her smile guttered momentarily, cheeks twitching, aching, and then it slipped; it fell from her demeanour: snuffed. Everything had an odd quality, as if it was being observed through grey-tinted glasses not quite in focus; it was all hazy and dull, outlines and edges seeming not so sure in themselves.

Stormy bent over, rubbing her calves and thighs, careful to be away from the churned mud paths. She shrugged at the question Michael asked, “I’ll go with whatever’s groovy.” Though, her stomach too audibly rumbled.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Viatos
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Viatos

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Tristan's gaze roamed over the town, snapping nervously to wherever townsfolk roamed outside, though it was the buildings he really wanted to look at. I guess I'm into architecture now. It was strange that it didn't feel strange. He wondered what other alterations the mask had made, and if it was done with its work, but the anxiety that line of thinking generated eventually pulled the whole string out into the encircling ocean of fear that had been the first, most immediate internal change his Semblance had levied. Its defining emotion.

Silverbrook's defining emotion seemed to be happiness. Though seeming isn't always being. He shared the reservations of the group; they were half a collection of unnatural things wandering down the road, invoking no alarm, no guardedness. Maybe this is normal here. Maybe I'm thinking about it the wrong way. But we're still strangers...

He touched the elegant gun at his side. If he had had a face, he would have frowned. He settled for a slow movement of his head, eyes drifting over the group, making sure everyone was still there. Counting the Ghost Girl's uncertain sheep to lull his mind to ease. No way but forward. Which wasn't true, of course. They could all wander as they liked, except perhaps for Oedipus. But if they did, the world would open into chaos. A memory flickered.

Edge of Lightbridge. Reading Lance's last text. The seawall, the sea... He'd felt so bound up in destiny back then, so chained to the world. All the things that had kept him grounded had been cut away like blindfolds or curtains, and he could see so clearly that he was just someone else's dream, an actor with nothing waiting offstage. And I thought, I could jump. Not to die, just...to leave. To swim out until I couldn't see the city. But he would have died. It didn't work that way. The edges of the map were boundaries, like pain, like fate. So he hadn't jumped, and he hadn't gone swimming since.

Now Tristan was drowning on dry land, fear encircling his little bubble of clarity and consciousness. It had occurred to him that if that bubble popped he'd probably go insane. His first reaction to the Semblance - if I hear that scream - was not unjustified, he suspected.

But Silverbrook beckoned, and if he ever wanted to get home...his heart panged at the thought of Rani and Lane. They had to find a way. So. No way but forward. They needed so many things. A center. Information. And...

...yeah, I'm hungry. I guess that didn't go anywhere.

While he was working that over in his mind, he voiced a subsidiary thought to the others. "Uh, I can grow food, I think. Given time. It...might be kind of intense, but if they're not willing to feed us..." He would have frowned again, settled for the eye thing again. He'd just thought of something.

Fuck, how do I eat?
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Redward
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Redward Merry

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She dipped her fingers into the water, well away from the fisherfolk and those washing their clothes. The group seemed occupied, so she had made her way away. Another minute to think, I guess. Really, Tabitha was fucking tired of thinking. Tired of walking. Tired of everything. That hadn't changed. Not for some time. Two weeks and then some. Plenty of minutes to think and widen the hole that had been drilled into her heart.

Plenty of time to stare at the wall. Or at some water. Whatever.

It didn't do well to reflect the harlequin's full visage, but Tabitha was thankful for that. Looking at herself was horrifying, in its own way. There was something in her that scared her, something that felt too much like the C-Route. Too much like bad memories. The water broke around her extended digits, creating small ripples that were torn downstream. Does it even matter? She raised her hand, fully prepared to smack herself again; but there was no fury in it. No indignation at her own weakness.

The sound of it was pleasant enough, though. A gentle lapping at the bank she crouched on and a the unbroken flow of Silverbrook's namesake. Or, at least I think that's why they call it that. Hell if I know. Tabitha grunted and lowered herself, crossing her legs and letting her hand dip beneath the surface. Bite me, I fuckin' dare ya. She slowly lifted her gaze, looking at the people; feeling the warmth on her back. Somethin' wrong with 'em, for sure. Don't seem dangerous, though.

Without thought, she touched the gun at her side with her dry hand; eyes drifting over them. Hearty waves greeted her, and broad clean smiles. Huh, wonder if my teeth look bad. That didn't really matter, she figured. It's day one, gettin' a toothbrush ain't really fuckin' matter, yet. Besides, I'm...we're goin' home soon, anyway. A smile found its way to her lips, and she waved lazily in return. It was bitter, but the residents of SIlverbrook didn't seem to know the difference.

It doesn't matter. Whatever.

Soft footsteps made Tabitha turn. A smile greeted her warmly. Less intense than the others, perhaps even natural. A young boy, wearing a clean set of rough-hewn clothes. The two stared at each other for a minute, Tabitha's smile slowly fading. She spun herself, without much grace, to face the child. Her hand came from the river cupped, cradling the water. She brought it to her mouth and drank, all the while staring. The hell ya want? Can't ya see I'm busy... Busy doing what, though, came the question. Being hurt, she told herself, over and over.

"The water ain't bad," Tabitha said, hardly surprised, "ya folk drink this all the time?" They weren't quite at eye-level, but it was close enough. The boy studied her, carefully; trepidation plain in his fidgeting, despite the smile on his face. Kinda cute. Weirdin' me out, though. Then again, she knew they were strangers who had just strolled into town. The others had made themselves busy getting food, and finding a path to Magician.

Honestly, I ain't wanna eat. This whole fuckin' trip has been a mess, I just wanna lay down and-

"Are you a clown?" Asked with all the innocence in the world. Tabitha took it like a punch in the stomach. Her mouth set in a firm line, arms crossing her stomach. No goddamn way. I ain't havin' this conversation. She stared at the child, holding back the malice she suddenly felt. "Because we don't usually get a clown, during the festival...it's..." Now his smile faltered, finally fading. He knelt close to her, whispering. "...It's not normal."

"I ain't a clown," Tabitha said, leaning slightly forward, "and I ain't wanna have to explain. I ain't here for ya festival, whatever it's about. Just passin' through." The child nodded, in response, but didn't rise. Something about him frowning seemed incredibly ominous. Wait, he's usin' me to hide right now! She didn't turn her head, but with what Tabitha remembered of the river and people she had been staring at; she was, when turned, a perfect obstruction to their line of sight. At least for someone his size. Smart kid. Wonder whatcha gotta say.

"I didn't really think you were a clown. You don't smile enough to be a regular clown...I've already seen the others...I..." the utterance was soft, and carried with it some weight that Tabitha didn't understand but fully felt, "I'm just trying to...figure out why..." Then it clicked for her. Pain laced his words. She didn't know where it came from, but she knew the signs of it well; she wore them daily, now.

"What're ya fightin' kid?" Slowly she put a hand on his shoulder, though the movement wasn't one Tabitha entirely wanted to make. "Got somethin' to do with what's goin' on around here?" A nod, full of fear. Why ya gotta come to me with this? Ya said ya saw the others. I ain't wanna... The thought went unfinished; Tabitha determined not to lie to herself in this instance. It was the same as it used to be with Rani, a hand on the shoulder; a gentle squeeze, self-loathing and somehow concern for another living being. I really gotta stop. This ain't gonna end well.

It never really did.

"Him." It lingered in the air, pointed at Tabitha like a dagger. Her gut said it was exactly who she was thinking, but her mouth didn't want the words to pass. "He digs into your head and starts taking things..." Tears brimmed in young eyes, and horror bloomed in the harlequin. "It's why they smile so much. They don't remember!" He was still kneeling, but his breaths came and went in rapid gasps. His voice hadn't risen much, but Tabitha still worried about it carrying across the water. "They think the festival's for us. It's not...it's just more...more of the same."

Tabitha stood, releasing her gentle hold on the boy's shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get out of here." The harlequin stood, stretching, as nonchalant as she could be. There were no eyes on her back, nor was there a sudden change in demeanor from those gathered at the river. "I ain't feel like sittin' down any more. Walk with me, kid." Something in her spoke. The child begs for mercy, without sayin' it. It was her voice and her thought, but the words felt foreign; shoved through a filter she wasn't familiar with. Shall we give it to him?

As she guided him away from the bank, her hand idly slipped to the gun Tristan had given her. Tabitha looked down at the boy who had warned her. His eyes were pointed at the ground, his hands curled. Keep it up, kid. Ya ain't gonna have to worry for too much longer. The houses and various shops were at her left, as she walked along their backs in silence. Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

After that moment passed...the question was finally asked.

"Where are we going?" He didn't smile. She did. Lightly, she mussed the kid's hair. He wasn't aware of her intention, and she wasn't sure she could go through with it. Part of her, however, a distant and vibrant part of her, was sure this course of action was best. "You should go back to your friends..." It was hard not to laugh, that his concern was still for her; after what he had said.

"I ain't got many friends, kid," that didn't sit right, now that she had given herself to that luminous shadow, "What's ya name, anyway?" They were still trudging along. The markets were bustling. Trade here and there. Strangely, few seemed to mind the strange girl as she walked by; just outside the rim of their daily bustle. All oblivious smiles. "My name's Tabitha. I ain't from around here, but ya already knew that."

"Ellard. I'm Ellard. H-Hello Tabitha. I'm...I'm not from here, either," It seemed a struggle for the boy to say that. He looked up at Tabitha, half bathed in her shadow; his eyes bright and without their earlier despair. "Are we going to the path?" She smiled and nodded, fingers still on the grip of a strange firearm.

"Yeah, Ellard. That's where we're going."
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Ceta de Cloyes
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Ceta de Cloyes Roziphontes

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The town was a bit picturesque in appearance, looking as if it'd fit perfectly in any common medieval work featuring small villages. It was a bit... disappointing to be honest. No one appeared as out of place as he and the other's who'd donned their Semblances did, though there was the small mercy that none of the villagers seemed to be freaking out, so there must be some precedent. He found his eyes drifting to windowsills, "D'you think it'd be too much to hope for someone to have left a pie out to cool? That's what they always do in the movies right?"

Koda's eyes caught on a color, a timid washed out grey, smogging across all the citizens like a cloud of weeping insects- oh, he was doing that thing where he didn't make any sense again. He blinked and the color was gone, just as with the others. He couldn't hear the villagers tho, they seemed distant somehow, or maybe... weak. He considered for a moment that maybe it was because they were normal, unchanged by a Semblance, but no, he could hear the unchanged members of their group just fine, even if they were just as incomprehensible as ever. It was suspicious, but also blessedly welcome; the others were getting a bit loud in his head. "We could stay a bit couldn't we? We should ask around, we don't know whats normal for this world, anyone could say anything and we'd just believe them. We could use a bit of an outside perspective right?" Second opinions were the lifeblood of the scientific community after all, and it was a practice the rest of the world could do well to learn; how much conflict could be solved if people actually communicated? How many discoveries could be made?

His train of thought was derailed suddenly, and his stomach gave a delayed echo of Stormy's previous grumble. "Also food is good. I'm starving, if you can make some magic beans I'm all for it." Okay, maybe not all for it, but right now he'd take it. Hopefully they wouldn't prove hallucinogenic or addictive... or inedible, obviously. Koda didn't have a very good grasp on his new abilities, and he didn't know if the other's were in a similar situation or not- though Ascot seemed to have things well in hand at least.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Letter Bee
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Letter Bee Filipino RPer

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Ascot looked at Tristan, before saying, "To be honest, while we need to eat, I think that we can still talk to the locals. Sure, they're a bit strange right now, but we have no real way of detecting whether they're just like that or if they are...high. Either way, if you can grow food, I think that'd be great."

The boy was slightly wary about the 'intense' remark, but that worry had to be shelved. Instead, he pursed his lips. "The local inhabitants look like peasants and farmers, only cleaner; that implies that low-level magic also exists in Iriss alongside the high-level kind. Their festive mood can also mean that they are in a festival, like the Lady says," he meant Stormy. "I'm going to ask."

He then flew inside the entrance, and went to where an anonymous peasant woman was walking, before asking, "Hey, is there a festival going on?"

Ascot received an eager nod from the peasant woman, who then said:

"Why of course, strange child! For today and today only, all food and drink sold at the shop are free, same for a stay at the inn!" The peasant woman then beamed him a too-clean smile. This, of course, resulted in a shiver of mistrust from Ascot's psyche. Nevertheless, Ascot went to the shops and stalls, asking:

"I was told these wares are free, are they?" and getting fruit, meat, and vegetables literally thrust at him, as if the bizzare inhabitants of the village were eager to please them in particular. This made Ascot more suspicious, but he could hardly look a gift horse in the mouth. Nevertheless, Ascot was now cradling, in a sack of absorbent and adheseve putty, a day's worth of food. He would then fly outside the entrance and say:

"Guys! The food being sold in the shops are free!" Ascot refrained from including what was said about the inn; he did not want the group to stay overnight.

Then...he saw Tabitha and Ellard walking towards the path. Moving to where Michael was, he would say,"Hey, can you hold on to this?" Meaning the food. "Something's piqued my curiosity."

And with that, he would fly towards Tabitha and Ellard, asking the two once he arrived:

"Hey, Ms. Tabitha, is that one of the locals? Does he need our help?" That second sentence seemed...right. Right as in correct.

@Redward@Etranger@Ceta de Cloyes@Scarescrow@Viatos@jdh97@Mammon@TaroAndSelia
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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Scarescrow
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Scarescrow Sociopath

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His smile hypnotized me, giving me these unknown feelings. Sometimes I found myself up into the sky, thinking about the time we could spend with each other. And sometimes it fell down the valley, with me sobbing endlessly into my eyes had swollen red. But his smile kept my day brighter. His image is the thing I kept dreaming. And I understand his actions, his message that he is trying to transfer. Others were fools to stand against or run away from him. Could they not understand, that he is trying to giving them free from the wicked world? That their screaming and painful is only for a small price to pay in order to gain his blessing in the afterlife. That the horror and wickedness they saw in him was the final farewell before they enter a more beautiful world. Currently, our team leader is Odin, the Second, the Right Hand of High Father, and various other titles. He had seen the message sent by Hercules before his death. All of us saw it, the American, the Nordic, and the Asian all saw it. And so am I. His action in those images pleased me, as I could see how he sent them to our Beloved Father. He was rough in the beginning, but his art had perfected in the end. His artwork starting from a third grade drawing into Leonardo level. And all others feared him, disgusted by what he did to his kind, blasphemed him with words that I had never heard off. Only I understood and appreciated his work of art. Only I could understand him. The only worthy for him to spend his time with. Only I should be next to him. And I should be with him and maybe bring him some gifts as well.

Soon, we will be together. And I look forward to every second I have with him. Every single one of them.


Oedipus felt disgusted looking at people in this Medieval-like town. The way these townsfolk interacted with each other reminded him of what he does not possess. He had killed his brethren to reclaim what he does not has, only to be awoken by the harshness of life. He had taken others, to gain some precious time. Why is it that he is the one that lack and others have it abundant? Why does it have to be him to suffer? Why, if God had said he created everyone equally, then why does it have to be him? Maybe, his purpose was to make these people suffer. He had killed his emotional brethren, but he had never killed those in his real life. His eyes begin to search for his first real-life victim Slowly, the kid that Tabitha is talking? Maybe. The Peasant that the Little Angel just speak to? Again maybe. How about all of them? Yeah, that will suit him better. After all, he possesses the power from this mask.

Searching for the back of his memory, Oedipus made out a small song in his brain and words that he had created second ago start to come out from his crow mouth."Tortured them till they go numb. Let them scream till they can't squeal. Gouge their eyes out, so they can’t see the life they used to love. When the world is full of death, suffer, and pains of many others. Maybe that day will be the day that I seek and love.” And the bounded being began to laugh. Sounds of the crow coming from its mouth as it realizes how it had granted the power to make them suffered. Although it depended upon time and knowledge from Father, why restraining himself now? The cop is not here, and others do not have the power nor the will to kill him yet. Even if he died, he will be reborn again. But, it is still a shame that he had dropped his knife at the beginning. But oh well, maybe he will have to find another tool. Surely, those peasants have some knife, and pitchforks, do they? Or maybe he should wait to take his time to test his power? Yes, that would be a great idea.

With his next move had been thought through, Oedipus started to quiver as his body begin to break the silvery thread around him. The thread started strangling his body, creating ligature marks on him. The further Oedipus tried breaking it, the more he bleeds from the marks that had now cut deep into his arm. But it could not hold long before the thread started to snaps. It would be a long process; Oedipus knew. But the thought of him murdering all this town folks when the right time came played him. And it wanted him to be cunning this time. So, he will be patient, be kind to those around him for a certain time to earn their trust. And when the right time comes, he will strike.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Mammon
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Mammon The Chief Mourner

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Zino silenced one of the villagers by holding up his hand. He had no interest in the comings and goings of peasants. Festivals were never something that held his attention, and he had never cared for company--especially the company of strangers. He wasn’t even sure they were real, let alone human, anyhow. The inhabitants seemed like automatons masquerading as people. ‘Annoying,' the agent thought to himself, “Surely these cattle can’t be what Miss Three meant as my compatriots…” The person continued to speak, but Zino ignored them, drowning them out with his thoughts.

The man instead turned his attention to the market before him. A few stalls lined the unpaved road. It reminded him of the farmer’s markets that cropped up around town in the summer. Icy eyes scanned the produce; some of the fruits and vegetables he recognized, but many he did not. A strange purple berry caught his attention. It was perfectly round and covered in blunt spikes. He reached to pick it up, but he felt something tugging at his sleeve. ‘What now?'

Zino frowned. An elderly woman prodded him with a knobby finger. She smiled. In one hand, she held a cloth. In the other, she balanced a large wooden tray of freshly grilled meat skewers. She chimed something about the festival and wrapped the cloth around the end of a stick, lifting it to Zino. The smell of fire and cooked flesh filled his nostrils, making his stomach turn. He thought about the sound of bubbling fat, about the way skin blistered and melted away, about the distant sound of his own screaming. He snapped back, eyes wide. He slapped the skewer from her hand and shoved her away. The woman fell.

The thud of it carried, but there was no backlash. Still smiling, the woman stared up at him; making no movement to gather her scattered goods. Zino stood with his hands out, stunned, for a few heartbeats, before he turned and walked away wordlessly, head lowered and steps hurried. He ducked behind the wooden wall of a building. “Shit…” he breathed. Zino Bertran cover his mouth with his hand. Abjection rumbled in his gut. He brushed imaginary lint from his shirt and straightened his tie.

A soft, mischievous giggle broke the silence. Bertran jumped. The agent was now aware of the subtle discomfort of being watched. Eyes bored into the back of his mind. He sighed and glanced in the direction of the markets, staring up at the smoke rising from the grill. Zino looked back down at his hands, his mind racing. ‘The other "mortals…"’ he thought. ‘That must mean they died as well…’ He closed his eyes. ‘I won’t let my life end in vain… Our lives...’ Zino’s brow twitched, and he clenched his fists into tight balls. He could feel the weight of the mask in his pocket, as if it were calling out to him. ‘I’ll find them here, and we’ll seek out the Magician!’

After regaining his dignity, Zino Bertran stepped out from the shadow of the building in search of the others. Something caught the corner of his eye, floating just out of sight. He chased after it, the flitting of feathers through the air and the grinding of earth beneath his feet. The agent rounded a tree, and it was then he saw them.

“Oh.” He skidded to a halt. Zino’s eyes flitted from person to person--if you could call them that. He had followed the angel back to the group, and the winged boy now spoke to them--but the agent was too far away to make out the words. Cautiously, he approached them. It was clear that they were different from the sheep of the village. He felt dangerously exposed. His hand found its way into his pocket, fingering the mask nervously. ‘It has to be them…

He raised his hand in greeting, but before he could speak he overheard one of them talk:

“Tortured them till they go numb. Let them scream till they can't squeal. Gouge their eyes out, so they can’t see the life they used to love. When the world is full of death, suffer, and pains of many others. Maybe that day will be the day that I seek and love.”

His face wrinkled in disgust. ‘What the hell…?’ The corner of Zino’s mouth tugged downward, and he chewed on his words, sizing up the rest of them. He regretted walking over here. ‘They’re freaks. What have I gotten myself into? I thought they would be...’ His head hung in resignation. Despite his efforts to hide his disappointment, it was written clearly across his face.

“Are you looking for the Magican too?”
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by TaroAndSelia
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TaroAndSelia Returned from a Distant Land

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While trying to not make it look like anything of the kind, Anni was carefully shifting her way toward the captive. A small shift in her feet as she turned toward the various events; an inconspicuous slide to the side giving Tabitha more than enough space to pass; a small twirl to look at the path behind them and forward again that moved her another foot closer. In all her efforts to make sure it didn't look like she was going to the madman, it certainly couldn't be missed that she was slowly but steadily approaching him.

The small girl couldn't help but ask herself, 'Why?' That person was terrifying! He had already uttered the most horrifying oaths Anni had ever heard. He had attacked Michael back at C-route. It was Anni's simple opinion that he was behaving more ferociously than a three-day-starved lioness guarding two cubs. His actions were so much more akin to an animal backed into the smallest of corners than they were to a thinking, reasoning man given more freedom than any normal human could ever experience.

Anni paused in her beeline. She had been thinking they were all under stress, but humans were capable of rising above that. But suddenly the idea of freedom through the power of the mask she held was riveted in the forefront of her mind. What did that mean, 'freedom?' How would having those strange powers (and going through that... process to gain them) make her any more free?

The truth will set you free.

It was a verse she was familiar with, and she could hear it now in her mother's voice. Freedom comes from truth. The mask in her skirts... was it truth? It seemed an awfully silly question to ask herself in her head; Anni's hand reached down and felt it through the cloth, the very real and physical form. Irriss was the truth. That masks gave power was the truth. Even the call to gather at C-route last night (was it truly so soon ago?) had been true. Then if the mask could give her more freedom, that must mean it held more truth.

As interesting as the philosophy of it all was, when Anni's ears caught a faint murmuring from the bound man behind her every thought was redirected to trying to understand it. At first it was too faint; Anni took a step backward and sat down on the ground, putting herself as close as she could in that instant without outright dashing toward him.

“...of many others. Maybe that day will be the day that I seek and love.”

Anni sat in stunned silence for a moment. That was a dramatic change from what he had been saying in the hours previous. She was about to turn around and ask him about it directly, but a different voice--a new voice--gave her a tremendous scare.

“Are you looking for the Magican too?”

Anni jumped half a foot in the air, squealed in heart-stopping surprise, spun around to face this new person, and tumbled backward all in the same motion. She crashed to the dirt, bounced once, and slid just far enough to bump into Ascot's legs. When her fall finally came to a stop, Anni managed to focus on the new face. It wasn't a villager, not with those clothes. He was an adult wearing what could only have come from the twenty-first century. It came as such a shock that Anni's first words were not an answer to his question, but instead, "You're real?"

Immediately a slight blush tinted her cheeks; that was not the first thing to say to a person. Anni jumped up quickly, grabbing her skirt to offer a polite curtsy. "I mean, yes! We are! I'm Anni, Anni Parkinson, this is Ascot, and- and- And the only thing that stopped Anni's flustered introductions was the fact that in her panic she couldn't remember any of the other names.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Etranger
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Etranger

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The consensus seemed to be that they would be hanging around town for a little bit. On top of that, it seemed at least one of their number had gone off on their own. If ghosty expected them all to work together, Michael swore she was the biggest fool he had ever met. Ascot decided to investigate the notion that this town might be in festival time, and sure enough, it was true. Not only that, but these people were just handing out food like it meant nothing. Michael wondered just how weird this place was going to get. Before going off on his own, a growing trend in this 'group', Ascot passed off the food he had gathered onto him. Michael didn't object, though he wondered why he was Ascot's first thought of pack mule. He would have joined him in questioning the jester girl, but he remembered something...neither he nor Ascot were watching the psycho.

Quickly turning around, Michael discovered Anni of all people having gotten close to him. He had no idea what she was doing, but any thoughts of asking were quickly put aside when somebody new came upon their group. Somebody that very clearly was not of this world, just like them. Not only that, but he was here for the Magician, just like them. Was ghost girl going to be sending an endless stream of people here? In fact...was it possible they weren't even the first people she had sent here? "Calm down, Anni." Michael told the girl. Though he couldn't entirely blame her for being flustered by a new arrival in this godforsaken world. "Like she said, we're all here for the Magician." He said to the new arrival. "I'm Michael Keahi. Call me Mike." Maybe this would be the first person to actually call him Mike, seeing as he didn't know he was a police officer yet. Giving him a closer look, he seemed disturbed by the knife nut. "Don't mind him. He's unwanted baggage, courtesy of little miss ghosty herself. Speaking of which, I don't suppose you were dumped here by her too?" It seemed like the most obvious conclusion, though it was hardly beyond reasonable doubt to say there might be more than one supernatural being abducting people to fight their battles in a foreign world.

@Mammon @TaroAndSelia
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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by jdh97
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Stormy

A rock offered itself up as a stool. Stormy gladly obliged. Lichen and moss cushioned her seat. Damp seeped through her dress, but it was bearable; her legs sighed almost audibly, and she deflated, sinking down and downwards. Her feet pulsed inside her boots, and she longed to throw them off and lay down for hours, but they had more to be done.

She tilted her head to Koda, “That would be stealing, dear; even if we were back Lightbridge I’d advise against it,” her eyes scanned the people, smiles plastered on the whitewashed walls they had instead of faces, “And things are different here. We don’t know the rules.”

Tickling upon her hand. Looking, she saw a Ladybird, ruby and encrusted onyx – its hair-like legs brushing along her knuckles, a teasing breath. She brought her hand level with her eyes.

“Hello there,” She tipped her head in a curt nod, “How do you do?” She brought her hand close to her ear and bobbed her some, before bringing it back in front of her, “I never expected to see something quite so beautiful here. It’s odd, how something familiar as you can make this world even stranger.”

As she was staring at the bug, the Brazen Boy came back with what looked like food, and a story of convenience wrapped in his words. She only paid half mind, the bug crawling along her fingers now, but her eyes were fixed upon what Michael held. Her stomach complained. “Soon,” she rubbed it.

A twisted tune made Stormy look at Oedipus. Her face was blank, but her eyes shimmered. “Someday he’ll be free like you,” she whispered to the insect on her finger tips. It cleaned its mandibles, and Stormy smiled.

Then someone new: beaten silver and slender lines. Stormy waved once, and offered closed smile, before focussing on the bug once again.

“Seems there’s another,” It began buzzing the tiny glass wings, “You’re off then? Good journey friend – this talk has been nice.” And with that, the ashen films became a blur, and it was gone with the wind.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Redward
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"That will do, Beatrix. Take a moment to breathe."

She fell to her knees without ceremony, a dull blade falling from her hands. Beatrix Ashworth had never held a true weapon, before, but with the strange change Caretaker Nirvu had elicited in her; it was like a familiar dream. Her body knew the movements, and despite her strength; Beatrix found practice to be exhausting. Maybe it's how heavy this thing is. Sweat dripped from her face, and she used the sleeve of her new garb to wipe it away. Despite that, rivulets still found their way from her brow to her chin.

I always liked working out...but this, this is entirely different.

At least she looked the part of a warrior. Now, instead of her casual attire, Beatrix wore loose slacks and a tunic; all the same drab color as that of the Caretakers. Still gasping, Beatrix lowered herself, one leg crossed beneath her while the other lay straight ahead. "Am I really cut out for this, Caretaker Nirvu? I...I know I agreed to help, b-but I'm not a warrior!" Caretaker Nirvu gave her a non-existent smile, waiting for the inevitable follow-up. She lifted her gaze from the dirt, eyes soft and imploring. "I don't think I can be what you want me to be! Please! I-I'm just...I'm just-"

"You are what you are meant to be. Nothing more or less." The Caretaker moved to sit beside her, carefully taking the blade as it did so. Beatrix could feel eyes on her. Not only the Caretaker's, but that of her 'opponent' as well. An Unfettered by the name of Srath. She was smaller than Beatrix, and quicker; but lacked the strength of the Lightbridge girl, something that seemed to surprise almost everyone...Beatrix included. "I know the burden I have asked of you is much, and you have my deepest thanks for taking it upon yourself." The Caretaker placed a hand on her shoulder. Beatrix flushed, and nodded, bringing her hand to the Blue Remembrance Leaf; wrapping two of her fingers lightly around the glass-like ornament. "It is my wish to see you safe, Beatrix Ashworth. If you are willing, there is a gift I would impart to you. Something," Caretaker Nirvu's voice became soft, barely audible over her own thundering heart and heavy breathing, "that will ensure your safety in a way I cannot."

Is it sad? Beatrix's eyes were away from the object of her thoughts, looking at Srath, It worries so much about me. I...I didn't do anything to deserve this kindness. Srath was lithe and well toned, her midriff showing beneath tattered bits of mail and cloth. Her skin was like cracked obsidian, though it was clearly nothing like stone, her face narrow and her eyes small pits of gold lambency. I need to do my best! I need to...prepare. Her fingers ended in sharp points, but managed to still be delicate. A tail swept at the dirt behind her, lined unevenly with small barbs. What did Caretaker Nirvu mean, though? Another gift? It already did that weird glowy thing! I...I don't know what else... Srath hadn't spoken a word, since her arrival. Beatrix noticed that she was watching her, observing much in the same way.

She seems nice...I think...

They were no longer in the Crystalline Garden's confines. Caretaker Nirvu had told her, before the training began that Beatrix would be departing soon. Because the other Caretakers don't want me here. It was a sad thought, but one she couldn't afford to nurse while she had held the blade. Instead, they were in a patch of rough earth and sparse grasses perhaps half a mile away. There were a few tall trees, and a few small shrubs. Beyond that there was nothing. Because I'm...different from them. The hand that wasn't playing with the Remembrance Leaf lightly curled itself around her cloak; the heavy and tattered crimson cloth torn from King Vagorrez's own. He was nice, too. They've all been so kind to me!

Tears formed in her eyes, and Beatrix knew her face was scrunching up.Oh no, oh no! I shouldn't! N-not now! It was unavoidable, though. A sob escaped her, and Beatrix leaned forward. Her breath had been caught, and her heartbeat slowed, but the sound was ragged and unflattering. She felt the gentle squeeze turn into a light rub at her back. The tears flowed, mingling with the sweat of exertion. Beatrix Ashworth cried heartily, her body shaking with each new cry. "I don't-" the words were cut short, but she forced herself to stumble through, "I can't-" even if she couldn't finish the statement, Beatrix desperately wanted Caretaker Nirvu to know, "Please-!" Her hands left their place and found their way to her face, covering it.

"Beatrix of Ashworth," a shadow fell over her, and a swishing sound reached her ears, "you are strong of body. I'm impressed with your prowess. You're still a girl at heart, though." Srath had a voice like smoke, but her words were gentle. Through bleary eyes Beatrix could tell she was looking down on her with a faint frown. I'm sorry, she wanted to say, though all that came out was a choked sob. "Caretaker Nirvu?" She didn't know what the question meant, but the Caretaker removed its hand from her back and likewise stood.

"Yes, Srath. You may await her, here. She and I will say our goodbyes within the Garden's confines." Beatrix's chest tightened at the words. Any serious goodbyes always hurt her. It was simply part of her gentle nature. "I entrust her to you. Please, do not let harm befall her. You will part ways at the Long Walk. By then she should be accustomed to herself." Beatrix sputtered out something incoherent, even to herself, and struggled to her feet. Slowly, the tears were abating; though the empty pain in her chest continued.

"Come, Beatrix."
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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Mammon
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"You're real?" He blinked, patting his chest as if to check that he were, in fact, real. "I mean, yes! We are! I'm Anni, Anni Parkinson, this is Ascot, and- and-..." Zino Bertran raised his brows in a mixture of confusion and amusement, watching the young woman stutter out a response. He had not considered that the group might find his presence as unsettling as he found them. The agent scanned his eyes over the names she had indicated.

'Anni Parkinson, a girl, easily startled.' He glanced at the flying boy, his eyes drifting down to the food encased in gelatinous slime, then back up--studying his wings. Zino frowned. At least the goo trapped in the smell of cooked meat. 'Ascot. An... Angel? Tries too hard to be useful.' He watched Ascot fly away as he called out to what Zino could only describe as something from a nightmare circus. 'Tabitha, female,' he assumed from the title, 'prone to wander off on her own.'

Another voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Like she said, we're all here for the Magician. I'm Michael Keahi. Call me Mike." Zino Bertran nodded, holding out his hand to shake Michael's in a gesture of good will. The man before him had an air of reassuring strength or confidence about him. Zino made a mental note. "Don't mind him. He's unwanted baggage, courtesy of little miss ghosty herself."

'Baggage, dangerously insane, undesirable by the others,' he thought to himself.

"Speaking of which, I don't suppose you were dumped here by her too?" Zino shoved his hands into his pockets, briefly considering how to answer. It was clear to him these particular mortals had been sent at the behest of this "Ghost Girl" herself. Based on the information he had collected from Three, they had been sent here before him; he was a "late arrival." Perhaps the original group was favored by their mutual benefactor, or perhaps "Miss Ghosty" had deemed them incompetent and dragged the agent through fire and death to act as their babysitter. There was no way to be sure. They had all lost their lives for this cause--whatever it may be. They were all, he decided, owed the truth.

"I never met this 'Ghost Girl' you speak of," he reached into his pocket and retrieved the simple white mask, dusting off a smear of soot from its cheek with a leather-gloved thumb, "but I have heard of her. I was told she is mistress over the one who... Reassembled me here." As much as he had tried to suppress it, a shiver of terror ran up his spine. 'How long have I been dead?' He swallowed the reaction, continuing. "I heard that if I came here, I would understand reason for my death... And the reason for my continued existence," Zino quoted, "That I would learn the truth." His eyes remained fixated upon the Semblance as he spoke. They lingered there a few heartbeats longer before he slipped the mask back into the jacket pocket of his outfit. He could feel her watching him.

"My name is Zino G. Bertran, but Mr. Bertran will do. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, it is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mike Keahi." He dipped his head to the police officer, and then again to the flustered girl. "And you as well, Miss Parkinson. I assume that you both received a Semblance from our mysterious mistress also." Zino folded his arms. Given that Three had specified the group he was meeting with were all mortals, Bertran concluded that it must be the mask which granted some of them their unique appearance--their lives in exchange for a new world, a new being, a new purpose--a semblance of what they had been. "...Everyone here did, correct? At the cost of their lives." His face was grim, his lips a tight line across his face. "How did you all come to pass?"
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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Redward
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Ellard shifted at her back, the sound of wings and Ascot's approach putting him ill at ease. Tabitha raised an eyebrow. He said he saw 'em, already. Guess it's different when we're right in front of ya. An interesting change that she wasn't aware fully aware of, but lingering in the cluttered corners of her mind. We. She shrugged, stepping aside; unwilling to be the boy's shield against the group with her. "Yeah, somethin' like that. Glad ya came over, I guess." She motioned in Mike's direction, "Kid's gonna need food." Then a slight point at the path. If her plan weren't already obvious, Tabitha intended to send the boy the direction they had come from. It was risky, for Ellard, but she figured it was better than whatever was happening to him here.

"H-Hello...I'm Ellard."

He seemed intent on staring at the ground. She eyed him, arms crossing before she turned to Ascot. "Figure he can help us, ya know? Then we can help him," shrugging, she continued, "He told me a couple'a things that ya guys should know." Ellard winced, taking a step in the same direction; looking down the path. "'Bout the Magician." That part was quiet, purposefully so. Wonder if he can watch us. If he's been watchin' us. Unnerving to think about, but hardly beyond the scope of what they had experienced in Irriss; or before.

Oedipus started ranting. She couldn't help but giggle, a little, walking closer to the group; Ellard in tow. "If ya gouge they eyes out, then kill 'em, how they gonna see the life they loved took away?" Some part of her genuinely found it funny, though she only heard part of it. Another part was more proactive, sliding fingers to the grip of her gifted gun; repulsed by the sound of his laugh. It wouldn't be hard. Seems like ya on thin ice. Tabitha wouldn't be the one to draw the weapon, or pull its trigger, though. I'll keep an eye on ya. Might as well. Everyone else is. Instead, she caught sight of a man. In a suit. Wavin'. Like this is some kinda fuckin' meetin'. Who the hell? Fuck.

Another unbidden giggle. Ellard shifted at the man's posed question. Dread colored his features, but from where Tabitha was standing the kid did a good job hiding just how deep it ran. Anni, the girl she'd briefly spoken with earlier, spazzed out and made herself and Ascot known. Pretty weird that he's the one lookin' out of place. Mike made his introduction and asked a good question, prefaced by some surprisingly smooth situational direction. S'good to have someone like that around. Still, ain't seem like the type I'd get along with. She only offered her name, and a slight nod of her head.

"Tabitha," she didn't feel like giving much more than that. Instead, she listened for a minute. Heard of her, but ain't seen her. Brought here by somethin' that calls her 'mistress'? Fuckin' weird. Yet, again, not beyond the spread of her expectations. Tabitha gave a little sigh, tapping her foot, when he produced his Semblance. Ain't that great? We gonna end up with more people? How many's that even gonna make? Fuck. He continued speaking.

"Train, for me. Dead on the C-Route. Splat. Mostly the same for everyone, here. Ya from Lightbridge?" She didn't like that Zino had referred to the Ghost Girl as 'our mysterious mistress' and it might've shown on her face. She didn't care. "I mean, that ain't all that really happen down there, but yeah." It was more painful to think of Will's expiration, than her own; easier to make light of her own. Even the memory of waiting on the tracks, fresh as it was, paled to that thought.

He didn't even get a fuckin' second chance, or a fancy mask. The fuck did any of us do to get here, instead of those other idiots on the tracks? Get lucky?

She fought down another unforeseen set of little laughs and straightened herself. Fuck. I'm feelin' weird, today. Ellard was staring at her, having taken a step closer while she was talking. Shame crept up from somewhere deep, as she met his gaze. He's still scared, and he's gotta tough choice to make. For some reason, the boy smiled. She couldn't fathom it immediately, but he was steeling himself. It was a nervous, tenuous thing that twitched at the edges; but he was serious.

"If you're going after the Magician, I want to come with you!"

This time, she did laugh. "I'm gonna send ya the other way. The hell ya wanna tag along with this bunch for? We don't even really know why we're lookin' for the guy," Tabitha shifted, putting her hands on her hips. "Ain't my place to decide that, though. If ya wanna come along, whatever. Talk it out with these folk," Enough resistance would drive him more heartily to the idea. She decided to use a trick that had long been a favorite; apathy. Tabitha had taken it on herself to get Ellard to the path, away from Silverbrook, and though she hadn't possessed the foresight to consider food...it was already there. Everything was set. S'far's I see, he'll be alright either way. Maybe. Her job was done. "Ya gotta tell us what's up, regardless." His look did little but make Tabitha lift her hands. "About him. Magician."

"I know what you meant!" He turned to the group, putting his hands together before him. Ellard gave them each serious consideration, remaining silent for a moment. Tabitha toyed with the end of her bizarre hat. His voice was lowered, when he spoke, eyes once again to the ground. "But I won't here. If I can go with you, I'll tell you everything. If I can't, I won't tell you anything and I'll head down the Long Walk myself." The harlequin smiled, a little. Ellard brought his eyes up, focused. "To the Magician."

Kid's got some kinda guts. She understood well what he meant. Tabitha Calvicante could see it written all over his face. It was a look of desperation, of cold eyes and a disregard for consequence.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Letter Bee
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A newcomer, Zino Bertam, sent by a servant of the Ghost Girl. This newcomer was ill-at-ease with the group, due to their apperances, and Ascot couldn't blame him. To be honest, the boy would have done something earlier; been more proactive, but the others seemed to have a good handle on the situation. So he would just settle for smiling and waving at the guy, before turning back to Tabitha and Ellard and listening to their conversation.

"Wait a second," Ascot spoke to the boy who looked about his age, "If you are saying that the Magician was behind this, how did you resist? How did you manage to avoid being...mind-whacked?" Any number of ways; being overlooked, being clever, or just plain luck. But I shouldn't give him the possible answers, on the off-chance this is a plot to turn us against the Magician.

After a pause to wait for Ellard's answer, Ascot smiled (assuming he got a satisfying answer and wasn't met with hostility) and extended his hand, before transforming back to his mortal form for a few seconds; longer than he had de-transformed in front of Anni. He then continued, "Also, my name is Ascot. William Ascot. You can call me Will, or Ascot. I am happy to meet you, Ellard."

If Ellard shook his hand, Ascot would transform into his angelic form again, then rub the back of his head awkwardly. "Anyway, if The Magician turns out to be a bad guy and this is all a ploy to get us to do bad things, I'll protect you. I mean, if you want to be protected, of course." He would then fly to Michael, grab a loaf of bread, then fly back to Ellard and split the loaf in two halves, before offering one half to the other boy. "And by that, I vote for you going with us. Anyway, so, tell us more about The Magician?"

Then, a brief shiver as Ascot suddenly understood that he might have pissed off Anni by very clearly making a pass at Ellard. This might even distract from the fact that The Magician had been revealed to be very suspicious. Comedy hijinks incoming. And I'm the chew toy.

@Redward@Etranger@Ceta de Cloyes@Scarescrow@Viatos@jdh97@Mammon@TaroAndSelia
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Viatos
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Tristan watched the newcomers with divided eyes, his stance uncertain but active. His instinct was to follow Tabitha, but...whatever she was talking about with the kid, there was a connection there, one his cyborg form might endanger. And she was armed, and she had always taken care of herself, had done so before he met her. She didn't need a guard dog. He didn't need a collar. Plus talk had been kind of heavy recently.

A little space might not go amiss.

Still, the village disturbed him, for reasons it wasn't too hard to identify. Free food and drink, the idyll environment, the smiles...maybe without the masks, or the deaths, or the Ghost Girl, he could have been sold on this image of a witchless Narnia. But the scream in his Semblance was a context impossible to ignore. This other world was not an idyll. There were dangers here, and too much they didn't understand.

So knowledge was power. So Tristan sought empowerment. Zino Bertram. A late arrival? Are you part of her plan?

"The Ghost Girl of Lightbridge," he said quietly, "Was a mystery and an urban legend when she first started to appear. She lured...well, maybe. She's not exactly transparent-"

He paused.

"Sorry. Not a ghost joke. Anyway, she started showing up and people started dying. They stepped onto subway tracks and were killed by the train. Rumor was those people died trying to help her, but that's rumor, you know. Posthumous. She...gathered us. All of us together. When she brought us to the subway, it was-"

Another pause. Tristan was vaguely conscious of the acceleration of various processes, faster breathing, pistons shifting gears. She made that fucking ringing noise with her mouth, that night in my office. She did things, said things...nobody's sure of her, but in aggregate...no. She isn't safe. She isn't an ally. A mistress, maybe. But if there's anything about her that's true, it's that she is a dead thing in important senses. If there's anything about her I know is a lie, it's the implication of her humanity.

"-she made us offers. None of it made a lot of sense. I can't tell you why...most of us stepped onto the tracks, which is what she asked us to do. That and hold onto the masks. Some of us put them on. I guess you can tell," said Tristan, one hand gesturing to himself, his pentacle of eyes always tracking. "I don't think the mask is there anymore. At least, I don't feel like I'm wearing a mask, this is just...my face, now. I guess.

Anyway, most of us stepped onto the tracks. There was some, uh, excitement...the guy in the cocoon, he rushed Officer Keahi, back in the station. We're not really clear on why. I think he's just...that way. But the Ghost Girl wanted him, I guess. Wanted you too. And if you haven't figured it out already, that looks like it's probably a rigged game. You'll get the truth, maybe, but it's the truth about the mystery that she created, centered around your personal tragedy, which probably she arranged that too. You've been murdered and...reassembled, you said? all at her behest. When we got here, she said she wanted 'blades.' So far our free will hasn't actually been curtailed, but...you know, I think that's more about the cleverness of the strings she's drawing us along with than their absence.

For example, here are the first other living things we've found, and there's something wrong with these people, Mr. Bertram. With this place. I don't know if these folks were here before the Magician, or how long HE was here, or - what the fuck is anything, really. But I do know it's more than a little fucked up that these folks are in no shape to communicate to us anything at all about this world, its rules, its powers. Anything she hasn't approved for us to know. Anything that might be introduced in a context outside the one she has planned for it."

Tristan looked around at the others, a process that required less head movement than it might have once entailed. There were dichotomies forming, and alliances, and he wanted to see who was nodding along, who wasn't. Part of that was an old mentality and part of that was a new and alien paranoia. But we don't know anything about each other, and suddenly it occurs to me that even if we ask...who's to say who's telling the truth?

Suddenly he wished he'd gone after Tabitha after all. Standing together among the others, in the middle of a smiling crowd, on the eve of some great festival - more even than the dark of his office after-hours, Tristan felt very alone.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Etranger
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So it turned out to be true that there was more than one person snatching dead people from the world they knew and loved, only it would seem that this one was merely an underling of ghosty anyway. Did she potentially have hordes of minions gathering up unsuspecting mules for her? There were too many unknowns to speculate on, but it was good to learn something more. He also learned the name of the man he was talking to. It seemed he was a bit distant, given he wanted to be referred to as "Mr. Bertran". He also made a point of calling him "Mr. Mike Keahi". So near, yet so far from what he wanted. It was like he was doomed to walk this new world being addressed with a degree of cold formality. Otherwise, it seemed the guy wanted to get down to brass tacks and talk about what they knew. Michael nodded as he brought up the semblances. In spite of how unique they all appeared to be, it seemed that ghost girl was handing them out like candy to whomever she roped into her scheme. Was she pulling them out of her ass?

A few of the others took the opportunity to explain more of how they all got here. Upon mention of the events of his own death, Michael looked down at knifey with a sneer. "Yeah, you remember that, asshole? Are you touching yourself to that little memory in that wrap of yours?" He said to him, though not so loud as to interrupt anybody speaking. It could be gathered Michael was definitely not over having been stabbed unceremoniously. But he was ultimately more interested in following the conversation on the questions surrounding their "mission". It was all too true that they knew nothing of this "Magician" or the real reason they were here to meet him. The inclusion of Tabitha's little discovery only made things more suspicious. On top of everything, the boy was holding information on the Magician to ransom. If this were back in Lightbridge, Officer Keahi would have told the boy there was no way he was coming along on a potentially dangerous assignment. But this wasn't Lightbridge, and whatever was wrong with this hamlet, it hardly seemed safer to remain here than to wander off to god knows what. Not to mention he just declared he was going to go blunder off to the Magician whether they let him in their group or not, so keeping him safe at this point seemed like an impossible task short of leaving someone to keep him in his house or something.

The decision already seemed to have been made by Ascot, though it seemed that decision may have been made based on his hyperactive hormones. Michael did not remember being half as horny as Ascot around that age. With a slight chuckle, Michael let loose an energy rope to grab hold of Oedipus' cocoon. Wherever they were going, there was no way he was leaving him to get loose and add to their troubles. If the Magician turned out to be a huge ass, they could always leave the psycho as a distraction while they got out of there. In any case, Michael was aiming to listen carefully to Ellard's elaboration as they made tracks.

@Mammon @Redward @Letter Bee @Scarescrow
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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by TaroAndSelia
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As directed, Anni calmed down--meaning she held her mouth shut and stared in wide-eyed fascination at Zino the entire time he spoke; the only movement she made was to show the man the mask she carried at her side, hiding it in skirts again quickly. She barely noticed her own actions; her mind was on something else. He had met one of the Ghost Girl's friends! Did that mean something more than being brought with the rest of the group? Did Ghost Girl have something extra special in mind when she chose him? Or was it just that he hadn't joined the rest of the group in time?

"Regardless of where you go, eventually you will arrive where you are intended to."

A shiver ran down Anni's spine. The Ghost Girl had warned them about the inevitability. Even though he hadn't died on the tracks, Mr. Bertran was still here.

She needed more time to think through this--and someone to talk to about it. Casting her eyes about, Anni found Kate. Before she called out, though, she noticed Saffron standing close beside her. The pair was removed from the group and talking quietly. Anni closed her mouth again and turned back to their new companion; she would just find time to speak with Kate later.

More than calm, by now Anni felt completely subdued. Tabi...tha, had brought a new friend into their ranks. Anni watched the boy curiously. He didn't look much older than her, if at all, and he was being very polite. Still, Anni couldn't shake a funny feeling. It wasn't something tangible. It wasn't one of the positive feelings, like the first time she stepped into Johnny's cafe; however, the feeling wasn't negative either, like when she was walking home without Naomi and felt cold shivers near a certain alleyway. The only descriptor Anni could give it was 'funny.'

Whatever the feeling was, Anni couldn't see anyone else bothered by it. Tabitha had brought him in, and Ascot was warmly welcoming him. That, Anni, decided, would have to be enough. If the feeling wouldn't go away, she would just move her attention away. Tearing her gaze away from Ellard, Anni looked up to the iron soldier joining in on the conversation between Mr. Bert and Officer Mike. In a surprising shift from his demeanor during the trek, he had a lot to say now--and all of it felt dark. She didn't interrupt, she didn't raise any objections; but each succeeding sentence gave her gut another wrench, twisting her empty stomach until it physically hurt. Before he had finished Anni couldn't even look at him anymore.

When the stream of mud finally ceased flowing, Anni took a breath and raised her eyes Mr. Bert. "That's... kind of... how it is," Anni said, managing to bring a smile onto her face. "We've been brought here to do something, and now we need to talk to the Magician to know what it is. So... We should go. And do that. Together." Anni gave Officer Mike and Mr. Bert each a smile, then walked away from the iron soldier and took up her marching place next to Kate.

"Anni, did you eat?" the older girl fussed.

"I'm... not hungry," Anni mumbled. She wouldn't be able to force herself to eat right now, not even if she had been fasting forty days.

Kate didn't buy it; she knew immediately all was not well. "What's wrong, Anni?" she questioned.

Anni hesitated before answering, "I'll tell you later." She could see her friend wasn't appeased, so with a forced smile she added, "I'm not hurt or anything. I just... It's too much right now."

"You know, food will help-"

"In a bit."
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Scarescrow
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Scarescrow Sociopath

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I promised that I would lead my brethren, protecting them from the outside world, yet I had failed. It seems that what I hope, that the decency and chivalry that our Father has will be somewhere in the Older Ones, yet we underestimated his anger toward the Father. His actions are like those barbarian during the dawn of human race, brutal and uncivilized. He is like Fenrir or Jormungand, the great beasts. I had never seen such brutal that a man could unleash upon his blood like that. The things he said during his torture with Athena make me wished to be deaf. The views I see when the Beast beheaded and joking around him make me wish to be blind. What we saw in that message made us dumbstruck. And his actions upon them were unacceptable. Where is the un-painful death in it, when others are being tortured just to make others laugh? What is dignity, when he murdered…”
In the place, where several longhouses are built around, there is a man in his mid sixty writing in the light casting from the nearby camping fire. He has an eye patch on one side, and another is a murky one. His hands in wrinkled, constantly shaking as he seems to no longer able to write as if this is his final words to those in the other longhouses. Then, snow began to fall from the darkening skies above, covering the ground with its spectacular snowflakes. And the man continued to write, disregard about his surrounding, about the fact that he only wears a robe that is covering him. Yet, he continued to write, on that unknown book with its paper made from an unknown beast’s skin.
“He is the embodiment of rage of the Father, just like the Father himself used to be with other of his race. And being one of the oldest, I knew how the Beast coming into existence.”
The old man raising his head from the book, trying to remember the memories that seem so distance for him. How long since the Father had told him the story? One, two hundred, or three thousand? The old man’s eyebrows began to burrow as he desperately tried to remember everything. It seems so distant, he knew. So absurd, he recognizes. But, writing it down is the only way he could to remember this, to remember the origin of the Murder.
“It was a rainy day, Father said. He said on that day, the wind howled like a wolf, and the sound of thunders pierced through the dark cloudy night. And He was in his room, drawing image about the life that used to be. The rain fall through the unclosed windows, wetting the floor that He is sitting on, but our Father was not afraid of the rain nor the thunder. The sound of the floor cracking as the house withstanding the fierce storm. Yet, our Father’s eye has remained on his task, painting the picture with his crayons.”
The man lifts his head from the books again as he tries to patch in the broken pieces of his memory. Truly, the man thinks to himself; his memory had not been so good after knowing the death of his brothers and sisters. Yet, he must continue as he knew if he stops now, others might not know the origin of this Beast. Massaging both sides of his temple, the man made sure to replace his ink and quill before continued to write.
“And then, there was a sudden blow coming down from the bottom of the house. The house of an Alpha Male rumbling something at the back of his mouth. And he went the second floor, where our Father is doing his task. The image that he draws had now become more clear, with a man holding women which they both laid their eyes on the smallest individual of the house. And then, the door opened wide, ramming against the green wooden wall. And Father felt something hitting him hard from the side of his head, sending him to fly off from his previous painting. His visions became red and a buzzing sound continuously ringing at the back of his mind. And this is where our Oldest Brother comes forth. With each tear that our Father shed is a column of rage arise. And each strike that He received from the Alpha Male, the thing inside begin to beat. And then there was nothing.
The man had now shifted his gaze from the book that he had been written on for days to the darkening skies. The snow that had flow for at least several hours, had now covered their tracks, blocking any way of scouting them by normal means. The man began to think how this snow storm is to the history of the Beast. They both happened suddenly, and end it with one side to disappear. Father said when he regained his conscious, the Alpha Male had already laid dead with a pin pong ball size at the back of his head. Nearby the body is thousands of pieces of glass. And blood flow from the back of the man head, soaking the floor with a fishy smell, only to be washed away by the endless rain. And then, our Father found him, the First. He was much different from how he looks today. And back then, he is named after something else, something that even our Father does not wish to repeat.
The old man stopped, looking at his product. The past of the Beast bares too many secrets and questions that could only be answered by him. But the old man shook his head to both sides as he realizes the answers that he seeks will be paid by the blood of those who he loves the most. Slowly arising from his seat, the old man walks back to his longhouse, letting the flame to die in the blizzard.

Meanwhile, outside

“Wow, Mr. Police. I had never realized you prefer bondage and perverted stuff like this. But, although I'm insane, I'm very sure that I do not prefer same sex.” Oedipus shakes his head to both sides, displaying his fake irritation about the current situation while arising from his sitting position.
“How about you let miss Anni to hold the rope and I promised to remain silent for the rest of the journey from here to the Magician?” And the crow grinned, saying in its hideous voice.
“I promised I wouldn't escape.”
@Etranger@TaroAndSelia
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by jdh97
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jdh97 Hopeful

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Stormy

The sunlight kissed her fluttering eyelids, warm and gentle. Halos shimmered in the darkness. The breeze brushed past, carrying smells of rich earth and the tinkling of rushing water: almost the sea. Almost. Stormy opened her eyes, and the hazy smudge of his face vanished behind the real world.

Words of leached wood ash and crystal veils. From her rock, she watched, for a time, before, stretching, draping down like a willow, smiling at her feet, where the others’ words spilled like sliding stones. Through the shroud of her hair, she turned to Koda, and her returning smile proved fleeting, skittering away once more. Something of his aspect robbed the words from her, and she turned back to the group.

“Mikey-Michael, hun,” She called, pushing up off her knees to stand, nodding briefly at Zee-zee with a wink, “I can jive with whatever, but before we go, or, do, uhm, anything? I think I’d like some food, for myself, and uh…” She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, returning with knitted brows, “He seems to need it, y’know, a real lot? We can move and eat, it’s cool and all. ”
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Mammon
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Mammon The Chief Mourner

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“"I don't think the mask is there anymore. At least, I don't feel like I'm wearing a mask, this is just...my face, now. I guess.”

Zino took a step back, listening to the voice emanating from the android. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Is he… Completely mechanical? Does this mask change you inside and out…? Terrifying.’ The agent frowned and stroked his chin thoughtfully; his eyes scanned across the others who had already transformed. ‘I wonder what that makes these people…?’ He shrugged to himself, returning his attention to rest of the story.

“You… You all jumped in front of a train…?” The agent could not contain his disbelief. Whoever this Ghost Girl was, she had to be remarkably persuasive to lure all these people to their deaths. ‘Sinister, too.’ Zino folded his arms. ‘Drafting these people into her plans… Some of them are merely children…’ He looked over Anni, Ascot, and the others, then at their newest addition: Ellard. “It is unusual that so many of the villagers are this… Complacent.” He thought about the woman who had offered him food. She had asked nothing of his foreign appearance or the strange circumstances of their arrival. “Hn. I suppose we should follow our directions for now...”

“We've been brought here to do something, and now we need to talk to the Magician to know what it is. So... We should go. And do that. Together." Zino watched her smile and walk away, hiding the mask back in her skirts.The police officer seemed occupied with the homicidal maniac. He did not hear exactly what Michael said to creature, but he caught the general gist: they hated one another. Michael Keahi started dragging the would-be murderer along with him.

“You’re… Taking him with us?” Mr. Bertran shrugged. It seemed like a terrible idea to him, but if he captured the person that locked him in the furnace, Zino would be hard-pressed to leave him or her as well. The bound man mentioned something about Miss Anni and it took all of his willpower not to stomp on the pervert’s mouth until there were no teeth left. “Disgusting. You’re in no position to bargain, either.”

“Mikey-Michael, hun.” The older woman’s voice interrupted his violent thoughts. “I can jive with whatever, but before we go, or, do, uhm, anything? I think I’d like some food, for myself, and uh… He seems to need it, y’know, a real lot? We can move and eat, it’s cool and all.” Her face was warm and cheery in spite of their situation. Something about it was both calming and frustrating. Zino wondered how she could be so carefree. His brow furrowed. The police officer seemed to have his hands full with the murderous bird-brain. The agent plucked a selection of vegetarian options from Officer Keahi’s arms, giving him a single reassuring pat on the shoulder, and passed them along to the woman.

“Here, miss,” he commented, thrusting the food into her arms. “Now, let’s get moving.”

As much as he wanted more information from them, getting to the Magician was even more pressing—and what he had learned from the group needed digesting. He fell in line alongside the others. The path out of town was a winding dirt road. Villagers gave friendly waves as they passed; their faces were dull and happy, and their eyes seemed glossy, contented and hollow. Zino dipped his head in recognition as they passed, but did not slow down for them. In the distance a large tower dominated the horizon, reaching up above the forest canopy. The road was flanked on either side by an outcropping of trees. Sunlight danced on the earthen ground and shone through the leaves. Despite the peaceful surroundings, an uneasiness permeated the air.

Tristan’s words echoed in his mind. ‘If the Ghost Girl arranged my murder...’ The agent folded his arms around himself, rubbing his shoulders. ‘Is Three complicit in it? Did she save me, or is she responsible? How can I serve someone who...’ Mr. Bertran closed his eyes and tried to push away the encroaching memories. ‘They wouldn’t tell us anything she doesn’t want us to know...’ He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing beneath his glasses. A sudden realization dawned on him: he was chosen because he knew something. The rumors surrounding the missing children, the juvenile suspects from the report, the documentation of the anomolies... It could not be simple coincidence that he had been murdered. If she had wanted to control the flow of information, anyone in his organization would be a prime target.

He shuddered. ‘Do they know?’
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