💡
OP
casual roleplay | discord.com
apocalypse & magical fantasy
apocalypse & magical fantasy
W I P
יְהוָה שָׁמָּה
T H E N E W J E R U S A L E M
L O R E
יֶדַע עַם
They came to us, sprinkling like sand in an hour glass. Their gold glistened in the desert sun, and their powers were more encompassing than the sky. Slowly, their magic weaved a new world around us, and we became inhabitants of a new phenomenon. Forever our reality would be altered. We built temples for them at the beckoning of their promises. We practiced their words as disciples to these new religious orders. We became citizens of a new world.
For a while, the world was at peace while the beings of the sky enlightened us. They guarded and protected us from the evil spirits that once plagued our world. We promised our lives to them. We lived in their paradise. Until one day, when our guards were at complete rest, a new set of rules began transforing around us. These rules road on dark, shadowy horses. Their dark veils covered their large treacherous bodies. Their powers reigned storms of evil upon our world. They made newer, bigger promises. They created new creeds, which split us apart. They forced us into never-ending wars. They plagued us in a famine of darkness. They cracked whips of lightning over the golden beings we had once called gods. Again, we found ourselves slaves to our fallen nature. However, this time would be the last time.
With one tear of hope, a prophecy was foretold. It came from the Old City of Jerusalem as a vision in a dream. An oracle interpreted it as thus, the fighting will continue to generations. Humans will be sacrificed. Their blood and torment will paint the memories of every living thing. They will be faced with a choice, to succumb to the powerful urges of their fallen nature or endure the pain and suffering of fighting for their eternal freedom. A New Jerusalem is coming. It shall come down from the Holy of Hies and establish Eschaton. Those who choose to follow the darkness will perish, but those who fight for the light will endure forever in the world to come. And such generations have come to pass that we have been taught to believe, the New Jerusalem has already come. Some believe the gates have already been closed and locked to those not already inhabiting the Holy Paradise. Others have gone in conquest of finding the Holy Paradise solely for corrupted reasons, whether personal gain or destroying it altogether. Regardless, those who seek shall find, and not all those who wander are lost.
For a while, the world was at peace while the beings of the sky enlightened us. They guarded and protected us from the evil spirits that once plagued our world. We promised our lives to them. We lived in their paradise. Until one day, when our guards were at complete rest, a new set of rules began transforing around us. These rules road on dark, shadowy horses. Their dark veils covered their large treacherous bodies. Their powers reigned storms of evil upon our world. They made newer, bigger promises. They created new creeds, which split us apart. They forced us into never-ending wars. They plagued us in a famine of darkness. They cracked whips of lightning over the golden beings we had once called gods. Again, we found ourselves slaves to our fallen nature. However, this time would be the last time.
With one tear of hope, a prophecy was foretold. It came from the Old City of Jerusalem as a vision in a dream. An oracle interpreted it as thus, the fighting will continue to generations. Humans will be sacrificed. Their blood and torment will paint the memories of every living thing. They will be faced with a choice, to succumb to the powerful urges of their fallen nature or endure the pain and suffering of fighting for their eternal freedom. A New Jerusalem is coming. It shall come down from the Holy of Hies and establish Eschaton. Those who choose to follow the darkness will perish, but those who fight for the light will endure forever in the world to come. And such generations have come to pass that we have been taught to believe, the New Jerusalem has already come. Some believe the gates have already been closed and locked to those not already inhabiting the Holy Paradise. Others have gone in conquest of finding the Holy Paradise solely for corrupted reasons, whether personal gain or destroying it altogether. Regardless, those who seek shall find, and not all those who wander are lost.
S E T T I N G & P R E M I S E
מסגרת והנחת יסוד
The world is in the midst of the apocalypse. The world is war torn. She’s been dying for generations, now, and some wonder if the world has already turned to hell — death is the only escape, which many use as their only option. Men have gone crazy looking for Eschaton, the New Jerusalem, the Holy Paradise. They have gone mad with power, pride, hunger, lust, envy, ennui. They will stop at nothing to escape the war torn wastelands, even if it means killing himself. Yet, mankind still struggles onward in vain hopes for something...
Regardless of who your character is or where he or she has been, each character has found himself in the Fertile Crescent, the most war torn area of the world. Legends say that one of the twelve gates to the New Jerusalem lies within the Fertile Crescent, the start of civilization and the area most inhabited by the mystical beings who came generations ago.
Technology has not advanced since the insurgence of magic. Mankind relies more heavily on mysticism and nature as the beasts have taken over. The dragons of the sky make traveling by air dangerous, and the leviathans make traveling by sea perilous. Warships inhabit both the sky and water. Beasts, tanks, and guns roam the lands, but cars still exist. Therefore, travel is not impossible but very difficult and risky.
Your character is in search for the New Jerusalem. Your character's reason for finding the Holy Land is unique and of itself. Maybe your character is in search for the New Jerusalem as a task from a powerful warlord. Maybe your character is a power hungry lord. Maybe your character is with a group that is seeking refuge and escape from the suffering the apocalypse has caused. Maybe your character prays to be united with his or her family once, again. Maybe, it is none of these reasons, but there is a reason. Your character is armed. Your character may know a little magic or how to wield some sort of weapon. Your character has scars from the world. Some of these scars are visible. Some of these scars are invisible. But, just like your character's reason, his or her scars are there. They are memories of his or her history, and if history repeats itself for those who do not learn from it, your character can stop at nothing to find the New Jerusalem.
Every human has his or her own mortal flaw. Some of those flaws are the same as others. Some are different than others. Some humans have more flaws than other humans. However, every human's flaw affects him or her in its own unique way. What is your character's flaw?
This is not to say every human is damned. Every human has his or her own excelling virtue. These virtue redeem mankind and give hope in continuing to live. What is your character's virtue?
Throughout the journey, which trait will win: the flaw or the virtue? Choose your traits wisely, because the sands of time are slipping away, and not everyone has the ability to make it to Eschaton, no matter how good he or she believes himself or herself to be.
Regardless of who your character is or where he or she has been, each character has found himself in the Fertile Crescent, the most war torn area of the world. Legends say that one of the twelve gates to the New Jerusalem lies within the Fertile Crescent, the start of civilization and the area most inhabited by the mystical beings who came generations ago.
Technology has not advanced since the insurgence of magic. Mankind relies more heavily on mysticism and nature as the beasts have taken over. The dragons of the sky make traveling by air dangerous, and the leviathans make traveling by sea perilous. Warships inhabit both the sky and water. Beasts, tanks, and guns roam the lands, but cars still exist. Therefore, travel is not impossible but very difficult and risky.
Your character is in search for the New Jerusalem. Your character's reason for finding the Holy Land is unique and of itself. Maybe your character is in search for the New Jerusalem as a task from a powerful warlord. Maybe your character is a power hungry lord. Maybe your character is with a group that is seeking refuge and escape from the suffering the apocalypse has caused. Maybe your character prays to be united with his or her family once, again. Maybe, it is none of these reasons, but there is a reason. Your character is armed. Your character may know a little magic or how to wield some sort of weapon. Your character has scars from the world. Some of these scars are visible. Some of these scars are invisible. But, just like your character's reason, his or her scars are there. They are memories of his or her history, and if history repeats itself for those who do not learn from it, your character can stop at nothing to find the New Jerusalem.
Every human has his or her own mortal flaw. Some of those flaws are the same as others. Some are different than others. Some humans have more flaws than other humans. However, every human's flaw affects him or her in its own unique way. What is your character's flaw?
This is not to say every human is damned. Every human has his or her own excelling virtue. These virtue redeem mankind and give hope in continuing to live. What is your character's virtue?
Throughout the journey, which trait will win: the flaw or the virtue? Choose your traits wisely, because the sands of time are slipping away, and not everyone has the ability to make it to Eschaton, no matter how good he or she believes himself or herself to be.
M A P
מקומות
P L A C E S
מַפָּה
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C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
דְמוּת
First Name Last Name, Age
Height cm / Weight km
R E L I G I O N : Religion
F L A W : Flaw
V I R T U E : Virtue
Height cm / Weight km
R E L I G I O N : Religion
F L A W : Flaw
V I R T U E : Virtue
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Include information about your character's flaw(s) and virtue(s).
A R M O R & W E A P O N R Y
Pictures are optional.
S K I L L S
List and explain five.
Character's Backstory and reason for searching for the New Jerusalem.
[center][img]i.imgur.com/ERiecx2.png?1[/img][/cent… Name Last Name, Age
[sub][color=gray]Height cm / Weight km[/color]
[color=bca346]R E L I G I O N :[/color] [color=gray]Religion[/color]
[color=bca346]F L A W :[/color] [color=gray]Flaw[/color]
[color=bca346]V I R T U E :[/color] [color=gray]Virtue[/color][/sub][/indent][/indent]
[indent][indent][color=bca346]P E R S O N A L I T Y[/color][/indent][/indent]
[indent][indent][h1][/h1][color=silver] Include information about your character's flaw(s) and virtue(s).[/color][/indent][/indent]
[indent][indent][color=bca346]A R M O R & W E A P O N R Y[/color][/indent][/indent]
[indent][indent][h1][/h1][color=silver] Pictures are optional.[/color][/indent][/indent]
[indent][indent][color=bca346]S K I L L S[/color][/indent][/indent]
[indent][indent][h1][/h1][color=silver] List and explain five.[/color][/indent][/indent]
[indent][indent][h1][/h1][color=silver] Character's Backstory and reason for searching for the New Jerusalem.[/color][/indent][/indent]⬇
OP
Cont.
דתות ואלוהויות
R E L I G I O N S A N D D E I T I E SC H R I S T I A N I T Y
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H E L L E N I S M
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I S L A M
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K E M E T I S M
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W I C C A
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כַּשָׁפוּת
M A G I CS P E L L S
M A T E R I A L S
R I T E S
F U N C T I O N S
A spoken word or form of words held to have magic power. The language of spells is sometimes archaic and is not always understood by the reciter. In some cases meaningless but familiar terms are believed to be efficacious because of their traditional value. Much magical language, however, is clearly and directly correlated with the aim of the recital. In symbolic statement by analogy it represents and foreshadows the technical achievement, and metaphor and simile are freely used. An example is a Maori spell giving speed and grace to a canoe, which speaks of the swiftness of a bird on the wing and the lightness of a sea gull and which uses such onomatopoeic effects as speed noises or the wailing of the sea.
In blessings and curses, which are similar types of verbal expressions, the efficacy of the recitation is also believed to be connected to the magical power of the words themselves or to the sacred power of a supernatural being. Certain gestures as well as words may be bound up with the act of blessing, as in putting one’s hands on the head of the person being blessed. The curse, a wish to cause harm or misfortune, is usually directed against others, although an important form of curse, associated with oaths, contracts, and treaties, is conditionally directed against oneself, should one fail to keep one’s word or tell the truth.
In blessings and curses, which are similar types of verbal expressions, the efficacy of the recitation is also believed to be connected to the magical power of the words themselves or to the sacred power of a supernatural being. Certain gestures as well as words may be bound up with the act of blessing, as in putting one’s hands on the head of the person being blessed. The curse, a wish to cause harm or misfortune, is usually directed against others, although an important form of curse, associated with oaths, contracts, and treaties, is conditionally directed against oneself, should one fail to keep one’s word or tell the truth.
M A T E R I A L S
Much anthropological literature refers to the objects used in magic as "medicines," hence the popular use of the term medicine man for magician. These medicines include herbs, animal parts, gemstones, sacred objects, or props used in performance and are thought to be potent in themselves or empowered by incantations or rituals. In some cases, medicines that are intended to heal are physiologically effective; for example, the poppy is used widely as an anesthetic, willow bark is used by some as an analgesic, and garlic and onions being used as antibiotics. Other medicines that are meant to cause harm, such as toad extracts and bufadienolides, are, in fact, known poisons. Other materials have a symbolic relationship to the intended outcome, as with divination from animal parts. In scapulamancy (divination from a sheep shoulder bone), for example, the sheep’s bone reflects the macrocosmic forces of the universe. In sorcery a magician may employ something belonging to the intended victim (e.g., hair, nail parings, or a piece of clothing) as part of the ritual. The rite itself may be symbolic, as with the drawing of protective circles in which to call up spirits, the sprinkling of water on the ground to make rain, or the destruction of a wax image to harm a victim. Plants or other objects can also symbolize desired outcomes: in rites to ensure a canoe’s speed, an example is the use of light vegetable leaves to represent the ease with which the craft will glide over the water; another example is to place a stone in a tree fork to postpone the setting of the sun; and a final example is that a people once swallowed gold to cure jaundice.
R I T E S
Because magic is based on performance, ritual and the magician’s knowledge and ability play a significant role in its efficacy. The performance of magic also presumes an audience, either the spiritual forces addressed, the patient-client, or the community. Both the magician and the rite itself are concerned with the observance of taboos and the purification of the participants. Magicians, like priests presiding over religious rituals, observe restrictions of diet or other certain activities to demarcate the rite from ordinary and profane activities and to invest it with sanctity. Illusions are the most easy to perform.
F U N C T I O N S
Foremost among the many roles magic plays are its “instrumental” and “expressive” functions. Based in the attempt to influence nature or human behaviour, magic’s instrumental function is measured by its efficacy in achieving the desired result. Anthropologists identify three main types of instrumental magic: the productive, the protective, and the destructive. Productive magic is employed to solicit a successful outcome from human labour or nature, such as bountiful hunt or harvest or good weather. Protective magic aims to defend an individual or community from the vagaries of nature and the evil of others. The use of amulets to ward off contagious diseases or the recitation of charms before a journey are examples of this protective function. Lastly, destructive magic, or sorcery, is intended to harm others, often is motivated by envy, and is socially disruptive. Consequently, the use of countermagic against sorcery may relieve some social tension within a community.
Magic’s expressive function results from the symbolic and social meanings attached to its practices, though its performers may not necessarily be aware of this function. Magic can provide a sense of group identity through shared rituals that give power or strength to members. At the same time, it can isolate the magician as a special person within or on the margins of society. Magic can also serve as a creative outlet or form of entertainment. It is, therefore, inseparable from the total system of thought, belief, and practice in a given society.
Magic’s expressive function results from the symbolic and social meanings attached to its practices, though its performers may not necessarily be aware of this function. Magic can provide a sense of group identity through shared rituals that give power or strength to members. At the same time, it can isolate the magician as a special person within or on the margins of society. Magic can also serve as a creative outlet or form of entertainment. It is, therefore, inseparable from the total system of thought, belief, and practice in a given society.
טֶכנוֹלוֹגִיָה
T E C H N O L O G Yיצורים
C R E A T U R E SA L M I R A J
----D R A G O N
---G R I F F I N
----H E L L H O U N D
----K E R E S H
----S L E I P N I R
----T I G R I S
----N / A
----OP
L O C A T I O N : Lodge, Port10
I N T E R A C T I O N S : @JJ Doe
T A G S : @JJ Doe , @Conscripts
E Q U I P M E N T :
N/A
Her footsteps followed quickly behind Barrock’s heavy strides. Her mind’s eye kept replaying the scene and had seen. Partially out of fear, and the other to admire what she was able to see without her true eyes. She felt so shy and much too afraid to say the vision was a gem of its own nature.
The door to the lodge swung open. There was a still in the room that resonated as if something extravagant had just occurred. She could smell the fear that once was and… the scent of alcohol currently being enjoyed. All of this came before Barrock began scolding Vasco.
A strong emotion began budding inside of Aurora. She had felt this before, many times. Although, during those times, she able to qualm the feeling. She had been advised from using it or letting it come to fruition, but right now, there was little to stop it.
“Where is my brother!” Her voice tried to ask gingerly but came out more as a command, as if she had meant to say Tell me where my brother is! Her fists were balled in frustration and tears — not the same ones she showed Barrock earlier — tried not show themselves.
How could Vasco be relaxing at a time like this?
She understood how and why. It was Vasco, but her heart strings were so worried about her brother. The memories of Zara, her blood, her lifeless body, and her spark fading so quickly were looming over her. What would become of her brother? And, did Vasco even care?
Soon, Aurora was shaking. Her anger leaving as soon as it came. It couldn’t last. It never did, and she felt embarrassed it had even erupted. Never mind her anger, her dearest brother was missing. Her poor dear Rowan. He had been lying so limp under the orc.
“I… I saw you… trying to help, Vasco.” Aurora sniffled. Her eyes were downcast, staring into what would have been the wood flooring, if she could see it. “It must have been scary for you… and still is.” She was unsure how much she projecting her own fears onto Vasco, but she hoped and knew, the truth was Vasco somewhere in his own mystery knew what she was referencing.
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OP
L U N C H E O N________________________________________________________________________________
The
luncheon was featured in a large electronic bubble floating above Elliot Bay. The water was wearing a projection with sparkling lights that made it a dazzling spectacle with the occasional flare of some iridescent flare-rain display. Rarely did the bay make such an appearance. Inside the holographic bubble was an extravagant
dining hall of floating cybernetic tables. The tables had a fresh whiteness all over them. The screens displaying on the table tops adorned placemats, silverware, fancy plates, and frilly napkins folded into swans. There was a centerpiece on each table — a genetically modified floral arrangement that changed colors with the general ambiance.Faux-trees with plastiglass trunks stood at various locations around the hall, giving a glitzy, clean, earthy feel. Whatever that meant. Inside the trunks was an iridescent art of wires and sparks. The trees were wearing plastiglass leaves like gems, and decorating those gems were ornamental fruit with a scent of rose and lavender and something else to relax the attendees sponsor for the event. A little ways from the dining hall was a side area of large
tea cups with tables in the middle. The tea cups spun around in a synchronized style, and many attendees were enjoying a drink on these tilting devices. Each tea cup was fashioned to some sort of decadence. They were all transparent and bejeweled with an arrangement of prosperous subtly glowing flowers and gold articulating various angles and oddities to each particular ride. Rides were not for free.Around the inside perimeter of the bubble were
oblong floating tables that housed various expensive items calculated for a silent auction. Net runners were at work to guarantee Mr. So-So his gadget and Ms. What’s-her-face that emerald necklace, but no one would dare mention it.Some Surplus
magician dressed in an eccentric suit of patches and class was helping form a small crowd for those uninterested in the auction. He was making a dizzying display of tips and tricks with his cybernetics and augmentations. He was probably being underpaid, as a charitable contribution, but at least he was being paid and smiling. He was accepting tips for the charity.Opposite of the Surplus magician was a Cybercom
band. They were playing some jazz-type music. Occasionally, the music would get hip and off-beat and experimental, but mostly, it tried to stay with generically pre-AutoAmerica tunes. No one crowded around the band. People merely walked by and had a slight acknowledgement. The band blended into the backdrop nicely.Cybercoms in eccentrically old-fashioned servant outfits decorated the place as servers who held various
hors d'oeuvres, like sushi, tempura, and sparkling beverages with a glow. Enforcers made themselves known. Bodyguards graced the dining hall like the decadent ornaments on the plastiglass trees. It was obviously a place with high society people, and any scum who somehow got invited was not allowed to get away with blinking out of turn. The hanging chandeliers, dripping electronic jewels, were only an extra pair of eyes to maintain this peaceful architecture of a social event. Below the bubble were small
blimps that made periodic trips from the ground and to the entrance of the bubble. At the launching ramp, security was tight, with invitation and barcode scanning, as well as identity matchers. It was a meticulous process, but the entry managed to only hold a minimal line at most, with multiple blimps making their take-off at the same time. Table numbers were assigned at check-in, catered through the attendees’ barcodes. Proper attire was also required, but word on the street, they were taking a lackadaisical approach with the Surplus.The stage of the luncheon began with everyone mingling and networking. The Surplus were somehow
merged with the the Netters. Whether they actually spoke to each other was up for discretion, but the news was adamant to make sure everyone looked like they were having fun.About
one hour into the luncheon, a delightful bell ring was heard. A woman wearing a small, pink flouncy dress with a darker bow at the waist. old-fashion bell from antique pre-AutoAmerica. Her pink lips were in a smile as she spoke, “The Silent Auction is closed! Please, everyone, go to your tables and enjoy our special menu before we invite our guest speakers to make themselves known!” Her voice was just as perky as her candy sweet smile. Attendees of the luncheon began shuffling towards their tables. The Cybercom waiteresses came bringing salads and filling drink orders. Coffee? Sugar? Creamer? Oh, I’m sorry, I will go bring the tea, right away. Obviously, this place was
too posh for Surplus, and they should be counting their blessings and how much they’re willing to donate to make up for what the charity was spending to seat them. It doesn’t always make sense how these volunteer organizations run, but they seem to make money and help those in need."I can't believe you wore an el~bee~dee to a luncheon." Bianca scoffed as she sipped on her mimosa, steaming with mind-rain dry ice. She pulled the drink from her lips, and a small touch of colored moisture clung to the glass. She shook her head and decided to change the subject towards Nekatrios and Adam, "I also can't believe you still have human body guards," she said and motioned towards her cybercom. He looked like he belonged at the Luncheon, unlike Adam and Nektarios. They seemed like actors playing their part and trying to ignore the conversation.
“They’re only temp~or~ra~ry,” Annie said. She giggled a little at the thought of getting a new anything. “Besides, my father’s old fashioned. He says it’s the way of Nintendo, to keep things classy. Besides, I’m not the one wearing last year’s Miu Miu collection.” Annie smirked.
The two young women continued their banter before finally settling on a MetaTok hologram picture, taken by Bianca’s Cybercom. They both agreed it looked way better than the official photobooth the Luncheon had to offer, despite not having the Luncheon's retro-vibes. Not soon afterwards, the two Asians took their seats alongside their three bodyguards. Their plastic perfect smiles filtered through the rest of their table's guests.
Annie put her mimosa on the table as she took a seat next to Alejandro. "Wow, a Book Burner!" She looked at him as if he was a piece in the museum. Bianca made a small comment about how small he was compared to the ones she saw on MetaTok, but both agreed he was adorable. However, he to~ta~lly was not as adorable as the cute little middle schooler, also known as Executive D'alessio's son. Oh, and they remembered the days when they would accompany their fathers to these types of things. Now we go at them a~lone.
They greeted Edward D’alessio with their own twenty year-old flirty ways. Who knows? Maybe, they would get lucky. He was still a bachelor, afterall. Plus, his son was like so, so ad~or~able. I mean, just look at his baby cheeks! Soo~ooo, cute!
The last person they greeted was August "Bailey" Hawkins. "It's sooo cute that you came, being a Surplus, and all." Annie started. It was obvious they looked at each guest as some random bystander who should appreciate the fact that they are being graced by their presence -- aside from Mr. D’alessio and his son, of course.
Bianca was too busy sizing-up Bailey to really tsay anything. What was she wearing? Annie's little black dress definitely was needed to offset some of the Surplus fashion sense. She hadn't thought about that until, now. In fact, she had avoided all the Surplus at the event to the best of her ability. Why was there one at her table? Instead of saying anything to Bailey, Bianca looked at her Cybercom. He was dressed to the nines, not unlike Adam and Nektarios, who were being completely ignored as usual. "Trent," she toyed with his tie, "MetaTok a gram of us all," She would edit the Surplus out later.
"As you wish, Bianca." Trent stood from his seat and made a small bow. He acted like one of those JPN-22 Boyfriends-For-Rent. He removed his tie pin, a Starsoft gadget. It opened several layers of itself to look like some cute hologram camera, shaped like a Hello Kitty silhouette. "Say sushi," his head tilted to the side in anticipation for everyone's faces to align to a faux-cheeriness.
In all, it was clear these two bad bitches were going to try to conduct the table and not let anyone take the spotlight from them.
OP
C:\Expanse\Data\User_Data\Suzuki_Takada...Rap-ture? Suzi didn’t quite understand the implication. It sounded odd and confusing, but the older girl made a joking gesture. Out of nervousness, Suzi smiled agreeably alongside her as she continued listening. It was strangely easier to follow this girl’s lead than Aki-senpai’s.
Suzi’s eyes opened wide at the mention of Digimon. She felt her gaze losing focus as she re-processed this information again. Kudamon was tucked nicely into itself. Resting. Safe.
“Octavia.”
A hand jetted out in front of Suzi. Her eyes regained focus. She took a step back from the brisk movement and blinked several times before putting out her own hand, as well. “Takada Suzuki.” A weak smile formed on her mouth. She felt less assertive, for some reason. Maybe, the excitement was finally wearing on her.
“What did you mean about more than just Digimon inhabiting this world?” She added as she shook Octavia’s hand. She glanced at the others and looked back at Octavia for discernment.
OP
L O C A T I O N : Sadie's Party
I N T E R A C T I O N S : Princess Sadie @Potter
M E N T I O N S : Drake Edwards @Lava Alckon
His sister's response was less than satisfactory, and he could feel a line of contemplation drawing over his own mouth as he cautioned himself from saying anything that would crush her spirits. She was being too naive, and while he always enjoyed her air of innocence -- and was quite in fact keen on guarding it, he only saw this clown toying with his sister and ruining her.
His mind drifted to Lady Thea. He did not want his dearest, most beloved Sadie becoming like her. Suddenly, Prince Felix became aware that he had not thought of her once since stepping foot into the princess' party. He had been so so determined not to let thoughts of her ruin his sister's party, he had not realized that the Lady had not even shown her face. He found it a little odd but shrugged off the thought immediately.
“Your tender heart is most sought after. It is an honest and enjoyable characteristic about you, my sister.” He paused as his eyes gazed over Sir Matthias' son. He was a delightful child, although a little pouty. He was not one to chastise or bring too much criticism over Sir Matthias, though. "Lady Lyra speaks wisely about the subject. Thank you," he nodded to Lady Lyra.
He turned his attention back to the Princess. "I cannot speak any words to adequately explain how cherished you are, as a sister, friend, or especially as a noble of the Caesonian Kingdom. Many more of these letters will come from different avenues in due time. As you said, always guard your heart. It is something you have done well your whole life, my dear sister."
With that, he leaned over and gave her a simple kiss on the cheek.
OP
L O C A T I O N : Kitchen
I N T E R A C T I O N S : N/A
M E N T I O N S : Lady Smithwood, Riona, Prince Felix
Mathilda found herself bustled into the kitchen. Delicate snacks for the afternoon festivities were an expectation. The whole day seemed to be a whirlwind, and Mathilda was having trouble catching her breath.
In fact, she still had yet to deliver Prince Felix’s letter to Lady Thea. This was not the biggest problem, however. The biggest problem was that she had misplaced the letter somewhere between the morning and lunch. She knew her father and mother were turning in their graves. God rest their souls.
She thought to find Prince Felix and explain as politely as possible about the situation. She prayed he would have some sort of mercy on her. Mathilda had witnessed several of the reprimands that Riona had to endure, and she was sure this was something worthy of such a punishment.
Fortunately or Unfortunately, Mathilda could not find the Prince anywhere. She checked his itinerary, and he made no appearance at any of the events. He was no where to be seen.
Perhaps, he is unwell.
Mathilda checked the infirmary and his bedroom, but alas, there was no trace of him. It was as if he had simply vanished, until rumor came through the kitchen that he had left the kingdom. He had broken his engagement with Lady Thea Smithwood. For what seemed like forever, Mathilda could finally breathe.
All that worrying was for nothing! But, serves me right for not fulfilling my obligation, anyhow.
OP
K A N N A H I G A S H I
Female , 13
Kanna is a shy, well-rounded girl. She spends most of her time studying or playing little games in her room and keeping out of her older brother’s business. Recently, Kanna’s parents have filed for divorce. The reasons are unclear to [name], but she no longer sees her father as much. Occasionally, she will receive text messages from him — pictures of his work as a neuropsychologist for NASDA. Other than that, he seems too preoccupied and out of touch to make any real connection with her. Her mother has picked up a small secretarial job and is more stressed out and tired than Kanna can ever remember her mother being in her entire life. Determined to not let this affect her, Kanna has started seeing her friends less and keeping to her own imaginary world and schoolwork.
S O V E R E I G N C O N N E C T I O N
Z H U Q I A O M O N
E Q U I P M E N T
Yellow messenger bag (purse), pocket mirror, comb, chapstick (Mentholatum), tissues (Kleenex), wallet — money and student identification, small sketchbook, pencil bag — pen, pencils, eraser, blender and sharpener, camera, and smartphone
M I S C E L L A N E O U S
N/A
G A T O M O N
Female
Nyaromon → Salamon → Gatomon → Angewomon
P E R S O N A L I T Y
She has a very healthy curiosity, so she loves pranks. Although its body is small, she is a precious Holy-species Digimon, and her appearance does not match the true strength she possesses. She wears a Holy Ring on her tail, proof that she is a Holy-species, but if this Holy Ring is lost, her power is decreased and she can no longer exhibit its original power. In order to defend herself, she wears long claws copied from Saber Leomon's data. Her Special Moves are using her long claws and attacking the opponent (Neko Punch), and manipulating the enemy with a piercing glare (Cat's Eye). Those who suffer this glare will attack themselves
E Q U I P M E N T
Holy Ring
A T T A C K S
N E K O P U N C H Punches the enemy with its claws.
N E K O S C R A T C H Scratches repeatedly with the claws of both hands.
C A T ' S E Y E Hypnotizes the enemy with mysterious power from its eyes.
N E K O S C R A T C H Scratches repeatedly with the claws of both hands.
C A T ' S E Y E Hypnotizes the enemy with mysterious power from its eyes.
M I S C E L L A N E O U S
N/A
P A T A M O N
Male
Poyomon → Tokomon → Patamon → Angemon
P E R S O N A L I T Y
A Mammal Digimon characterized by his large ears. He is able to fly through the air by using them as large wings, but because he only goes at a speed of 1 km/h, it is said that he is definitely faster walking. Due to his extremely obedient personality, he defends well. Also, even though Patamon doesn't wear a Holy Ring, he is able to exhibit his hidden holy power, and he appears to have inherited the genes of ancient Digimon.
E Q U I P M E N T
N/A
A T T A C K S
A E R O S L A S H Breathes in air and shoots it out as blades made out of wind.
T A I A T A R I B O M B An attack where Patamon flies forward while spinning.
G L I D E Glides through the air.
T A I A T A R I B O M B An attack where Patamon flies forward while spinning.
G L I D E Glides through the air.
M I S C E L L A N E O U S
N/A
OP
K A N N A H I G A S H IThe sun’s warmth kissed Kanna's skin as she drew in quiet breaths. The fingers on her right hand made small movements with her breathing. This went on for several seconds, until her fingers were limp and lifeless, again. “Dad…” her lips spoke feebly through her sleep. And, suddenly, without much morning, the girl opened her dark eyes.
She squinted at first, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Instead of the plain, tidy walls of her bedroom, there was some sort of sandy jungle in front of her. Instead of lying comfortably on her bed, she was on the hard ground. Slowly, Kanna lifted herself. Her line formed an emotionless line as she looked around. Am I still dreaming?
The small sound of someones or somethings was talking. The voices sounded intelligible but different. She could not put her finger on it. Slowly, she turned to look in the direction of the voices. As she did this, she noticed several other people littered around her. What happened? Her face remained apathetic, and then she saw the creatures. She had never seen anything like them before. I have to be dreaming. There was no other explanation.
The creatures were hobbling away while squabbling about something or another. She thought about calling after them, but she was afraid to wake any of the sleeping people. Why am I afraid of waking them? She asked herself. A small sleepy breath escaped her, and she brushed a strand of brown hair behind her ear. Her concentration returned to the creatures.
She wanted to be more curious, but her head felt heavy and delirious. There was too much happening. She looked at the palms of her hands, opening and closing them. She was still dressed in her street clothes, and her memory was escaping her. She had no recollection of what she had been doing before all of this, except for the dream she had just been having, and she did not particularly want to think about that right now.
Another small breath left her. It was melancholy. Her hands planted themselves on the sandy ground next to her and pushed her body upwards. As she stood up, she looked down at her boots, studying the skirmishes they had acquired throughout the year of owning them. They seemed just as scuffed as always, no more and no less. She frowned and then scanned the area.
There’s no way I am not dreaming. Kanna straightened her jacket and tugged on the strap of her messenger bag. She looked at the sky. It seemed different than the sky she usually saw — the shape of the clouds and the angle of the sun. She took several steps and examined her foot prints. There was nothing unusual about her tracks.
Without much thought, she examined the contents in her bag. Everything seemed in order, too in order. The dream was bizarrely adequate at duplicating her waking life, aside from the place she was. Something seemed wrong, and she could not put a note on what it was. Her hands grabbed hold of her messenger bag’s strap as she looked around more indefinitely.
Then, she realized what the problem was.
Normally, in a dream, she had some objective, and the dream pushed her forward no matter which decision she made. However, there was no hazy compunction moving the situation right along. She was merely existing in a space, with so many options. No one thought directed her anywhere. She was stagnant. She simply was.
And, then, there were the others.
Where am I?
OP
s a t u r d a yj a n u a r y 2 6 t h , 2 0 5 0
J a n u a r y , 2 6 t h 2 0 5 0Welcome to another bleak Saturday morning. It’s below 40°F. There is a light mist. A gray fog hugs the concrete of the city. Matching gray clouds reflect the colorful electricity illuminating the buildings. Where are Nektarios Fionn and Adam Crell? Everyone is looking for them, and they’re wanted dead or alive. Here are some possible places you may find them.
OP
Neomi Adams
When the window crashed, Neomi let out a small cry. Her spare hand shielded her face. Breaths shook from her mouth. There were thoughts trying to tell her what to do, but none of them had words. It was a jumbled mess that made her heart race and gave her a sensation in the center of her chest.
As she gained her strength and balance, she glanced briefly at the sword. Its added weight in her hand caused her to stumble. She took hold of the hilt with the other hand, as well just as the snake-ish Rue slithered closer. For a brief moment she stepped back fearfully.
OP
▂ ▂ ▂ ▂ Personality ____________________________________Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum. | 人身元 Background ____________________________________Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum. |
OP
不老泉
‟The Fountain of Youth”
OP
WHAT IS THE CHARACTER'S NAME?
Neomi Adams
WHAT IS A STRANGER'S FIRST IMPRESSION UPON MEETING THEM?
At first glance, Neomi appears to be a creative deadpan girl. She has no problem being blunt and straight to the point. Although she seems to have learned when to keep her mouth shut, she seems to step on toes and hurt feelings with her attitude. It's safe to say, she is probably not everyone's cup of tea. And, she seems fairly comfortable with this, because, hey, ya can't please them all.
WHAT IS THEIR PROFESSION AND HOW DO THEY FEEL ABOUT IT?
Neomi works at The Burrow, a warm and friendly lodge. It's owned and run by her parents. Typically, she is found behind the front desk helping customers. When she's not helping the family business, she is doing what she wishes she could always be doing: working on her artwork.
HOW HAS BEING A HOWL AFFECTED THEIR LIFE?
Having been risen by Howls, Neomi has been cradled into the position. Her mother has can sense them through a tingling sensation, and her father has caught glimpses of them. Neomi has inherited her father's sense of seeing them. Neither of her parents is particularly interested in investing much time into being a Howl. Both simply moved to Oaken, met, fell in love, and got married. They prefer a simple life, much like the tidy and cozy furnishings of The Burrow, and they would prefer if Neomi kept the same lifestyle. However, Neomi cannot help but continue recreating drawings of what she one time saw -- a Rue.
WHY ARE THEY IN OAKEN CITY?
Neomi lives with her family in Oaken City, where they run a small lodge.
DO THEY HAVE A HOWL ABILITY? WHAT IS IT?
If you could call it that. She can manipulate the air slightly, like making a light wind between her hands. The most she's ever used it for is entertainment when bored. One time she made the light wind go into a twirl.
OP
casual roleplay | group
slice of life & murder mystery
slice of life & murder mystery
W E R E W O L F
Premise
The premise revolves around a small fictional university town in Maico, Arizona. There have been a a string of mysterious and horrific murders (by a werewolf, unbeknownst to the townspeople). Players have the option of being one to two characters who can be anyone in the town — a coffee shop worker, the librarian, a university student, a university professor, parent of a school aged child, etc., and of course, there are also werewolf slayers who have trickled into the town to collect their bounty.
Players must try to determine who the werewolf is and how to kill him. The game will be comprised of layers of drama and social dynamics and subplots that will deter people from finding out who the werewolf is/wanting to kill him/potentially helping the werewolf escape death. Character Sheets for the Werewolf will be considered through Private Messages and kept confidential from the rest of the players.
Maico, Arizona
Based near Native American territory, the law can quiet cruel sometime.
Maico University
Aside from the string of unsolved murders, the only thing that puts Maico, Arizona on the map is Maico University. MU is the heart of the township — from the corner store coffee shops to the raving night clubs to the mom & pop grocery stores to the local public and private grade schools. Everyone in the town knows someone who either attends or works at the university.
The school teaches roughly 7,000 students total. The campus life is bustling, regardless of its smaller size. Everyone tends to know everyone after the first week or three of the first semester. Rumors fly. Gossip spreads. And drama ultimately begins unraveling everyone at the seams. In midst of the conflict, the stakes get higher as more and more murders are left unsolved.
The school teaches roughly 7,000 students total. The campus life is bustling, regardless of its smaller size. Everyone tends to know everyone after the first week or three of the first semester. Rumors fly. Gossip spreads. And drama ultimately begins unraveling everyone at the seams. In midst of the conflict, the stakes get higher as more and more murders are left unsolved.
The Murders
C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
press raw
press raw
NAME
"Quote."
"Quote."
PERSONALITY Loren ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum. | PRESENT Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum. |
BACKGROUND
Loren ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.
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OP
P A R T O N E
F I R S T D A Y O F F A L L S E M E S T E R
TIME: 9:00 AM
F I R S T D A Y O F F A L L S E M E S T E R
TIME: 9:00 AM
WITH great enthusiasm, Dr. Eric Sundell began his first lecture of the Fall semester. “There is, however, speculation on this subject as some of you may have already heard. Rumors have flown that Dr. Garbarino actually touches on the subject in his Western Civilization course, and today, mark your calendars, please, I am here to correct his philosophical falsehood.” Eric gave a radiant and animated smile as he spoke these words.
His tall Scandinavian physique commanded attention and to his male students’ dismay and his female student’s intrigue. Of course, he was not too interested in any of them, as he had a beautiful full-fledged Japanese wife at home, who he liked to describe as the perfect Proverbs 31 woman. With her, they both had two intelligent, well-behaved, beautiful half-Japanese daughters, and the professor was more than keen on preserving his family’s unity.
With his large hands spread out in front of his smiling face, his tall body shifted in a charismatic way, “This is exciting! I’m making history here!” His blue eyes scanned over his students. His smile turned even more overly enthusiastic and toothy, “I saw some of you yawn, but I can assure you, you will not want to miss this! Not because it’s fun or exciting… Well, it is for people like me, but because this bit of understanding will be on each and every one of my examinations.”
Noises were heard from the students. Most of it seemed a little disgruntled, a few snorted laughs, but most of it was the sound of notebooks shuffling open and ticks on laptops as documents were opened for note taking. Minus the groans, that was one of Eric’s favorite sounds.
“Now that I have your attention: when studying historical findings such as art and writing, it is of utmost importance to distinguish what the creator was intending to teach and preserve. We have to get into the mindset of the creator. We have to study their psyche!” His head was nodding with that smile on his face. Several of the female students seemed to be adoring his dog-like loyalty to his subject. Only a few male students were looking at him with respectful admiration.
He clicked a button on his black pointer, and the image on the projector he stood in front of changed. Two outdated paintings in the Greek eikones style appeared on the left with brief text points on the right. One of the pictures was of a balding man with long gray facial hair. The other was of a tan Jesus Christ, with a small amount of brown facial hair.
“Dr. Garbarino, along with some other historians,” his eyes rolled with this statement, “in reference to the Roman Catacombs believe that Jesus and the apostles did not have facial hair.” Another mock gesture was made, and several laughs of actual interest followed suit. “While it is historically accurate that men during that time frame followed the fashion of keeping themselves clean shaven, Jesus and his closest followers were not, philosophically speaking, following the vanities of this world. Jews also rarely followed the fashion standards, which coincidentally set them apart from the Romans.” He was still nodding affirmatively to his statement and therefore captivating several more eager students in the front row.
“It is important to note that Jesus was recognized in those early picturural depictions in the catacombs by what he was doing, not what he looked like. Interesting, right?” He paused for dramatic effect. “I totally agree. This is why understanding the creator of these works is of utmost importance. Or else, we could end up being like Dr. Garbarino, who erroneously believes Jesus fashioned himself like a citizen, who paid tribute to the Roman gods! He was a Jew, remember? Can you imagine having a doctoral in history and not understanding this basic concept?” Several more snickers were heard. “Trust me. You’re going to thank me, because when you’re done with my class, you’ll be able to decipher historical facts that not even many historians can understand! All simply just by learning these easy, basic concepts!”
The lecture on context continued with a more elaborate articulation of interpreting historical finds and how to unlock the preserved truths of history accurately by researching the time period, mindset, and culture of the given society surrounding the historical engravings. He name dropped Dr. Garbarino in a negative light on various occasions and made sure to explain how the man was out of his jurisdiction as the Western Civilization professor trying to impose his views on Eastern civilization.
This was usually one of Eric’s more boring lectures, to his dismay, but he made it a point to make it every semester. It was not necessarily only because he wanted to teach his student how to study history properly and correctly, but because Dr. Garbarino met and married his wife while attending college and never failed to miss a beat on why each and every one of his students should do the same.
Eric, on the other hand, while he thought the story was romantic and nice, also felt students should consider their academia first as a good foundation before allowing the rest to fall into place. College was a well-known breeding ground for highly mischievous and illegal behavior. Dorm rape was sky rocketing around the nation every year, and the amount of underage drinking along with alcohol poisoning at colleges was inevitably on the same streak. Not to mention the murders.
There had been a string of unsolved murders happening every month. There was little rhyme or reason for them, aside from the grotesque way in which the victims were murdered. They also all happened at night. Obviously, college girls were seemingly an easy prey, and Eric had never been on more high alert.
With his oldest daughter Sophia now a freshman at Maico College of Arizona, where he was comfortably employed, Eric felt it even more necessary to prove Dr. Garbarino’s philosophy downright a poor and misguided choice of failing to understand historical events. Unfortunately, this was ultimately the only way he could muster any ammo. Telling a young adult, freshly removed from his or her parents’ nest not to have any romantic interest would land him as the laughing stock of the college.
As his lecture was over, having finished a solid six minutes before the lecture period was designated to end, Eric decided to give the students a first-day, early dismissal treat. He began packing his briefcase, and expectantly, awaited the several students who would inevitably come make themselves known before leaving the classroom. Two of those students stood out among the handful that had approached his desk.
One was a young, scrawny, straight-laced, previously homeschooled man, who had a nice complexion despite his abundance of acne. He was definitely smart and could have managed himself in a much better college system. For whatever reason, he or his parents or both had determined this was the place for him. His circumstances reminded him similarly of his daughter’s. He theorized, the young man’s parents must have wanted him close to home.
The second student was a tan curvier girl. She had a little bit of height and an unnaturally good talent at applying her make-up. He could not have been any less interested in her internet boutique bought outfit that begged for a little too much attention from prying eyes. She was mostly interested in tutoring and wondering if he ever met with students outside of class. Students like her were usually handled best with a game of 4-D chess.
THE time was near noon, and he had promised Sophia that he would meet her for lunch. He was eager to know how her first day was going. She had taken several courses over the last two summers, but Eric always found summer school courses less collegiate than the Fall and Spring semesters. Plus, showing off that Sophia was his daughter was something he wanted to make adamantly known around campus. She was off-limits to the men. The fact of the matter was that their brains were not fully developed yet, no matter what constitutes a person a legal adult or not.
They had agreed to meet at the Maico Mocha, a small coffee shop connected to the campus library. He had taken Sophia there before when she was a younger girl. When she became older, he felt uneasy bringing her on campus and pushing her around the young men and their impulsive boundary breaking habits. Some of them had no regard for controlling their roving eyes.
When he entered the library’s entrance and turned into the coffee shop, he saw that Sophia had beaten him there. She was seated peacefully at one of the tables near the middle of the cafe. A book was propped open, and she was quietly reading it, not particularly taking notes of anyone or anything around her.
Unbeknownst to most students, they probably could not have guessed how long it had taken his daughter to get dressed this morning. She wasn’t dressed in anything super fancy or special, but by the amount of time it took her to get ready and how she presented herself when he told her they had to leave now or never, he could tell she chose every article of clothing with purpose. (His wife Anna had scolded Sophia for not picking an outfit the night before.)
Part of Eric was concerned that Sophia was dressed to impress male students. Another part of Eric was hoping she was dressed to impress her professors, which was the smarter and wiser thing to do. It was also what he commended during various dinner conversations about favorable students he had taught throughout his career.
“Excuse me, but is this seat taken?” Eric put his hand on the back of the seat opposite of his daughter.
Startled, his daughter looked up from her book. Her Asian features offered a stoic face, but underneath the strength to not give away her true feelings, he could see the tremor of a shy woman who was possibly more afraid to speak than to come off as rude by quickly and firmly claiming the chair. This bothered Eric, but he would work with her.
“D-dad?” A smile broke on her face. A flush of thankfulness washed over her demeanor. “I thought you were some… random guy,” she said distastefully. Her blue eyes flickered downward in an embarrassed manner, and then she let out a small silent laugh at the thought.
“No, darling, you’re safe for now,” he assured her as he took his seat across from her. “But, you never know. College boys, random guys as you call them, have a very strange ability to pop out of anywhere. Thin air even. Trust me. I used to be one. And you, my dear, have to be vigilant.”
He looked around the cafe and made a small laugh, which seemed very similar to the one Sophia had just made. “Just now, I can count five predators who have already been trying to figure out how to take my seat.”
Sophia bashfully put her book down. She smiled, again, suppressing how much she appreciated her father’s sentiment, as overbearing as it did seem. She knew he had a point. She had read enough stupid young adult fiction novels. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m way more interested in my studies than boys. Do you want to get something to eat?”
They both went to the register and ordered a coffee and whatever sandwich of preference that the shop had on display. Eric was going to tease Sophia for ordering a coffee. Her mother thought coffee dehydrated the body and caused premature wrinkles alongside a higher resting heart rate. However, Eric was amused by his daughter’s decision making in the absence of her mother and was also under the scientific belief that coffee was a cancer fighting superfood and the very reason mankind hasn’t fallen apart, yet.
The lunch was brief but sweet. Everything seemed fairly in-line, at least from Sophia’s first day report. She was generally honest and accurate with how she relayed her days and activities. Sometimes, it seemed as if she was reciting herself as if being tested for some oral state examination. He couldn’t help but smile at this because, well, she was his daughter, and damn, was he proud.
AFTER lunch and saying her farewell to her father, Sophia left the shop and walked down a paved walkway towards a set of large buildings. She had the campus mostly memorized from her summer school days. It was much busier now that the main semester had started. There was more school spirit, complete with many freshmen dressed in weird first-day outfits that they were suggested to wear from their Freshman Orientation. Sophia couldn’t muster up the courage to wear something that would draw so much attention to her.
Her next class was Religious Literature and the Occult. It was actually a horror literature course disguised into something more scholarly sounding. Sophia had very little interest in it, but she had to take it for her English degree. She decided she might as well “get it over and done with” as her mother would say.
The class was located in the Humanities building, which seemed to be the largest building aside from the science building. She had already had one lecture in the Humanitarian building, which was Western Civilization II with Dr. Garbarino, to her father’s dismay. She had heard her father speak negatively about him on many occasions. Of course, he seemed so much less villainous as she sat, front row seat, in his morning lecture. She almost felt sorry for him because of the way her father spoke about him.
Every time she defended Dr. Garbarino in her head, though, she could hear her mother’s voice. “Listen to your father. He has his reasons, even if you do not understand them.” Her voice was ridden with a shaming backdrop, and she felt immediately guilty for wanting to see Dr. Garbarino as the young, fresh-faced professor who had everyone’s best interest at heart. He was also, dare she say, kind of good-looking, unlike all the other students around her who looked more like grade school boys if she was to be honest.
She had to go to the second floor for her class. There was only one elevator in the building. Unfortunately, there was already a herd of students piled in front of it. When she looked towards the stairs, there was a clear opening or straight shoot as her father would say. She decided to take the alternate route as opposed to waiting her turn in a mosh pit that would ultimately land her stuck in a cramped, slow-moving space.
To no surprise, the classroom was about the same size as her Western Civilization II class. The only difference was that there were significantly less students, which left many empty seats between each student. As usual, Sophia chose a front row seat. She knew she would be least distracted if the professor was right in front of her.
As no more students trickled into the classroom, Sophia took out her textbook. There were several other books she had purchased from the campus bookstore that were required reading for the course, but she wasn’t sure which one came first. She couldn’t have been bothered to bring all of them with her. The main textbook seemed like a safe bet. The first several pages were dedicated to providing intrigue into the human condition and explaining the violent, sinister monster within.
“Where’s the prof?” A male student in the back asked loudly to no one in particular.
Several female students made empathetic excuses for the professor. One such excuse amounted to the professor being new and not being able to find the right classroom.
Sophia looked at her watch. It was a Fossil watch that her father had bought her as a graduation gift. He had a masculine obsession with watches, and while he really wanted to buy her a Seiko, he thought the Fossil watch matched her personality better. She thought of the gift more as a loving piece of jewelry. Although, sometimes, she found slight amusement in not taking out her phone to check the time.
She smiled at the marbled face. It was five minutes past the time. She hoped the professor was OK. Although, she was secretly happy to have the class start late, as she was dreading the class altogether. As luck would have it, when she looked up from her watch towards the classroom door, it slowly opened.
A tall, lanky woman with long, nearly white blonde hair gracefully entered the classroom. Her dark eyes glanced a sharp gaze at the few students who had signed up for her class. She gave a brief, young smile before apologizing for her lateness. She confirmed her tardiness on not being able to find the classroom and introduced herself as Dr. Kisa Nikitin.
Despite her light and pleasant Slavic accent, there was something distant and pensive about her nature. This was natural for many people that Sophia had observed from the Soviet Union. However, Dr. Nikitin had a more mysterious edge, and for some reason, she was having trouble believing such a woman had gotten turned around on the college campus. It was only educating roughly four to five thousand students and therefore, was not very large.
The lecture was strangely haunting. Although Dr. Nikitin never actually made such a statement, she made the monsters of the books they were about to study seem more real than necessary. By the end of the lecture, Sophia was afraid to open any of the books, in fear that the monsters might actually jump out of them and attack her.
As the students filed out of the class, Kisa breathed a small sigh of relief. She may have overdone it. The looks on her students’ faces was priceless and pale, especially the Asian girl in the front seat. Didn’t Asians have their own crazy mysticism they taught their young? Maybe, not in the States.
Someone has to do it, though. She re-assured herself. Although, after the destruction of her recent engagement, she had been more on edge than usual and more heavy handed than usual.
She shook the feeling of a failed serious relationship on her botched lecture. In Russia, wild animals attacking people on the street was common knowledge. Superstition was the norm. However, in the States, the children were wimpy and lacked insight. The Puritans did a horrible job pioneering the imagination. They had their strict and boring black-and-white reasoning, which fast-forward to the present day, rendered the West completely defenseless and a mockery of all things horror.
Finished class. Anything new?
She pressed the send button, and her text message shot to Teddy. She tucked the phone back into her black purse and started to leave the classroom. There was a little more mingling and snooping she wanted to do before heading back to where Teddy and she were staying for the job. However, as she was leaving, she realized there was still one student left. The Asian girl. How had she not noticed her? She had been so quiet.
“May I help you?” Kisa asked. Her dark eyes studied the young Asian. She looked to be about fifteen or sixteen and completely out of place. She was staring deeply into space.
“Huh?” Sophia looked up. She had been staring at the front cover of her text book, completely mesmerized by it like she had been in some sort of trance. “Oh,” she felt flustered, much more than when her father had startled her earlier. “I-I’m sorry.” She quickly slid her textbook into her book bag and left the room. As she did so, she took a small glance behind her, afraid of what she might see.
Her next class was a course on Jane Austen. She was looking forward to this class, not just because she kind of fancied Lord Darcy (to her father’s disapproval), but the professor and her family went to the same church as her. She had been looking forward to this class all semester, and thankfully, the first lecture was more than satisfying. It washed away all anxiety she had over Religious Literature and the Occult.
WHEN she finished the class, she made sure to say hello to the professor and left to find her father. He was able to drive her to and from classes on Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays, she was on her own.
Her father was still answering questions from straggling students when she found him. Trying not to be obvious, she kept patiently right outside the classroom, leaning against the wall. She felt like a little child waiting for him and thought that maybe they should have agreed on a meeting location other than his last class.
After the last of the inquiring students made their exit, Eric and Sophia walked through the campus towards the staff parking lot. Neither said much to each other. But, once they got into the car, Sophia felt herself opening up. She spoke mostly of her Jane Austen class. She for some reason wanted to push Religious Literature and the Occult as far from the conversation as possible. When asked about it, she simply said, “It was good,” and left it at that
Eric felt blessed that he had such an open and good relationship with his daughters. Not many men could have such fluid conversations with their children. Sophia wasn’t too embarrassed to treat him with respect and entrust the inner workings of her life to him. He wanted to keep it this way, which was part of the reason he encouraged her to attend Maico College of Arizona.
WHEN they arrived home, Anna was already starting dinner, as she did every evening at roughly the same time. The house smelled delicious, and Eric’s youngest daughter Emma had suspiciously scrambled to her room without saying anything to her father or sister.
Five minutes later, if on cue, it was made apparent why Emma was being so evasive. Sophia was storming out of her room. The strategically placed hairclip on top of her thought-to-be well-hidden diary had been moved out of line. Obviously, someone had found the diary, gone through it, and carelessly placed the hair clip in the wrong position back on top of the diary.
“No, no! I just wanted to read The Poisonwood Bible! I promise!” Emma pleaded as she stifled giggles.
“Oh, really? And what is The Poisonwood Bible about?” Sophia demanded, barely patient enough to entertain her sister’s lie.
“Missionaries in Africa!” Emma exclaimed with confidence. She spit her tongue out, just as their mother removed herself dutifully from the kitchen.
“Emma! Sophia!” Her hands clapped together loudly. The sound echoed a dark shadow over the two girls. “Stop bickering, both of you! Emma, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, treating your sister’s private things like that.” She was glaring daggers at Emma. “I thought you were doing your homework! Shame on you!”
Her attention turned her dagger of eyes towards Sophia, “Don’t raise your voice like that! No one is going to want to be around someone so loud! Now, go set the table. Both of you! So pitiful you do this to your family. You embarras me.”
Sophia bit her lip. She felt like crying. She was sick and tired of Emma infiltrating her room and claiming victory over her most precious thoughts. She contemplated taking the diary with her to school, but having it lost at the school seemed even more terrifying.
And then, there was her angry mother. The woman was allowed to raise her voice all she wanted, whenever she wanted. Yet, God forbid she, little obedient Sophia, defend herself. She felt like such a doormat. As she set the table, the feeling slowly alleviated.
Her father emerged from the master bedroom moments later. He seemed refreshed and less tired than when he had been driving her home.
“What was all that I missed?” He asked curiously. His eyes looked back-and-forth between all the ladies.
“Oh, nothing, Eric. Don’t worry about it. I handled it.” Her mother said. Her dark eyes smiled at both Emma and Sophia. The two daughters had little insight that this was a secret cue from her mother and father to discuss the matter later in private, away from their prying ears when a disagreement arose. Arguing in front of their daughters had been a hard boundary they martyred themselves to uphold.
“Alright then,” Eric smirked, quickly engaging with Emma, “you’ll have to tell me how your day at school was. I want to hear all about it. I’m sure Sophia does, too.” He winked at Sophia, as he took his seat, and awaited his dutiful wife to serve him dinner.
AFTER dinner, Sophia thought of writing about her day in her diary, but she was afraid Emma would read what she thought about Dr. Garbarino. She knew she would never recover from such an incident. So, instead of writing in her diary, she brainstormed ways to keep her sister from finding her diary. Keeping an online journal never settled well with her, but it was a constantly recurring thought.
Ultimately, she concluded she would have two diaries. A fake one to keep her sister satisfied and occupied, and then her real one, which would be well hidden. But where and how would she hide it? She had several ideas, but she’d analyze them later. It was getting late, and she had class in the morning. Quickly, she said her evening prayers but fell asleep before she could finish them.
IN the morning, when Sophia woke up, she could hear the television. Her father usually watched news as he drank his morning coffee, but there was something different about the voices coming from the living room.
Slowly, she pushed herself from her bed and checked her phone. There were several text messages she had failed to answer the day before. She smiled as she decided to look through them for several minutes before she said good morning to the family.
As Sophia opened the first several messages, they all had similar content. Sophia’s smile quickly faded. She had been expecting messages inquiring about her first day, but toppled on top of those were worried texts highlighting what must be on the news this morning: there was another murder in Maico, and again, images of the victim were being held from the public. The difference between this murder and the other murders was this one was right next to the college.
Sophia closed her phone without sending any replies. She had to brace herself for her father’s lecture, which was as much of a burden as it was comforting and terrifying. If anything good came out of this, it was that any animosity she had towards Emma about the night prior had completely evaporated.
His tall Scandinavian physique commanded attention and to his male students’ dismay and his female student’s intrigue. Of course, he was not too interested in any of them, as he had a beautiful full-fledged Japanese wife at home, who he liked to describe as the perfect Proverbs 31 woman. With her, they both had two intelligent, well-behaved, beautiful half-Japanese daughters, and the professor was more than keen on preserving his family’s unity.
With his large hands spread out in front of his smiling face, his tall body shifted in a charismatic way, “This is exciting! I’m making history here!” His blue eyes scanned over his students. His smile turned even more overly enthusiastic and toothy, “I saw some of you yawn, but I can assure you, you will not want to miss this! Not because it’s fun or exciting… Well, it is for people like me, but because this bit of understanding will be on each and every one of my examinations.”
Noises were heard from the students. Most of it seemed a little disgruntled, a few snorted laughs, but most of it was the sound of notebooks shuffling open and ticks on laptops as documents were opened for note taking. Minus the groans, that was one of Eric’s favorite sounds.
“Now that I have your attention: when studying historical findings such as art and writing, it is of utmost importance to distinguish what the creator was intending to teach and preserve. We have to get into the mindset of the creator. We have to study their psyche!” His head was nodding with that smile on his face. Several of the female students seemed to be adoring his dog-like loyalty to his subject. Only a few male students were looking at him with respectful admiration.
He clicked a button on his black pointer, and the image on the projector he stood in front of changed. Two outdated paintings in the Greek eikones style appeared on the left with brief text points on the right. One of the pictures was of a balding man with long gray facial hair. The other was of a tan Jesus Christ, with a small amount of brown facial hair.
“Dr. Garbarino, along with some other historians,” his eyes rolled with this statement, “in reference to the Roman Catacombs believe that Jesus and the apostles did not have facial hair.” Another mock gesture was made, and several laughs of actual interest followed suit. “While it is historically accurate that men during that time frame followed the fashion of keeping themselves clean shaven, Jesus and his closest followers were not, philosophically speaking, following the vanities of this world. Jews also rarely followed the fashion standards, which coincidentally set them apart from the Romans.” He was still nodding affirmatively to his statement and therefore captivating several more eager students in the front row.
“It is important to note that Jesus was recognized in those early picturural depictions in the catacombs by what he was doing, not what he looked like. Interesting, right?” He paused for dramatic effect. “I totally agree. This is why understanding the creator of these works is of utmost importance. Or else, we could end up being like Dr. Garbarino, who erroneously believes Jesus fashioned himself like a citizen, who paid tribute to the Roman gods! He was a Jew, remember? Can you imagine having a doctoral in history and not understanding this basic concept?” Several more snickers were heard. “Trust me. You’re going to thank me, because when you’re done with my class, you’ll be able to decipher historical facts that not even many historians can understand! All simply just by learning these easy, basic concepts!”
The lecture on context continued with a more elaborate articulation of interpreting historical finds and how to unlock the preserved truths of history accurately by researching the time period, mindset, and culture of the given society surrounding the historical engravings. He name dropped Dr. Garbarino in a negative light on various occasions and made sure to explain how the man was out of his jurisdiction as the Western Civilization professor trying to impose his views on Eastern civilization.
This was usually one of Eric’s more boring lectures, to his dismay, but he made it a point to make it every semester. It was not necessarily only because he wanted to teach his student how to study history properly and correctly, but because Dr. Garbarino met and married his wife while attending college and never failed to miss a beat on why each and every one of his students should do the same.
Eric, on the other hand, while he thought the story was romantic and nice, also felt students should consider their academia first as a good foundation before allowing the rest to fall into place. College was a well-known breeding ground for highly mischievous and illegal behavior. Dorm rape was sky rocketing around the nation every year, and the amount of underage drinking along with alcohol poisoning at colleges was inevitably on the same streak. Not to mention the murders.
There had been a string of unsolved murders happening every month. There was little rhyme or reason for them, aside from the grotesque way in which the victims were murdered. They also all happened at night. Obviously, college girls were seemingly an easy prey, and Eric had never been on more high alert.
With his oldest daughter Sophia now a freshman at Maico College of Arizona, where he was comfortably employed, Eric felt it even more necessary to prove Dr. Garbarino’s philosophy downright a poor and misguided choice of failing to understand historical events. Unfortunately, this was ultimately the only way he could muster any ammo. Telling a young adult, freshly removed from his or her parents’ nest not to have any romantic interest would land him as the laughing stock of the college.
As his lecture was over, having finished a solid six minutes before the lecture period was designated to end, Eric decided to give the students a first-day, early dismissal treat. He began packing his briefcase, and expectantly, awaited the several students who would inevitably come make themselves known before leaving the classroom. Two of those students stood out among the handful that had approached his desk.
One was a young, scrawny, straight-laced, previously homeschooled man, who had a nice complexion despite his abundance of acne. He was definitely smart and could have managed himself in a much better college system. For whatever reason, he or his parents or both had determined this was the place for him. His circumstances reminded him similarly of his daughter’s. He theorized, the young man’s parents must have wanted him close to home.
The second student was a tan curvier girl. She had a little bit of height and an unnaturally good talent at applying her make-up. He could not have been any less interested in her internet boutique bought outfit that begged for a little too much attention from prying eyes. She was mostly interested in tutoring and wondering if he ever met with students outside of class. Students like her were usually handled best with a game of 4-D chess.
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TIME: 12:01 PM
TIME: 12:01 PM
THE time was near noon, and he had promised Sophia that he would meet her for lunch. He was eager to know how her first day was going. She had taken several courses over the last two summers, but Eric always found summer school courses less collegiate than the Fall and Spring semesters. Plus, showing off that Sophia was his daughter was something he wanted to make adamantly known around campus. She was off-limits to the men. The fact of the matter was that their brains were not fully developed yet, no matter what constitutes a person a legal adult or not.
They had agreed to meet at the Maico Mocha, a small coffee shop connected to the campus library. He had taken Sophia there before when she was a younger girl. When she became older, he felt uneasy bringing her on campus and pushing her around the young men and their impulsive boundary breaking habits. Some of them had no regard for controlling their roving eyes.
When he entered the library’s entrance and turned into the coffee shop, he saw that Sophia had beaten him there. She was seated peacefully at one of the tables near the middle of the cafe. A book was propped open, and she was quietly reading it, not particularly taking notes of anyone or anything around her.
Unbeknownst to most students, they probably could not have guessed how long it had taken his daughter to get dressed this morning. She wasn’t dressed in anything super fancy or special, but by the amount of time it took her to get ready and how she presented herself when he told her they had to leave now or never, he could tell she chose every article of clothing with purpose. (His wife Anna had scolded Sophia for not picking an outfit the night before.)
Part of Eric was concerned that Sophia was dressed to impress male students. Another part of Eric was hoping she was dressed to impress her professors, which was the smarter and wiser thing to do. It was also what he commended during various dinner conversations about favorable students he had taught throughout his career.
“Excuse me, but is this seat taken?” Eric put his hand on the back of the seat opposite of his daughter.
Startled, his daughter looked up from her book. Her Asian features offered a stoic face, but underneath the strength to not give away her true feelings, he could see the tremor of a shy woman who was possibly more afraid to speak than to come off as rude by quickly and firmly claiming the chair. This bothered Eric, but he would work with her.
“D-dad?” A smile broke on her face. A flush of thankfulness washed over her demeanor. “I thought you were some… random guy,” she said distastefully. Her blue eyes flickered downward in an embarrassed manner, and then she let out a small silent laugh at the thought.
“No, darling, you’re safe for now,” he assured her as he took his seat across from her. “But, you never know. College boys, random guys as you call them, have a very strange ability to pop out of anywhere. Thin air even. Trust me. I used to be one. And you, my dear, have to be vigilant.”
He looked around the cafe and made a small laugh, which seemed very similar to the one Sophia had just made. “Just now, I can count five predators who have already been trying to figure out how to take my seat.”
Sophia bashfully put her book down. She smiled, again, suppressing how much she appreciated her father’s sentiment, as overbearing as it did seem. She knew he had a point. She had read enough stupid young adult fiction novels. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m way more interested in my studies than boys. Do you want to get something to eat?”
They both went to the register and ordered a coffee and whatever sandwich of preference that the shop had on display. Eric was going to tease Sophia for ordering a coffee. Her mother thought coffee dehydrated the body and caused premature wrinkles alongside a higher resting heart rate. However, Eric was amused by his daughter’s decision making in the absence of her mother and was also under the scientific belief that coffee was a cancer fighting superfood and the very reason mankind hasn’t fallen apart, yet.
The lunch was brief but sweet. Everything seemed fairly in-line, at least from Sophia’s first day report. She was generally honest and accurate with how she relayed her days and activities. Sometimes, it seemed as if she was reciting herself as if being tested for some oral state examination. He couldn’t help but smile at this because, well, she was his daughter, and damn, was he proud.
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TIME: 1:00 PM
TIME: 1:00 PM
AFTER lunch and saying her farewell to her father, Sophia left the shop and walked down a paved walkway towards a set of large buildings. She had the campus mostly memorized from her summer school days. It was much busier now that the main semester had started. There was more school spirit, complete with many freshmen dressed in weird first-day outfits that they were suggested to wear from their Freshman Orientation. Sophia couldn’t muster up the courage to wear something that would draw so much attention to her.
Her next class was Religious Literature and the Occult. It was actually a horror literature course disguised into something more scholarly sounding. Sophia had very little interest in it, but she had to take it for her English degree. She decided she might as well “get it over and done with” as her mother would say.
The class was located in the Humanities building, which seemed to be the largest building aside from the science building. She had already had one lecture in the Humanitarian building, which was Western Civilization II with Dr. Garbarino, to her father’s dismay. She had heard her father speak negatively about him on many occasions. Of course, he seemed so much less villainous as she sat, front row seat, in his morning lecture. She almost felt sorry for him because of the way her father spoke about him.
Every time she defended Dr. Garbarino in her head, though, she could hear her mother’s voice. “Listen to your father. He has his reasons, even if you do not understand them.” Her voice was ridden with a shaming backdrop, and she felt immediately guilty for wanting to see Dr. Garbarino as the young, fresh-faced professor who had everyone’s best interest at heart. He was also, dare she say, kind of good-looking, unlike all the other students around her who looked more like grade school boys if she was to be honest.
She had to go to the second floor for her class. There was only one elevator in the building. Unfortunately, there was already a herd of students piled in front of it. When she looked towards the stairs, there was a clear opening or straight shoot as her father would say. She decided to take the alternate route as opposed to waiting her turn in a mosh pit that would ultimately land her stuck in a cramped, slow-moving space.
To no surprise, the classroom was about the same size as her Western Civilization II class. The only difference was that there were significantly less students, which left many empty seats between each student. As usual, Sophia chose a front row seat. She knew she would be least distracted if the professor was right in front of her.
As no more students trickled into the classroom, Sophia took out her textbook. There were several other books she had purchased from the campus bookstore that were required reading for the course, but she wasn’t sure which one came first. She couldn’t have been bothered to bring all of them with her. The main textbook seemed like a safe bet. The first several pages were dedicated to providing intrigue into the human condition and explaining the violent, sinister monster within.
“Where’s the prof?” A male student in the back asked loudly to no one in particular.
Several female students made empathetic excuses for the professor. One such excuse amounted to the professor being new and not being able to find the right classroom.
Sophia looked at her watch. It was a Fossil watch that her father had bought her as a graduation gift. He had a masculine obsession with watches, and while he really wanted to buy her a Seiko, he thought the Fossil watch matched her personality better. She thought of the gift more as a loving piece of jewelry. Although, sometimes, she found slight amusement in not taking out her phone to check the time.
She smiled at the marbled face. It was five minutes past the time. She hoped the professor was OK. Although, she was secretly happy to have the class start late, as she was dreading the class altogether. As luck would have it, when she looked up from her watch towards the classroom door, it slowly opened.
A tall, lanky woman with long, nearly white blonde hair gracefully entered the classroom. Her dark eyes glanced a sharp gaze at the few students who had signed up for her class. She gave a brief, young smile before apologizing for her lateness. She confirmed her tardiness on not being able to find the classroom and introduced herself as Dr. Kisa Nikitin.
Despite her light and pleasant Slavic accent, there was something distant and pensive about her nature. This was natural for many people that Sophia had observed from the Soviet Union. However, Dr. Nikitin had a more mysterious edge, and for some reason, she was having trouble believing such a woman had gotten turned around on the college campus. It was only educating roughly four to five thousand students and therefore, was not very large.
The lecture was strangely haunting. Although Dr. Nikitin never actually made such a statement, she made the monsters of the books they were about to study seem more real than necessary. By the end of the lecture, Sophia was afraid to open any of the books, in fear that the monsters might actually jump out of them and attack her.
As the students filed out of the class, Kisa breathed a small sigh of relief. She may have overdone it. The looks on her students’ faces was priceless and pale, especially the Asian girl in the front seat. Didn’t Asians have their own crazy mysticism they taught their young? Maybe, not in the States.
Someone has to do it, though. She re-assured herself. Although, after the destruction of her recent engagement, she had been more on edge than usual and more heavy handed than usual.
She shook the feeling of a failed serious relationship on her botched lecture. In Russia, wild animals attacking people on the street was common knowledge. Superstition was the norm. However, in the States, the children were wimpy and lacked insight. The Puritans did a horrible job pioneering the imagination. They had their strict and boring black-and-white reasoning, which fast-forward to the present day, rendered the West completely defenseless and a mockery of all things horror.
Finished class. Anything new?
She pressed the send button, and her text message shot to Teddy. She tucked the phone back into her black purse and started to leave the classroom. There was a little more mingling and snooping she wanted to do before heading back to where Teddy and she were staying for the job. However, as she was leaving, she realized there was still one student left. The Asian girl. How had she not noticed her? She had been so quiet.
“May I help you?” Kisa asked. Her dark eyes studied the young Asian. She looked to be about fifteen or sixteen and completely out of place. She was staring deeply into space.
“Huh?” Sophia looked up. She had been staring at the front cover of her text book, completely mesmerized by it like she had been in some sort of trance. “Oh,” she felt flustered, much more than when her father had startled her earlier. “I-I’m sorry.” She quickly slid her textbook into her book bag and left the room. As she did so, she took a small glance behind her, afraid of what she might see.
Her next class was a course on Jane Austen. She was looking forward to this class, not just because she kind of fancied Lord Darcy (to her father’s disapproval), but the professor and her family went to the same church as her. She had been looking forward to this class all semester, and thankfully, the first lecture was more than satisfying. It washed away all anxiety she had over Religious Literature and the Occult.
______________________________
TIME: 2:00 PM
TIME: 2:00 PM
WHEN she finished the class, she made sure to say hello to the professor and left to find her father. He was able to drive her to and from classes on Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays, she was on her own.
Her father was still answering questions from straggling students when she found him. Trying not to be obvious, she kept patiently right outside the classroom, leaning against the wall. She felt like a little child waiting for him and thought that maybe they should have agreed on a meeting location other than his last class.
After the last of the inquiring students made their exit, Eric and Sophia walked through the campus towards the staff parking lot. Neither said much to each other. But, once they got into the car, Sophia felt herself opening up. She spoke mostly of her Jane Austen class. She for some reason wanted to push Religious Literature and the Occult as far from the conversation as possible. When asked about it, she simply said, “It was good,” and left it at that
Eric felt blessed that he had such an open and good relationship with his daughters. Not many men could have such fluid conversations with their children. Sophia wasn’t too embarrassed to treat him with respect and entrust the inner workings of her life to him. He wanted to keep it this way, which was part of the reason he encouraged her to attend Maico College of Arizona.
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TIME: 6:00 PM
TIME: 6:00 PM
WHEN they arrived home, Anna was already starting dinner, as she did every evening at roughly the same time. The house smelled delicious, and Eric’s youngest daughter Emma had suspiciously scrambled to her room without saying anything to her father or sister.
Five minutes later, if on cue, it was made apparent why Emma was being so evasive. Sophia was storming out of her room. The strategically placed hairclip on top of her thought-to-be well-hidden diary had been moved out of line. Obviously, someone had found the diary, gone through it, and carelessly placed the hair clip in the wrong position back on top of the diary.
“No, no! I just wanted to read The Poisonwood Bible! I promise!” Emma pleaded as she stifled giggles.
“Oh, really? And what is The Poisonwood Bible about?” Sophia demanded, barely patient enough to entertain her sister’s lie.
“Missionaries in Africa!” Emma exclaimed with confidence. She spit her tongue out, just as their mother removed herself dutifully from the kitchen.
“Emma! Sophia!” Her hands clapped together loudly. The sound echoed a dark shadow over the two girls. “Stop bickering, both of you! Emma, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, treating your sister’s private things like that.” She was glaring daggers at Emma. “I thought you were doing your homework! Shame on you!”
Her attention turned her dagger of eyes towards Sophia, “Don’t raise your voice like that! No one is going to want to be around someone so loud! Now, go set the table. Both of you! So pitiful you do this to your family. You embarras me.”
Sophia bit her lip. She felt like crying. She was sick and tired of Emma infiltrating her room and claiming victory over her most precious thoughts. She contemplated taking the diary with her to school, but having it lost at the school seemed even more terrifying.
And then, there was her angry mother. The woman was allowed to raise her voice all she wanted, whenever she wanted. Yet, God forbid she, little obedient Sophia, defend herself. She felt like such a doormat. As she set the table, the feeling slowly alleviated.
Her father emerged from the master bedroom moments later. He seemed refreshed and less tired than when he had been driving her home.
“What was all that I missed?” He asked curiously. His eyes looked back-and-forth between all the ladies.
“Oh, nothing, Eric. Don’t worry about it. I handled it.” Her mother said. Her dark eyes smiled at both Emma and Sophia. The two daughters had little insight that this was a secret cue from her mother and father to discuss the matter later in private, away from their prying ears when a disagreement arose. Arguing in front of their daughters had been a hard boundary they martyred themselves to uphold.
“Alright then,” Eric smirked, quickly engaging with Emma, “you’ll have to tell me how your day at school was. I want to hear all about it. I’m sure Sophia does, too.” He winked at Sophia, as he took his seat, and awaited his dutiful wife to serve him dinner.
______________________________
AFTER dinner, Sophia thought of writing about her day in her diary, but she was afraid Emma would read what she thought about Dr. Garbarino. She knew she would never recover from such an incident. So, instead of writing in her diary, she brainstormed ways to keep her sister from finding her diary. Keeping an online journal never settled well with her, but it was a constantly recurring thought.
Ultimately, she concluded she would have two diaries. A fake one to keep her sister satisfied and occupied, and then her real one, which would be well hidden. But where and how would she hide it? She had several ideas, but she’d analyze them later. It was getting late, and she had class in the morning. Quickly, she said her evening prayers but fell asleep before she could finish them.
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TIME: 6:30 AM
TIME: 6:30 AM
IN the morning, when Sophia woke up, she could hear the television. Her father usually watched news as he drank his morning coffee, but there was something different about the voices coming from the living room.
Slowly, she pushed herself from her bed and checked her phone. There were several text messages she had failed to answer the day before. She smiled as she decided to look through them for several minutes before she said good morning to the family.
As Sophia opened the first several messages, they all had similar content. Sophia’s smile quickly faded. She had been expecting messages inquiring about her first day, but toppled on top of those were worried texts highlighting what must be on the news this morning: there was another murder in Maico, and again, images of the victim were being held from the public. The difference between this murder and the other murders was this one was right next to the college.
Sophia closed her phone without sending any replies. She had to brace herself for her father’s lecture, which was as much of a burden as it was comforting and terrifying. If anything good came out of this, it was that any animosity she had towards Emma about the night prior had completely evaporated.
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