Aeolian

OBLIVION

Oleander put in his love diary about Marco lol But he thinks he lost it cause he forgot what he put in the time capsule all those years ago.

ᵀʰᵉ Spirits Within/Aeon

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_{DAY 1 《》 STEELWATER [RD-PRS - 3rd Level Research Wing] 《》 Afternoon 《》 @Aeolian@Krash}

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The world around him seemed to settle in a familiar hum. Peter was healing someone, a soldier, black patch laced over a damaged eye. Nurses moved around him going about there own work and in some way, it seemed as though he fit in more here than on the battlefield. Whether healing the wounded or commanding seaside burials for the afterlife, there was a certain rhythm that came easily to Peter; perhaps it was the dichotomy of his existence in balancing life and death with his very words and fingers. The soldier moaned when Peter removed his eye patch, leaning in closer to inspect the nasty wound. He stared at the man for a moment, heartbroken at the devastation that the world outside the station laid upon him. With the gentle temper of a lagoon, Peter moved his hands to the man's eye, laying them just above the flesh. That holy glittering golden light filtered from his hands and seeped into the wound like angelic honey. It was something celestial, cosmic—an otherworldly light unlike anything one might find in the industrial bubble around them. His heart lurched—the pain returned. He retrieved one hand from the light and clutched it to his chest, breathing heavily. Peter knew it, frustrated at himself and his condition. He had definitely overexerted himself and the spiritual essence that fueled his being. Krishna, the nurse from before, came up behind him, equal parts worried and surprised. He cooed under his breath, first enthralled by the golden witchlight emanating from Peter's hand, "You're an Aeon?" he asked. Peter nodded feebly, the pained stutter of his movement visible to the nurse's trained eye. Shaking his head of the fact that he was in the presence of an Aeon, Krishna circled around to the other side of the table and looked at Peter clutching his chest. "Bro, are you okay?" "Yeah..." Peter whispered, "It's just a heart thing. I'm okay." Peter took a deep breath, feigning that his pain receded. But in truth, he wanted to rip out his heart right then and there—shatter it into a million pieces, and fling them into the stars. Unrealistic, but anything to remove this detriment to his well-being seemed like a viable alternative to the disturbance it brought to his life. Krishna raised an eyebrow, unconvinced by Peter's nonchalance, "Doesn't seem like nothing. I can perform a CT scan—maybe see what's up." Peter shook his head, knowingly, "No. You'd only be wasting your time." Eventually, he pulled his hands from the wounded soldier's eye and the golden light faded soon after. He rubbed them on his knees as though wiping off dirt. His hands always got really hot when he healed someone with his magic, perhaps a side effect of the light. Peter didn't really know how his magic worked other than the fact that there was always an uncomfortable heat-like sensation, as though healing someone caused his hands to burn on the inside. Before Krishna could protest further, the lights in the facility blared and an unfamiliar voice rang out on the intercom (Errikos), announcing the situation that erupted in the Research wing. An inner breach, but how? And then Peter's thoughts went immediately back to the little girl he 'rescued' from the forest and he felt a pang of dread constrict his chest—it was worse than his heart pains. At first, he wasn't sure what to do as he caught a glimpse of Emilia, the BlackRock soldier, and a few others following behind and descending to the Research wing. Were they Aeons too? The medical staff and nurses within the Trauma unit moved about frantically as the lights and alarm continued their ear-blistering wail. Unease and fear crept upon many of their countenances, but the present commanding officers told them to remain calm and continue working. Surely, the Aeons who went down stares could handle whatever was going on...still, Peter couldn't shake the disquiet that settled within his bones and when the voice came back on the intercom to stabilize a nurse, his fear became realized. Someone was hurt after all, which meant, the little girl could be hurt too. He couldn't sit around anymore. Once Peter's immediate objective was clear, he made his way towards the Research Wing, "Can you watch him please?" Peter asked Krishna as he moved further and further away from the trauma unit. Krishna called out behind him, "Where are you going?" "I have to make sure she's okay!" Peter didn't hear Krishan's response. His mind was singularly focused now as he descended the facility, practically fumbling between people on the second floor who were either sheltering in place or arming themselves for the potential threat that might ascend from the Research wing. Armed guards, informed that Aeons were handling the situation below, stood guard just before the entrance to the Research wing, just in case as per facility protocol. On his way there, rushing frantically, Peter accidentally bumped into a man. Older, salt and pepper facial hair abundant—an unfamiliar figure to the Funerailles, but he seemed to the heading toward the Research Wing as well. Was he an Aeon too? Peter didn't have time to exchange formalities with the man, "Sorry!" he said simply, continuing past the man without giving it further thought. What would later cause him great distress, Peter didn't realize that in the collision, his ornate European-esque Freidalian golden locket with a small photo of himself and his boyfriend Milo fell off his neck and landed right in front of the man (Errikos). The surface of the locket on one side was cracked now, but Peter, naturally, didn't notice that either. Once Peter entered the research wing, he froze. It was a horrible sight indeed. Surrounding the Aeons were the busted remains and bio-slurry of a now terminated disturbance. Bodies of humans, but, they were twisted somehow, their corpses and innards smattered about—the walls and floors painted in a stinky black ink that oozed from their orifices and body wounds. God, the smell was so putrid. If Peter hadn't had years of experience working with dead bodies as a Funerailles, he might have puked. But this was just...incomparable to anything he'd dealt with before. Peter looked around, scanning the scene for the little girl or the nurse mentioned on the intercom. When he saw neither, he entered the treatment room, first catching sight of a swirling black fog in the corner and then he saw the nurse (Amy), wounded with bites and scratches. Her sanguine fluid licked the floor around her silhouette as he came over and knelt beside her. She was unconscious, but after checking her pulse, Peter could see that she still drew breath, feebly. She was teetering on the cusps of the afterlife, her wounds near fatal. But another thought surfaced—it was true then, the reports about the new strain of the stigma infection. Peter shook his head from such a thought that would serve him no good in the present. He rubbed his hands together, the shimmering golden light returning, as did his heart pain. How long before he passed out from overusing his magic, he wondered. It didn't matter for now, it couldn't matter. He laid his hands on the largest wound he could see and then began the healing process. Her wounds were so terminal that he felt them ardently, as if they were his own. Healing them would take a while, and she was too badly wounded to be moved without causing serious damage to her health and physical constitution. Peter would heal her right here, on this very floor, at least until it was safe enough to move her body on an empty table. His trousers became bloodstained by Amy's blood, but still, Peter didn't care. If he could heal her enough, then her bleeding would seize at least. Nothing to say about the new infection strain that roamed through her body now—like with the little girl. The little girl. She came back to his mind in that moment. He still hadn't seen her. Where was she? But for now, he had to focus on the most pressing concern, Amy bleeding out. As his light filled her wounds, he repeated the thought. Stay calm, Peter. One problem at a time. NPCs Little girl Nurse, Krishna Patel Medic, Amy Milo Zabini

Summary

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DAY 1: In the trauma unit, Peter finishes up healing the UDF soldier. He feels heart pain from overexerting his magic. Krishna, a nurse, expresses surprise and concern at Peter being an Aeon and for his well-being. Peter dismisses the heart pain he is expriencing. When the alarm goes off, Peter goes to the Research Wing. On his way there, he crashes into Errikos, not realizing that he accidentally dropped his golden locket in front of the man. Once inside the research wing, he is stunned by the scene and the smell. While Peter is still concerned about the little girl's safety, he focuses on healing Amy, who at the moment, is near-mortally wounded on the floor in a pool of her own blood.

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_{DAY 1 《》 STEELWATER [RD-PRS - 3rd Level Research Wing] 《》 Afternoon 《》 @Aeolian@Salsa Verde[@Everyone present at the scene]}

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Within the caressing protection of her darkness, Isolde watched the entire situation unfold. While Dr. Poole, and Dr. Khan both seemed to be succumbing to the effects of Isolde's magic, she remained ever analytical. She watched how the new stigma strain took hold of the undead corpses and animated them back to life. She studied their movements, and how they focused on Amy ravenously. Their behavior reminded her of a plant mentioned in one of Eunji's scientific fungal reports, and when she began to recall those critical details in that report, it started to make more sense. Combined with what she, Dr. Khan, and Dr. Poole had uncovered within the blood of the infected patients, Isolde would have assumed her present supposition all but impossible. And yet... She watched the SWARG members enter the research wing, guns blaring as they dispatched the monstrosities for what they were. And in a way, Isolde found herself disappointed that she couldn't capture some of them "alive" for additional testing. Still, their downed corpses would be useful for examination in some capacity. Isolde shifted her gaze to the young slight-bodied man who entered the treatment room and begin healing a mortally wounded Amy. Isolde knew who this was immediately. The Funerailles. The Angel of Bellfort. Interesting seeing the UDF's little doll here in such a dangerous environment, she thought. Surely then, this mission was much more grave than she could have anticipated if they sent a Funerailles into a warzone. But for what exact purpose he had to play, she did not yet know. When Isolde's darkness finally dissipated, Dr. Khan seemed like she'd seen a ghost. She moved slowly, as though she'd lost her soul somewhere back deep within the shadows. When Dr. Khan finally found a chair to sit on, she just stared into nothingness. She was still alive at least, just left a bit traumatized. Dr. Poole was worse off. He hadn't left the corner and was huddled there on the floor, looking around like he had paranoia or schizophrenia. This was the magic of Belladonna, at least part of it. People who stayed in her darkness for too long, especially non-Aeons, would begin seeing and hearing things, as though they had been transported into another dimension where there was always something sinister and malign lurking just beyond the darkness. It seemed to distort a person's sense of reality and cause unimaginable fear. Perhaps, even being eaten alive by a stiggie was less of a frightful thought than lingering within the empty shadows of Isolde's magic. They'd recover, soon enough. For now, they were the least of her concerns. She picked up a fever agent from off the counter, stepping in Amy's blood as though she'd danced in the blood of others on more than one occasion. Peter was so enraptured by his healing, that he'd hadn't even noticed Isolde behind him. He stirred when she knelt beside him, looking at Amy with feigned care—Pecksniffian and duplicitous as she seemed to be more often than not. Amy may eventually be of use to her, as would Peter, who she turned her gaze to and softened her eyes with that motherly downward crest you might show an anxious child. "The Angel of Bellfort. A pleasure to meet you in person at last, though it is unfortunate that we should meet under such dire circumstances. The UDF like to keep you nice and tucked away don't they? And for good reason. You are valuable to so many people." Peter, still healing Amy, looked at her, confusion etching upon his countenance, "Sorry?" "Dr. Featherswallow, but, just call me Isolde. I'm the one who should be sorry. For the UDF to put you into this predicament—and of all people, a Funerailles." She shook her head, disapprovingly, "Truly unforgivable." Isolde took a moment to watch him work his magic, it was pretty, she would admit; anthesis to the darkness that swallowed her and those around her. He was an Aeon obviously, but she didn't know what he was capable of. And the unknown pissed her off more than she often let on. She'd keep an eye on him, the same way she always kept an eye on people. "Oh. I don't know..." Peter began, coughing a little before he continued, "I just want to help people, so, if that path led me here, then, I suppose I'm okay with it." Isolde nodded as though she agreed and sympathized with his sentiment, "How honorable. You truly are a Funerailles in the highest sense of the title, but my dear..." she rested a hand on his back, "Are you alright? You seem awfully pale." Peter nodded, "Yes, I'm fine, just fatigued is all." "Well, when you finish healing this poor poor woman, administer the fever agent and then have Dr. Poole help you move her to an empty cot. After that, go rest." As Isolde explained, she placed a syringe beside him and then gestured toward Dr. Poole, still huddled to himself in the corner. Peter turned to look at the doctor, instinctively furrowing his brows, "Is he okay? What's wrong with him?" "He's just had a bit of a fright, my dear, nothing of grave concern." Peter nodded, accepting her explanation without further skepticism or questioning like he might have normally. This was Dr. Featherswallow. He'd heard about her through the tabloids and what not. But, he was too exhausted to think critically about anything else regarding her. His magic was zapping ever fiber of his being, and he had very little essence left; just about enough to finish healing Amy. Isolde saw that he was swaying back and forth as he healed the medic, teetering on the verge of fainting. "Hang in there dear." Isolde stood up, heading for the door when Peter called out to her asking about the little girl. She reassured him that she was safe and that he could see her later. That bit of relief brought a second wind to him, it seemed. But how long that would last, only time would tell. As she entered the hallway, she saw the aftermath of their battle up close. Yes, the smell was pungent and yes, the scene was gory and grotesque. But she remained calm, not a scrunch of her nose to indicate that she was in any kind of distress. "Goodness..." she began as she walked towards the group, stepping over a corpse, kicking it once with her heel for good measure. "Isolde? Eunji? What is this?" Emilia inquired. As Isolde made her entrance, she controlled her posture to appear tall and glamorous. She kept her voice low, but projected, commanding their attention like she was stealing the spotlight in the all-important scene of a movie when a major plot point is revealed. She gave each of them a once lookover, capturing the audience's attention with her steely gaze. "Unfortunately, this is the effect of the new strain of stigma. As we feared, we in the Research Division believe it is connected to the disappearance of Benjamin." She paused, letting the silence and sudden reveal linger heavily between them. Those who already had their suspicions would be less surprised. "While you were in combat, we found traces of Benjamin's DNA laced within the blood of our patients infected by this new strain. Though it is not 100% clear, and further testing is needed to confirm it, we are almost certain, somehow, Benjamin's magic has caused the stigma to mutate." Isolde pulled out her redberry and made a swiping motion at the screen with her fingertips, sending a digital copy of a scientific report to their mobile devices and/or tablets, written and doctored by none other than Eunji. "We must give credit to Dr. Park's previous report on fungi in helping us come to this conclusion sooner. But I imagine our resident fungal expert has probably already come to this deduction on her own." Isolde gestured at Eunji and gave her an approving nod, moving to stand by her before she continued addressing the group. "We surmise that the new strain behaves almost identically, and as you'll find in Dr. Park's report about it, Ophiocordyceps unilateralis...the zombie-ant fungus." Dr. Featherswallow, laced her fingers together and let them fall flat in front of her. She took a deep breath, looking around at everyone's faces. She wondered why Marcus and Oerba had not returned before continuing, "I think Dr. Park can explain its probable behavior in undead humans better than I can, but I will say this..." Isolde allowed that smothering silence to return, letting it hang to emphasize the importance of what she was going to say next. In fact, this may be the most important thing she would say at all. "If I can obtain Benjamin's blood, or rather, extract it directly from his body, then I may be able to doctor a cure for the new strain. While this is only a hypothesis, this strain behaves unlike any other. This may be the first true breakthrough the Research Division has had in finding an actual cure." Isolde's voiced became amplified as she spoke, like a skilled orator, the thrill and passion for her years-long work revealing itself in the rising inflections of her tone. Isolde settled into the silence of the situation one last time before making her final statement. Isolde's gaze fell on each of them again before settling on Emilia, her gaze so fixed on Garuda that she very well could of bore searing holes straight through her cranium. "If you care at all about giving humanity a fighting chance at survival against the encroaching stigma, then..." "I need Benjamin..." "Alive." NPCs Dr. Poole Infection Specialist Dr. Helen Khan Oerba Marcus Featherswallow

Summary

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DAY 1: Isolde exits her darkness. Dr. Khan and Dr. Poole are left mentally traumatized by her magic. Peter enters the Research Wing to heal a gravely wounded Nurse Amy. Peter and Isolde meet formally for the first time. After leaving Peter to work on Amy's wounds, Isolde joins the group and reveals her findings. She makes a bold statement/request to the group.

ᵀʰᵉ Spirits Within/Aeon

Started my post, but wasn't able to finish. Will have it done later today. Sorry for the delay.

Cheers!

ᵀʰᵉ Spirits Within/Aeon

@Prisk

No, you're fine. :) I've just had a really busy weekend. I'm gonna try and make my post today and fix my character sheet updates.

ᵀʰᵉ Spirits Within/Aeon

Okay, updated my character sheets with the stuffs.

Cheers!

Edit: Will post this weekend.

OBLIVION

@Rockette

Awwww! Thanks! Then I think I nailed his portrayal then. YES! I wanted him to be this adorable, loveable, squishy kind of character! LOL

OBLIVION

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OLLIE OKONEDO █ act one: way down we go Okonedo Residence ▸ Ritman High [Football Field] Interacting with @Benzaiten@udonoodles@Gisk, everyone present ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

O K O N E D O R E S I D E N C E That gossamer heart of his was beating quickly as he looked at the group messages on his mobile and frowned to himself. Oleander was running late for the reunion at the Ritman and by the current time, he'd probably already missed the pre-game session at PJs dive bar too. In truth, he had only arrived back in Delton an hour prior, just as the last hints of daylight withdrew from the rising moon. Delton was a small town, a bit ways from any major city and devoid of too much lamplight, filling the quaint town with the faint sparkles of stardust. You couldn't get this kind of night view in Portland. When Oleander arrived at his childhood home by taxi, he opened the front door with his spare key and entered slowly, lugging his single luggage bag behind him. The flight from D.C. left him feeling mildly fatigued, but he wiped at his eyes wearily and looked around the house for any signs of family, relieved to at least have made it there safely. It was gratitude for the little things that carried him. He called out once, noticing that only a few lights through the house were on. No response. Oleander smiled at the sight of the family dog and cat (Rocco and Poppy) nestled together asleep on the sofa; heavy sleepers they were. He called out louder this time, at last receiving a reply from his older sister, Samara. "Oleander?!" she yelled from down in the basement. "Yeah!" he replied in jest. "Down in the basement. Hurry up and look at this!" His sister's voice trailed off, muffled by laughter that echoed up as he opened the basement door and peered down into the cellar. It smelled like old paint and wood, same as always. When he rounded the corner, he saw Samara and his younger teenage brother, Enoch, rifling through an old photo album they pulled out of the nearby 50s era console. Oleander waved at them when they looked up and before they could protest, he threw his body on them so he was laying across their laps like a wood plank. Enoch made a grunting noise, "Too heavy..." and Samara tried to nudge him to the floor, but he wouldn't budge. "I see you made it in one piece––with a few extra pounds in tow." Oleander huffed at her, "Lies." "How was your flight?" Oleander, still laying across his siblings, shrugged, "It was okay I guess. Where's ma and pa?" Enoch sneezed and then pushed his glasses back up his nose, "On vacation in Nigeria visiting our African brethren, or, something like that." Oleander's face went a bit sour, like he'd been slighted somehow. "They didn't tell me about that. What the hell..." Samara pulled her arms from under Oleander's body and laid them across his back, "Well, it was a last minute thing." she explained, "Ma was feeling really homesick, so they just up and left." Samara stared at him for a moment, reading his expression, "Oh, so we not good enough?" Oleander sighed, disappointment seared into his countenance "I talk to you guys all the time. Besides, its not the same. Anyways..." Samara gave him a slanted look, "Mmhmm..." "What was it that you wanted to show me?" Enoch sneezed again, causing Oleander to stir in shock. Samara pulled his ear, "You're laying on it dipshit." "Oh." Oleander sat up and then squished himself between Samara and Enoch. The latter plopped an old photobook on his lap, and then pointed to an image of their parents in some kind of mid 80s getup. Oleander let out a laugh, "Oh, that is funny." Enoched joined in on the laughter, "Right? I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that!" Oleander cocked his head a bit, looking at the picture from another angle, smiling, "I don't know. I think it's totally lunarious." Enoch furrowed his brows, "Lunarious? That's not a thing. Nobody says that." "I do, clearly." They bantered for a bit while Samara looked at her phone. Eventually, she stood up and softly kicked his leg with her foot, "Aren't you gonna be late for your thing?" "Right! Thanks sis!" Oleander exclaimed, making for the basement stairs when Samara grabbed his wrist, a look of concern present. "Wait." "Hmm?" he murmured, confused. "You gonna be okay?" she asked. Oleander paused for a moment, trying to glean what she could of meant. He nodded, "Ugh, yeah. I think so. Why do you ask?" A weird silence lingered between them, as though Samara had something she desperately wanted to say, but held her tongue, possibly for his sake. She cleared her throat, looking slightly guilty, though Oleander didn't catch on, "Err...no reason. Just thought it might be awkward, or whatever. You haven't seen that gu...I mean...those people in a while. And I know how much that school meant to you." Oleander's gaze softened as he let out a chuckle, pulling his sister in for a warm embrace. "I'll be fine. But I appreciate your concern, Samara. It'll be like any other high school reunion; laughter, maybe a few tears, moonlight reminiscing, the usual stuff. Nothing weird." Oleander let go of his sister, giving her one last parting smile as he made his way up the stairs. When he reached the top, he turned back to see Samara watching him, the concern lingering still. He crossed his fingers and winked, "Well, fingers crossed." R I T M A N H I G H F O O T B A L L F I E L D Oleander steeled himself for the rendezvous. He hadn't seen these people in ages, and the idea of meeting them after so much time had left him feeling equal parts anxious and jovial. While he was excited to see some people more than others, he didn't hold any ill will towards anyone and would put his best foot forward to maintain the image he had always presented on the surface; kind, sociable, and cheerful. The undesirables were to be tucked away, but he was never quite good at that in full. Commandeering his sister's car, he made his way to the high school, popping a grape into his mouth; stolen from his parent's fridge. At the red light, he sent a text to the group chat. 𝚂𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙸'𝚖 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎! 𝙸'𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛. 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚎. 🐶 When he arrived at Ritman, he took a deep breath, taking in the scene. It didn't seem all that spectacular. Just some run-down school destined for decimation. Most people wouldn't have bat an eye. But Oleander took in how the fence was all rusty and he saw the weathered brick, and the school flag, dancing upon the brisk wind. He pulled his coat tighter against his slim frame, and patted the scarf that warmed his neck. He became a bit bleary-eyed, though perhaps it was just the cold air, he surmised. As he rounded the corner of the school, he paused. He saw everyone standing in the field and his mouth dropped in awe. Oleander really did not expect to see these people again at all. The shock of the moment filled his body with a familiarity. Even if he wasn't super close with everyone, just the mere fact that he was here again was surreal, something ephemeral he told himself to cherish while it lasted. As Oleander moved closer, the field light illuminating him, he put up two peace signs and waved them back and forth near his face in a cute sort of way, "Hiiii..." he said warmly to everyone, "I cannot believe we're meeting again after all this time. This is soooooo weird." Oleander laughed shyly, putting his hands against his cheeks. "Okay, I need hugs. I need hugs." He walked around to everyone, giving them a hug if they allowed, otherwise, just dapping them or shaking their hand, or whatever they were comfortable with. Melanie got an extra strength hug though. She was someone he was always fond of, despite them not getting super close. Oleander stared at her face for a moment, tilting his head curiously, and then chuckled, wiping at her cheek with the sleeve of his jacket, "You had a smudge on your cheek", Oleander explained, smiling tenderly. Samuel stood out to him in particular, having slimmed down so much and covered in tattoos, he was almost unrecognizable. The thoughts of the past flooded him and he wished he had done more to befriend Samuel instead of listening to his mother. Trystan grew his hair out, which actually looked nice, Oleander thought. Natalie and Meir looked about the same, just more matured. When he got around to Marco, Oleander paused, taking in the visuals. Marco was still as handsome as ever, moreso now as his grew into his sharp features. But the cane threw him off. It wasn't often that Oleander saw someone so young with a walking stick, so he couldn't help but show a little sadness in his eyes. He laid his hand on Marco's arm, rubbing it softly, "I hope you've been well, Marco." There was a tingle that rippled through him, one very reminiscent of his days at Ritman. When Oleander finally got to Billy, he tried to hold his composure, "Billy!" he exclaimed cheerfully, wrapping his arms around his old bestfriend's neck and giving him the warmest hug of them all. They were always really affectionate and sweet with each other during high school, so this hug felt particularly comfy, cozy, and familiar. Not to mention, they had shared a certain spark, even if neither of them were brave enough to confess it to each other back then. "It's so nice to see you again. I kid you not, I was just thinking about you the other day." When he leaned back from the hug, there were tears trickling down his cheeks; they almost twinkled like tiny little crystals. Oleander quickly wiped at them, embarrassed, "Oh noooo..." he started, chuckling through the tears, "I can't believe I'm crying right now." He let out another laugh, wiping with the back of his palms, "This is why I hate being a crybaby. I'm so sorry guys, just ignore me. I'm being rediculous." Honestly though, Billy was one of his only true friends and Oleander was so sad when they departed after graduation. Not to mention, the very essence of this meeting was nostalgic and wistful. Childhood friends reunited in their old quaint little town. A school of memories scheduled for demolition. A time capsule and hidden feelings simmering to the surface. It was movie scene made flesh. People always said Oleander was a bit melodramatic, too emotional for his own good, but he couldn't help it. Plus, he hadn't seen Billy or the school, or everyone else for that matter in almost a decade. Wasn't that a good enough reason to shed a few tears? Oleander was a quintessential sentimental softboy after all; it was in his nature. He fanned his face, calming down, a deep breath helping to reform his emotional constitution. "Wow, okay. Anyways, who's missing?" ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

NOTE: Feel free to skip the OKONEDO RESIDENCE section if you don't want to read any of what went down before Oleander arrived at the football field. I couldn't put it in hiders without it glitching out, sorry.

OBLIVION

<Snipped quote by Benzaiten>

nahhh dw about it i like what youve got, it fits. i was more amused by the fact jack just has no actual friends

@nodogs

Honestly, I think it makes sense for the character. lol

OBLIVION

@udonoodles@Gisk

Wait wait wait.

Sooooooo, just so I'm getting this right...

Marco liked Billy.
Billy liked Oleander.
Oleander liked Marco and Billy.
Marco and Oleander liked Billy.
Plus Marco and Oleander both saw Billy as their best friend who essentially tied the trio together.

How messy that could have turned out if someone confessed their feelings. Well, Billy did openly flirt with Oleander, but at that point, Oleander was still in the closet. And then Marco had his illness to deal with, so he couldn't confess to Billy.

Now I see what you meant by a Mexican love triangle.

OBLIVION

@Gisk

Yep, people can call Oleander, Ollie.

And yep, he would definitely be down for hugs from Billy. Hugs are totally his style anyways. lol

@Benzaiten

And of course you could use it! :)