Chezka

Mirroring Worlds, Reflecting Possibilities

Hey hey! Sorry for the radio silence on my end. Had a bunch of tests this week that I had to prepare for last week, so I've been crying/dying for two weeks straight.

@Genkai: Advanced happy birthday and I hope your family (mom and pets especially) is doing well!

Mirroring Worlds, Reflecting Possibilities

"Why, you are far too kind Mr Moray," Emmy said after Keir had praised her, twirling once to show off her outfit before bowing with a flourish and a wink. "And entirely spot-on. Good morning!" She gave him a quick hug in greeting as he guided her inside, and turned to give him a quick once over. Her lips twisted into a half amused, half pouty sort of smile as she noted he was wearing the usual. Jean, shirt, and hoodie. It was what he wore when he was in his study mode, and by the looks of it, he had been in this mode for more than a few days. She looked at the state of his flat, clean as usual—of course, one should expect nothing less from Keir—but with an evident spattering of his notes. It was no wonder she'd hardly heard from him this week.

"Just had tea with the crew actually. Thanks though," she said as she plopped down on his couch and grabbed a sheet of paper lying about, trying to make heads or tail of all the numbers and diagrams he'd scribbled on it and failing horribly. She crinkled her nose. Just looking at his notes gave her a headache; too many formulas and laws and numbers involved! This was why she was an arts and English person. Less complicated for her. She always wondered how Keir managed to be amazing in both areas...though she supposed he has been neglecting the arts side for quite a bit now. At this, she made a face at him, donning the playfully condemning expression she always used when she was confronting him about it.

But as it was, even pretending to be mad at Keir was a challenge. It was no use! The boy was utterly unhateable, even if he did make her cry about his wasted potential on a daily basis. Okay, so she was exaggerating, but she stands by her point. She knew deep inside he'd rather take a shot at a career in music. Keir would do so, so well in the industry, she just knew it. But he was good with all his science-y things as well, and he was putting so much effort into it that she feared he would be heartbroken when things don't work out for him. See that? One would think being so conflicted and frustrated over someone else's career choices would be good grounds to dislike a person, but nope, not him. Never him.

Emmy grinned to herself, making a note to knock down the pedestal she put him on a few pegs. "ADR session went brilliantly! Done after two takes," she recalled excitedly, preening a bit. Other people might think it unbecoming or arrogant, but she quite liked to rejoice when she did her job well. She prided herself on her dedication to her craft, after all. "It won't be released for a couple of months, but I'm warning you now, I'll be dragging you to the premiere."

Keir started playing with his guitar then, and Emmy beamed. He looked exactly like someone who'd been withheld from doing something he loved for far too long. For a while, she hummed along with the tune he played. Then she started adding her own lyrics to it, singing about the woes of the hardworking Uni student. She played with him like that for a while, just enjoying his accompaniment (it had been a while since they've done this!), before an idea struck her.

"I was just going to throw some impromptu karaoke party in here, but since you've clearly taken to the ways of the hermit, I'm thinking we need to get you some fresh air. Look how pasty you've become!" Emmy laughed as she hopped off the couch and started pulling her friend up. "Come on then, we can go wherever you want, as long as it's outdoors. We can even drop by Aldi so you don't starve to death."



"A book," Cyrill repeated, his tone sarcastic without meaning it to be (it was sort of his default), as his eyes followed where her finger pointed. Music and Melody stood out from the many books in the shelf, with its title embossed in gold right at the spine. He quirked an eyebrow but said nothing, and only nodded as he went to retrieve the book. It was obvious to him what Phaylin would need it for. In fact, he remembered he meant to give it to her at one point, after he had finished reading it, which was quite some time ago. The thick layer of dust that coated it suggested it's been months, at the very least. He probably forgot again, but he supposed that didn't matter anyway, it all worked out. In any case, while he found it of little interest, finding it irrelevant to his studies, he certainly hoped Phaylin would find it more useful.

"Here."

Cyrill tossed her the book before grabbing the basket she offered hungrily, digging into an apple like he hadn't eaten in days. He made himself comfortable on top of his desk—for reasons he could never figure, he just felt better on the desk rather than the chair—and grabbed another fruit from the basket as he waited for Phaylin to get on with the point. If it were anyone but Phaylin talking with him now, they could very well misconstrue the face he was making as one of blatant disinterest and think him rude. But in truth, that slightly annoyed expression, with his eyebrows knitted together and the corner of his lips pulled down, was his resting face. He was actually a really good listener.

The woods, huh?

He pondered her proposition for a moment, weighing the pros and cons as he usually did. First off, it seemed entirely troublesome. There was nothing he hated more than exerting physical effort when it was perfectly avoidable, especially under the sun's heat. Before, he even thought that going outside was nothing but a waste of time, but someone eventually convinced him that it was a necessary evil. He supposed it did have merits, prancing about the woods. A change of environment might do him wonders, get him out of his listless stupor, and he could do with some foraging himself. He'd just read about Sanguinaria Canadensis, or bloodroot, as was its more common moniker, and he was interested in its toxic properties. The healers have used it for their salves, but he knew it would be better off used in poisons.

Cyrill nodded slowly, trying not to look as eager as he felt, even though it seemed his friend felt the same way. Speaking of, it seemed it was always Phaylin that manages to bring him out of his worse slumps. He supposed he should thank her for that, he thought as he glanced at her. Probably not today, though. "Sure," he said offhandedly, as though he was only agreeing because he had nothing better to do. His lips had turned into a small lopsided smile, even though he was trying hard to fight it off. "I need my weekly dose of sunlight anyway."

He jumped off his desk and grabbed a pack hanging from a hook on his wall, quickly filling it with empty vials he picked up from the shelf and a small box that held his tools of the trade. If they were going, they best do it now while he still felt motivated to do so. Cyrill kicked through his messy heap (of organized chaos) and walked passed Phaylin as he made his way to the front door.

"Waiting on you now."

Free Winds

Two thousand three-hundred sixteen steps later and they had at last arrived at the location of the airship. To her relief, they didn't encounter any guards as she originally feared, and all members of the group—which had grown by one since then—had arrived in one piece. The painfully silent trip there allowed her to gather her thoughts and collect herself, but even then she found she was still a little frazzled. She couldn't help but wish her sister was beside her to put her at ease, but then thinking about her sister never ended well, and so it only added to her distress. It also didn't help to conjure up memories that usually calmed her down, because then she would be reminded of Krukow's current state. Long story short, just about everything she thought to do exhausted her mentally and emotionally, and it was only when she started focusing on counting their steps that she felt the least bit composed. She stopped at two thousand three-hundred sixteen steps, when they were within ten feet of the massive airship.

After he introduced himself, the mysterious man was no longer that, but a Varren Yinyues instead. Knowing his name hadn't helped ease her apprehension toward him, though. It only added a twinge of guilt, because she knew full well that the eighteen-year-old had acted only to protect them. She couldn't imagine what would have happened without him there, but she knew they could very well be worse off. The least she could be is grateful, and here she was, afraid to even look him in the eyes. Emery shook her head in disappointment and forced herself to muster even a little bit of courage. Showing her gratitude... that much she should be able to do. So after Varren had welcomed them to the Free Winds, Emery hid behind Aubrey and Isaac and called out a quick thanks to their savior.

Isaac would enter his Mr. Fixit mode as soon as Varren mentioned something about the engine, and although she didn't want him to leave Aubrey and her (and Jarvan, she noted belatedly) alone, she couldn't bring herself to stop him. Of course she couldn't, not when she could see the excitement gleaming in his eyes. This was the reason she wanted to show him the airship in the first place. At the very least, one of them could find a silver lining in all this chaos. Emery nodded as Isaac instructed them to stick together, taking it to heart. She yanked Aubrey's arm and clung onto it as she warily scanned the so called Free Winds, taking note of its crew. There were armed guards aboard, and a couple of passengers she thought looked familiar, although she only gave them a passing glance. The woman who had yelled at Varren from the deck was intimidating, and it didn't take a lot to figure out she was the captain of the ship. It seemed Varren had no qualms letting them aboard, but the choice was ultimately left to captain, wasn't it?

Emery turned to Aubrey. "What do we do now? Do you think they'll just let us board for free?"

Free Winds

Hey hey~ :3 How's everybody?
I'll try to get a post up soon!

Mirroring Worlds, Reflecting Possibilities

Finally got both up. :D

Mirroring Worlds, Reflecting Possibilities

Her morning routine was usually the toughest part of the day. She was up by 5AM for a half hour-long jog around the park, which was then followed by another hour and a half of cardio or strengthening exercises in the local gym, depending on the day. She would have a healthy serving of breakfast afterward, and from then on, it was time to get cleaned up. After showering came the most crucial part of morning (Zero Hour as she liked to call it) in which she would decide what clothes to wear and how to style her hair for the day. She didn't become a rising fashion icon for nothing. Emmy's 'walk-in closet' was technically another room entirely, and to those who don't know better, it could very well pass as one of those quaint clothes boutique in the mall. Clothes were divided into styles, and sorted by color. Shoes had their own corner, and accessories had its place in the middle of the room, surrounding a vanity. Emmy hummed a song as she sifted through her closet, pacing along the section with her dresses. Today was pretty lax, as far as her schedule went. The first and only thing she had was a quick ADR session for her latest romcom film penciled in at 9. They only needed a couple lines of narration for the dramatic climax, so she should be in and out of the studio.

That meant she could go with something simple for the day. Emmy grabbed the white button down babydoll dress from the shelf and quickly put it on, smoothing the skirts as she finished. She topped it off with a black scarf and thigh highs, with red shoes for a splash of color. The nigh monochromatic ensemble was simple but stylish enough. Emmy walked over to the full length mirror by the corner of the room and nodded approvingly. The only thing left to do was fix her hair up in a messy bun, and that took her seconds to finish.

Her manager picked her up from her flat at 8:30 to drop her off at the studio, which had been only a couple minutes away. Just as she expected, the session passed by in a blink of an eye. She had been so invested with this character that it was almost effortless for her to slip back into her mindset, and she already had a catch in her throat before she even began. Suffice it to say, they got the recording they needed within two takes, and after some brief socializing with the crew, she was good to go.

Emmy grabbed her mobile from her purse to check the time, and just as she did, a text notification popped up. She glanced at the sender and grinned, correctly predicting what it would say before she opened the actual message itself. It seemed it was time to do what she did best. Her fingers moved deftly as she typed up a quick response: Be there soon! Try not to die before then. ;) She hailed a cab and headed for Keir's flat, which was conveniently located just across from hers. It made it all the easier for her to barge in his flat whenever she was bored out of her mind.

The trip back was even faster without her overly cautious manager in the driver seat, and she was walking up Keir's flat before she knew it. Her heels clacked against the winding path, and she was greeted by a few of his neighbors with a welcoming hug. Most of them have come to know her well due to her frequent visits, and she was tickled pink every time they praise her for her craft. They were probably among her most ardent fans.

"Visiting Keir again, are you, dear?" one of the elderly ladies asked, smiling fondly at her.

"Of course," she grinned. "Poor Keir would be so lonely without me."

"That he would." Mrs. Abney laughed heartily, throwing her head back, as she nodded in agreement. "But do tell that boy not to work himself to death."

"Will do! That's why I'm here, after all." Emmy winked.

She hummed the rest of the way to his flat, unconsciously playing one of Keir's original melodies. This one had been unfinished, still without lyrics and missing a proper ending, but the melody was beautiful. He has a way with music that even professionals would envy, and it always upset her that his full potential would never be realized. Emmy had resigned to letting him choose his own path, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try shoving him in the right direction every once in a while. She smiled to herself. Perhaps she should pester him to finish that melody today.

Upon reaching his flat, Emmy immediately knocked on Keir's door, playing out a familiar beat. It was their 'special secret knock,' one they had made up when they were children in order to keep trespassers out of their secret base, which was really just her family's garage. "Guess who~? ♪"

Emmy Outfit #1 :3

When it comes to productivity, Cyrill has only two notches in his spectrum. He would either be wasting his life away, never moving from his seat as he read and reread books for days on end, or be so engrossed with his latest brew that he works nonstop and even opts to forego menial tasks such as sleeping and eating. Recently, he had been of the former variety—stuck in a particularly indolent state that he hasn't been able to recover from. He hadn't touched his cauldron in almost a week, and it made him very irritable (even more than usual, which was quite a feat in itself). With a disgruntled sigh, Cyrill slammed the book he held shut and unceremoniously threw it in the messy heap beside him, causing the uneven stack of herbology books to collapse with a loud thud. He could only read about the Battle of Black Hollow for so long before his blood started boiling. The rebellion army's blatant misuse of even the most basic of potions made him seethe—it was no wonder they lost the battle without contest.

Cyrill jumped from his perch on his writing desk and stretched his arms and legs, which have become tight and sore from being locked in one position for too long. Unable to work out the knots in his legs, he grumbled to himself and reached for the small vial on the shelf above his desk. The cool blue liquid in it was his Cureall, a tonic that relieved many an ailment and thus the most popular item amongst his customers. It cured simple illnesses like a cough and cold, or a fever if taken early enough, and gave a boost of energy to those without. In his case, it eased the aches in his body. The only side-effect it bore was drowsiness, but even then, he supposed it was actually part of its healing process as well. Resting did wonders, after all. Since he hadn't been in the mood to deal with people of late, he had to make use of the last of the stash of Curealls he brewed a month ago. These potions lost their potency within twenty-seven days, and it was a shame not to make use of them.

Yawning now, as the effects of the potion were quick-acting, Cyrill sluggishly trudged toward his bedroom. The room in question was as bare as could be, and contained only a small wardrobe and a mattress (he had been too lazy to bring the wooden frame in, so they remained in a pile of junk he had beside his home). He walked to his window and looked over the valley—the sun had yet to rise, so that meant he had a couple of hours to rest before Phaylin came to get him.

♠
Cyrill stirred when he heard a familiar voice call for him. It felt like only a second had passed since his eyes closed, but the sunlight that streamed through his window said otherwise. Too groggy to think straight, he could hardly understand what the dark-haired woman was saying, but somehow the words food and eat stuck with him. His stomach growled in protest right on cue, and it managed to chase away the last vestiges of sleep in his system.

"Just go inside, oh kindhearted one." Cyrill called out, rolling his eyes even though a small smile crept on his face. This part of their dynamic had never changed since they were children; Phaylin was always the one who coaxed him out in the mornings. If it weren't for her, then he would be sleeping straight through noon. He headed to the small room adjoining his bedroom, where he had set up a basin and a small wooden tub for getting cleaned, and called out again before shutting the door closed behind him. "I'll be down in a bit."

True to his word, he would meet with his friend and rival not long after, hair damp and eyes squinting as he fumbled for his glasses. His study was a complete mess (though he liked to call it organized chaos), but Phaylin should have long been used to it. After he replaced the glasses on the bridge of his nose, his eyes immediately locked on the basket she held, feeling his stomach grumbling again, this time in anticipation.

Cyrill held out a hand. "Okay, what's the price this time?"

Mirroring Worlds, Reflecting Possibilities

I always get dizzy during take offs and landings, but I like it when I get the window seat so I can just stare out at the clouds. X3

And, haha, I got my license about half a year ago, so I'm still in the "ooh~ driving is so fun" phase. I'll probably get over it if I ever drive more than an hour straight, though.

Mirroring Worlds, Reflecting Possibilities

You guuuys, I love roller coasters~ where else can you feel like flying? But then again, I also pointedly avoided watching the Final Destination with the roller coasters, so I can remain blissfully ignorant. xP

Also, yup to everything you said about the banners! I'll be making mine soon. :3

Mirroring Worlds, Reflecting Possibilities

Haha, I like it when things looks pretty, so I'd say yes on banners. :P
If anything, I can try to whip them up. What would we want on them?

Mirroring Worlds, Reflecting Possibilities

Ah, sorry, I must have missed it? I could have sworn you only had Nax's listed. o.o

But it'll be a friendly rivalry, of course. They might bicker or butt heads often, but they actually do care for each other. In Cyrill's case, he would say he's just 'keeping his enemies close,' but in truth, he likes her company and appreciates how she challenges him.