icmasticc

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

Nice to see everyone who has shown interest thus far.

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

Nice to see you @FantasyChic. I've grown used to you as a staple of my roleplay experience lol.

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

Co-GM here, reporting in. I've only just returned to the site myself, but I'm intensely excited to be part of this world again. To all you potential players, I can't wait to meet and write with you!

⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱

I'm ready to move on too. I ended the collab the way I did in order to allow someone to react to Anton who should be visible from the height he's at. By extension, Charles would get in on that interaction as well. However, I think the story should move on as well. It's been a bit of a lull period and I feel like more interaction will happen naturally when the plot events begin.

⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱

A n t o n D r a g o m i r o v

&

ℭharles Λeon

_{O M I N A R
~ The Warehouse Meeting Place ~}

---

-{}- Every thing and every body begins in the same place, but in order to move forward one must simply . . . B r e a t h e -{}-

---

---

The crowd only seemed to grow as Anton awaited the person who would address the gathering. Curious eyes looked over the audience with an equally growing surprise. Man... This is serious, he thought. The courier had never agreed with the Prae occupation in the first place, but he also had never given thought to just how many like-minds were out there. Seeing the sheer amount of people in the abandoned warehouse widened his perspective and evoked the realization that the birth of this resistance was an actual happening and one that could have the potential to change everything in Ominar. A lackadaisical hand rubbed the back of his neck and the courier let out an inaudible sigh. He had only come to satisfy his internal inquiry, but, at the very least, he was now a bit exposed. Keeping a low profile was important to a man who skirted the law regularly and even if the resistance became strong enough to actually oppose the Prae in the future, right now they were little more than a disorganized formation of individuals who merely wondered.

Sucking his teeth, Anton began to turn away from the makeshift stage just before the speaker finally made his presence known. His voice seemed to boom out in waves across the audience and his words began as a prototypical display of disillusion. Then, Anton stopped. "Who here has had someone they care about mysteriously vanish!?" That statement sent vibrating chills down the courier's spine. He slowly turned back to the face the man who had echoed the sentiment and now gazed at him with hard, searching eyes. The disappearances were well known amongst the criminal underbelly of the city, but Anton had largely ignored the reports in an effort to keep his own memories from resurfacing - memories that defined The Navigator and spurred on an unspoken cause.

"There have been hundreds, maybe thousands wrongfully imprisoned. Many of our friends. We can't let anymore go to that prison. Who knows what the prae in power have done to it? Now. we need leaders, people we can trust. Will all those who consider themselves capable join me?"

Though the thought of joining such a dangerous organization weighed him down, Anton let the speaker's words penetrate and resonate in his now open mind. There was an air of truth to the speech and though he was no leader, the courier solidified his growing resolve. He would, indeed, join the resistance and help to overthrow the Prae occupation once and for all. Just as he began to raise his hand however, a slight brush and push moved his body to the right a few steps. Sharply turning his head, Anton watched as a man in a waistcoat moved passed him. "Hey! Hey waistcoat! Are you looking for the proper words to say when you bump into someone? 'Cause I can certainly help you with that," Anton called out.

Charles stopped dead in his tracks for a moment. His head turned back and noting the man for the first time, his mind slowly realizing what he had done. If he hadn't been so distracted, he might’ve actually realized what he was doing and avoided this awkward situation. Being rusty, Charles tried to pacify what he worried might be anger toward him.

"Apologies, it wasn't intentional. I was actually looking for this lady, do you happen to know where she is? She's a sister of a s... a friend."

Charles had almost slipped into saying he word student, but recovered in time and resulted in only an s then a pause in his conversation. His hand held out the picture for the man to look at as his eyes panned the crowd, his ability to spot the woman (if she was here) was hindered by the massive number of bodies. He was unusually still and calm despite his age while most teenagers would be fidgeting or biting their lip from worry. When Anton took the picture, his hands were shoved into the nook of his lower back where he held them there and he waited for a reply.

Anton raised an eyebrow and crinkled his face at Charles. He had only seen the back of his head at first, but when the man in the waistcoat turned and apologized before shoving a picture in the courier's face, the shock washed over his expression; this guy was not a man. He was a kid. The courier took a step back and exhaled. He was suddenly embarrassed that he had almost gotten angry at some boy. "Uh... It's fine, it's fine," he nervously stammered, "You're looking for some girl, huh?" The courier took the picture and examined it more closely. The girl in the image was also young in age, but at least appeared to be older than the kid. She also was not bad looking, but Anton brushed the thought to the side. He had already had bad experiences stemming from finding certain women attractive. "I've never seen her before," he concluded, handing the picture back, "But I can help you look for your girlfriend. It's not like I have anything better to do at the moment." Anton sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he finished. He figured he could make up for his overreaction by at least helping the kid find this lady.

Charles wasn’t surprised at the reaction, through he appreciated the man’s control and prevented him from likely getting a beating. He had that happen a few times from cocky adults or kids that refused to act their age. This forced him to either take a beating or sidestep the situation completely before vanishing elsewhere.

After a moment or two of looking, Charles ceased examining the room. It was now that he noticed how odd his wording sounded and how rusty he was since the registration act. He never had to pretend to act his appearing age when he signed up and that allowed employment within ZUMA to be made easier for the rest of his life. Or at least for how long the school stood.

He took the picture when it was handed back. Depositing it into his pocket, Charles then blinked at Anton’s mention about the woman being his girlfriend. Wasn’t that sort of illegal? He thought, shocked a bit by the assumption, and suddenly snapped out of his less than appropriate mindset. His words started to stutter a bit in his attempt to correct the man’s impressions. Naturally his voice turned up one or two octaves as his hands waved in front of him, seeming to ward it away with a few gestures. "N-no, she's not my girlfriend. Just a friend's sister. I don't even know the young lady and I'm likely not compatible."

Anton chuckled and rolled his eyes slightly. The kid spoke like he was some elderly man. Looking over the horizon of the crowd, the courier swept away the awkward moment and pulled out his phone. The display instantly lit with the information that voicemail messages had been missed. A cold shutter crawled over the man's skin as he knew it could only be Rose attempting to get in touch with him again so she could finish her profanity-laden tirade. With that realization, a new vigor rejuvenated Anton's voluntary efforts to help the strange kid. Anything would be better than calling Rose back.

"Look kid, it's alright if you think she's out of your league, but don't write yourself off so easily. Besides, when you get older you'll realize women aren't exactly... " Anton trailed as a mental image of Rose popped into his head. He shuttered once more, this time visibly. "Let's just say that you'll learn their true nature eventually. For now, let's just focus on finding this girl." The courier scanned the wide, spacious room for a few seconds before noting that the old structure still had metallic support beams in place.

Tilting his head when Anton pulled out his phone, Charles arched his eyebrow in question. His eyes narrowed in concern and curiosity, but he didn’t give voice to his urges to inquire about it. It was none of his business in the end. Instead he leaned back and tried to slouch, something his body protested about with a spark of slight pain in his posture. He didn’t know how half his students managed to do this, let alone tolerate it. Sucking in his breath, he tried to ignore the hurt but it wasn't as easy as he had hoped. Even though it was humorous that he had experienced much worse than this when he was in war.

Charles shifted back, taking an instinctive step back when he noted the shutter. He barely realized he had done it as it was a natural reaction from another time, namely when the Black Plague came in short burst until the 19th century and he was paranoid about getting ill. It might’ve not killed him but the effects were...nasty to endure. Thankfully that was also the era it went extinct, much to his relief, making him happy he was dead asleep through it. He quickly tried to plead with the man to understand he wasn’t being modest or being outclassed in the art of love, but it wasn’t easy without spelling out the fact he was over 1400 years old. “I think you’re missing my point…”

A small smirk spread across his visage as the courier turned back to Charles. "There! You see," A rigid finger pointed at a support beam near the corner of the warehouse, "Obviously it'd be easier to find someone in a thick crowd if you get to a higher vantage point. I'll climb that beam and use my phone camera to zoom in and see what I can see from above. You just stay at the base and I'll shout out to you if I find her." A sturdy palm slapped the back of Charles' back as Anton took off with a brisk walk towards the beam he had set his sights on.

Unnoticed by Anton, Charles was pressing his right hand to his temple to hide his face. He was slowly massaging it and inhaling gradually, exhaling the stress out. He was starting to realize he wouldn’t get very far since the man didn’t believe he wasn’t sixteen. Personally, the professor was wondering if it was a blessing or curse that the man hadn’t realized something was strange with his phrasing during their conversation. Though he was pretty positive that the man just didn't mention it or overlooked it. His eyes shifted up and frowned at Anton’s next gesture, feeling a sickening sensation rattle in his middle over the next statement.

Charles immediately shifted his eyes to where his new ally was pointing. He was distracted enough that when Anton’s slap connected with his back, his feet moved forward a step and he barely caught his balance. Before he could state his protest at the friendly gesture, the stranger was off. What had he gotten himself into? Charles thought bitterly while he pushed forward and tried to keep within Anton’s wake, his steps carefully placed to avoid being tripped. At least the man was more helpful than the last three as they merely looked then ignored him, determining their own business was much more important than finding a missing girl who was possibly in danger just being here.

Ducking and weaving the best he could through the crowd’s tight population, he started a conversation while they made their way to the beam. “I was rude earlier by not introducing myself, my name is Charles. I didn’t get your name, sir.”

Anton chuckled again. "I really haven't met a kid like you before. Name's Anton, Charles. Nice to meet ya I suppose." As they neared the beam, a soft vibration sent shivers through the courier's veins. He glanced back at Charles who was trailing only a few feet behind him before pulling out his black slate. The display lit and a few taps opened the messages screen. Captial letters filled a small yellow speech box on the screen and what they spelled out caused Anton's eyes to widen. He swallowed hard though the feeling of a lump in his throat did not dissipate. There was going to be a lot to answer for later, but it was in this same moment that the beam suddenly appeared tall and looming above the duo. The courier pocketed his phone and immediately began his ascension. There was no point in waiting after all and Charles' mannerisms slightly freaked him out; he decided to let the natural pause in conversation extend a bit longer.

Anton reached the apex of the beam quickly and situated himself in such a way that he could retain one free hand. That hand grabbed the phone once more and initiated the camera app. With a mental image of the girl fresh in his mind's eye, the courier began scanning the crowd.

Avalon: A Tale of Arthurian Legend

Just finished reading the twist myself and man, I didn't see it coming either. As others have said though, I think it presents an interesting angle for the narrative to explore. I'm personally all for this type of subversion of expectation so I'm excited.

Avalon: A Tale of Arthurian Legend

I'm still here as well.

Avalon: A Tale of Arthurian Legend

Posted! Sorry for taking so long.

Avalon: A Tale of Arthurian Legend

The sun was beaming, but Ronan paid little attention to the weather. He held his mare at a casual trot as he neared a large stone bridge with Camelot looming on the other side like a massive stone watchmen. He had taken his hood down right after leaving the village, his short brown hair and blue eyes gleaming in the sun. His recently trimmed beard was still as short as he liked to keep it, but he also had not changed his clothing. Unlike most other knights, Ronan kept his plate within the walls of Camelot. When not performing knightly duties, he preferred to look more like a mercenary as his extracurricular activities would lead one to believe. His weapons, however, hung loosely on each side of his mare, the large mount able to carry all the weight due to its sheer size. Ronan had bred the steed from its younger years and it was the only horse he would ride anymore - Gaela, was her name.

Gaela and her equally large owner crossed the bridge came to the gates where the city guard stood watch. Unlike other places, the guard at Camelot always looked attentive and ready to fulfill their duty. It was a testament to the rigid structure of the great city that its guard were not wholly lazy or unprepared in their aesthetic and mannerism. Ronan pulled gently on the reins and slowed to a stop as a halting gesture from the knights - a normal procedure - prompted him to do so. One of the men, carrying a large spear, marched over to the side of the mare. "State your business," he ordered. Ronan was silent for a moment before a chuckle escaped his lips. The guard raised an eyebrow.

"My attire does well to disguise my identity, fair guard," Ronan began, "However... One would think a resident of this great city would recognize a knight."

The guard took a step back and looked into Ronan's face only to be met with a scowl. He straightened up immediately, surprise all over his face. "S-Sir Ronan! My deepest apologies, I did not intend--"

"Tis fine, fair guard," The amused knight interrupted, "Do make sure not to repeat such mistakes however. Lest you incur the wrath of a certain virgin clad in black plate." Ronan saluted the guard with two fingers and steered his mare through the gates and into the city. As he hitched his mare to a stable nearby and jumped down to the ground, the air around King's Mall filled the man with wonder. Off duty, Ronan spent little time within the city walls so every time he would return it would feel like the first time all over again. He marveled at the sights and smells and all the people gathered and going about their business. This day was also particularly business because news of the returning knights was spreading amongst the common-folk and many more bodies than usual stuffed the Mall in order to get a glimpse.

Strapping the unreasonably large and cloth wrapped Mace to his back via a strap which crossed his chest, Ronan made a beeline in the direction of his gathering fellows. He recognized Sir Delwin and some of the others immediately. As he neared, he put on a smile. He couldn't be gruff all the time of course. "Ah, brothers and sisters!" He nearly shouted, "Tis a fine day to be out in this open air. I trust all of you are well and such?"

⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱

A n t o n D r a g o m i r o v

_{O M I N A R
~ The Rooftops ~}

---

-{}- Even in the face of uncertainty, one must simply . . . B r e a t h e -{}-

---

---

As he stood on the ledge and gazed out over the light bathed horizon, only one calming thought appeared in the forefront of Anton's mind:

The cityscape was a beautiful sight to behold, indeed.

With a slight grin that immediately exhaled an audible gruff, Anton fell purposely to find an impromptu seat on the edge of one of the taller buildings in the city. He sighed once more and pulled around the messenger bag on his back. There was not much to see within the medium-sized, black and red pack, but an older and worn looking book emerged before the bag slid back around to its previous position. The hazel-eyed man impatiently leafed through the tome seemingly looking for some specific page before he finally settled somewhere near the middle. Despite having the same look, his eyes drank up the words they surely tasted once before for a moment before averting to the sky above as Anton fell backwards and laid himself out. The day was clear, the weather was tolerable, and the few clouds there were crawled slowly in an eastern direction, but the annoyed courier beneath them was not satisfied. "Screw it all. Just screw it," he muttered to himself as a soft vibration on his chest caught his attention.

Reluctantly erecting himself into a sitting position on the ledge once more - jean legs and sneakers dangling in the air - Anton reached into his inner jacket pocket and brandished a large black slate. The screen brightened under the light of the sun, but he tapped the display and put it straight to his ear rather than take a look at the caller ID. He already knew who was calling. "Let me guess. They're complaining, right?" He nonchalantly spoke into the speaker of the phone. A rustling of papers seemed to smear over the earpiece eliciting an eye roll from Anton before a female voice finally replied.

"The hell do you think? Of course they're complaining you jackass!" She shouted. Anton sighed.

"You know, you really should take it easier in life. With that kind of attitude you'll only end up with grey hair before your time."

"The only thing I'll end up with is an eviction notice and a prescription to Adderall fuckin' with you. Do you hate money now, too? We already know you have something against my sanity."

"Don't be like that, Rose. It was just a detour. It was supposed to--"

"I know, I know, it was supposed to be a shortcut right? But something always happens. What happened this time? Actually, don't even tell me. Don't even disrespect my ears anymore than you already have. Just deliver the damn package. I swear, if you weren't the only who could get passed the patrols discreetly, I would never even work with your unprofessional ass."

Anton stretched a bit and slowly stood on top of the ledge overlooking another rooftop that was lower in height - though not too much lower - than the building he was on, but not too far away for a jump. "Yeah you would," he replied adjusting the strap of his bag across his chest, "My charming disposition and winning personality makes this kind of job bearable for an operator like you."

Rose audibly sucked her teeth. "Like hell they do, just hurry up. You're cutting it close as shit," she said before a click and a dial tone echoed. Anton chuckled and returned his phone to the interior of his brown jacket. He had never been late on a delivery a single time, but he truly did enjoy giving his operator a heart attack. He backed off the ledge and grabbed the strewn tome, placing it back in his bag, before turning to face the edge of the roof once more. He was only a few feet from it, but he never needed that much of a running start. With a brief exhale and focus in his mind of the duty at hand, Anton launched forward with a burst of speed and energy, toed the ledge, and pushed himself far into the air. Wind ruffled his hair as he descended toward the lower rooftop with increasing velocity. The excitement building within pulled a smile onto the man's face as he neared his landing. Legs outstretched and held together, as soon as his sneakers made contact, the ground below began to change rapidly. Hardened cement rippled and pulsated in places where Anton's body touched down in a shoulder roll the on-foot courier had performed thousands of times before. The phenomenon occurred until he came up from his roll and shifted immediately into a forward sprint. Indentations left from the landing slowly reformed into the flat, hardened concrete it was before - much like a soft mattress after one gets up.

A few more brazen jumps and a quick slide down a pipe on the side of a building brought the courier to ground level. Ignoring bewildered bystanders and cars, Anton sped across a four-lane street, vaulting over the hood of a parked car before disappearing into an alley directly across from it. Brick walls, transformer boxes, and the odd homeless or shady hooded guy zoomed by in the peripheral vision of the speedy delivery boy as he navigated between obstacles, up over and fences, and around corners which led into narrow stretches. The route through the back-alleys was one that Anton was extremely familiar with and one that allowed him to reach most of his regular clients quicker. The particular recipient of the package he currently held was an older man with little to no patience. He was an alleged member of a small-time mob that specialized in money lending. The less fortunate would be granted loans despite their past histories and with exorbitant interest rates that would suddenly skyrocket only a few days after their initial contract acceptance. Most of those who were granted the illegitimate loans would not be able to pay them back anyway, but the fact that they got hit with a repayment notice within the first week was especially underhanded. Of course, none of this was Anton's business.

Anton worked as a courier simply due to the fact that it paid well and he was capable of properly working with more dangerous types. The morality of his various clients was of no concern to him and as long as he got his full payday, his silence was usually assured. Even when he did not get his payday, the better answer was always to handle the situation internally rather than involve authorities. Local law enforcement was bad enough, but god forbid a bored Prae enforcement officer somehow caught wind and got involved; the result would not be good for either party. Anton finally began to slow down as he sighted the establishment he was looking for. He emerged from an alley onto a bustling sidewalk and took a moment to regain his breath.

The building across the street was a simple storefront built in the midst of other random businesses on either side. A glass window, slightly recessed into a red brick wall on the right side of the door, was painted with large white letters that read Easy Loans. It was impossible to see through the window due to shuttered blinds just inside, but people always seemed to be going in and out. Anton shook his head, wondering whether those interested really did not know the reputation of the place or they were just too desperate to care. Adjusting his jacket under the strap across his chest a bit, he checked the time on his phone and crossed the street. He was one minute late. There was a first time for everything.

A quaint bell announced his presence as the courier strolled through and raised an eyebrow. He was always curious as to why the business was not as updated as most other places. The floor was laid with white and black tile that caused any type of shoe to echo a sort of clop sound when a body entered while the walls were painted a strange white and olive color scheme with an antique ceiling fan hanging in the upper middle of the open space. All in all, the interior was not very big with only a front desk at the left from the entrance and a line of chairs on the right wall. Just beyond that were two doors opposite one another. The door on the right wall led to a bigger area with cubicles to handle different customers and their loan needs. The door on the left was the only door Anton ever entered as it led to several different portions of the building, one of them being the room he needed to get to. Swaggering passed the front desk with his hands pocketed, Anton gave the half-attentive woman manning the station a knowing look and she nodded towards the left door - no spoken greeting meant Mack was pissed.

Malachi Brenson, better known as Mack, was the owner of Easy Loans and an alleged member of a small-time mob. Unlike most gangster types, he was not a very imposing man. His bald, rough, and grizzled looking visage was more round than defined and found itself attached to a medium-sized, flabby torso with slender arms and stubby looking legs. To add to his non-threatening physicality, he was also a few inches shy of six feet tall. In this case, however, the mobster had proven capable in spite of his lackluster appearance. The whispered rumors spoken in hushed tones said that Mack's propensity for violence combined with his surprisingly charismatic personality meant that what he lacked in physically imposing prowess, he more than made up for in loyal followers and weapons that got any job he wanted, in the city, done. The Brenson family in general were all known for their astounding leadership qualities and capacity to get things handled in the face of insurmountable odds - in that regard, Mack was just living up to the reputation his surname carried. On this particular day, he was currently deciding whether to live up to that reputation in a loud or quiet manner.

The knife slid under the skin of the apple fluidly as Mack methodically peeled his golden delicious. Two distinct knocks pierced the near silence of the office and a quick nod sent a generic looking henchman over to the door to welcome the guest. Anton took just enough steps forward to allow the door to close behind him and he opted to wait a moment while the henchman returned to his post - a sign of respect to wait to be acknowledged and told to come forward. He was greeted with the same black-finish, wooden desk and grey carpet he had become accustomed to seeing every time he delivered a package to Easy Loans. The office was also just as small as he remembered with the two guards standing on either side of the desk looking as if they felt cramped in their respective positions and only about fifteen feet between the door and the desk at the end of the room. Even the dim lighting of the circular fixtures in the ceiling flickered every once in a while. To Anton, it was a painfully shitty kind of place, but Mack had always said it was not his actual base of operations.

"Ya know why I peel the skin off my apples before I eat'em? It ain't like I have anything against the skin," Mack said calmly, still focused on peeling. Anton pulled his hands out of his pockets to let them hang naturally while mentally groaning. It seemed like it was time for another one of Mack's ramblings.

"Nope. No idea."

"It's 'cause even though I got nothin' against the outside of the apple, sometimes I just don't like to deal with the shit it brings. It gets stuck in your teeth, it can be annoying to chew, et cetera, et cetera." The knife came to a stop just as the last bit of skin fell off onto the pile resting on a portion of the desk. Mack set it down calmly.

"Well, that's absolutely fascinating. I got this package though, so I should probably just leave this here and be on my way," Anton replied as he unveiled a small white box from his bag and began to move forward towards the desk. The guards on either side took step forward as the courier got close prompting the hazel-eyed man to stop.

"See, that's where I'm at with this relationship we got goin' here. I got nothing against the guy who brings me my packages personally, but I'm feelin' like I'd rather deal with the company directly, ya know? Then I wouldn't have deal with shit like my fucking deliveries not gettin' here on time." Mack sat back in his large, leather chair and interlocked his fingers. Each guard took another step closer. Anton was silent for a moment before he chuckled. Mack had no visible reaction.

"As much I'd love to make a rebuttal to that, the thing is, you know I'm on a schedule. Besides, as we both already know, I'm the only person who bothers to even bring your shit anymore. Or did you forget that you've dealt with or alienated every single other person? We're in hard times right now with the Prae and all their crap and I'm the only guy who can still get here at all. Oh, look. I made a rebuttal anyway. Now, you going to hold up your end or are we going to have to work this out right here and now?" Anton folded his arms and waited. Mack did not move for a moment, before a sly grin stretched onto his face.

"Look at this, boys. The only man who can talk like this to me and get away with it. I'm goin' soft." Mack opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a small piece of paper. At the same time, Anton placed the package on the other side of the desk as the guards took a step back. Though Mack was truly a man to be feared, Anton had something of a special relationship with him. That, and this package he was waiting on was more important than usual which prompted the courier to ask for something in return for the first time. Little did his operator know, this something was in lieu of the usual cash payment. She was not going to be happy.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Anton said as he picked up the paper. Mack waved him off and his guards escorted the courier to and out the door.

"The Navigator huh... Shit. He still made it passed the patrols. What a fucking guy," Mack muttered to himself.

Once he hit the cold light of the sun once more, Anton hurriedly looked at the paper; he was pleased to see that Mack had delivered. The small sheet had a location written in neat handwriting. It was supposed to be the location to a potential meeting of like-minded individuals. Individuals who disliked the Prae occupation to the point that they felt they needed to take action - to actually do something about it. Although the courier had never thought about getting involved in such a way before, the rumors of a resistance had intrigued him. With the supposed location in tow, Anton took off at a light jog towards another back-alley.

Even though the meeting place was apparently on the outskirts of the city, it still had not taken long for The Navigator to arrive. He had earned his moniker for a reason, after all. The warehouse was aged and abandoned, but at this moment it seemed like it was more lively than it had been in years. Anton casually strolled inside and slowed down immensely. He gawked at the sheer amount of people in attendance as he eyes darted from left to right and back trying to discern any familiar or interesting faces. Apart from those who looked like they weren't really human, Anton relaxed more when he did not see anyone he knew. What would his family think of him now if they knew he was at a meeting for the dissenters who disliked the government? He had never considered himself an anarchist, but he was interested in hearing what was to be said. At the very least, he had come with an ulterior motive. At that moment, a soft vibration on his chest caught his attention.

"What. The. Fuck. Anton?" Rose intoned. Anton smiled sheepishly at nothing in particular.

"You gotta understand... That my battery is dying and I'll call you back," Anton replied before tapping the end call button on his display. He sighed as he knew he would have to hear it later and turned his attention back to the meeting he assumed would be starting soon. While he wanted more information on this possible resistance, what he really wanted was to meet other humans who used magic in an effort to try and understand his own abilities. He wanted the thing other human mages had that he had never possessed and he thought this would be the place to point him in the right direction - the direction to finding his very own Focus.