JunkMail

---

I cant wait to die multiple times.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

T H E P R O M I S E

---

She was so close that she could taste success. Months of work and planning coming to fruition.

Arianna lived for that. The exhilaration of out playing and out maneuvering everyone at every step. Knowing exactly what everyone else was thinking because she herself was six steps ahead of them at any given time. Lying, and cheating, scheming, and stealing... whatever it took to get that rush. These days she didn't experience much else, and so she cherished that feeling that she could only equate to adrenaline. Feeling so little so often meant that she had almost become addicted to the chase- and with it the ebb and flow. Like a drug that hit so hard and felt so good with that weird sweet pain that it made the rest of reality seem blunted and gray. She busied herself, always.

Arianna however, did not view herself as evil. Just... uncaring. Or maybe even self serving. Sure, she had pulled a bank heist just last week, and she had killed and killed and killed... but she forged legal documents for people attempting to buy homes, filled out job applications for others who couldn't save themselves, serviced countries, removed warlords and despots from their positions, and had at many points aimed ammunition towards the right kind of bad people. She was, in her own mind, a free agent.

And with freedom came the Lucifer effect.

This was, as all things were, a job. The job was almost done. Get in, make subject ID 'Merlin' give a man the ability to go from human to parahuman at will, and go home to collect payment. She had, as she always had, cheated, schemed, and stole her way to the top. Quite literally too. 'Merlin' lived atop the tallest tower at the end of the highest point of the spire, kept behind a steel jungle full of locked doors, fingerprint IDs, and retina scanners. She had been tasked, a knight errand (well, more of a mercenary), to find Rapunzel. There was something poetic about that.

When she finally made it through those airtight doors of six foot steel she was greeted with a feeling that she hadn't felt before. It was alien and incredibly familiar. Arianna felt like she was doing something very, very wrong. As if she was a child in a government building she have no business being in. As if someone was going to come and arrest her somehow, or shoot her in the back of the head with one of those nullification weapons, at any second. Arianna tried to brush it off, but the feeling got stronger and stronger as she paced to the opposite door- steal and lead just as thick as the last door was, and that's when she realized that she couldn't hear anything anymore. Like some awful tinnitus that was far, far more oppressive.

And then she heard it, the soft hum of music that somehow permeated through those the sterile white walls thicker than she was tall. She approached the final door, which opened uncontested. The soft music didn't change in volume, impossibly. But she was greeted with another assault on her senses. The room smelt.

But it didn't smell bad. It smelt... good. Arianna's whole body ached in sudden agony, her equivalent of a thunderclap headache. Bergamot, a base of lavender, oakmoss, hints of patchouli. 'You've always loved this one. It's called Life's a Breeze'

It smelt like home. Memories she didn't have.

The door closed behind her (when had she walked through it?).

She remembers sleeping beneath the trees. She remembers dreaming. She remembers being happy. She remembers the ocean, the salty-sweet mists and the waves embedded with turquoise. She remembers a lavender sky, a setting sun. She remembers singing to the jaded hills and the thistle coated clouds. She remembers his laughter, which reminded her of cornsilk and wheat fields. I'll take you there someday, she wanted him to say.

She especially remembers his eyes, wide and bright when he smiled, full of promise and holding the innocence of all the world.

But what she remembers most is the silence of each early morning, when the sun rises one ribbon at a time and the whole world is at peace. She remembers sighing, she remembers smiling. The candy pink clouds make no complaint to her authenticity and absorb all the sound around her like cotton—all except for the beating of her heart, because the heart is never silent. It's almost strange; she flutters her hand over her skin, and the lack of stark silence telling of an empty chest tells her what she fails to believe. Its there, a heartbeat from an organ she quite literally no longer possessed. For the first time since, Arianna found herself truly missing that familiar sound. The thump, thump, thump—its absence had always been a sort of constant in her life, but it was different now. The subtle drum in her chest felt like a steady reminder of who she was and why she was and what she was meant to be.

"Ms. Jervious?"

Arianna was suddenly struck with overwhelming vertigo. As if up was down and left was up and right with diagonal. Her legs felt weaker and she suddenly needed to sit down. She fell back haphazardly- into the sheets of a bed. Her bed. She felt her fingers run over the familiar stitching and of her sheets. This was so wrong, and so right and so-

"Who, how, where-"

She forced herself to focus on the little boy in front of her. He had short, but nearly combed brown hair. He had soft features like all young children, but what struck her the most was his eyes. Big beautiful orbs, the one on the right a shade of blue that was almost iridescent, and the left a spring green that would make the fields of Ireland jealous. He gave her a toothy grin- the kind only children could give when they were too innocent for their own good.

"We're in Shanklin, on the Isle of Wight. Its... 2022, I think." the he explained. "I'm Matthew."

She looked at him strangely. This place was familiar. She had been in the UK so many times for various things but she had never been hit in the gut-brain like this before. She had just been in space, dozens of miles in the sky. Was this his home? "Yours, actually." Matthew said, replying to her thoughts as if she had said them out loud. Her head snapped from her surroundings to the little boy before her and it dawned upon her that she had traveled thousands of miles and back in time without even realizing it. All of this was not even to mention the the strange drum of familiarity that was in her chest.

"Matthew, are you who I think you are?"

The boy seemed pensive, but was truthful. "I am."

"Why are we here?"

"Because when I looked into you, I saw a million things that were lost."

Arianna's hand clenched the bed sheets at his mention of this. She gathered some of the blanket and pulled it up to her face. When she inhaled, she could smell the fabric softener and cleaner. The scent of her home, and the scent of herself. It was dizzying. "Why did you take me here?"

"Ms. Jervious, we never left The Promise."

"Then what is this?"

"I..." Matthew began, opening and closing his mouth like he was trying to form words. "I wanted to show you what you were looking for. I can't change the past but.. I can give you a snapshot."

She looked to the boy and realized at once that there was nothing she could do to him. In front of her was a reality warping, time hopping, perception defining being that- while in theory could fulfill her job, couldn't be forced to do a thing. He likely stayed on The Promise because it was all he had ever known. Just like how she had chased that feeling of superiority. To feel alive.

"And the view." Matthew said offhandedly. Arianna released her sheets and tentatively stood up off the bed she was seated on. It felt weird, standing on two feet again.

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Because you wont remember it, but you'll remember the feeling." he said, almost too quickly. "And you have... a bigger part to play. So I wanted you to feel it again." he explained cryptically. He looked out the window of her room, a sad smile on her face. "I'm afraid whatever home down on Earth that you may have will be even less welcoming when you return." That caught her by surprise. Arianna hadn't often felt threatened. Even now when faced with a literal demigod, she wasn't feeling in any particular danger. However, there was a grave undertone to his little voice that rubbed her the wrong way. She hated when people did that- act as if they knew something that she didn't. "What do you mean?" She asked.

"That officer," Matthew said. "He started a chain of events that can't really be stopped now. You might want to look over the work of a certain Trevor Norton. His research might be of interest to you. More so than I ever was." Matthew explained. He gave her another sad smile and sighed. "Our time is coming to a close, Ms. Jervious."

"I don't want to go." she said without thinking. She didn't want to leave this. She didn't want to go back to being that. Not if she could just be normal again. She had always been jealous of how many other parahumans had kept who they were.

"I don't want to take you." he replied, and shook his head. "But... the final act calls, you don't want to miss your bow. Not for the part you've played."

And then, all at once, she was in that silent, stark white room again. That strange purgatory separated from the rest of reality by six feet of steel on either side. The doors leading to the room that she had been in but had never seen were closed. If she listened really hard, she could hear the music playing. There was a beat, and for reasons she couldn't discern she raised a hand to her chest and was greeted with more silence.

She turned on her heel and marched with a mission. Away from the music and the mission. She couldn't remember why, she couldn't even remember past half an hour, but she could feel that it wasn't the right course. Not anymore. She had a new objective: Figure out who Trevor Norton was, and what part he played in all of this.

It was time for a whole new game to begin.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

Archie

---

"Archie, can you hear me? It's Natalie. I'm here. Because we made a promise to each other to never let each other go too far. Remember that?"

It's desperate, it's needy, it's paranoia wrapped in fear with anxiety on top.

It saw her, but it saw her, what she was those days ago in his mind's eye. He felt her touching his hand in her beautiful homecoming dress that was dirtied because he, a silly, stupid country boy decided to take her to a bonfire rather than a dance.

"Archie, please."

It's a name, it's a calling, it's a worry, it's an ask, it's a prayer to a god he doesn't know if he believes in but would happily sacrifice everything to if it meant that he didn't have to be this.

It was weird. When the giant fought, he didn't remember the details. He certainly didn't remember the fear. The reptile was strong, fast, fierce. It would bounce back from nearly everything short of anti-material ordinance. It didn't think, or feel, or care if people had families or thoughts. It was driven by pure and unadulterated desire to survive and dominate. Archie, on the other hand, was just a man. A young man who cared too much and thought about too little. He could be manipulated and hurt and there was sometimes nothing he could or would do about it. The world goes white. The scent of iron burns in his nose.

The searing pain in his shoulder returns as if he'd been shot again. The mammoth reptile steps back and away, but doesn't immediately turn. The adrenaline, the pain, the scent of blood fills the air so thoroughly it tastes like he's sucking on a coin. It’s too silent, it's too loud, it's too bare, it's too raw, it’s too broken, it's too bloody. For the first time in his life Archie, the real, human Archie is at home in the reptile's body, in control rather than held over by emotion, but unaccustomed to the sensory overload. He bellows, pounding the ground on accident with a meteor sized fist. He didn't turn back to his human state, but he didn't have to. Within moments of the giants retreat the doors to the launch bay were opened, and the reptile was filled with enough sedative to put an elephant down by the first wave of guards. Archie went down hard, and did not get back up again.

The first on the scene was Gennedy, who directed first-responders to the prone forms of the girls. Lynn and Amelia were already being loaded onto stretchers and hauled off to the hospital, and the survivors of the launch bay wouldn't be far behind them. The world was spinning. Everything was too bright, too fast, too sudden. Healers were working overtime, not spread quite as thin as they had been during the breakout but the injuries were just as severe.

---

_{And drop me down to the dream below, 'cause I'm only a crack in this...}

---

C A S T L E O F G L A S S

---

Gennedy puts the phone down, and sighs into his hands. Utterly exhausted.

It had been five days since the incident that had rocked the world, and The Promise was reeling as much as parahumans down on Earth were. The world had all of its preconceived notions of that the space station was, shattered during the attack- which had been live streamed from the perspectives of several of the shooters. The world had seen what happened before they had even cleaned up the bodies. Thousands of people watched their children die, or be injured. The PR department was likely experiencing what could only be described as a nightmare in real life.

But the worst came with how the world reacted to it. Sure, there were those that reached forward to help. Donations, charity, words of endless affirmation... but it was drowned out by what felt like an overwhelming outcry. Parahumans were, in the best countries around the world, second class citizens. Similar enough to the far more common humans to not be outright exterminated but different enough to be detested. A successful attack on what had been considered the most secure establishment from external pressures in human history had bolstered the confidence of other groups with similar ideologies to The Silent Court's. Rather than direct the resources and energy into dealing with that caused such syndicates to rise (which was to say, the lack of proper relief from incidents), Parahumans- the easy scapegoats that they were, were blamed.

Too dangerous to themselves and the world around them. Too destructive to property and person. A person with power abused it and thus invited the challenge of power. The rate at which academy programs were attacked increased, and it seemed as though the world was returning to a level of strife that it had not seen since the days when Parahumans first appeared on Earth.

The world was changing again.

Academy programs became more militant across the board. What had once been establishments that taught power control, were now also teaching self defense like they were some sort of special forces unit. The Promise had been no different- except martial law had become a fact of life. When The Silent Court had struck, their attack came in two parts. The first had been the attack, but the second had come later. Food, water, medical supplies… they had been compromised or destroyed or hadn’t even delivered at all. Supplies were spread thin, and after the incident rationing had become a necessity.

You got your food and water from a designated place at a designated time. What had been over the counter medication required clearance. People were to be indoors after a certain time. The works.

All things considered, the last one had been less a result of the attack and more so an upscaling of the ongoing manhunt that Jacob Radvi had pioneered before he had gotten himself shot in the skull. The evidence he had submitted had been compelling enough to warrant some degree of investigation, but now the world’s eyes were on him, and the search had intensified.

Gennedy groaned, and ran his hand along his beard, and then returned to his paperwork.

---

T H E P R O M I S E

---

"Mister Black, White, what do you think about endings?"

”Necessary.”

”Bittersweet.”

A little boy places his paintbrush down on his easel, and sighs. He turns around on his seat to face his father figures. "I was reading about the concept of the hero and the clown. How the hero struggles against unbeatable odds in spite of it. And how the clown exists to mock the hero's struggle. Sometimes I think that the desire to control works against the hero."

Black and White just glance at each other.

”The concept of ‘control’ varies greatly.”

”For many, it can be... poisonous.”

Matthew hums.

"I'll have visitors soon, seeking control, I feel."

Matthew turns to his painting and frowns. It's the point of view of a baby in their cradle, looking up at two dark figures.

"I think what they're really looking for is change."

Recollections: The Fourth Seal [Mystery/Urban-Fantasy/Horror RP]

Archie

---

Nothing and everything changed that day.

Sure, on one hand it was... weirdly comforting knowing that he wasn't alone in this world. It was nice to find that despite everything that had happened to him, losing his wife, his daughter, becoming the horrible _thing_ that resided inside of him... it was a change of pace to feel less alone in this world. The thoughts and fears and emotions that he felt while not entirely unfounded had the most capacity to make him feel connected as well as alone. Until that strange purple light he had been completely unaware that there were any others like him. Granted, the others seemed to be far from abominations, but he would take what he could get.

Delivering that Kayla girl home had been... something. She was pale, probably more so due to exertion than blood loss- although he hadn't seen a nose bleed quite like hers in some time. She had only been semi-coherent in the car ride home. Enough to give him a general sense of direction before conking out and leaving a nice print of her cheek on his car door's window. She practically had to be carried in, and despite himself he was reminded of his university days when he had to help someone back from the bar like a drunk friend of his wi-

Archie tensed, and gripped his steering wheel so hard his knuckled turned white. He hated when that happened. He hated that he did it to himself most of the time. His penchant for self destruction and self inflicted isolation had flared up since the two loves of his life passed. Who could blame him? Inherently he was a man who was robbed of the two people who had made him feel more than he ever had in his life before and since them. His hands relaxed and he breathed out- doing his best to calm that dark thing inside him that coiled around his heart and stirred whenever the memories brought him back to that horrible day.

When he had delivered Kayla to her home, he had been surprised by the lack of greeted from anything other than the dog- which had regarded him with careful intent. Huskies were smart, he knew that, but the way this dog looked at him was unnerving. As if it was thinking and calculating beyond the comprehension of a predator. He had felt the big guy flash its own fangs, which brought the edges of his lips up in what was an attempt at a smile but was more of a grimace. The dog had, at that point written him off and gave him space. Yet it maintained its constant gaze, and he felt its eyes piercing his back from when he deposited Kayla on the couch of her room until he left that house.

Retrieving his boat was another matter, but all things considered it was fairly easy. It had been moored when he had been thrust out of this world and into another so unless something had happened to destroy the anchor or chain it shouldn't have moved. And it hadn't. Navigating the river via a rented dingy was simple enough. If the boat had been any closer than it was, he probably just would've swam. The river ran cold this time of year but...

Whatever it was, it took care of the cold.

But it had been broad daylight and despite his growing comfort with the thing that dwells inside him after the events of the previous few days, he was not comfortable enough to do that anytime soon.

Archie navigated the boat with practiced ease, scanning the water and riverbanks for any signs of life or activity or something to keep him distracted. Winds were nonexistent, and he knew the river like the back of his hand. He could navigate it with his eyes closed, and over the past six months he had found monotony to be a bad thing. Anything easy meant that he didn't have to think about it, and if he didn't have to think about things it meant he was going to be alone in his thoughts. That was not something he wanted anytime soon.

Thankfully, or maybe not thankfully, he heard a scream from the woods. Now, Archie was a simple man. You hear a woman scream, you do what you can to help. In a town with mysterious disappearances and equally mysterious killers, people had to look out for one another. If he had been in any other situation he might have called the police before dropping anchor and making for the shoreline and into the woods to help, but he wasn't any other person. He had been too and survived whatever distortion world they had been sent to, and if he was being perfectly frank he wasn't particularly worried about being killed by The Horde. He had nothing to lose.

That and- he housed something with bigger teeth.

He came crashing through the woods and into Rita's just in time to catch the last of the shadowy wisps and rotten stench of whatever had caught his attention. Something inside Archie leered in the direction it had gone. He knew that smell and could sense that presence by instinct- as if the thing inside him was screaming caution.

Archie had seen it before when it had called to him from the riverbank. He hadn't succumbed to it then.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He said, grabbing Rita's arm and stopping her from her stupid death march. Archie recognized her- she was one of the girls who had been in that other world with them. He didn't know what that entity was trying to lure her to, but she couldn't have been smart if she was so easily following it. The disregard for her own health with all the strange things going on all around them... it worried him to no end. "You're going to get yourself ki-"

Archie trailed off, finally turning his head from where the Shuck had gone to look at Rita. The frustration died in his throat.

She was obviously worse for ware. He vaguely remembered her mentioning that she wasn't from Araminta, and the pieces clicked into place when his eyes flashed to the shack. She was dirty, and smelt like she hadn't bathed in days- which was probably not far from the truth. He didn't see any fire pit, or anything that could be used to contain water. She probably hadn't eaten much of anything since he had seen her last, and if her sunken eyes were anything to go by if she had drank anything it had to have been straight from the river. That meant she likely had dehydrated herself even further with what no doubt came after. She wasn't in the right state of mind. She was likely dazed, confused, and ill.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Okay, just... Just sit down." Archie said, forgetting about the Shuck and his own worries and focusing all of his energy on her. He lead her to the steps of the shack and with gentle pressure to the shoulders, sat her down. He knelt down in front of her. "Do you remember me? My name is Archie. You were with me when-" When we got teleported to some horrible parody of this town. "When we were in that strange place. Listen, you're not well. I have food and water on my boat. Would you like that?"

This girl was going to be in a bad way, if she wasn't already. If she had drank from the river she'd need to be checked out by a doctor. But first a foremost she would need something to keep her from getting worse.

Recollections: The Fourth Seal [Mystery/Urban-Fantasy/Horror RP]

Archie and Kayla

---

Archie's world was peaceful, comparative to the rest of the groups. While they dealt with yelling and blood and fear, Archie saw... nothing at all. He felt, physically, very little- but he could hear the world around him in stereo. He heard the shapes of their bodies in the dark when they yelled and could see their very souls keeping them alive. He saw the heat in their chests and the pinpoint flashes of electricity coursing through their veins telling their muscles to get up and strand up and run or fight and to keep moving forward. It was surreal, because it was like he was far away and right there all at once.

His world was brought alight by an explosion of sound the left his head ringing- brought about by being in such close proximity to the very man he was trying to save- who launched into Archie. They both fell, but didn't move from the rooted spot where Archie had taken hold- the roots of his being having anchored him into somewhat of an immovable object. While the tinnitus in his ears rang and faded away, Archie marveled at the fact that he could see everything.

And then feared for how many he saw coming for them.

The entity inside him stirred further- more in interest than anything else. Wherever it had come from, and whatever it may be, well, this was home. Or at least something close to it. These shadowy beings were lesser beings serving the will of something greater.

"You're welcome." Archie said to Terry, his voice coarser and deeper than any humans. Entities were gathering around them all now, and unbeknownst to Archie himself he had lost the ability to hold back as much as he had been. Numerous tendrils of some sort of tar like substance surged out of the space between his shoulder blades and down his spine, jagged and composed of some sort of shifting matter that seemed to constrict and solidity and then liquidate at will. They coiled like snakes ready to strike and shot out into the crowd of entities as they approached on their own accord, skewering and then tossing the offending beings away like rag dolls, using the roots they had laid at Archie's feet as a point of leverage.

Archie snapped his head towards the direction of Kayla- who he could see underneath a literally pile of these shadow monsters. She was curled in on herself as she had been before, but the beings were unable to reach her. It was as it she had some sort of protective barrier preventing them from making it within six inches of her. He could hear her screaming. He uprooted, the tendrils in his feet disappearing from the earth in an instant while the ones on his body continued to do crowd control. He felt the substance soak into his shirt, matting it to his body engorging body, but was rapidly beginning to relieve himself of the worries he had before. They were surrounded- and if it came down to survival he would do everything that became necessary. Another one of the group had changed into another state- taking flight above the crowd. Smart.

He heard Kayla's scream intensify, and then suddenly everything and everyone in the entire surrounding area within a thirty foot radius were hit with what could only be defined as the force of a bus. The entities that were on top of her were thrown fifty or more feet out and away, while those further out were taken up and off their feet as a tidal wave of telekinetic energy toss them away like a child throwing baseballs from Kayla's epicenter. Trees, stones, dirt, everything not nailed down to the ground was uprooted- including Archie himself. Even the giant sedan sized ladybug was hurled several yards through the air despite her size. Everyone else was tossed off their feet and away in an outward direction.

Archie had been ripped up and tossed maybe ten feet from his original location- and while he was definitely shaken, the tendrils and the entity inside his body had no use for directions such as up or down. He hit the ground, but the tentacles of pure ink softened the blow somewhat, spiking into the ground and careening across the ground as like a wheel- with him at the center of the dark carousel. He came to a stop, shaken but mostly okay- and without a second thought sprinted to Kayla.

Everyone was alive still- he could see their heartbeats. He could see their brains firing off electricity to their muscles. Kayla's was weak. Weaker than it had been. He reached the woman moving far faster than he should have- and then tendrils spiked the ground around her again to absorb the impact. He couldn't see her- so he couldn't see the state she was in, but her eyes were sunken from exertion and blood was flowing freely from her nose and eyes. As if her tears were wells of crimson. Archie picked Kayla up, and snapped his head in the direction that David was yelling from.

"Everyone! This way!" he roared, unable to tell if they could see or were even paying attention. The warehouse had entrances they could use as choke points- where numbers wouldnt matter as much.

Recollections: The Fourth Seal [Mystery/Urban-Fantasy/Horror RP]

Kayla and Archie

---

Kayla had, for the most part, stuck to the back of the pack. Between feeling generally uncomfortable with the unnatural familiarity of her environment and the otherworldly aspects of this world- she had decided against taking point. Those at the tip of the spear could make the mistakes, she wasn't planning on getting lost or separated. She certainly didn't plan on dying in some strangely warped mirror of what had been her town- she planned to live forever! She brought her gaze to the rapidly setting sun and as night took hold once again, she couldn't help but notice that there were no constellations in the sky- or at least none that she recognized.

She knew all of the constellations.

Dread washed over Kayla at this realization, and her heart sped up as her anxiety took hold. She knew this wasn't home- that much was clear. But something was very, irrevocably wrong here. They weren't in Kansas anymore- and the inhuman screech in the distance only further validated the fight or flight response that was taking over her body.

Kayla took a step back but wasn't able to cover nearly enough distance to avoid what came from that never ending pit. Something snaked from the chasm with unnatural speed, they ran through the crowd in jerky motions, but all at once like they were a pack, or some sort of unit. They didn’t look like they came from animal she had ever studied, let alone from Pennsylvania. The way their muscles moved beneath the thin layer of skin, the way the bones under the appendages- if those were even bones- seemed to stretch with every extension, like they were made of rubber. But it wasn't rubber, or even tentacles for that matter. Her vision was swimming and a part of her knew what she was actually seeing, but all she could comprehend was that Oleander had his jaws around her calf muscle like a vice grip and was yanking and dragging her towards the depths of that pit.

"Ollie, Ollie no! Oleander!" she screamed, trying to pull her leg back. The tentacles- Oleander's jaws bit down harder. The thorns or spikes or- Oleanders teeth dug into her ankle and she heard him snarl into her flesh- yanking harder. She screamed in pain, and in fear and viciously fought to get away. Oleander had always been such a good dog- he would never hurt her. Even when he was a puppy he had never been this rabid. Why was he like this? "Oleander! No, Oleander! Please!" she screamed, tears flowing freely from her eyes now. The dog's canines popped through the denim of her jeans and into her flesh. She felt every canine and incisor puncture her flesh. The dog yanked, first to the right, and then to the left- and Kayla finally stopped clawing at the ground in and effort to get away. She raised her hand as her instincts took over, and screamed as she struck the dog in the face. She sobbed, but continued her onslaught to little effect. Whatever had taken over her Ollie had an iron hold.

She felt resistance again, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a firm hand wrapped around her free arm.

Archie had rushed forwards as soon as he had seen the tentacles come out. He had seen them as soon as they had come over the edge. He could see their muscles spasming and twisting. He saw right through them, completely unaffected by their illusions. But he had been too far behind, and too slow. They had grabbed three people: Kayla, Terry, and Agatha.

Kayla had been the furthest from the pit, and so he reached her first- grasping her arm firmly in his right hand. He stepped forwards and did the same for Terry with his off hand. Archie held their bodies in place, instantly stopping their movement in what had to appear as nothing more than a feat of herculean strength to those around him. In reality, sets of his own tentacles had sprawled out from beneath his feet- sprawling inky black tendrils gouging out and through and deep into the earth like the roots of a tree- anchoring the man in place where he stood. Black surged out from under his shirt, staining the exposed veins and arteries of his arms and neck like watercolor under the skin as he attempted to exert himself without letting go of what little control of what he had. They couldn't see him. He wouldn't let them see what he was. He struggles against himself more than he does the tentacles, the mental exertion making him groan in ragged fury- its desperate its needy its paranoia wrapped in fear with anxiety on top.

Kayla, in a moment of clarity from her pain, digs out a spring assisted pocket knife from her pocket. She stares at Oleander, tears in her eyes, and despite the pain she hesitates and gives the dog, her only friend, a look of dread. She feels her stomach fall. "Oleander-" Its a name its a calling it's a worry its an ask its a prayer to a God she doesn't believe in but would happily sacrifice everything to if it meant she didn't have to do what she was going to do. She brings the knife down wildly on the dog's face, screaming and crying and begging that if someone was up above they would forgive her for killing her only friend because she sure as hell could not. She screamed as the tugging became too much for even Archie's hold. She screamed as the Oleander began disappearing over the edge of that impossible chasm. Its too silent its too loud its too bare its filled with too much its too raw too broken too scared so fucking scared where the fuck is here why the fuck was this happening to her.

Her screams became the roar of flame as a jet of white hot fire streamed from her mouth- illuminating the area with her rage in place of the setting sun. She screamed- tears falling from her eyes and evaporating as soon as they came close to her mouth. Her hands came up and more fire danced from her fingertips and exploded from her hands and feet towards Oleander- who's illusion was shattered as the tentacle was quite literally incinerated by fire so raw and hot that it began melting the rubber and plastic of her shoes. The tentacle's grip was gone, and Kayla jetted back- the fire's propelling force no longer being tethered by some otherworldly force. She launched away from the chasm along the ground, some thirty feet, before her screams and fire stopped. She curled into herself, cradling her injured leg, and sobbed- but was otherwise safe.

Archie was the only one who was not temporarily blinded by the shining light of what was comparable to a second sun- because he was already blind. He couldn't see shit- that impossible void had taken hold of his vision several moments before Kayla had awoken. He had felt her be pulled out his grasp though, and he had definitely felt the heat of her fire, instinctively pulling his now free arm up in an effort to shield himself from the heat. He was sensitive to fire, more so than even the normal person. When the heat disappeared, he grasped Terry under his armpit with his now freed hand in an effort to further anchor him and prevent the younger man's demise.

"David!" Archie yelled, no, roared- to his friend, his voice having taken on otherworldly depth and coarseness. "A little help over here!"

Recollections: The Fourth Seal [Mystery/Urban-Fantasy/Horror RP]

Archie

---

♫

Sunset on the river was beautiful, as always. The spectrum of colors reflecting on the water brought a desperately needed sense of peace, though never quite enough. The tranquility and the song of nature as it could only be experienced here was exactly what the sole man aboard was after. It was why he'd purchased the boat four years ago. Initially it had been to do something new and exciting, but lately Archie had found it akin to an escape. A way to forget his old life and find a place that didn't remind him of anything anymore. It was like his retirement. Early—but unavoidable, and entirely necessary these days.

The deck chair held him up, and the cooler at his elbow held everything he needed: cold beer inside and something to nibble on, on top. He had enough for another week away from port stowed in the cabin if he really wanted— longer if he rationed. There was nothing to do but enjoy the sunset. As the sun dipped below the horizon and became a sliver, the color he loved and loathed painted the sky. The rich purple bloomed, contrasting ever so beautifully with the candy blue aftertones of the day, and the ache in his chest mirrored it. He missed them. Still. He would for the rest of his life.

"You still want to know why sunset is important to me?"

She had nodded, her hands fidgeting away- so used to the constant busying caused by one baby girl.

Archie took a long sip before he answered. "Just after the sun vanishes under the horizon the sky turns the same color as your eyes. For a moment it takes me back to that first night at that dirty little dive when I fell in love with the girl at the bar. Or when my little girl held my fingers for the first time in the hospital."

She was grinning now, and despite the fact that she was no longer the twenty-something stranger drinking alone but rather the mother of his child, she reminded him of something free and wild and completely untamable. She'd go where the wind blew her, flowing with the tides, but she'd always come back to what she loved. She was beautiful and funny and smart and dazzling and everything. She had given him everything.

"What?"

He gave her a grin. "Nothing."

This was the time of day he lived for. Masochistic, yes, but he had nothing else. His life was wandering the river's byways, ferrying tourists and fishermen around for a little extra cash when he wasn't working in the shop. A far cry from his evenings, where every moment was adrenaline-filled mania. When he made port, Archie did his banking, resupplied, and took on a few holiday-makers before setting out to sea again. He'd dump them at whatever port they wanted and be gone as soon as he got his pay. Then it was him, the water, and the sunset until he ran out of provisions if so desired. It was a simple life.

Well, him and it. The other reason he had spent so much time on the boat. Away from everything and everyone else.

It came in waves, like a sickness that just wouldn't fade. He felt it pulling at the edges of his vision sometimes, an inky blackness that tunneled his vision and darkened the world. Those cotton candy blues and grand reds and purples faded into nothing and he was temporarily robbed of the one thing he lived for. Instead he saw hazy outlines and sparks and signatures of the physical world around him. Pinpoint flashes that were terribly raw in his dark world. He always hated when it happened, but he was able to resist. Sometimes.

A hand raised up to his chest instinctively, and the war drum that was his heart calmed some. Even if it screamed, it wouldn't come out. Not now.

But it didn't listen, not fully at least. A wave of nausea washed over him and in the fleeting moment he had before his vision darkened once more- he could see that the purple was no longer of the sky, but instead a flash. He felt his ears pop, and Archie felt this odd sensation of having dropped about ten feet, like a plane depressurizing. There was some sort of crashing sound, and his preternaturally powerful ears heard what was possibly the loudest sound he had ever heard- it was like a freight train was passing directly by him, but it was coming from every direction at once, including above and below. Archie screamed, but he couldn't even hear himself over this deafening roar. His blind eyes dashed around in his head in an attempt to see something, the source of the sound, but couldn't. He felt tendrils extend from his body- feeble as they might have been at this stage in a change, they still tried to do what they could- constricting around handrails and whatever they could ensnare themselves on. But whatever was pulling him away wasn't physical. He felt gravity throw him in different directions.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, like someone threw a switch and cut it off. He couldn't see again yet, but he felt the cold grit of what had to have been concrete against his skin. He laid there for a second, perfectly still, and slowly the normal sounds of the world came back. As his vision returned, his suspicion was confirmed, but he did not move until that inky black pollutant drained away from his blackened veins and returned them to their normal color. Archie could feel others in the room, and even if they had seen some of his body's unnatural behavior, he didn't want them to see any more than he could help.

Archie propped himself up on his elbow, and groggily looked around- identifying no one but the Jaden person that he had read about- a survivor of the horde, and his friend David who seemed no worse for wear and was already getting up and dusting himself off. Despite the man being many years his senior, he was more spry than Archie was. But, credit where it was due- if he heard the noise that Archie had, it probably didn't sound like the end of the fucking world. When he spoke, he confirmed Archie's guess that he too had heard the noise. But what kept his attention was the comment.

It felt familiar. Like Araminta, but not. Archie scanned the room in an attempt to find some sort of tell, but couldn't quite place what made it feel more like home than Araminta itself had in a long time.

You tell me.

Kayla

---

Growing up alone had been, for lack of better wording, rough.

Granted, she hadn't been alone alone, if you're buying what I'm selling, but Kayla had spent most of her life in quiet solitude. She came in contact with a lot of bodies, and handshakes, and smiles, and laughter, and friendly moments. But a friend was something different. Outside of her dog, she wasn't sure if she would define herself as someone who had any. Sure, she was popular, and everyone knew her. She never didn't have notifications on Snapchat or Instagram and she certainly hadn't ever had to face an issue like unrequited love- but that was a problem in and of itself. She hadn't really felt that level of attraction to anyone yet.

Her uncle had been mostly absent throughout her life. He was always around often enough to have seen her slink into the house so late at night that it was probably best defined as early morning with barely or not at all concealed hickeys. He had certainly been around long enough to pull her out of bad situations with authorities using the silver tongue that she must have gotten from her moms side of the family if he had it. He had been around, but he wasn't involved. Closer to a room mate than a family member. Maybe that's why he didn't have a family of his own. Maybe he didn't want one. Maybe his casual avoidance was simply his best way of dealing with the unfortunate situation that they had found themselves in. Her with dead parents, and him with their kid.

Kayla kicks a rock in front of her a few times and marvels at the ark and bounce that it follows along the street. Fending for herself so much throughout her life had been pretty lonely, and with no family and most people being uninteresting she had always wanted a pet for the company. She came home from the hospital after a pipe bomb gone wrong and asked her uncle for at least a fish for what had to have been the six thousandth time in her life, except that that time he'd said yes.

In the rare moments of familial camaraderie, Uncle Milo usually insists that she'd been using the hospitalization as a woe-is-me move to manipulate him into buying her a pet, but that's not true at all. She'd just wanted some company. If he had felt so guilty and worried over her despondency that they'd been practically obligated to cave in and get her a dog, well, that's purely coincidental. Assuming that was even the case. Kayla would put just as much money on the idea that he was sick of her bothering him.

In any case, they'd driven to the pet store that evening and she was promised they wouldn't leave until she'd found something fluffy to call her own. Milo had immediately started trying to sell her on the giant Labradors in the corner, until he'd overheard her trying to get a parakeet to say 'Milo is a dumb ass'. Things went downhill from there.

With her uncle successfully distracted by the clerk, who was now chewing him out over a bird being taught to curse (she hadn't even had to employ her knock-over-shelves-like-dominoes strategy, which was lucky because she did that in Walmart once and it didn't go well), Kayla had slipped away to the back of the shop. That was where they kept the outcast animals who would probably get put down because they were vicious or ugly or old, so of course they were the ones who Kayla felt like she would relate to the most.

Apart from some serious sympathy and this horrible tugging on her heartstrings that made Kayla want to take every single one home with her, she hadn't felt anything special for any of them until she'd reached the end of the room. There'd been this tiny grey and white ball of fur in a cage that started snarling at her the second she'd gotten close, and she'd been about to move on when it had very suddenly taken interest. Despite herself, Kayla just knew then, because she knew that look of hesitant curiosity and unbridled rage at the world for the situation they had ended up in. The puppy had fought the attendant every step of the way, and she had nearly lost a finger to the spitfire's tiny puppy teeth when she had unsuccessfully tried to pet the dog. "Kayla," her uncle had started, "are you sure that you…?" he'd trailed off at the way Kayla was looking at her new friend, and didn't make a move to restart objections after that. He had glanced longingly at the panting golden retrievers in the corner but otherwise didn't complain.

And so they'd become friends. It'd taken maybe two weeks for Oleander to go from being the fierce, unholy offspring of rage and muscle to a husky that was so harmless and playful. Seriously, this one time he killed a lizard accidentally and wouldn't get out of bed for days. It had been three years since then.

But make no mistake, Oleander was a horrible creature. He's got this ever-present look of absolute smugness on his stupid ugly face and he takes up well over half the bed even though he's like sixty pounds. He refuses to dance with Kayla whenever she's in music mode, he throws a hissy fit every time Kayla's too busy to pet him, he knocks everything over if he so much as hears the word 'walk', he practically flops if you scratch him under the chin, he's terrified of snakes, and he won't even look at any type of dog food that isn't beef flavored. Kayla's pretty sure that having a diet lacking chicken and turkey and, you know, variety is probably bad for the dog but he's got big blue eyes and a great begging face and Kayla is weak.

As much as Kayla hates Oleander and every day regrets choosing him over a talking bird that could insult her uncle or other anyone she might one day consider a friend, she's serenaded the dog with Queen's You're My Best Friend more than a couple of times and she's pretty sure that makes them bonded for life. Besides, Oleander may be a terrible living being but he's a great cuddler and Kayla can no longer fall asleep without him.

That doesn't redeem the fact that Oleander is the worst listener in the world, though. To her venting, I mean. The dog was scary intelligent, and half of their days were spent training together. She'd have to consider a dog competition one day, but until then the town would just have to settle for her not leaving a path of chaos wherever she went in the meantime.

If Oleander had been around, maybe that great flash of purple light and otherworldly bang wouldn't have caught her by surprise- because in one moment she had gone from spray painting a mural and kicking a rock around to face first into the concrete of a strange warehouse in god knows where. She had eaten shit before, mostly while skating. She had a nice scar on the bridge of her nose and what had once been cut from a split chin to prove it. But she hadn't eaten shit like this before. It wasn't so much as the fall, rather it felt like her shit had been rocked.

She sat up, a bit woozy but experienced enough in getting hurt to know that she was unharmed. She looked around and saw that there were several people like her around, all of various ages and in various states of stunned. There was one man just to her right who she recognized as the repairman from Araminta. She had visited more than a few times to get something fixed or to have her truck repaired. He looked a bit worse for wear compared to the rest of the people in the room- and his veins were a spiderweb of black that rapidly retreated underneath his clothes.

Kayla furled her brow. Was he high? Or tweaking or something? She had never seen any drugs do that, and she had tried quite a few. She was on her feet quickly, and thankfully whatever the man had been suffering from seemed to have lost its affect because Mr. Anderson had gone from prone to sitting- albeit slowly. She extended her hand to the larger man.

"You okay, Mister Anderson?" she questioned. Archie took her hand in a somewhat jerky fashion, as if his muscles were stiff and twitchy still. Cocaine, maybe meth? She could see him having a meth lab, maybe. She pulled him up.

"Yeah." Archie said, shaking his hand out. "I think whatever took me here had a weird affect on me." he explained. Kayla shifted her weight uneasily, but didn't press. She shrugged. "You looked rough."

"I feel rough."

She grinned at that, and Archie offered her a small smile for her benefit. But just like Oleander she saw the look in his eyes and knew it well, deep within herself. She watched Archie as he stepped away from her and placed a hand on another man's shoulder. What was his name? David something? Had a camera when she saw him around town. Probably took pictures of kids at schools or something.

Kayla looked around. She recognized this warehouse, she had defamed and damaged it many times with rocks and spray paint and drug deals and impromptu fires with people who were looking for a good time in high school.

"This isn't right." She said casually, tuning into Jaden, Kaitie, and Terry's conversation. "If this is the warehouse I think it is, there should be a massive red white and blue dick drawn with spraypaint on that wall." she said, throwing a thumb being her to one of her many independence day excursions. That one had taken a few people in her age group to pull off, and while the beer had made it more fun, she couldnt remember the people she had done it with. "And there would be tire marks all over the floors from people doing burnouts."

This place was right, but wrong. Like a memory of a place rather than what it actually was. "Where the fuck are we."

Recollections: The Fourth Seal [Mystery/Urban-Fantasy/Horror RP]

Get hype lads.

Recollections: The Fourth Seal [Mystery/Urban-Fantasy/Horror RP]

Sheets up ghosts and ghouls.

Recollections: The Fourth Seal [Mystery/Urban-Fantasy/Horror RP]

Archie

Archie Malcom Anderson

╚══════════════╝

"Hmmm."

[ 36 | 5'10 | Caucasian-American | he/him | 184 lbs ]

[Loss]

APPEARANCE

"Forgot to shave for a while."

If you looked at Archie, your first impressions would lead you to believe that he was a man down on his luck, and you wouldn’t be too far off from the truth. Underneath the worry lines, permanently frown, and his baggy clothing are broad shoulders and kind eyes. His complexion is good, as he is long past the age where he needs to worry about acne, with no natural blemishes on his person. He does however have many scars and scrapes from his rough and tumble life. Several of which are scrapes and burn scars all over his hands and a couple on his arms and legs, which appear to be nothing more than rough housing mementos.

The structure of his face is mostly angular, with high cheek bones, but his jaw squares off at his chin. Along his chin, jaw, and cheeks he wears thin but somewhat unkempt facial hair. He has thick eyebrows and lashes which frame intense blue eyes. His light brown hair though, is quickly combed with his fingers, most of the time achieving that ‘I got ready in 15 minutes’ look. He naturally walks and talks with a charming demeanor, that his exuberance infects all of his conversations and has a sort of charismatic disposition that brings out the better parts of people. It is such a shame that this side of him hasn’t shown in a while. He has a deep, strong, projecting yet somewhat gravely voice that carries a slight southern accent to it.

There isn't any one particular outfit that he leans towards. The style may change from relaxed, sometimes classy, sporty, whatever the situation demands. He generally has a rugged look to his person. Brown or black leather jackets are his preferred outerwear, but hoodies are not uncommon. He usually avoids shorts. What kind of jeans or pants doesn’t really matter to him, but he tends to shoot for boot cut jeans that tend to tighten around his waist, providing comfort and a secure fit. His shoes are boots, almost always boots. Though it may change according to the situation - sports often call for sneakers, and a fancy outing requires more refined dress shoes. These he has. As of late Archie has found himself going for clothing that is relaxed and easy to move in due to his newfound affliction.

PSYCHOLOGY

"People say I need to get out more, but I'll drink with anyone who'll buy me a beer."

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Archie strongly desires to come to peace with the loss of his family, and to one day find it in himself to rebuild.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ One day at a time, rain or shine, sleet or snow. Just keep one foot in front of the other.

SECRETS ⫻ Most of his spicy information was (thoughtlessly) laid out to dry for the town when he became a widower. Nothing of note here.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Straight.

FEARS ⫻ Very little at this point. He's a man with just about nothing to lose.

REPUTATION ⫻ Archie is well regarded, well liked, and celebrated individual in the community for his regular contributions to Araminta as a local businessman. He is one of the few university educated people in town and the only all purposes mechanic who does it all for less than anyone else. He was known as a fairly religious man even if his faith has quickly faded. Due to how recently he lost his family he has been given a pass for his lack of church attendance, although this allowance is fading with time.

QUIRKS ⫻ Archie regularly visits his wife's grave, and finds himself talking to his daughter a lot. They're not full blown conversations, but he likes to think that they would be things that he would have told her or taught her if she were still with him.

FLAWS ⫻ Oh boy that's a long list. Just read the backstory's second part for a personality summary.

BACKSTORY

"If there's a god above, he wouldn't have taken my wife and daughter away from me."

Archie was born in March of 1984, and has spent most of his life facing issues with anger management. Most of his childhood life isn't too far off from normal, but as he became a teenager he began lashing out with more ferocity and anger. Nothing too atypical for a young man with known anger issues. He attended classes for this, and eventually learned how to manage himself more appropriate.

For the better part of his life, Archie has been a normal person. He went to university, got a degree, made friends, and found someone who he was compatible with. He had a dog, and then a kid. All the the while he didn't have a single major incident. The child came unexpectedly, and when he found himself becoming a father before he was ready or even wanted, things began to change. His marriage was strained, and he began to feel trapped. But he was a good father to his daughter. He refused to let his discontentment show around him. He loved his wife and daughter, he really did- and it wasn't their fault that they had been dealt the cards they had. One day while returning home from visiting the grandparents out of state, Archie's car was struck by a drunk driver. His wife died instantly, and his little girl didn't have a chance.

These days he spends most of his time at home- a waterfront home with a dock for his boat and a massive industrial garage that he uses for his mechanic business that has one too many empty rooms. After his initial encounter with what he believes to be The Black Shuck- in which he saw the cryptid at the riverbank while up the Williams river drinking, he no longer doubts the claims of all the strange happenings in the town. He however has not altered his behavior in any way. If The Horde gets him, then it gets him, see if he gives a shit.

These days, Archie has found himself drinking his sorrows away on his boat while fishing until he's gone, and then waking up in the morning in strange places with torn clothes and no recollection of what happened. Perhaps it is his punishment for his discontent with gods gifts to his life, perhaps there was no god at all. All he knows is that he is deep in a pit of self inflicted despair with no idea how to dig himself out.

Outwardly, Archie can be charming, forward, and proud. A peculiar mixture of relaxed and energetic are what makes up his disposition depending on how much alcohol is in his system. He's talkative in the right crowd and has very many stories to share regarding his hijinks, adventures, and mishapenings he has experienced throughout the extent of his life. He has a large presence and a forceful voice, coupled with charm, people tend to see him as a leader. Not because he's earned it, but because he rallies those to him well. He will pay you back if you do him a favor or if you get on his good side. This being said, he isn't very frequently refused and so the ugly side he's been at odds with for most of his lift isn't seen as often one might expect - and while he has had a history with aggression, he isn't actually too prone to being aggressive in his interactions with others. At least not anymore.

While Archie could certainly use to such measures if he felt them necessary, years of anger management classes have taught him to consider himself above such nonsense most of the time, but on that same note, he can also be very petty. He knows he's better than that, he knows that holding grudges doesn't help anything, and that doing so is not the answer. That's just over-compensating and, quite frankly, says more about him than the other person.

Archie likes to tell himself that he does what’s right because it’s right and he doesn't need another reason- but he is not some paragon of morality. He is human, and his allegiances often align with those that provide him the greatest benefit, or is of greater influence than a person of little say. He can be selfish, but he tries to be better even if he isn't always successful.

Innately, Archie is a very angry and lost individual. He cares about what the world wants too much, I mean he's just out here trying to make his own way and survive. To climb and scratch his way to the top. Perhaps that's better achieved if he hadn't had such a penchant for self destruction. He cares only for himself (with few exceptions) and isn't above taking out his anger on those around him. He has a lot of pent up rage and frustration. Of course his relationship for his immediate family is less than ideal, and this has deeply affected him and his ability to trust forgiveness. All he wants is to get out of this hole that he's himself. He wants to come to terms with his loss, and earn back the right calling himself a good man. All of these feelings are deep inside him and hidden from the world, and it is those more bitter emotions that are channeled into this fervent work driven ferocity. But on top of all his buried thoughts and feelings are layers of a persona he has chosen to portray himself as because it is what he thinks he should be. A persona that feels everything that he thinks he is supposed to feel, and this persona runs so deep he has difficulty finding the difference between what he wants, and what he thinks he should want.

SKILLS & TALENTS

"I'm good with my hands."

Naturalist ⫻ Years of fishing and hunting have made Archie an adept outdoorsman. Years of camping, bird watching, hiking, fishing, and generally exploring has made him an excellent survivalist. He is very familiar with most species of animals and plants in the local area of the northeastern USA and knows all of the constellations and other celestial objects in the sky. He is an expert fisherman and, in edition to this, he is also experienced with hunting using rifles and shotguns- although he is far from an expert tracker or huntsman.

Musician ⫻ Archie is casually capable of reading, writing, and arranging music, and adept at performing with the keyboard/Piano and acoustic guitar. He is also a vocalist- being an deep bass, one of the few events he regularly attends is open-mic nights at local bars across town performing covers of songs everyone knows or somber content of his own creation.

Engineer ⫻ Archie is formally educated as a civil and mechanical engineer and applies these talents towards his locally owned and operated mechanic business. He repairs cars, planes, boats, bikes, golf carts, firearms... you name it, he can probably fix it.

Fisherman/Mariner ⫻ Archie owns a single thirty foot 1999 Island Hopper fishing boat that he uses to either fish himself or to take others fishing on. He has spent a lot of time on the river as of late, traveling as far as Lake Erie to get away from it all and is extremely adept at handling the boat. The fish he catches he oftentimes cleans and then sells at local farmers markets or donates to the church.

EXTRA-NORMAL ABILITIES

h̷̡͔̿́̍̎̃̽͐̿͂̏e̷̢̹̫̲͍͓̱̞̼͙͎͆͛̐̀͐͛̈͆͌̈́͜l̷̛̜͓̭̱̬̲̗͚̽͊̔̋̏̕͠p̴̛̬͐̓͒͗̽͂͑̓͠͠ ̵̧̭̤̣͍̹͕͍̫̱͙̫͆̄͒̾͌̓́̿̆̎̕͜͜͝m̶̩͂́̔͑̓͆͛͌͘̚͝ḗ̷̫̲͔̆͊̌̒͋̅͋̒͝͝

AURA SENSING ⫻ Archie is capable of seeing thermal and electrical signatures of living things even in complete darkness.

OTHER

"Want a beer?"

Kayla

K A Y L A F O S T E R

╚══════════════╝

"Not ALL of my ideas are ‘ass and a half’ as you so eloquently put it."

[ 18 | 5'8 | Caucasian-American | she/her | 138lbs ]

[Raw]

APPEARANCE

"Mom and dad did right by me, I guess."

Kayla is a rough and tumble-looking girl, with an athletic body and well-developed musculature from her constant traveling and many endeavors. She has sometime tanned skin, and freckles which dot her body. She carries herself with somewhat of a devil-may-care attitude- oozing confidence and generally unconcerned with most things- her head high, shoulders back, with a ladylike gait. She has a large variety scars and burns on her body. Her hands, particularly, are covered in light burn scarring, and her favorite and most noticeable scar in her collection is a huge jagged line that runs across her shoulder blades.

Kayla is an attractive woman. She has a somewhat angular face, long and narrowing down to her chin. Her eyes are vaguely almond-shaped and are a grayish blue color like her brother. Her teeth are straight and white, but a few are artificial from her candy eating habits as child. Her hair, as well as her eyebrows, is a dark brown, and is quite long, coming down to the middle of her back when let down. She generally keeps her hair in a neat braid down her back or over her shoulder.

As far as attire goes, Kayla is pretty easy. Her closet primarily comprises of leggings or jeans, sports bras, athletic material like Under Armor or Nike. She likes to wear a maroon jacket most of the time, claiming that the extra pockets give her extra storage and give her a little extra protection from the many things she's dealt with that try to hurt her. She always wears a pair of black combat boots. Most of her clothes are whites, blacks, and reds. She doesn’t wear any jewelry aside from two wedding rings- a simple gold band on her right hand and a silver diamond ring on her left.

PSYCHOLOGY

"Apparently a lack of consistent parenting has left me with a chip on my shoulder."

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Get the fuck out of Araminta.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Fuck you, pay me.

SECRETS ⫻ Kayla, despite her constant assurance that she does in fact know what she's doing and knows it all, does not.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Questioning.

FEARS ⫻ Loosing her uncle, or her dog.

REPUTATION ⫻ That's... a difficult one. Kayla is a popular individual, and her seemingly boundless energy has made her an excellent addition to any jobs she has taken up. However, her consistent misbehavior has resulted in more than a few convenience store and gas station bans and slaps on the wrist from the law. Generally harmless, but a documented nuisance.

QUIRKS ⫻ Kayla's insistence in wearing her parent's wedding bands, I suppose. She doesn't tweak out about much else.

FLAWS ⫻ Oh boy we'd be here all week.

BACKSTORY

"My parents died when I was little. It doesn't bother me now."

Making the trip from being a child to being an adult is oftentimes marked by a series of milestones throughout one's life. Kayla has lacked many, and is somewhat emotionally stunted as a result. While far from not functioning in society, Kayla's lack of respect for the world and people around her makes her destructive and disrespectful.

Kayla was raised well, initially. In 2009, Arnold and Elizabeth Foster were murdered on their way home one night by some remnant of work left undone in the past. Her husband, her uncle, Milo Crane, brought six-year-old Kayla into his home after her grieving was over. Kayla is a trouble making, loud, and easily distracted young woman. Since birth Kayla has had an affinity for sticking her nose where it doesn't belong.

Kayla is sarcastic and treats most things like a joke (whether appropriate or not) and maintains a fairly calm demeanor even in stressful situations, ranging to mildly annoyed as her worst most of the time. She's just not one to freak out. Kayla likes to hear herself talk, and if no one is around, she often takes to talking to herself. Kayla is a textbook extrovert and makes fast friends wherever she goes. She tries to keep to herself mostly on personal matters, but somewhat hypocritically she tends to ask about others due to the insatiable curiosity she was born with.

In short, Kayla is brash and leaves a wake wherever she goes. She causes trouble for herself and others with little regard for the long term effects her actions might have. As this setting progresses, Kayla will get a grip on the consequences of her actions and come to the realization that she has a responsibility to do what is right regardless of whether it is the easy or fun choice, and that she can still be responsible while still having high energy and enjoyment of what she does. Kayla will start this story close to a teenager or child, and she will end it as an adult.

SKILLS & TALENTS

"I've been told I'm somewhat of an eclectic mixed bag."

Media ⫻ Kayla is extremely well versed in all forms of media- movies, books, magazines, video games, comics, you name it and she has almost definitely seen it, read it, or played it and will understand the reference. She is also a massive history and sports buff. If you go up against her on trivia night, she is incredibly sorry for the massive ass whooping you are about to receive.

Naturalist ⫻ Years of curiosity has landed her in the wild and in some fairly compromising positions. She's fairly adept as an outdoorswoman. Years of camping, bird watching, hiking, fishing, and generally exploring has made her an excellent survivalist. She is very familiar with most species of animals and plants in all areas of the USA and knows all of the constellations and other celestial objects in the sky.

Shooting ⫻ She and her uncle are regular hunters, and she is a hell of a shot.

Dangerous Book For Boys/Anarchist's Cookbook ⫻ Kayla has... done a lot of really dangerous stuff. I'll let your mind fill in the blanks.

ABSTRACTION

"You know what they say, two's company."

TYPE ⫻ Awakened

ABSTRACTION ⫻ Violent Soul - Kayla is a spitfire, and when she so does desire she can quite literally spit fire.
ABSTRACTION ⫻ Familial Bond - As a result of her unborn twin's soul existing in her body, Kayla can gain access to her unborn brother's abstraction, granting her a variety of secondary abilities.

ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ Kayla has the ability to use both pyrokinesis and telekinesis in dramatic and disastrous fashion.

Violent Soul ⫻ Kayla's own abstraction, and the one she has the most direct control over. Simply put, Kayla is capable of pumping out some intense heat. She can produce jets of flame from any limb of orifice, ranging from a light that's just enough to start a cigar to a jet and wall of fire capable of melting steel from thirty feet away. She is completely immune to her own heat. Her clothing not so much.

Familial Bond ⫻ When under duress, Kayla is capable of using telekinesis in sudden, extreme outbursts of energy that usually result in throwing everything (and one) away from her as if struck by a tidal wave. While capable of situational precise use that doesn't require much distraction or movement- such as barricading or reinforcing a door or choke point with a wall of telekinetic energy, or manipulation of force sensitive objects such as living beings, Kayla almost exclusively relegates this ability to area denial and 'get away from me' maneuvers that give her breathing room.

Familial Bond ⫻ Her second ability comes with a secondary ability set. Sometimes, usually when she doesn't even mean to, Kayla shares head space with the soul of her fraternal twin brother Kyle. While Kyle doesn't or cant talk- he is capable of watching the world through her eyes and sometimes notices or sees things that she doesn't. In this state Kayla temporarily gains the situational knowledge of her counterpart- most notably related to firearms, machinery, and other information that should only belong to a person of her own age rather than an entity that died in the womb. She is... unsure of what to make of this.

LIMITS ⫻ Kayla's fire is still hampered by Extra-Normal being's innate resistance to each other, which makes them half as useful against them. She can produce flames but it's tiring for her, so the more fire she produces the more tired she'll be. She has an indefinite range, but the further out Kayla goes the less effective her fire gets. So she could in theory fire out a blast of fire a mile out, but it'd only mildly make someone mildly uncomfortable. Her Familial Bond also is less effective against Extra-Normal beings and she doesn't have complete control over it. It's more of raw force than anything and is completely unconscious. However, the ability has a range of about twenty feet and has a cooldown of at least fifteen minutes before she can access it against.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ Kayla is immune to her own flames but she's not immune to the side effects. Her fire dries up the area quite a bit and it causes dehydration in her body so she'd have to drink lots of water. She also isn't immune to smoke inhalation, and I doubt her allies are either. The telekinetic aspect of her ability also causes intense headaches and the usual psychic nosebleed.

OTHER

"Good dog."

Oleander was her Uncle Milo's pet Siberian husky. Oleander is extraordinarily well trained- on par with police dogs and other working dogs, making him a force to be reckoned with when he joins her in her excursions.