Mole

𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔 - 𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅

_{L U N C H E O N}

^{________________________________________________________________________________}

The luncheon was featured in a large electronic bubble floating above Elliot Bay. The water was wearing a projection with sparkling lights that made it a dazzling spectacle with the occasional flare of some iridescent flare-rain display. Rarely did the bay make such an appearance.

Inside the holographic bubble was an extravagant dining hall of floating cybernetic tables. The tables had a fresh whiteness all over them. The screens displaying on the table tops adorned placemats, silverware, fancy plates, and frilly napkins folded into swans. There was a centerpiece on each table — a genetically modified floral arrangement that changed colors with the general ambiance.

Faux-trees with plastiglass trunks stood at various locations around the hall, giving a glitzy, clean, earthy feel. Whatever that meant. Inside the trunks was an iridescent art of wires and sparks. The trees were wearing plastiglass leaves like gems, and decorating those gems were ornamental fruit with a scent of rose and lavender and something else to relax the attendees sponsor for the event.

A little ways from the dining hall was a side area of large tea cups with tables in the middle. The tea cups spun around in a synchronized style, and many attendees were enjoying a drink on these tilting devices. Each tea cup was fashioned to some sort of decadence. They were all transparent and bejeweled with an arrangement of prosperous subtly glowing flowers and gold articulating various angles and oddities to each particular ride. Rides were not for free.

Around the inside perimeter of the bubble were oblong floating tables that housed various expensive items calculated for a silent auction. Net runners were at work to guarantee Mr. So-So his gadget and Ms. What’s-her-face that emerald necklace, but no one would dare mention it.

Some Surplus magician dressed in an eccentric suit of patches and class was helping form a small crowd for those uninterested in the auction. He was making a dizzying display of tips and tricks with his cybernetics and augmentations. He was probably being underpaid, as a charitable contribution, but at least he was being paid and smiling. He was accepting tips for the charity.

Opposite of the Surplus magician was a Cybercom band. They were playing some jazz-type music. Occasionally, the music would get hip and off-beat and experimental, but mostly, it tried to stay with generically pre-AutoAmerica tunes. No one crowded around the band. People merely walked by and had a slight acknowledgement. The band blended into the backdrop nicely.

Cybercoms in eccentrically old-fashioned servant outfits decorated the place as servers who held various hors d'oeuvres, like sushi, tempura, and sparkling beverages with a glow.

Enforcers made themselves known. Bodyguards graced the dining hall like the decadent ornaments on the plastiglass trees. It was obviously a place with high society people, and any scum who somehow got invited was not allowed to get away with blinking out of turn. The hanging chandeliers, dripping electronic jewels, were only an extra pair of eyes to maintain this peaceful architecture of a social event.

Below the bubble were small blimps that made periodic trips from the ground and to the entrance of the bubble. At the launching ramp, security was tight, with invitation and barcode scanning, as well as identity matchers. It was a meticulous process, but the entry managed to only hold a minimal line at most, with multiple blimps making their take-off at the same time. Table numbers were assigned at check-in, catered through the attendees’ barcodes. Proper attire was also required, but word on the street, they were taking a lackadaisical approach with the Surplus.

The stage of the luncheon began with everyone mingling and networking. The Surplus were somehow merged with the the Netters. Whether they actually spoke to each other was up for discretion, but the news was adamant to make sure everyone looked like they were having fun.

About one hour into the luncheon, a delightful bell ring was heard. A woman wearing a small, pink flouncy dress with a darker bow at the waist. old-fashion bell from antique pre-AutoAmerica. Her pink lips were in a smile as she spoke, “The Silent Auction is closed! Please, everyone, go to your tables and enjoy our special menu before we invite our guest speakers to make themselves known!” Her voice was just as perky as her candy sweet smile.

Attendees of the luncheon began shuffling towards their tables. The Cybercom waiteresses came bringing salads and filling drink orders. Coffee? Sugar? Creamer? Oh, I’m sorry, I will go bring the tea, right away. Obviously, this place was too posh for Surplus, and they should be counting their blessings and how much they’re willing to donate to make up for what the charity was spending to seat them. It doesn’t always make sense how these volunteer organizations run, but they seem to make money and help those in need.

"I can't believe you wore an el~bee~dee to a luncheon." Bianca scoffed as she sipped on her mimosa, steaming with mind-rain dry ice. She pulled the drink from her lips, and a small touch of colored moisture clung to the glass. She shook her head and decided to change the subject towards Nekatrios and Adam, "I also can't believe you still have human body guards," she said and motioned towards her cybercom. He looked like he belonged at the Luncheon, unlike Adam and Nektarios. They seemed like actors playing their part and trying to ignore the conversation.

“They’re only temp~or~ra~ry,” Annie said. She giggled a little at the thought of getting a new anything. “Besides, my father’s old fashioned. He says it’s the way of Nintendo, to keep things classy. Besides, I’m not the one wearing last year’s Miu Miu collection.” Annie smirked.

The two young women continued their banter before finally settling on a MetaTok hologram picture, taken by Bianca’s Cybercom. They both agreed it looked way better than the official photobooth the Luncheon had to offer, despite not having the Luncheon's retro-vibes. Not soon afterwards, the two Asians took their seats alongside their three bodyguards. Their plastic perfect smiles filtered through the rest of their table's guests.

Annie put her mimosa on the table as she took a seat next to Alejandro. "Wow, a Book Burner!" She looked at him as if he was a piece in the museum. Bianca made a small comment about how small he was compared to the ones she saw on MetaTok, but both agreed he was adorable. However, he to~ta~lly was not as adorable as the cute little middle schooler, also known as Executive D'alessio's son. Oh, and they remembered the days when they would accompany their fathers to these types of things. Now we go at them a~lone.

They greeted Edward D’alessio with their own twenty year-old flirty ways. Who knows? Maybe, they would get lucky. He was still a bachelor, afterall. Plus, his son was like so, so ad~or~able. I mean, just look at his baby cheeks! Soo~ooo, cute!

The last person they greeted was August "Bailey" Hawkins. "It's sooo cute that you came, being a Surplus, and all." Annie started. It was obvious they looked at each guest as some random bystander who should appreciate the fact that they are being graced by their presence -- aside from Mr. D’alessio and his son, of course.

Bianca was too busy sizing-up Bailey to really tsay anything. What was she wearing? Annie's little black dress definitely was needed to offset some of the Surplus fashion sense. She hadn't thought about that until, now. In fact, she had avoided all the Surplus at the event to the best of her ability. Why was there one at her table? Instead of saying anything to Bailey, Bianca looked at her Cybercom. He was dressed to the nines, not unlike Adam and Nektarios, who were being completely ignored as usual. "Trent," she toyed with his tie, "MetaTok a gram of us all," She would edit the Surplus out later.

"As you wish, Bianca." Trent stood from his seat and made a small bow. He acted like one of those JPN-22 Boyfriends-For-Rent. He removed his tie pin, a Starsoft gadget. It opened several layers of itself to look like some cute hologram camera, shaped like a Hello Kitty silhouette. "Say sushi," his head tilted to the side in anticipation for everyone's faces to align to a faux-cheeriness.

In all, it was clear these two bad bitches were going to try to conduct the table and not let anyone take the spotlight from them.

Avalia

_{T I M E : M O R N I N G
L O C A T I O N : M Y R I A M O R P L A Z A
I N T E R A C T I O N S : C A E L A N , S O P H I E , L E A F , S L I C K
T A G S : @Princess, @Alivefalling, @FunnyGuy, @Helo
E Q U I P M E N T : W A T E R F L A S K , W A Y F I N D E R , T R A N S M I S S I O N B R A C E L E T}

"This..." Aurora turned around in the swimsuit. The fabric felt comfortable, and she could tell it was a little more revealing than she was hoping. All of her arms and legs were revealed. The light elf could feel the coolness of the air -- however warm the weather was. She felt naked despite having some cover. Her hands gently patted the make of her neckline and continued to her exposed shoulders. She forced a smile.

"This is the most modest that they have?" She felt at odds questioning Slick. She wanted to believe that he would not take advantage of her, but something about her revealing so much of her skin was taunting. Aurora felt out of sorts in a way. Her knees pressed together as her hands slowly fell to her sides. "Forgive me. It... is my first time like this." She spoke hesitantly, "Swimming has always made my senses a little distorted, and for this reason, I avoid it." Her milky eyes looked at the light shining within Slick. She could not make out his aura as well. There was something tricky about him, but she was willing to see the good in him anyways. Princess would agree with her judgement.

She could feel the whole city come to life as the smallest traces of the weather brushed against her skin. The sensation was odd. She was sensitive to it, and could almost feel the tickles of Sophie and Caelen having their own miss-happenings of fun. She felt a little guilty that the feline creature had not come with them. She wanted to understand his aversion to water, but her own aversions differed. Although, the group split, as long as the humans were safe, she would allow herself to be content. No matter under what conditions.

Avalia

_{T I M E : M O R N I N G
L O C A T I O N : M Y R I A M O R P L A Z A
I N T E R A C T I O N S : C A E L A N , S O P H I E , L E A F , S L I C K
T A G S : @Princess, @Alivefalling, @FunnyGuy, @Helo
E Q U I P M E N T : W A T E R F L A S K , W A Y F I N D E R , T R A N S M I S S I O N B R A C E L E T}

Carefully reviewing Slick's words, Aurora remained quiet for a brief moment. She was perplexed as to why he was throwing insults in order to manipulate the situation. She wanted to quietly portray this as a caution to what he had consumed, but the thickness of his words seemed to be too reasonable with his personality as a whole. All she could do to lighten the mood was continue her smile, as weary as she felt towards him.

She let out a gentle open mouth smile as she decided to take her turn in continuing the conversation. This action had to happen faster than she wished, since he was already caught by a different means of attention, gambling. He was quite garnished for loving monetary means. This took more hold of him than the liquid he was trying to determine worthy of her time.

"They are new to this realm. You humans are so fragile, though," her presence took on a more motherly role, "I do not think it would be wise to let everyone become too distracted with fun and games. Why do we not take turns at investing in different venues than drifting from each other like a broken family?" She had meant to sound a little less controlling, but alas, she was not perfect. Sometimes, she came off as too strict, and obviously, now was a time, especially to someone like Slick, who seemed to not question his whims.

Aurora found herself always questioning herself. It was unwise to trust her natural instincts, as a Spiritual Advisor, she was taught to trust the Otherworld. The Otherworld did not come naturally to most, and being cognizant of this fact was wise. Of course, Slick did not understand, and pushing the burden onto him was unfair. The most she could do was try to keep the group rallied together. She also understood it would be harder to get them altogether due to her blindness. The varying sounds of the foreign place were not helping her keep precise tabs on everyone, and of course, the nightmare she experienced last night was refusing to let her put her guard down.

However, Aurora also hated quarrels. She did not want to verbally joust with Slick. There had to be something she could say or do to convince him to keep the group together. A small idea sprouted in her mind. It blushed across her cheeks. Of course, she was being a stick in the mud!

"Wait," she continued her smile, "You are right. While, I cannot drink," she should be true to herself. "I would love to enjoy swimming, but unfortunately, due to my condition, it's hard to enjoy the water. Perhaps, you could help me. This way we can all have fun together. After we are done having fun swimming, we can go gamble. I am sure the others would not mind enjoying watching you after a refreshing time in the pools." She felt a little shy in saying all of this. It was not like her to uphold something like this to a stranger, but she felt desperate, "I also need help picking out a swimsuit. I have never put one on before and need help finding something modest enough for my appearance. You would be a great help in protecting my appearance?"

Roses and Daggers - Romance

Subscribed

The Digital Expanse {Digimon x Megaman RP}

C:\Expanse\Data\User_Data\Suzuki_Takada...

"Thank you, Suzuki-chan!" Kudamon looked at Suzi after its attack proved mature enough for the Mettaurus L. The raw data evaporated into thin air after the attack, and Suzi could feel the tug of emotions that she wanted to be stronger lighten the heaviness holding onto her chest. Her quivering lip was less melancholy. There was courage and hope, now in her expression, but still, a seriousness remained in her demeanor.

"Y-you're welcome, Kudamon," Suzi managed. She wished she had sounded stronger, but truth be told, she was still a frightened school girl. There were other things happening around her. She wanted to take her eyes from Kudamon and observe them. After all, she could hear them quite well. They sounded dramatic. However, Suzi still feared relinquishing her concentration from the Digimon. There was a power attracting her to the digital monster, and the thought of losing the connection remained a prominent concern.

"Of course, Suzuki-chan!" Kudamon nodded at its Digidestined. She was a chosen one, which meant she had the qualities to be a hero. Keeping its trainer focused was only the beginning of their relationship. This was no game. This was life and death. As of now, Kudamon's Digidestined was choosing life.

Kudamon looked back at the Mettaurus L. It's golden eyes shined bright. Another blow from the Holy Cartridge would prove helpful. There were others helping the attack, keeping the monster from the Holy Panel. There was no time to waste, and again, the white Digimon struck the Mettaurus with its Holy Panel. All the while, Suzi was adapting to the idea of all this happening. Her lower lip was a little chapped from her front teeth, but no longer was it being nursed nor quivering under the stress. She was beginning to believe in herself, as well.

Advent of the Dawn —A Mecha Musume/Tokusatsu-Inspired RP

_{S E R A P H I M A D R A K O S}

^{________________________________________________________________________________}

The light pick up was heavier than she had anticipated. The Warped were covering the area. Her fingers were spread, blasting away at the the Warped as she zeroed in on her target, already suspended by her shooting. A fist in the face came next, straight to the nose, and next, a clean cerebral cut. She hated making a mess, even if the enemies were repulsive. Two wrongs did not make a right, and the best she could do was be as tidy as possible. Blasting away at her adversaries was dirty enough.

Some of the Frame Pilots, like Teodora, enjoyed the thrill and excitement. It was not as is Seraphima did not enjoy herself, but she preferred to get everything over-and-done-with, as quickly, quietly as possible. It was not about having fun and wanting more of them to appear. It was about saving the lives of the innocent. It was not supposed to be some game. However, she was not going to argue methodology over fighting styles and philosophy. Seraphima had her own quirks, but now was not a time to rummage over them. She had rummaged over her own defaults enough during her years on the monastery.

As Theodora's blue light reigned over the horde. A larger Warped came gripping into the zone. Its monstrous body was towering over the other Warped. Seraphima glided in the perimeter after dismantling herself from the last Warped she had successfully murdered. (Yes, murdered, it was Seraphima who saw the life in the Warped. After-all, some used to be humans.) This beast was likely going to take more of her attention. Although, she swiftly calculated how the smaller Warped would make their presence known the Frame Pilots all turned their focal points to the beastly lion-dog.

"Grendel, Supplice, Deathstalker, I'll get the small ones, while you concentrate on the lion-dog." Seraphima affirmed into her communication device. A thumb wiped over her mouth, revealing a distilled smile. Her eyes quickly scanned the footing of the larger Warped creature. Those could be on my side if I do this right. Her glider wings shifted, and the jet bellowed from behind her. However, as she began narrowing in and around the legwork of the creature, Teodora sent a warning.

"Watch out, everyone! We have another quirky Warped trying to flank our Japanese forces allies here! Kind of invisible, not sure what it is! I'm engaging!"

Seraphima looked around immediately. She scanned the area with sharp eyes, but she missed the target, "Give me the coordinates, Supplice! I'm still taking the smaller targets."

𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒖𝒎 - 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

_{a short story | winner of RPGC#34
corruption & church}

[+]

<sub>The Werewolf

Part i.

Houses lined parallel to each other on both sides of the street. The yards were for the most part evenly trimmed, although not identical. It was a typical Thursday evening. The moon was full, and until about ten in the evening, the night had been quiet. However, to the neighborhood’s dismay, a sudden shake of womanly terror poured down a dead end street.

Horrific moans screamed through the neighborhood as blood dripped from the monster's mouth. The murder of the neighborhood echoed screams into the dark wintery night, and sirens were only heard after the beast had already scampered away from the dismembered body. Investigators were brought to the scene shortly after.

And there it was, another unexplained dead body. The town was clueless as to who was the causing the murders. People were beginning to grow weary, and the talk about moving was becoming more than empty threats.

It was five minutes past midnight when Father Sergius received the phone call, "F-Father Sergius," a young woman's voice shook over the phone.

"Yes, this is Father Sergius," his older voice shook, as well, but for a different reason. His spare hand put the bottle of slivovitz on the kitchen counter.

"It’s my mother, Father…"

"Your mother?" The man's voice was weary and tired, "May I ask who this is?" He tried his hardest not to grumble. People always assumed he had mind reading powers and could remember everyone's name and know exactly who everyone was, not just at the Chalice but over the phone, as well. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar, but it was still a stab in the dark as to exactly who the woman on the other line was.

"It's Xenia... Tomasevic, Father… the d-daughter of Petra Tomasevic…" her voice stuttered, and he could hear a small strength holding back tears. Something terrible must have happened to her mother.

His hand dove into his pocket, fiddling with fabric and the wool of his komboskini, "Ah, yes, Xenia, my dear. What has befallen your mother?" His voice was kind and concerned now, even with the slight shake.

"She…'s," Xenia was quiet, a slight whimper came from her choking back the truth. Admitting it seemed to be the hardest for her, which was also true for her confessions.

"It's alright. Take your time," he assured her, as he also did at the Confessional. His eyes glanced at the bottle of slivovitz. He might not have mind reading powers, but he could deduce what Xenia was about to tell him. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

His voice was reassuring to her, deep and low and comforting like when he heard her confessions, "She's been murdered," Xenia finally admitted before falling into a bed of tears, "She is dead… Father…" He had never heard her voice sound so ridden with despair.

He took a deep breath. This was just as he had deduced, "Oh my dearest, I am sorry to hear. My heart aches for you and your father. May her memory be eternal and may God grant you and your family comfort," he spoke with a gentle automatic response, "Does your father know?"

There was a pause on the other line.

"No," Xenia explained with a stern sadness, "He has not answered his phone. I have tried calling several times…"

Vladimir had flown out of town for a Byzantine Chant workshop this weekend. He was more than likely still on the plane as they spoke.

"Lord have mercy. Let me know where you need me. I will be there as soon as I can" His hand removed itself from his pocket and took to the bottle, once again. "Ah, your home address. I will be there soon. My prayers are with you. May your mother's memory be eternal," he slowly lowered the cellphone from his cheek and pressed the red button on the screen.

His lips closed as his gaze looked downcast at the kitchen counter. There were two intertwined crescents of incomplete coffee rings on the counter that had been there for several weeks. He had asked his son Aleksandr to clean the top this morning, as cleaning is a pious endeavor, but it appeared, his son had forgotten, once again.

The mess in the kitchen now meant nothing to him. He had to make his way to the Tomasevic household. His eyes scanned through the living room and towards his son’s bedroom. There was a dead silence coming from the room. Father Sergius sighed and picked up the cellphone again. He swiped his thumb across the screen and tapped the code to unlock the screen, “There’s been another murder. One of our parishioners this time. Be safe. We can talk in the morning. Love you Dad.”

Part ii.

On Sunday morning, the Church service proceeded as it usually did. However, there was one difference. Even though Vladimir Tomasevic had flown back into town, he was standing with Xenia and not minding the Choir as he did on most Sundays.

It seemed most of Father Sergius’ parishioners had made the service this morning. However, the only person he wished to see standing among the congregation was his wife Sophronia. Unfortunately, she had passed away when Aleksandr was only at the age of twelve.

After Sophronia’s death, Father Sergius began taking to the bottle, and it was a couple years after her death, the archdiocese transferred him to another Church. Shortly after the transfer, the murders began happening. By the will of God, his parish seemed untouched for a good while, but Petra was the third parishioner to get targeted.

The murders were never clean. No victim was ever recognizable, and all three victims’ disfigurements were scarred memories that Father Sergius knew he would not forget, even if he wished he could. They all reminded him of Sophronia’s death, and Petra’s murder was no different. The priest often wondered if he ought to retire, but he knew even if he was older in his age, he was still much too young for such a decision.

A small memorial service was chanted shortly after the service, and the two broken ones, stood with their melting, lit candles by the powdered wheat. The daughter was crying, and her father was hugging her with one arm. An elder lady stepped from the front and wrapped her jacket around Xenia, patting her back with as much nurturing care, the elder woman could muster.

After the service, Father Sergius turned from the altar. There was a silence as the acoustics of the choir quit echoing. “Thank you for attending Liturgy today,” he managed to speak calmly, with his hands out and his palms facing upwards. His speech was longer than it sounded. He could see the congregation’s wavering spirit. It matched his own, and he wished he could be of stronger faith, if not for his own salvation but for the salvation of his parishioners.

However, despite the disposition of the entire Church, there appeared to be a gentleness in the mourning of the Tomasevic family. There was beauty in their lament, and Father Sergius wanted to believe that Petra's soul would be preserved amongst those who have successfully been remembered in the kingdom of heaven. This thought was of some solstice to him.

After Dismissal, he ordered his son to help the mourning family offer kolyva to the rest of the congregation.

"I'm sorry about your loss," was all Aleksandr could manage to Xenia and Vladimir Tomasevic. "May her memory be eternal." He looked at Xenia's face. It was swollen with a sick sadness, even if there was a determined beauty behind it. All he could feel was a forbidden sense of disgust within himself.

"Thank you," she mouthed automatically.

The monster had not only devoured her mother, but it was devouring what was left of Xenia's heart, mind, and soul. She was like a person who was missing the very life that had first made her human.

As Aleksandr began to help scoop the kolyva, he did not bother to ask a simole, "May I?"

The situation was tragic, but Xenia was definitely acting too terribly shaken, and if he could have avoided her, he would have. Suddenly and awkwardly and without warning, Aleksandr dropped one of the plastic cups of kolyva. The boiled wheat spilled over the floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the boy quickly lamented while getting to his knees to clean up his unintentional mess.

Xenia left her own, and began helping him, “No… it-it’s alright,” she forced a smile through her despair. The smile was so broken, Aleksandr could feel its wound through his own cage of emotions.

The story went that a next door neighbor heard her mother shouting for help, and saw some giant beast ripping her apart. He tried getting his gun and shooting the animal, but he scared it away instead. There was no blood trail despite the bullets fired. With no other eyewitnesses, it is hard to say what happened. Her neighbor, still in some sort of trance, refuses to disown what he saw. The authorities have been investigating him as the potential murderer.

"Thank you, Aleksandr," Vladimir stepped into the eerie quietness between the two. His eyes had a bleak, grayness that Xenia's had. "Your father and you have been so good to the Parish," was all he could mouth. He believed the unfortunate timing of their arrival must be hard on them.

His words stung Aleksandr further. "We are under your mercy," Aleksandr replied, "Your family does so much for the Parish, as well." His hesitation was obvious, and although, he had wanted to say more, he found himself unable, “I… I wish I could hear your wife sing again.”

"In Heaven, Aleksandr. Godwilling," VThe older man shook his head as he drew in a longing, deep sigh. It was a sigh that only a man could make. He was invisibly holding back tears in fear of upsetting Xenia further, and Aleksandr could see the stoic pride in the man.

"Of course, in Heaven. She… might as well be a martyr," Aleksandr stood up. There was not one thing he could imagine the Tomasevic family having done to deserve this type of anguish. In fact, the entire town did not deserve this kind of monstrosity, but as the Church preached, not everyone deserves the conflict that happens to them. In a fallen world, sickness can devour anyone for any reason, good or bad.

"Why a martyr?" Xenia spoke with a sudden courage as she stood up, as well. Her face looked straight at him and with eyes that pierced through her veil of sadness, "What kind of comment is that?" Her voice remained soft even with the demanding tone. She had tears swelling under her eyes, now.

"I meant…" His voice was silvery, as he glanced at her, trying to avoid her sickened gaze "I meant, I meant… your mother’s a beautiful woman. She, she served God with all her heart, and her murder seems…" He paused, finding himself running into a wall as tears streamed down her blushed cheeks. Her emotions were a labyrinth of despair, and he was trapped inside the walls of them.

“S-Seems…?” Xenia’s weakness continued streaming after what he had said.

“It…” He paused again, “It reminds me of my own mother’s death. She was murdered… as well,” Aleksandr did not want to take the center of the conversation, but it only seemed necessary, now. “She was a very devout Christian.”

“No doubt,” Vladimir interjected. His black eyes looked at both young people. It had been a long weekend for the man, and although she was gone, he felt his wife was closer to him now than he could ever imagine. But for the time being, the sunken hollowness that was clinging to him, would have to wait before it could heal. Only time was needed, and now was much too soon, “Your Father would not have settled for anything less, Aleksandr,” his weathered face nodded quickly and humbly as he spoke. He took a small pause and continued, “Despite how they passed, both women, it would seem, are in a better place now. Free from such monstrosities that had befallen them. May God keep and remember them.”

Part iii.

“It was kind of you to help the Tomasevic family pass out kolyva, today,” Father Sergius remarked to his son, on their way home from Church, “May Petra’s memory be eternal.”

“I was only being obedient to what you asked of me,” Aleksandr remarked half-heartedly. He meant to be more respectful to his father, not just because he was a priest, but because he knew he was in debt to his father for a plethora of reasons. He also wanted to forget how foolish he had looked in front of the remaining Tomasevic family.

“Of course, but you did not have to mind your old dad,” Father Sergius mused while ignoring his son’s angst. It was a difficult time, not just for the parish. The murders were occurring almost every month with little rhyme or reason, and he knew he should stop turning a blind eye. The slivovitz only made him see clearer, nowadays, “I was worried when you were not home the other night,” he began. He let out a scraggly sigh as his hands gripped the steering wheel, “No one is safe…”

“I’m sorry,” Aleksandr interrupted his father in a muttered voice. His tired eyes stared out the window. The scenery passed by slowly as the car came to a stop light. The sidewalks looked bleak with the people and buildings rummaging inside their perimeters. They seemed trapped, and all he could do was watch from the outside. They were like caged animals, unable to escape the monotony of their fate.

“You know,” Father Sergius began, again, as the car came to a complete stop, “Your mother was murdered under a full moon.”

There was a long pause between the two. The silence spoke many words, and the two indulged in the quiet moment, until the light turned green. Father Sergius pressed his foot against the gas, and the car’s engine made a low growl.

Finally, Aleksandr spoke, but this time, a little more audibly than his last response, “I’ve never liked a full moon.”

Fin.</sub>

Advent of the Dawn —A Mecha Musume/Tokusatsu-Inspired RP

_{S E R A P H I M A D R A K O S}

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Her soup ended up being miso soup, with a side of rice, seaweed salad, and some salmon. She had meant to eat lighter, but the Japanese cuisine available seemed so delectable in a healthy speaking manner. She had studied Japan before agreeing to become a Frame Pilot. There were several cultural styles she enjoyed that crossed over from the monastic life. Healthy eating was one of them. Of course, she did not take into account that they would be going into a mission so early in the morning.

The alarm sounded after the teasing and child-play had started to simmer down. Seraphima had only been a part of this routine on several occasions. She preferred to stay out of the perpetual motion of verbal jousting. However, avoiding it would mean not being a Fame Pilot and living on the ground, fearing attacks of the Warped. Not only would be feel useless, but the teasing gave some rights of entertainment and team building. Coincidentally, it made the battle field a tiny bit more exciting.

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After she activated her mechaframe, she went into action. There was something about putting on the suit that changed her. Seraphima felt different as a person or whole. Maybe it was the activation of the Warped creature. Caspian Koi or...? She preferred the Japanese references about koi fish turning into dragons. She felt her soul shifting into something powerful, beyond her control, yet she was still able to control it. It was a miraculous feeling, and she would not let it go to waste. This brought in her serious demeanor.

Infernus had scorched the area. Many of the Warped had been torched, but there were some who had escaped, just like the her -- she had escaped being turned into a Warped. A smirk grinned on her face. She was ready for action. No matter how minuscule the task, pick-up sticks this time around, she enjoyed her time in K-01. She was no longer Seraphima, the docile monastic study. She was a serious fighter, saving not just lives but the world.

What Are You Listening To?

Advent of the Dawn —A Mecha Musume/Tokusatsu-Inspired RP

_{S E R A P H I M A D R A K O S}

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With a small yawn, Seraphima made her entrance to The Horizon's cafeteria. It had been almost a year, and she still was uncertain about the eating habits of the other pilots. She imagined some of the towns people who would pilgrimage to the monastery while she was living on the convent, and some of their manners were no better. However, she had always deduced that they had come to the monastery for free food and relaxation. Many of them were starved and yearned for the nourishment. However, she was certain that food was no luxury on The Horizon. They lived like gods in the oversized ship.

Compared to the convent and the rest of the world, Seraphima felt spoiled beyond comparison. Perhaps, the other pilots had a disregard due to their surroundings. Regardless, it was not her place to judge, even if she did find it a little repulsive. They had their reasons, and the best she could do was ignore them. They had other more dignified qualities aside from their lack of table manners.

Her hand gently tugged at the komboskini around her neck. She had no qualifying reason for why she chose to show it off, but it comforted her nonetheless. She knew what she would be having at the cafeteria. She would have a simple soup. The soups were nothing compared to Sister Iosophia's cooking, but the warm hardy liquid was always filling and comforting. It was also easy to digest, which left her with less energy being consumed by her stomach.