Redward

Worlds Apart

"Beatrix, are you listening?"

No, she was not. Indeed, to see her sitting there, it was apparent. Beatrix Ashworth had drifted away, again, thinking of things that her lecturer could only partially understand. Even with the somewhat sharp statement and the deepening reverberation behind it, she was not shaken; continuing to stare with a nigh-bovine vacuousness at a spot on the modest hut's wall.

With a quick tap of its knuckles on the table, Caretaker Nirvu managed to startle the girl. She straightened her back and focused her eyes on it, her cheeks flushing slightly as the realization of her inattentiveness set in.

"I'm so sorry!" Her eyes implored the opalescent faceplate, and whatever was behind it, for forgiveness. She didn't maintain that look, long, and never did; forcing her eyes to the floor almost immediately after. "I just..." She swallowed, hard enough for it to be audible. "I just miss..."

The Caretaker lifted a hand and waved away her apology. Sensing its distant smile, she relaxed. "It is no trouble. You are far from your home and thrust into a strange situation."

No, she wanted to say, despite the statement being an invariable truth, I was just thinking about the foods I've been missing... That had occupied her mind for a full four minutes before the robed being rattled her. She knew, distantly, that she had more important things to worry about. Dad, mom, sis. My fish. My grades. All those things she had cried over, at once, more than once. Now, she just wanted to find a way to go back. But Nir...Caretaker Nirvu says that's not possible, right now.

So, instead she had started trusting in the strength of her family; the reality of her former life. This is a pretty big change, though... Her eyes, again, drifted around the hut. There were books scrawled in a language she couldn't hope to decipher. A black and white candle burned at the far edge of the table that she and her new tutor were seated at. The chair scratched and groaned at her, as she shifted; putting focus back on the Prime Caretaker.

"I...you're right. I'm sorry, though, again." Beatrix let out a slow sigh and put a hand to her forehead. "It's not that I'm...not interested. I just don't understand! This is all really hard for me!" She rubbed at her temples, trying to find the words. Caretaker Nirvu continued to show its usual patience with her, and she could feel its stare on her as she struggled. That only made things worse.

"Irriss is...different. I've been here a week, and I feel like I'm not catching on! I hardly know anything about my own world! I should have a million questions, but I just...-"

"Cannot find the words, or the correct place for them," it finished for her, beckoning her to silence by way of the strange rules attached to its station, "This is also understandable. However, there are many things to be revealed to you, Beatrix. I ask that you devote your attention to my words." It shifted, leaning slightly forward. Beatrix felt a strange kind of pressure in her chest, her heart taking on a new rapidity. She felt light headed, as the Caretaker continued. "We may come to depend on your assistance, in some capacity. Mortals, Caretakers, Enlightened, and Unfettered. You are a Mortal brought to our world by strange means, and if recent discussions with the representatives of the Veiled Council and Unfettered Lords mean anything...you will not be the last."

Dread washed over her in a petrifying wave, stalling all but her mind. Other people from...my...world? That can't be good! No, wait, it could be! But...but...Caretaker Nirvu is saying it like it's something really bad. Her mouth worked slowly to form words she didn't quite think she was ready to say. I...uh, well...

"I'll help any way I can," it was the right thing to do, regardless of how she looked at the situation. Even if she would bemoan her position, there was only one road she could see back home. "Why do you think there will be others, though? And why does it sound so...so bad. I mean, I miss a lot of things! A lot of them! But...couldn't they stay here? Or something? Until there's a way back?"

If there's a way back...

Caretaker Nirvu affixed her with a more firm stare. Weighing her, as it sometimes did. She wriggled, a little, wishing it would stop; and that she didn't so pointedly understand the expression of the faceless companion she now had. It was unnerving; both the Caretaker and her understanding of it. Slowly, the intensity of it drifted away.

"There have been few Mortals to stay within the Crystalline Gardens, Beatrix. Your presence here is a rare thing. Many of the other Caretakers wish to see you removed. Aberrant Mortals are considered dangerous by many of my kin." Sadness seemed to caress the Caretaker. "Recent years have proven that strange beings often bring strange and dangerous tidings. I have told you, shown you, the damage wrought upon the Garden by an outsider's hands. There are more, still, in the way of atrocities that you have yet to see."

"O-oh," she managed. Beatrix let her hands rest against her knees, wondering. So...dangerous people are coming here? It was an unspoken, unnecessary question. Caretaker Nirvu had, indeed, shown her the former homes of the missing Semblances. As well as many of those that still remained. She had heard names and deeds more fantastic than she could imagine. Still, one utterance had stood out above all others. It had nothing to do with the Masks, so far as she could tell, or the weird creatures that were turned into them. At least not beyond their theft. A name spoken with bitterness, and often used alongside the word 'calamity'.

It had everything to do with a Nomad Serpent.

What Are You Listening To?

Worlds Apart

That's two more. Putting me at...

The quiet young man thought for a moment, counting his recollection on extended digits. His shadow had faded, along with the distortion he had brought into Lightbridge, leaving him to wander and wonder for a moment.

Fourteen. Pretty great number. Still might not be enough.

He let his hand fall and turned his attention to his destination, again. Currently, he tread an alleyway; accompanied only by the echoes of his steps and his slumbering shadow. Must be tired. Poor guy. He didn't smile, but felt the urge rising. Thoughts of Eufi danced between thoughts of his current and future. She was soft and smart and sweet. I kinda miss her, already.

When she and Dave were discovered, their case would be much the same as the preceeding twelve. I wonder if it's still a big mystery. Two a week, for the last seven. All their things stolen, but no fingerprints or visible wounds. Had he not swallowed his smile, it would have spread wide. Alive, but empty. He slid his hands into his pockets, sticking close to the wall.

Let' see...

He knew where he was going, but almost always took a different route. Making it to the north side of town usually took time, but his pressing business for the night had been taken care of; though he doubted he would be forgetting Eufi and Dave for quite some time. The stroll was leisurely, a half-moon throwing down pale light from on high when incessant clouds allowed. It was comforting in its desolation, a perfect blend for the alchemy of emotions boiling beneath.

His fingers traced the edge of his adumbral implement, feeling the low purr of its satiation. It's going to be so sad, later. His shadow stirred at the thought, staring at the world around him. Hey, buddy, good morning! It never ceased to amaze him how well synchronized the two were, despite the nature of their attachment. The way his vision seemed to sharpen and widen when it was awake. Outside of their 'bubble', the melding of their senses was minute. When he brought his warped vision forward, however, he could feel through his companion...and much, much more. It was part of why he would remember Eufi so well.

It would never respond, and the quiet young man knew that it was incapable; but it was pleasant to converse with, even though the action often felt closer to simply speaking to himself. Just as it stared, he was sure that it listened. That it cared.

Who else do I really have to talk to, right now? I've still got that thing to do, but it's going to take a few minutes to get where I'm going. It's a little bit past midnight, so there's no reason to rush.

He shrugged, understanding that his sloth might prove problematic; in a small way.

It doesn't matter, though. Came and went, right on time. Like clockwork or something. Maybe I'll stop and get some food, on the way. How long's it been since I've eaten, anyway?

That reminded him of the cards in his pocket. The various fund-funnels Eufi and Dave had been carrying. He wouldn't be using them. He never did. That would be a big give away. Instead, he would broach the subject of their disposal with a trusted source. He would deplete his own paltry funds by way of celebration.

I should probably pick up something extra. Don't want to be rude.

Worlds Apart

She lowered herself into a crouch, turning her gaze away from the nigh omnipresent tinge of fluorescent-lit crimson. The cop had fallen onto the track, a long, weeping gash across his chest. His assailant had made his way to the group, talking to himself. Tabitha Calvicante didn't give a damn about either of them. Tristan...what the fuck, man?! She had caught the bare end of his defiant moment. The spray of matter she couldn't readily identify as anything other than blood and brains. The realization lingered in the air, and continued to do so, long after life had fled his form and his blood had settled into a quietly pulsing puddle.

The train's comin'. It ain't that bad. It ain't that bad. It ain't that...

Her stomach lurched and Tabitha turned her back on the group to dry heave for a moment. A rope of saliva slowly trickled to the ground, viscus and rattling. Just hurry up. Fuck. I ain't gonna be able to keep my nerve if it ain't happen soon. Part of her acknowledged, without forming the words, that she didn't have the strength to stand up again. This was her spot for the big beginning.Or a messy finale. Just like Will, I'm gonna end up splattered all over these fuckin' rails because of her. I got somethin' he ain't, though. Everyone here has the key. She took the mask from inside her hoodie and lifted it to her face. She said don't put it on until I got the right place. She said this was the right place.

The inside of it was etched with a series of perfect spirals that ran along the uneven surfaces. Looks like it'd cut, even if I just put it on. She rolled it over in her hands and met the slit-eyed stare, letting herself be pulled into its depths; anything to distract herself for what she'd just seen. Anything to let the moments pass by without clarity. The others could struggle with the dying guys. She was more worried about the ones who were already dead. Concern for herself was battered down, as it had been through the excrutiatingly long hour. It's alright. He made a smart move. Ain't have to face down the train. He better be...

Sorrow surged from her core and threatened to drown her eyes. She kept steady on her feet, knees pressed against her chest, arms holding the Semblance aloft. Behind her someone else stepped onto the tracks. She barely heard it, given the near-malicious rumbling of the approaching train.

Instead, a voice cut through the chaos and facade. That same soft, insufferable voice that had brought her here. Tabitha felt her heart skip a beat and her grip on the Semblance tightened. She wanted to stand up and scream, to let loose all the tension that had been keeping her upright. She wanted to shout at everyone, letting them know exactly how stupid she thought they were; how little they were being. She wanted to give herself a bit of that thrashing, too, but it was all way too personal. She felt her knees give way, and Tabitha sank slowly onto the track; her eyes drawn to the placid speaker.

"The moment has arrived."

The Ghost Girl stood over Tristan, her hand aloft over his crumpled form. Her eyes seemed focused on them, but Tabitha couldn't meet her gaze. From her fingers had spread small wispy threads of shifting hues, touching gently on the corpse. They wormed their way into his wounds, flaring violently after a moment of contact; then dispersing altogether. The fuck was that about? Is that how she's gonna move us? I-

She pointed without ceremony, a bright and monstrous light filling the far end of the tunnel.

"After I have transferred you to Irriss, I will answer what questions I am able. Then, we will part ways, for a time. There are those who have been prepared to guide you, in my absence," The Ghost Girl took a step forward, looking down on them, now. Tabitha met her gaze, despite her position and felt a little more calm. The end was inevitable, after all, and bearing down on her with all of its weight. "You will meet them, before we part ways."

Parting ways, huh? Can't say I'm gonna miss ya. But if ya ain't around...

She didn't find the strength to stand, but she managed a small smirk.

Nah, that's for the best. Gives me time to figure out what the fuck's goin' on.

There wasn't much more time to waste with thoughts of vengeance, or regrets.

Those ain't gonna matter, soon, anyway.

Her eyes turned toward the light, and Tabitha embraced her departure from the cruel world around her. It was quick, and surprisingly painless, when it did come; just loud.

Then it all faded...for a moment. Tabitha's eyes opened, again, mere moments after she had a clear vision of the subway train.

Now, she stood in a field of lush grasses, vibrant flowers she'd never seen before and sparse trees. A well-worn dirt path snaked along her left, empty at the moment. The sky was blue and clear, sullied only by a few lazily rolling clouds. A soft breeze blew over her and shook her back to 'reality'.

The others were there. As was the Ghost Girl.

"So ya wasn't lyin'. Good to know. Ya owe us some fuckin' answers."

The other nodded.

"Allow the others to orient themselves, and we will begin. Whether you are aware of it, or not, you just experienced quite the journey."

Redward's Box. [1x1/Small Group Interest Check]

I have had several people drop out on my ideas, recently. I'm almost ready to throw in the towel.

If anyone out there is dedicated and willing to craft a story with me, please let me know.

All ideas are currently open. Free Saga has a current iteration that has yet to get off the ground.

The other two haven't been touched.

I'm not really sure what to do except offer a 'bump' and hope someone is willing to take that leap.

Thanks for reading.

Worlds Apart

Idly, she lit a cigarette. Tabitha had turned her eyes from the excitement. Certainly, she and the others had been addressed; implored to remove themselves from the tracks. Like that's gonna happen. How ya gonna move me, get down here yaself? Shoot me? Fuck off, ya blowhard. Instead of complying, she considered doing what she always did when a cop popped off at her. Running, full speed. Straight down the tracks and into the oncoming juggernaut.

Wouldn't make a difference. Besides, I wanna see what's goin' on.

"Ya sound pretty ballsy, kid. Smart thing would be gettin' back on the platform," Tabitha looked at the younger Ascot from beneath her hood, keeping the clusterfuck in her periphery in case things worsened, "but that's ya call to make. Just like s'mine and, uh, whoever this dude is. Who are ya, anyways?" Her gaze shifted. The scientist had lifted an eyebrow at her, something that didn't sit right with her; like there was some expectation of Tabitha. She had wanted to laugh, but let it slide. There were enough problems going around without her attitude being one of them.

"Name's Tabitha," she offered to the two, looking slowly between them, ashing her cigarette away from the small group, "nice to meet ya." A smile slithered its way onto her face, mischievous and conspiratorial, and she shifted on her heels to more adequately face the unruly gathering. Tristan had pulled a gun, aiming at- Somethin', somethin' movin'? Or the first gun guy?- she couldn't tell exactly what was going on over there, despite the way it looked and what little she had heard. "Whatcha guys think about all this?"

Wonder if anyone's really gonna pull the trigger. Fuck. Maybe. Seems real tense. Guess I ain't doin' much better.

The Ghost Girl had made a slow crescent around the group to linger near the wall Tabitha had been leaning against. She stood like a statue, staring out over the group. Her expression, as always, was inanimate. Always so hard to read, ain't ya? Psh, whatever! I got ya! I know I do. Ya ain't gonna go through all the trouble just to watch us die. Ya got big plans, I bet. Plans ya made the mistake of includin' me in. Their eyes met, for a moment, neither giving anything to the other. Tabitha slowly raised her cigarette and drew out the last of its life. Bet I could tag the cop, if I tried real hard. She raised the butt and hesitated, tempted to follow through. It'd be funny, but I ain't involvin' myself. She cast it aside without incident, letting it bounce from the tracks.

"Fire, if it pleases you, Michael," The Ghost Girl did not raise her voice, nor make any movement, "and you, as well, Tristan. Drive the blade home, if you wish it, Oedipus." Her eyes seemed to focus on the distance, looking beyond them.

Tabitha almost smirked, watching it happen.

Least I ain't the only one gettin' talked at like I'm nobody.

"I have told you all that it is inevitable. You have made your stance clear, in response. That will delay several important events, for you. Events which would prove beneficial to your understanding. However, it is not my place to force you into choosing. Or understanding. Or cooperating." Now she stepped forward, lifting her left hand and letting it linger in the air. "Those who do not wish to be here may leave. I can not stop you." The Ghost Girl gave them a small frown, her eyes shifting into something resembling focus. "Those of you who have not decided have little time to do so. Regardless, your wishes will be respected. I can not, however, allow you to interfere in the choice that others have made."

Slowly, she pointed a digit at those on the tracks.

"Prepare yourselves. These moments dwindle quickly. Once you enter Irriss, I will explain to you what I am able."

Tabitha puffed her chest out, defiant and proud all at once; straightening her back and letting her smirk show.

"Wouldn't be here if I wasn't, Ghost Girl. Besides, ya owe me."

Redward's Box. [1x1/Small Group Interest Check]

Looking for anyone interested in an idea aside from Free Saga. I know I have posted a Character for Sleepyhead Syndrome, but I have changed my mind about using him.

If anyone is interested, please leave me a message here or via PM.

Thank you for taking time to read what I have to say!

Mahou Puroresu: Your Heart Belongs in the Ring!

Lilith

Name: Radana Wyrick

Stage Name: Lilith

Age: Seventeen

Appearance:

[+]

Personality: Cruel and dispassionate, Lilith derives the little joy in her life from inflicting pain on others; be it psychological or physical. While her size and quiet demeanor would lead most to believe the behemoth heel to be slack-witted, the truth is quite different. Calculating, but not without her dark passion, Lilith tends to think of every encounter as a conflict; analyzing her opponent as best she can while looking specifically for sensitive points to exploit.

Brusque and callous, she very rarely shows any form of civility in her interactions. The exception to this is La Diva Diabla, who she deeply admires. While many think Lilith to be without scruples, her loyalty to the Eve Alliance is unquestionable.

Signature Moves:

Pyredriver: Imbued with conflagratory malice, Lilith lifts and flips her opponent; leaping into the air to drop them squarely on their head. While the flames of her rage are small, at first, upon impact the scathing energy will spread outward in uneven and unpredictable fissures. Given her stature and ability to harness negativity, the impact is quite considerable; leaving all but the most resilient Majoushi battered and broken.

Hellevator: Where the Pyredriver will not suffice, the Hellevator will decimate. Lifting her opponent with one arm, demonstrating her sheer strength, the following fall is a nightmare. When her vice first makes contact, a pentagram of otherworldly flame forms throughout the ring. Shadows scream from the corners and all seems to become dim. With excessive force, she slings her foe downward; shaking the foundation of the ring with the impact.

The force alone, however, is not the only danger presented. The pentagram its self converges on the fallen foe, washing over Lilith to bathe the sacrifice in anguish. It surges forward with a startling alacrity, and leaves the afflicted Majoushi aflame.

Theme:

[+]

Mahou Puroresu: Your Heart Belongs in the Ring!

@Wight Trash Thanks! I'll go ahead and move her over to the Character Tab.

Mahou Puroresu: Your Heart Belongs in the Ring!

Lilith

Name: Radana Wyrick

Stage Name: Lilith

Age: Seventeen

Appearance:

[+]

Personality: Cruel and dispassionate, Lilith derives the little joy in her life from inflicting pain on others; be it psychological or physical. While her size and quiet demeanor would lead most to believe the behemoth heel to be slack-witted, the truth is quite different. Calculating, but not without her dark passion, Lilith tends to think of every encounter as a conflict; analyzing her opponent as best she can while looking specifically for sensitive points to exploit.

Brusque and callous, she very rarely shows any form of civility in her interactions. The exception to this is La Diva Diabla, who she deeply admires. While many think Lilith to be without scruples, her loyalty to the Eve Alliance is unquestionable.

Signature Moves:

Pyredriver: Imbued with conflagratory malice, Lilith lifts and flips her opponent; leaping into the air to drop them squarely on their head. While the flames of her rage are small, at first, upon impact the scathing energy will spread outward in uneven and unpredictable fissures. Given her stature and ability to harness negativity, the impact is quite considerable; leaving all but the most resilient Majoushi battered and broken.

Hellevator: Where the Pyredriver will not suffice, the Hellevator will decimate. Lifting her opponent with one arm, demonstrating her sheer strength, the following fall is a nightmare. When her vice first makes contact, a pentagram of otherworldly flame forms throughout the ring. Shadows scream from the corners and all seems to become dim. With excessive force, she slings her foe downward; shaking the foundation of the ring with the impact.

The force alone, however, is not the only danger presented. The pentagram its self converges on the fallen foe, washing over Lilith to bathe the sacrifice in anguish. It surges forward with a startling alacrity, and leaves the afflicted Majoushi aflame.

Theme:

[+]