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4 yrs ago
I have a rough draft for my final due this week and the final is due next week. My replies will be slow for a bit. Bare with me.
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Seohyung arrived with minutes to spare. A few people were already there. He’s had tea with two of them before. The sword woman whose name escapes him and Skygge, in his Yamato Autumn Collection suit. He knew O’Connell from regular missions. The others were new to him, the blond man smoking in the back of the garden, the feminine boy in a dress, and the small boy that excitedly introduced himself. Seohyung followed the kid’s greeting, until he said an English name then a Japanese name. He wasn’t well versed in English passed Hello, Goodbye, and My name is. English wasn’t a class he remembered much from middle school and only learned enough to pass the tests. He vaguely remembers given names are first, then the last second, but the boy spoke Japanese, so he didn’t see the point in greeting him like he couldn’t. He must not have been raised here or he wouldn’t have to think too hard about how to greet him and his manners were shit. 

“Hajimemashite, Hyuga-san. Kamenashi Seohyung desu.” He bowed forty-five degrees, then straightened up.  His chest tightened up, his breaths slightly shallow, and his palms were sweaty. He needed to move, before Hyuga got the idea to say something about his name, so he went to stand by his seat.

Skygge sat at the head of the table, brush in hand, writing something in kanji. It was a poem, but he didn’t recognize it. Can’t say he knew much poetry to being with. Seohyung kept his focus on important things: training, missions, and fashion. Anything else escaped him. Once Skygge was done he greeted them and allowed them to sit. Seohyung sat in a chair to Skygge’s right. He didn’t like being this close to him. Skygge has gotten on him about his training and mission conduct on plenty of occasions. Seohyung wouldn’t say he hates him, but their interactions are unpleasant to say the least and being this close makes him anxious after the stunt he pulled today. But he didn’t want to move, it’s the seat he always sat in to get a close enough look at Skygge’s High Tea suits. There’s a lot he could say about his superior officer, and impeccable fashion taste was one of them. The Yamato Collection wasn’t his favorite by Fukuto Shiruku, but it was no less beautiful than what she usually produced. Though his wages are decent, he still doesn’t make enough to hope to buy one of her outfits.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught the new foreigner approaching and frowned when he put out his cigarette on his shoe. He could only guess he was American. Shit manners seem to be common among them. He ignored the foreigner’s attempt at a friendly smile and poured himself some green tea instead and put a biscuit on his plate. The sweets didn’t appeal to him. Sweet things made his teeth hurt. 

Seohyung kept to himself and listened in on everyone else’s conversations. The feminine boy in a dress's English was atrocious. He couldn't understand much other than super, cool, and guy but nothing added up. This was already a trainwreck. 

Between sips of tea and bites of his biscuit he kept his eyes on Skygge’s suit. The golden embroidery stuck out the most against the black fabric, but that wasn’t the best part. It was the subtle black design that went unnoticed unless you looked closely. A hallmark of Fukuto’s works. Less was more and nothing said that better than subtlety. What he wouldn’t give to feel the soft fabric on his finger tips and trace the design from sleeve to chest and all the way down. 

It didn't help that Skygge's suit was tailored to fit. Broad shoulders accentuated, waist narrow and snug in the waist coat. He caught a glance at his thighs in those pants when he first walked into the garden. It was almost too bad he couldn't get a look while he sat. His face flushed, but he didn't stop his gaze. Did Skygge have the blue one? It was his favorite in the collection. The blue tie with silver embroidery was a nice piece on its own. Maybe he could buy it separate, even though he wasn’t a fan of ties, one from Fukuto would be worth it. He'll have Usagaya look it up later.

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@Randomness She needs a mirror or reflective surface in reach to create her armor. Just a finger tip touching a mirror or reflective surface would be enough. She can reflect magical and non physical attacks. I.e. A dragon breathes fire it'll be reflected, however if it kicks her it won't reflect.
If an attack isn't attached to the body it's reflected.
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@Stitches Yep. Final draft.
I edited my cs.
@Randomness So my character has teleportation magic in a way. I know she can't leave the room with it, but going from one side of the room to the other side is okay, right? It's not all her power entails, but it's a part of it.
@Stitches PM me on RPG please.
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Seohyung woke to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor attached to his chest. The second time it’s happened this week. The sixth time this month. And the umpteenth time in the year and a half, since he’s joined the NSF. The doctors and nurses knew his name more than any other member. Not something he was proud of nor ashamed. It just was. He already knew how they treated his injuries. There was an IV in his arm for blood replenishing medicine and fluids. The stab wounds were covered with a sealing mesh that healed the wounds and numbed the pain. They couldn’t do anything about the bruise on his thigh or the one on his back. The cuts on his face pulled tight when he moved his face. No matter. It’s not the worst pain he’s ever been in and it won’t be the last. He turned on the digital panel on the bed rail, called the nurse, then pressed the up button to elevate himself upright. His doctor came in a few moments later.

“Kamenashi-san, you really have to stop doing this. As cute as you are, I don’t care to see your face more than every once in awhile,” Dr. Nakamaru said, her hands were in her pockets. She was a tiny woman with a stern face and a few strands of gray hair mixed with her black. 

Seohyung smiled slightly and snorted. She used to say his face was the only refreshing thing about him. Of all the things people said to him over the years, no one’s ever complimented his looks. Do you look like the Korean half or the Japanese half? or Ugly Korean bastard were more in line when anyone said something about his face. 

“I’m sorry, sensei.” He said it every time he saw her and every time it’s just as sincere, but he couldn’t stop. There was too much at stake. The one time he tried nearly killed him and he couldn’t go there again. He refused to waste the life his mother was determined to give him or the kindness of the soldier that brought him home to his father. So this was the way it had to be. He’d train, survive, do what others like him are too afraid to do and get rid of the nationalist that threaten their way of life.

“I know you are, kid.” She sighed and pressed a button on the edge of his bed. A holographic diagram of his body appeared. She isolated the areas he injured and zoomed into the wound on his side. “This was pretty deep. Any further to the right and it would’ve fucked up your kidney.” She zoomed on his stomach. “Wasn’t as deep here.” She went to his face. “The cuts are shallow and shouldn’t scar.” Then she separated his right leg from the rest of his body and spun the hologram around to show the center of his back. “These are the areas you were shot. Just deep bruising. Can’t do anything about it, but prescribe pain medication.” She swiped right and pulled up his medical history. 

The list was extensive. All dates from the last two years, and the one at the bottom from fourteen years ago. A notification came in across the top. It was a message from Dr. Kitayama, the NSF psychologist. There’s only one reason there’s a message on his file. Fuck. He’ll no doubt have to go see him soon. “Which you won’t take anyway. I patched you up with the mesh, bandaged the cuts on your face, and have you on a blood replenishment.” She opened the one for today, then looked at him. “How are you feeling?” 

Seohyung twisted his sides, just dull aches, nothing too bad. The bruises throbbed like hell, but they’ll be worse tomorrow. “I’m fine. The wounds barely hurt and the bruises hurt the worst.”

“Okay, good.” She entered his response. “I’ll get the nurse to discharge you once you’re done with the fluids.” She pressed the button again and the hologram went away. “I don’t hope to see you again anytime soon, but I’ll have a better chance reaching Nirvana. Have a good day, Kamenashi-san.” 

Seohyung left the medical wing on a barely discernible limp. He pushed through the hellish pain like he did everything else in life; with the conviction that if he didn’t, then the end was nigh. It was a little after 1230. Not much time left for him to deep cleanse and soak, before High Tea at 1400. The medical wing wasn’t close to the dorms. He passed through the training hall. Room 11 was already cleaned up like he hadn’t been there at all. He’ll be back at it tomorrow. He passed several co-workers on the way. Some whispered behind his back, called him Suicidal Seo, while others gave him scathing looks. He didn’t pay them any mind. None of them matter off the field. All they needed to do was watch his back during duty. 

By the time he got to his room his leg shook, he grimaced, hurried into his room, then locked the door behind him. 1245. Not much time given the pain he’s in. He took off his boots at the door.

“Usagaya, start the bath.”

Hai, Kame-chan! A cute playful robotic voice answered. The bath water ran in his bathroom.

“Usagaya, ready for High Tea.”

Hai, Kame-chan!

Seohyung peeled off his intra suit and put it in the repair bin with the rest of the suits he has to send in. “Usagaya, remind me to get my intra suits repaired.”

Hai, Kame-chan!

He entered the bathroom, door slid closed behind him. He saw himself for the first time since that morning. He looked like hell, nothing new. His face had bandages, scars from cuts and stabbings were home on his body from his shoulders to his arms to his abdomen and down his legs. The skin mesh for his knees was gone. The metal shone in the light, his lungs tightened up, his mind empty of the memories, but he’ll never forget the fear he felt that day. Never again. He squeezed his hands tight, closed his eyes, then inhaled for five seconds, held for four, then exhaled for seven. After several minutes he opened his eyes, more relaxed, and ready to get on with his day. He soaped up then cleaned off with the detachable shower head, before he climbed into the bath to soak. It felt great for his bruises.

1325 Kame-chan!

Seohyung didn’t want to leave the bath, but he had a commitment to make. He's never missed High Tea if he could help it. He rose from the tub, dried off with a towel, grabbed a skin mesh from the cabinet and stretched it over his knees' augmentation. The mesh adhered to his skin, then turned color to match his skin tone. His thick hair was to the bottom of his ears. He couldn’t leave it down, so he gelled it, then slicked it back off his face how he liked it. He attached his small hoop earrings in each ear, then went into his bedroom. In the center of his small rotating closet was his High Tea wear. A white button up shirt, a black bowtie with gold wings, black slim fit slacks, and black dress shoes. He dressed, fastened his clip on bowtie, and checked his appearance in his closet mirror. Everything was perfect. Good. He put his shoes on at the door, locked up behind him, and left for Kotei Garden.

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