Mglo

Whatever you do, do it with style.
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Posting Speed
  1. One post per week
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Male
Genres
As long as the plot's good I'm in. That says nothing useful though... so I'll say: sci-fi, fantasy, I'm curious enough about horror to add it, aaaand action? yeah, ok, sure, action!

[btn=modc|https://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/a-stand-apart-signup-ooc.165592/]SIGNUPS & OOC[/btn]​

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T
he morning chill crawled on the skin with discomfort. It was an ominous day for all those women and men who had made a home among the tall buildings and their mechanical soundtracks. Their home did not welcome then any longer. Like children frightened by the darkness of their own home, clanspeople made their dreary march "home." It was a choice and yet not at all. For the most part, the Clan order was understood, but there was also the fear that fueled it. Some feared the threatening looks, the outsider feeling, while others feared their own uncontrolled potential.

What if?

En mass, small numbers though they were, they unwillingly fled lives they'd shaped or had only just begun to. Meanwhile those who never left the Village felt the change in the wind. It wasn't just that the season was changing. This autumn was different in that it brought with it dread and possibility.


Was this an opportunity or a trap?

Only tomorrow would tell, and many thought of this hopeful but just as many worried for the worst.

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Saskia stumbled out of the forest on to the path that led to the village, picking up her bag that she had hidden among some bushes on the side the of the road. She lived relatively close to the village in comparison to some of the others and had arrived early. So, instead of going straight into the village, she had gone to what had once been one of her favorite spots. A small hike and a bit of rock climbing led to a cliff that overlooked the village and gave a good view of the setting sun. When she was younger she had planted a couple peach pits at the top, and miraculously, one of them had sprouted. Her original plan had been to have a food source so she could stay there longer while reading. Unfortunately, her plan had failed. Although the tree had grown nicely, it hadn't produced any fruit until the year she left the village and she never got to eat any.

It was late afternoon but the sun was already starting to set. Saskia readjusted the large duffel bag on her shoulder and moved her scarf so that it partially covered her face and walked into the village looking down at the ground. Besides cutting off her long hair, she hadn't changed much, and it would be easy to recognize her. If she was lucky, she would be able to make it straight home without having to talk to anyone. If she was unlucky, she would get stopped by someone who wanted to stop her and talk to her for an hour before she could get home. The only people she really wanted to see were her father and maybe Uskir, who she hadn't seen for nearly 10 years. Maybe Seli. No, it would be better if she didn't see Seli yet. He was so energetic and she was tired. This autumn seemed colder than usual. Winter would probably come sooner than usual, and it was going to be a cold one. The unnatural cold weather seemed to echo the internal conflict currently happening in the clan. Hopefully both would end soon.
 
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The comforting heat of the shower was quickly consumed by the chill as he stepped out, his damp flesh protected by nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist. Autumn was coming, as the decrease of temperature made his morning uncomfortable, yet his complaints would be smoothed over by the smell of tea and the soft humming resonating from his chest. It was a bit later than when he usually woke up, but he had the day off from his patrol duties and chose to enjoy the embrace of his bed just a bit longer. Still, the unnatural energy that powered him didn't let him linger too long in the world of dreams.

Pouring himself a cup of tea, he placed it on the table to briefly cool before he'd consume it. In the meanwhile, he got dressed in his casual wear. While it was his day off, today promised to be an eventful one as the other clan members were returning home today. Akeseli wasn't certain why the order was given or why everyone seemed so moody lately, but he just chalked it up to one of those things that were "too important and complicated" to involve him as some had previously said, so he wasn't going to let the others dampen his mood. Then again, nothing short of a major tragedy could chip his optimism.

Taking a seat, he took a sip of his tea and resumed his humming as he savored the taste. Memories of the past slowly bubbled to the surface of his mind as he contemplated those making the trek back to the village. Would they resemble his memories of them, or had the outside world changed them? What stories would they have to share? Had they started families out there? Had they become big shot celebrities? The mounting list of questions urged him through his cup.

Throwing on his coat, he placed the mug in the sink, his humming trailing off into silence. Silently bidding his home a farewell, he stepped out into the autumn chill, his mind racing over the first potential destination he would head to.
 
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Uskir Lazlow sighed into the window simultaneously fogging up the view. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the train. What made this trip even harder was the fact that he'd never gone back to visit. He'd left Polfress Village at 15 without looking back. He'd been so impulsive then, but his first months had been quick to feed his pessimism. Once he had gone as far as waiting around at the train station, thinking of buying a train ticket back. The second time he'd considered it, he'd made it as far as the bus stop. She'd noticed something in him, because she seemed too sophisticated to share her oranges with a stranger while the bus driver fiddled with the bus engine.

"Sorry folks! Bus is down."

"My bad," he'd whispered to her as he peeled the fruit. She gave him an odd look at first, but then... Five years later and now he was leaving her. She'd been encouraging, easily hiding her worry, that they'd write letters. She seemed convinced they could maintain a long distance relationship. Uskir couldn't make himself think like her, what the newspapers had been reporting frightened him. What if the next biological explosion happened within him? What if letters weren't enough to keep her invested, or him for that matter. Worst of all, what if he hated being back in the Village without her while she moved on without him?

The Train stopped. He got off and walked a long way to the bus stop. He met others on the way, nodded here and waved there, but the small gathering rode the bus and then walked on silently through the farming fields. Each lost in their own thoughts, or reading enough of the atmosphere to know not to small talk.

"Sorry to break the solemn silence, but you're a Lazlow," one of the women said as she glanced at his blackened fingers, "before I left the Village the only Lazlow that was out of it was Uskir... is that you?"

He saw it now, as they walked through the forrest, she was a few years older and had been appealing to leave the Village for years before he'd left it. She'd been good friends with one of his cousins in fact. "Yeah, only Lazlow that's been outside in 5 generations," he said, glad it distracted him a bit from the image of his girlfriend waving him goodbye at the train station this morning.

"Damn boy, nature sure gave you a stretch!"

And with that exclamation they arrived at the stone gate. They checked in and each of the small group split up and went their own ways home.

"Grandma? I'm hom-"

"USKIR! I was about to clobber you in the head child! You gave me a scare I didn't recognize you, but what in the world did they feed you in the city my boy? You're a giant!"

"I missed you grandm-"

"Put your things down, go wash up, I'll make you something to eat. You should rest now you're here because there's an assembly tonight at the westside's amphitheater. Oh but you're going to cause such a racket look at you so handsome, except that messy hair of yours I've never liked that hair. That's a sad trait from your mother's side, well go on then!"

Uskir smiled and kissed his grandmother's forehead before gathering his things. He soon walked out of the house heading towards the public bath near the hotspring.
 
If she had been a little less indecisive, then it wouldn't have happened this way. As it stood at the moment, it felt as though the universe had a smug smile plastered on its greasy, good-for-nothing face. All the signs had pointed towards her needing to get away. Everything felt so small. Her very skin itched with impatience. And yet, the executive order came down and nbody was allowed to leave. The lucky few who had managed to break away were being reeled back like fish on jagged hooks as she sat there. A full bag sat at her feet, its contents starting to spill out, almost mimicking the dejected sighs of its owner.

"I'm sorry, Jhanne," Lar said, his clear blue eyes trained on his sister.

She sucked in a deep breath, "You didn't do this."

For a moment, the siblings avoided eye contact, but the moment they looked each other head-on, they burst out laughing. The humor wasn't lost on either of them. Lar knew how desperately his baby sister wanted to make her grand exit, and now the birdcage was shut for the foreseeable future.

"I've never asked you why you stayed," Jhanne managed, after the chuckles died out. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had her head out of her ass long enough to actually talk to anyone in her family, let alone her elusive bookworm of a brother.

He tapped his chin and scooped up her bag in lieu of an immediate response. When his gesture was met with a withering gaze, he relented, "There's nothing out there for me. I told you the story once, when you were a lot younger... sorry you don't remember it."

The pair of them stood at a stalemate for a few moments, and in that short span of time, she remembered why they didn't get the chance to talk all that much. She shook her head, smiled, and retrieved her bag, taking it back to her room and flinging it onto her bed, where it could vomit up a few pairs of socks and her wallet. Not wanting to head back downstairs, she opened the grand window that took up most of her room's southern wall, and quickly shimmied onto the small roof below. Jhanne used to do it all the time as a kid, and it was a tighter squeeze now than she'd anticipated. It wasn't too far a drop down from there, and muscle memory reminded her of a ledge a few feet below that made the drop safer. With her feet back on the ground, she decided she'd vent her frustration at the hot springs for a bit before it became clear what exactly they were to expect from the forthcoming assembly.
 
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Saskia had nearly made it home when she walked past him. She almost didn't recognize him and kept on going, but even though 10 years had passed, his face and messy hair were unmistakable. "Deer boy? Is that you?"

She turned and looked at him. Really looked at him. Saskia was on the shorter side, but not by much. She had grown early when she was younger and so had been among the taller of the kids around her age. Uskir, who had been on short side growing up, had never been too much taller than her despite the age difference. Now, he seemed to tower over her. "What the hell Uskir. What kind of drugs did you take? How'd you get so tall?" It was at this point Saskia realized that Uskir might not recognize her. She had only been 11 when he had left, still just a child. She certainly looked quite a bit different now after going through puberty. Hopefully the nickname and scarf would be enough for him to recognize her.

Behind Uskir, Saskia saw Seli, and she instinctively hid behind the first thing she could find, which happned to be Uskir so, she quickly pulled him over a couple inches in front of her. Akseli passed by without noticing her. Phew. Safe.

"Saskia? Is that you?" Great. Someone Saskia recognized, but didn't remember was walking towards them. Judging by the white hair, she was Spiegel. She was carrying a young child. "Akseli! Come here! Saskia's back. Saskia you cut your hair. Such a shame. It was so beautiful."

Saskia almost felt like strangling her. All she wanted to do was get home and take a nap before figuring out how she was going to skip the big assembly thing the person who checked her in had told her about. And now she would have to stand here and talk to this person whose name she couldn't remember and deal with Akseli's boundless energy.
 
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Frey watched over his mirror reflection under the river bridge. His slanted eyes are always been looking like that. He stretched them wide like rubber but nothing would work in the process. Frey's eyes are nothing special, all he wanted is to look normal like the adults in his age. Frey was naturally born with them. Whether it's rare for an Ywan to be having different features, his own father has them too but not his mother. He carefully stared at the clear water with a poker face, he wondered if there are ways to make his eyes to match the looks of others. It can't be helped, he's being too fussy about his facial features.

Looking back into reality, he let go of his eyes, realising there seemed to be no method to rid of them. As times come to pass, Frey headed back to the village main square to return for village duties. He also haven't met the children who once played in the garden. Though he must have remembered their faces.
 
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Like a screaming of people, the laundry fluttered with the wind all across the yard. Vikentije Rona watched as his mother struggled to take it down one by one. He didn't often show up at the Rona main house, but today he'd been called in by his father. Now he was too upset to interact with anyone, even his mother.

He walked away with a determined step and a look in his eyes that kept anyone that knew him well from saying a word. As soon as the front gate closed, he broke into a sprint. He had already gone for a run earlier that morning but nothing was ever enough for him. Training. Working. Studying. Diligently wanting more and greedily working towards being better than others. He knew he already was better than most, but that would never be enough.

He focused on his breathing, the sound of the leaves as he passed them by, and most of all, on the strain of his muscles as he forced them to scream out the anger he couldn't allow himself to voice. He wasn't the petulant child he was before, now he was grown up and a part of the Village Guard. A petulant adult. With a heavy thud he found himself be thrown back by the impact, quickly landing him on the floor. With an insulted glare he saw it was a person he'd ran into.

"Vikentije Rona? You scared me there for a bit, I thought you were a kid I was going t-"

"Don't even think about speaking a word to me," Vikentije interrupted as he brought himself back on his feet. He turned away and left the shocked guy behind. Rona's nails dug into his palms with the clear desire to punch the insect that dared compare him to a kid.

It wasn't long before his blind rage took him nowhere he needed or wanted to be, but by coincidence right into Frey Ywan. With anger still boiling in his veins Vikentije's words were bile in his mouth, "what are you doing? Don't you have duties?" It sounded more accusatory than he meant to, but if anyone could ignore Vikentije's eccentricities it was someone who had grown used to him.
 
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[fieldbox=The March Home]
As the day went on, news of the assembly spread either through word of mouth or the fliers pined to the community boards across the Village. With the spread of news also came the people. All of those who'd once left, men and women of all ages, marched into their old homes. Already some boasted of their now grown up sons or beautifully stylish daughters, but so did the complaints and the worries began.
What about the space?
Public facilities becoming overcrowded?
What would they do? How would they contribute to the Village?
Was there enough Village Guards to keep the piece?
What if they were infected with the power awakening that had already killed several in the cities?
Was there an infection?
[/fieldbox]
 
Nothing so far. He was disappointed, having childishly believed that he wouldn't have to patient and everyone would be magically there. Anticipation kept him moving, looping the village several times until morning gave way to noon. During that time he gave his morning greetings to the villagers up and about, got side-tracked with minor tasks, but eventually, he heard his name.
"Saskia? Is that you?" Great. Someone Saskia recognized, but didn't remember was walking towards them. Judging by the white hair, she was Spiegel. She was carrying a young child. "Akseli! Come here! Saskia's back. Saskia you cut your hair. Such a shame. It was so beautiful."

Saskia almost felt like strangling her. All she wanted to do was get home and take a nap before figuring out how she was going to skip the big assembly thing the person who checked her in had told her about. And now she would have to stand here and talk to this person whose name she couldn't remember and deal with Akseli's boundless energy.

His smile brightened at the mention of Saskia, as she was the one he had been looking forward to the most. Turning on a dime he approached the small gathering. How long had it been since they've last seen each other? He wasn't entirely sure but was glad of their reunion nonetheless.

"Saskia!" He nearly shouted in greeting as he finally reached them.

Strange, he remembered Saskia being much taller. Guess he outgrew her. Speaking of growth, he turned his attention to the taller man. It took him a second, but recognition finally shone in his eyes.
"Uskir?! Is that you?"
 
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Up in Flames
Deep breath. . .

Above his head the trees rustled lazily in the wind. Light danced over his closed eyelids, peeking through the leaves above. Cold steel at his back. . . Fire in his lungs.

Jay began hacking. Smoke billowed from his lips as he opened his eyes, turning his face with a hiss as the sunlight hit his eyes. Rust, luscious green overgrowth, and he could still see traces of the burnt orange and white paint job on the classic truck he hid in. He chuckled, rolling over on his side, taking another hit as he reached one hand to start scratching into the back of the vehicle along other grafitti.

The truck was shit.

Years ago it had broke down just outside of the village. Maybe it was the turn of things then, when the lines became so much more clear between their world and that beyond their village. He could not fucking stand it here. Not anymore.

He sniffed, wiping at his watering eyes as his mouth grew dry. He did not want to be back here. He had places to be. Last he knew, he was juggling a handful of prospective dates. He pressed his lips together around his blunt and his brows knit together in a frown. He fumbled to his pocket, pulling out a flip phone. He could never get one of those smart phones to work reliably even before. Inside his stomach lurched to think how long it had been since he posted an update to his friends and followers.

He exhaled through his nose, smoke curling up into the air as he finally summoned the will to check again.

No bars. . .

"Fuck, man. They're sweating bullets over nothing, and we're the ones who have to deal," he grunted and swung himself to sit upright, drawing his legs in til they crossed. He stared at the screen in his lap as he ashed on his Levi's. He swore and dusted off the pantleg -- what there was of the stylized shredded skinnies -- and dropped the phone.

A few more lines of the screen flickered out before a new patch of discoloured blotches destroyed what was left of his background. He grimaced, drawing his knees up to his chest while running a hand back through his hair in defeat. He had to ride a bike forever to even get out here. The forest roads were crap. The bugs were crap. The whole trip made his legs ache and now he stunk of B.O. and for what? Jack shit.

He shouted out in frustration, throwing himself back to lay in the truck with such force it made the bed creak and groan.

They would have loved it out here. If he could have snapped a few pictures out here with his P.O.S. camera on his mobile, it would have slayed. He'd tell them what a rich, rustic life he lived and they'd romanticize the hell out of it. He would have looked rugged and sensitive.

They weren't here, though.

He was.

And none of his shit worked.

He missed water heaters.

He missed light switches.

He missed thumbs up.

So what if some asshat was out there giving people the gift of their powers. They were all terrified, but it was always possible before. He leered down his belly and between his Vans at the beat path. He chuckled, rocking his body before her lurched to his feet, smirking around the roll as he makes muffled kung fu noises and sloppily mimics martial arts, trying to command the earth. "Huuwaaaa~ Hu! HAA! None shall defeat me, Melonlord!"

It was a silly dance for a sillier purpose and he knew it. He started laughing, letting the last of his smoke hit grate below as he almost spilled over the side. His hand reached out and caught the lip where there must have once been a window. He giggled to himself, "Fucking toasted." He scratched his jaw, straightening up before hopping down and picking up his Schwinn.

He stopped as he mounted the seat, his fingers tangling through and playing with the sparkling tassles on the handlebars. A present, and joke, from his friends before he finally made his way back to this hell hole. He shook his head. At least their other gift would make this 'meeting' bearable.
 
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Uskir had forgotten how tall he was, it wasn't something new to him but it was quickly becoming clear it was the first thing everyone would notice for a while. He worried it would be the only thing that would define him... that very tall loser or something. Recognizing Saskia hadn't been too tough, despite how much she had changed. A couple of key things gave her away, mainly her use of "Deer boy" but boy, her height really made him consider his own. He smiled at his old friend though self-consciousness began settling in. And it fully did once Akseli was called over.

"I, uh, grew up more than expected," he chuckled but didn't know how to explain his own growth. "To be honest I didn't really notice it, guess it happened gradually throughout high school and yeah, I'm a bit of a worrier and the city gives you plenty of things to worry about," he continued.

"Did you two leave or stay in the village? I never came back to visit and my parents' letters always went on about the windmill fiasco or the clogged water system thing my dad made for his garden. Never the interesting Village news," he sighed jokingly while shifting the tote bag on his shoulders carrying a change of clothes, shampoo and such.
 
"I stayed." Akeseli admitted, an oddity for someone who proclaimed he would explore the outside world when he was much younger, "Grandpa and Nana needed me and after they passed, I just couldn't see myself leaving the village." In truth, by that point, he had grown fearful that he would have been just as helpless in the outside world as he was trying to ward off the deaths of his loved ones.

"I even joined the Village Patrol, not too shabby, eh?" He boasted with a smile. Granted, he spent most days acting as a gofer for the other patrollers, but he was, at least on paper, an official member. "Viken's even taken me under his wing; says he see potential in me...or something like that." Most likely Viken's intentions were to minimize any inconveniences his energetic nature would make for the village, but such a thought would never cross Akeseli's mind.

"Oh! Remember that pear tree Nana planted back in the day? Erm...probably not, but it's grown quite a bit and has actually been bearing some fruit. I'll have to pick you both some!" The whiplash alone from the changing of topics could probably break necks, but such was par for the course with Akeseli.
 
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Perspective
Everything seemed in focus through the lens of a camera.

Peyton thumbs along the accordian sides of her analog camera. It always felt more wholesome in her hands than any of those digital ones—she wasn’t sure how many of those she broke during her photography class, either.

The camera dips for a moment at the thought and her bead on the world slips. The motion of the gathering assembly blurred to oblivion as a frown creased between her brow. A single school year away. Part of her just felt robbed. She had finally worked up to leave, and now she realized that every day she let past was just her time slippin between her fingers like sand. She never thought ahe would stay away forever. . . But there was a part of her that yearned to explore who she was in a way she could not here.

She shakes away the thought and raises the camera once more. It was dusky inside, but there was plenty of natural light to be let in, even though it was getting on in the day. Long shadows stretched across the room, distorted charicatures of the people who cast them. She snorts in amusement to herself. It made sense... the tension in the room could be felt. Those twisted flickering creatures of shadow, they were their fears manifest, terrified of these sudden awakenings.

Except one. A small smile flickers at the corner of her lips as she lays her gaze upon Vikentije. He was always so beautiful. For the longest time, she had envied him. She wanted to be just as beautiful as the small boy with such long luscious eyelashes.

The shutter crashes as it captures him and this moment in time with the chemical reaction on the film. Vikentije, the darkness behind his eyes only made him even more bewitching. Something deep, profound... multifaceted like a jewel, waiting to be cut to reveal its full glory. She chuckles inwardly to herself.

She didn’t envy him anymore. She didn’t want to be beautiful, now. Peyton was content to fade into the woodwork and watch the world through her camera.
 
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"I left. About 5 years ago. Just got in actually. I haven't even been home yet." Saskia said in response to Uskir's question, then as Seli was talking she whispered to him quietly, "Maybe it's a good thing you got so tall. Who knows, Vikentije could be into taller guys."

Saskia raised an eyebrow when Seli said that he was on the patrol, "Really? You? on the patrol? Are you sure you're not just causing trouble or being pushed around by everyone? You're such a kid Seli. Oh, that reminds me." Saskia reached into her bag and pulled out a pack of Pokemon cards. "Present. Uskir you should come to my house sometime later. My parents would love to see you."

The woman who had called Seli over (who Saskia now remembered was named Ami which was short for something) smiled and switched the child she was holding onto her other hip. "It's so good to see you both again. Especially you Saskia. Your parents are always complaining you don't write enough. Uskir's been gone longer but at least we hear from him. We've barely heard anything from you the past several years."

Saskia simply shrugged at Ami's mention of her lack of letters. It was something she had never been good at. When Uskir had left, she had actually planned to write him letters to keep in touch, but it hand't worked out well. She never got past the writing the first paragraph in her first attempt. She managed to finish her second try, but the letter had been left untouched on her desk for a couple months before disappearing. She had never bothered to try again. Although Saskia's parents had written to her often, it somehow always slipped her mind to write back. It wasn't a big deal though. Her life in the city wasn't as exciting as her family thought it was. There wasn't much to write about anyways.

"Are you going to the bath Uskir?" Ami asked turning to him. "There will be plenty of people for you to catch up with there. I've heard a lot of people want to wash up and look nice for everyone coming home today. I'm sure there's going to be a lot of big parties going on around town."
 
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Uskir listened intently to Akseli up until Saskia distracted him with the scandalous remark to which he was going to quickly shoot back at her except Akseli also mentioned the man in question.

"Vike-Vikentije is your- I mean, of course he's in the Patrol" Uskir stumbled, "I doubt that would surprise anyone." Luckily, it seemed to Uskir, Akseli was quick to switch topics.

To Saskia's invitation, he only nodded wondering how much her whole lot would give him torment over the height and the long forgotten childhood crush... though forgotten only by him. He idly played with the kid at Amitola's hip, pinching a cheek or giving him a smile.

"I'm glad things have gone well here for you Akseli. Being in the Village Patrol suits you somehow, even if Saskia might put that into question... but I imagine you get to travel around the land. Even though I left the village I can't say I did much traveling at all." Uskir shifted his weight suddenly thinking of her. She'd always proposed little trips of distraction, but he always thought the request process for leaving the city was not worth the trouble. Now he wished he'd listened to her every now and then...

"Ah, well that was the plan but... now you mention that, I'm not sure I want to run into everyone while I'm bathing haha. I think I'm just going to go back home and have a quick shower. The drums already started. Listen, I'll catch you later yeah? I'll join you if I see you in the crowd." With those parting words Uskir adjusted the tote bag on his shoulder and waved goodbye. He hurried back home, rushing in as his grandma worriedly told him to hurry up and what was he thinking, why didn't he go to the hot springs public bath and oh my heavenly beings is it the time already?

He got out, put on a white t-shirt, dark blue jeans and his brown jacket. His hair somehow a wet and fluffy mess moved in the air as he jogged towards the assembly gathering. His grandma had left early, and he was already late.



His brief encounter with Frey had given Vikentije some distance from that morning meeting with his father. The man was downright obsessed with arranging a good marriage for Vikentije and watching him settle down to 'realize that there are more life fulfilling things in life than work and training.' Unlike Frey, Vikentije was off duty and so they had parted ways promptly, before Vikentije could even show he was more irritable than usual. Now the pale soldier leaned on the wooden stair rails as he watched the people below, walking away towards the assembly gathering. He'd dressed up for the family meeting with the formal Ronan attire - form fitting and all tailored in black - making his standout features all the more noticeable. He didn't like that. He did like the slightly loose fit on the legs that allowed for ease of movement, and the tailoring showed off his well toned upper body. He wore it with pride, if only because it showed the bloodline legacy of strength, that even in formal attire they were ready to fight.

The drums began to echo, waking Vikentije from some meditative trance. He liked high places, from which he could look down on the village and keep watch. Now he had gathered himself, he descended the stairs with ease and confidence. He wasn't an easy person to strike up a conversation with, let alone engage in small talk, so it made for a quick trip to the assembly location.

He stood at the edge at high level seeing that most people had gathered and knowing by the change in the rhythm of the drums that the assembly would soon begin. Suddenly something caught his attention, his sharp eyes quickly turning in the direction. His dark eyes squinted with suspicion and the effort to find the cause, but to no avail. Peyton was much too bundled up and frozen in place to be discovered in the crowd.

Then it happened.

BOOM!
In the middle of the crowd.
hqdefault.jpg

Bodies were thrown everywhere, pushed away by the sheer force of the awakening.​

Vikentije, though he'd been at the edge, had felt the force push him away but he'd pushed back, moving forward to help the wounded as the crowd panicked around him. Meanwhile, the awakened person in the middle was hardly visible with all the liquid light pulsing around him.The pink liquid-like light whipped here and there, catching a person here and there and mixing their screams with the awakened one's screams. His own power was consuming him as much as it consumed those around him.

"Fuck," Vikentije whispered as he dragged an injured body behind him in one hand and carried an unconscious in the other despite his deceptive stature, "so much wasted power..."
He set the victims down and ran back into the fray.

"Vikentije!" One of the Guard Patrol called. An armor bloodline. Vikentije ran behind him, daring to get as close as possible to help the living nearest the danger. The pink liquid light flicked nearly knocking Ted away, he grunted with the effort. "Keep going!"

With all the dexterity he could muster, Vikentije sped this way and that, flipping in the air, retreating only to lunge forward, somehow evading the danger as Ted covered the worst of it. Two more of the Patrol joined them, both without abilities, and Ted gave it his all while Maria, Vikentije, and Aurelio carried as many as they could away from the danger. They made it to the sidelines in time to see Ted fall. "Vikentije! Don't!" Yelled Aurelio with both fear and admiration, but mostly with the dread of Vikentije's inevitable demise.
 
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Impetus
Jay sniffs, picking at his nose as he clung near the exit, ready to beat dirt when he got bored. It was just about appearances. These sort of things, some jackass or another would probably end up dominating with their inane ideas. He snorts out a chuckle. He bet it’d be his old man. He had a way of being a stubborn blowhard that was almost impressive.

He licks his lips, trying to wet them. He was impossibly parched and no matter how much cola he sucked down it wasn’t helping. “Fuck, where’d I put those. . .” He knew they’d care enough to say something after seeing him again. Probably make him feel like shit. He was always careful, sending home the best photos to his parents, telling them only about the good things. His hands pat down his wardrobe before catching his pen pocket. He sighs in relief, pulling out his eye drops and tips his head back to clear the red eye.

He did hate it back home. As ‘odd’ as the sort he fell in with away from home were, the village was fucked. He got that now. For a moment he pauses, thinking abour who he left behind here. His family was hit-and-miss. Uskir, he saw on the outside. Getting away from here probably was the best thing that happened to the two of them. If he cared to admit it, he was jealous of the twiggy fucker and his girlfriend. He didn’t though.

He told himself he didn’t care.

Just like he didn’t care if that bitch Saskia got up in his face again. He tips back his chair, rocking it before balancing it on two legs. She was burly, bossy, belligerent. God, he wouldn’t doubt her having gotten all macho and hairy since he was gone. Probably has hairy knuckles and a fuller mustache than him.

He pauses, staring into his lap and groans, tugging at his skinnies awkwardly and adjusting his shirt. He really questioned what was wrong with himself when he got litdick. He glances across the aisle to the skinny teenage boy who was fiddling with a camera. “You know its pointless, fucking with that stuff here? Its just going to blow up in your face.”

Peyton looks at him, her brow furrowed and shrugs. “It keeps me busy.” She fans the polaroid through the air. That was the real pointless exercise, it would develop regardless... there was just something soothing about the motion. Slowly, Vikentije begins to emerge from shadows in her hand.

“... Okay, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some fruity friends and all... but are you a chick? Did you lose the puberty lotto or something?”

Peyton just gives him a pointed look and turns her attention back to events. It was hard to ignore him. He seemed hooked onto the whole dick-or-clit conundrum that was apparently going on with her. He tried to backpedal. It was almost impressive, but the more his mouth ran, the deeper the hole he was digging and the more oddly insulting it was getting.

Until it happened.

Jay went silent just as the screams started. Peyton’s breath caught in her chest. The picture in her hands fell as she stood up onto her chair to see even as the torrential egress of frightened villagers began to jostle them. Her hands tremble around her camera. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. . . Not here.”

Jay struggled against the pushing bodies, trying to see what was going on. He spat out and punched out when an elbow connected with his jaw. The throbbing red heat at his face and his tender knuckles snap him to attention. His heart pounded. It slammed in his chest. In his throat. His ears. Shit, there goes my buzz.

He pulls himself away and starts raising his voice to pierce through the air and using his lanky stature to start directing people more calmly, “Swift and orderly! Kids and women up ahead! Don’t push, we’re all going to get out of here!”

Inside, though, his stomach was twisted up and he wanted to hurl. This was scary shit. He didn’t want to die... and from where he stood, he could see it all happening. Vikentije was playing the hero. It was no wonder Uskir always had it bad for him.

Peyton looked ahead, her hands raising with the camera slowly, looking through at. . . At. . . She didn’t know what to call it. There was so much noise and chaos, she couldn’t think. She shouldn’t be here, and that was all she knew. She didn’t ask for this. She didn’t want to see this. To top it all, seeing Vikentije in the thick of things and knowing she could do nothing. She lets her camera fall as she takes advantage of her small size, weaving into the crowd and letting it sweep her away.
 
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Saskia left shortly after Uskir, saying that she had to hurry and meet her parents before the assembly. Her parents, of course, gave her a warm welcome, with "You've gotten fat" being the first thing her father said to her. After putting her things in her room, she packed a small backpack and climbed out her window. She'd find a place to sit down and read during the assembly. It was her first day back so her parents wouldn't be too mad. Ideally, she'd be able to grab Uskir or Akseli right when the assembly ended and bring them home with her. Her parents were never angry when there were guests. She had been sneaking through the crowd by the assembly building when it happened. There what sounded like an explosion and Saskia found herself being blown backwards off her feet. She landed on her shoulder and groaned and rolled onto her back.

Despite a loud ringing noise in her ears, she could still faintly hear the sounds of people running and screaming in panic. Behind her closed eyelids there were flashes of bright light. She slowly opened her eyes. There was a throbbing pain in her left shoulder where she landed. Saskia slowly stood up and looked around at her surroundings. She had been lucky, really. the place she had fallen was only several feet away from the edge of what looked like the awakend's range. She immediately became worried for her father. Her mother would be fine, but Dorian Saxon was the kind of person to rush head on into things without thinking. After resting a bit and checking on her books she started running through crowds asking people if anyone had seen him until a patrol stopped her, "What are you doing? Go home it's dangerous here."

"I'm looking for my father. Dorian Saxon. Have you seen him?" Saskia said as she impatiently attempted to push her way past the patrol.

"We'll keep an eye out. For now, go back ho- Hey get back here!" The patrol blocked her path. The patrol attempted to catch her as she slipped out of his grip. He started to chase her, but then was called by someone else to help. She saw Uskir in front of her and ran towards him, "Uskir! Are you ok? Have you seen my dad?" She looked around, "Your grandma's not with you?"
 
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"Of course I'm in the Patrol. I always said I would, like my grandpops!" Akseli replied, somewhat disappointed that Saskia would question him in this regard, but it was obviously all water under the bridge when she presented him with the gift of collectible trading cards based on a Japanese cartoon (or was it the other way around? He couldn't recall.). "I haven't seen these types!" He said, practically squealing in delight, "This one looks like a sandcastle. So mysterious..."

Realizing where he was, he snapped back to reality, noticing the others were heading off in their own directions. No doubt to go prepare for whatever grand meeting the village elders were currently planning. Sighing to himself, he figured he would need to do the same, and began the trek back to his abode.
 
He'd never admit it, but Cyril might have actually been asleep standing up as the assembly started. In his defense, he'd been in the village all his life. Whatever needed his immediate attention could easily be recounted to him by any of his friends in the Guard. Hell, they'd covered his ass before during his less attentive moments. The only thing he needed to do was be prepared to leap into action in case of a crisis.

And who would dare to attack the vi-

Okay, he needed to rephrase that thought almost immediately. What in the hell was going on?

Pink light danced around a figure whom he couldn't recognize, but his curiosity only outweighed his alarm until he heard a familiar voice. Aurelio was saying something about Vikentije, of all people. Wait, Vikentije? That angry bastard of a tomcat was in trouble? It was almost a hilarious thought, if not for the disastrous implications. He thought he'd lend his buddy a hand, as a personal favor rather than a job sanctioned rescue. The severity of the crisis had not yet set in. Cyril had never been the most attentive member of the Patrol.

Focusing his mind, he felt the familiar slight burn tracing the pattern of the tattoo on his back as he manifested the ink into his trusty pair of wings. He cracked his neck and dipped into three practice squats before taking off towards Vikentije. His approach was rapid, but as soon as he caught sight of Viken's hostile gaze, he backed up. There was something much more important he had to do... and he didn't want to get knocked flat on his ass by a raging dwarf.

"Cyril! C'mere!" Aurelio snapped him back to attention. Cyril quickly pulled his comrade away from a streak of lightning, depositing him further away from the action. He grinned, about to turn down any praise, but was metaphorically slapped in the face. "I wasn't talking about me, you idiot! Back there-"

More pink flashes ravaged the space where he'd just made his heroic rescue and Cyril's eyes widened when he made out who was in the crosshairs. He took off once more.

"NED!" he screamed, making record time back to the side of the armor user. A trickle of blood ran down from his forehead and smoke rose off his body in a disgusting facsimile of a barbecue. Frankly, he'd be disgusted if he weren't so appalled. He bent down and touched the charred collar on his shirt. He had had his armor up. He had to have... and yet, it seemed to have meant nothing.

Cyril jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You asshole, his name was Ted. How disrespectful can you be?" Aurelio couldn't look at his fallen comrade but he also couldn't muster the strength to be upset with Cyril. "I'll clean up here. Just go help somebody, okay?"

Cyril took off towards a girl who had slipped past a few members of the patrol and a tall, lanky guy who he didn't think he'd ever met. He cleared his throat and attempted to sound authoritative.

"You two need to get out of here."