Destructed World Cacophony IC

[ERode]

It peals constantly, silently.
Ringing out cacophonously.
Reaching the very ends of the small, small world.
Causing waves.
Parting clouds.
Moving earth.
And slowly,
Piece by piece,
It destroys the world.

Destructed ✧ World ✧ Cacophony
​

It had only been a week since the city-wide party that was officially considered a 'promenade', only a week since students both graduated and enrolled, but energy levels were still remarkably high in the Offshore Academy City of Ringrange. Merely a week's worth of classes and assignments wasn't enough to bring down anyone, after all, and with club activities only beginning the week after, everyone had an excess of leisure time.

Indeed, night had fallen, neon signs have lit, and the city danced beneath the incandescent stars.

< Student District >​

Dozens of melodies mix together, a messy harmony of musical boxes from all the restaurants that were now fully operating. Large groups came in and out, academic clubs taking this opportunity to break ice with their latest acquisitions. Cuisine from all over Europe could be found, and some more avant-garde establishments even took a jab at Far Eastern food, with mixed results.

Advertisements could be seen everywhere, all complying with dozens of standards that the Student Disciplinary Committee established. None were too large, none were too racy, and none were too fantastical. The most outlandish was the Dark Continent Occult Club's Shop of Curios, but even that was rather tame. Dancing halls were opening up now, Council-approved alcohol flowing down the taps into the hands of young ladies and gentlemen, ready to spend their evenings drinking in the atmosphere. Student alcohol, after all, was weak, enough that inebriation wasn't really possible unless you drank until you were bloated.

Besides all that was pleasurable and all that was indulgent, grocery stores and butcher shops were getting business as well. The first weeks of the semester was always a little chaotic, but what remained important was the need to stock up one's pantry on a regular basis. Rabble-rousers and merry-makers may have dominated the Student District, but there were also those who simply wanted to buy some fresh vegetables and some meat imports from the mainland, before retreating to their suites. And, naturally, the ever constant blue-and-white of Disciplinary Committee members could be spotted in the crowds, making the rounds and teaching new members the ropes.

On an open patio, a Morceban gentleman gazes off into the distance, towards the gentle glow of Roaring Surf Street.

< Roaring Surf Street >​

Boutiques and delicacies were abound by the waterways of Roaring Surf Street. The serenades of gondoliers ring sweetly through the air, as fanciful fountains makes clear water dance. A scarlet hot air balloon rises up, carrying two sweethearts and a third wheel into the sky. The lights they see from up above are much warmer, softer, as if mimicking daylight. There was no need for advertisements here. The reputations that each shop held was enough, and even first year students who wandered here did not truly mind. With the gentle sound of water constantly in the background, it was a pleasant place to wander, arm-in-arm with your lover.

Occasionally, the clash of tempered steel could be heard, two individuals clashing on the street for honor, their blades rented out to them by the Fencing club. At other times, a band set up beside a plaza, playing music to dance to. There was no need for music boxes here. A sense of elegance and refinement was pursued in Roaring Surf Street, and all were compelled to wear their most fashionable outfit, mimicking the high society of the world outside.

But, regardless of the beauty of these quaint buildings and these blue canals, there were always those that craved a bit of an edge.

< Dropout District >​

Underground, the air was warm and moist, the students who knew of this anarchist's haven already indulging in whatever they pleased. Crude advertisements for 'massage parlors' and 'Broadway shows' could be seen anywhere, and the restaurants were quite literally open all night long, past any dormitory's established curfew. A black market full of illicit goods was present, hawkers at every corner calling out their wares. Buildings that rented out rooms on a one-night basis, for romantic trysts and other services. Though they were all students in the same university, they wore different expressions here. Eyes were harder, darker. The mind was muddier, more impulsive. Everything was simply…wilder.

The clatter of dice, the start of a fight, the smoke of a pipe, all those mixed together into a quagmire of basic pleasures. Addictive, but dangerous, it was thick but sharp, tension that kept the revelers awake, let the harlequin night live on.

Indeed, the night was theirs. A chance to destress, to experience new things, to forge new bonds.

A night that may not be remembered, but a night that will be felt.

 

[Jakers]

YOHAN RYE
A Lonely Waterside Bench, Roaring Surf Street​

<><><><><><><>​

Made it. I... I actually fucking made it, despite the odds stacked against me. I've won. And now, I can finally work in peace.

The same thought was replaying over and over again in his head. A satisfaction that a man like him would enjoy for as long as he could. Because for a man like Yohan Rye, success always seemed like an impossibility or a one-in-million chance. But with smarts, patience, and admittedly a lot of trickery, he'd got himself to where he was now. Roll by roll, he'd escaped that shithole. It was his biggest success yet, and even a misery guts like him could enjoy the watered down booze and two-word conversations he had at parties. Though he sure as hell still wasn't going to dance for anything or anyone.

He watched the darkened waters flow in the Roaring Surf's canals, his scarred, pale hands in the pockets of his long leather duster. The faint sound of an accordion and the happy nighttime chatter could be heard close by, along with the young man's slow, calmed breaths. The bench he sat on was a beautiful craft of wood and brass, a seat that was designed for two, but all that accompanied Yohan Rye on the chair was a suitcase to mark his territory. His alone space. He didn't care if he looked like a loner; love and tongue-twiddling hadn't been in his mind for years now. He'd come to the canals not only to relax and savor his victory, but to do something he should've done a long time ago.

After a pause, Yohan tilted the brim of his cap over his eyes, leaning over as he pulled a handful of dice from one of his pockets. Around 80% of the money he'd made was with these things; the only invention he was ashamed of, but at the same time he loved. Looking at the seemingly ordinary-looking dice in his hand, Yohan's brow furrowed with increasing tension, as if he were staring at an arch-nemesis.

I don't need you anymore. So drown. I don't need you. We're done.

Looking around, Yohan raised the dice above the canal, getting ready to dispose of them where they'd never be found again. Today marked the end of his gambling. All it'd done was bring him knee-deep in shit, figuratively and literally. His hand shaking, Yohan's grip loosened on the dice, finger by finger.

I don't need you.

The dice slowly slipped down his hand, teetering on the edge, so close to dropping out and plopping into water. Something in his heart was screaming against it. He could feel someone else pulling back his arm, but nobody was there. His feet began tapping against the floor anxiously, but he pushed forward against he feelings. He didn't need these fucking dice-

I... don't...

But just before they did, Yohan snapped his hand shut again, shoving them back into his pockets. Blast it. He'd just... hang on to them, just in case he ever needed them. It wasn't like he was going to throw everything away he'd worked so hard on to achieve, was he? There was no harm in just holding them in case things suddenly went to shit again. No harm at all...

"...Tch." With a slight bite of his lip, Yohan inched the suitcase next to him closer towards himself, before closing his eyes and taking in the sort of pleasant atmosphere. He had a lot to do. Developing the prototype in his suitcase over the week was the priority, but there was still a lot of other stuff. ...Maybe learn how to make some fucking friends? Bah. Hell if he knew how to do that, but maybe he'd find someone mildly interesting. As he watched giggling couples and smooching lovestruck partners, however, he figured that was going to be a pretty impossible task here. Tomorrow was another day, he supposed.

 

[Random]

Post theme: Secrecy

deafening crowds―unpleasant
necessity―parallel to medicine

Ｈｅｒｅ'ｓ ｙｏｕｒ〈Ｄｒｉｎｋ〉， 「Ｍｉｓｓ」。
sudden voice――maid―incorrect
location―dancing hall――waitress
largely uninteresting atmosphere
―Ｔｈａｎｋ ｙｏｕ―――――Ｗｏｕｌｄ 「Ｙｏｕ」 ｌｉｋｅ ｔｏ ｐｌａｙ 《Ｃｈｅｓｓ》？
――Ｎｏ ｔｈａｎｋｓ， 「Ｍｉｓｓ」 ――――――ｉｆ 「Ｙｏｕ」'ｒｅ ｔｈｅ ｓｏｒｔ ｔｏ ｐｌａｙ 《Ｃｈｅｓｓ》 ｉｎ ａ ｄａｎｃｉｎｇ ｈａｌｌ―「Ｉ」 ｗｏｕｌｄ ｌｏｓｅ―――ａｎｄ ｂｅｓｉｄｅｓ， 「Ｉ」'ｖｅ ｇｏｔ ｗｏｒｋ ｔｏ ｄｏ。
simple truth spoken―not outside ordinary boundaries―expected―acceptable response

The maid -- ah, waitress -- left without a second thought after saying those words.
Alina October paid little heed to the cup that had just been placed down next to her.
Her book was far more interesting.
So, with that in mind, she closed it and slid it across the table to one side, taking the mug by its base and placing it in front of her as she gazed out into the sea of unfamiliar faces.

It's a beautiful night.
That thought passed through her head without the slightest hint of emotion.
That's because it was not a natural thought.
The air was warm. Colours were vibrant. Everyone walked down the street with the faintest hints of instinctive joy in their demeanour no matter their conscious mood. And occasionally, a cool breeze would whisper down the street, balancing against the otherwise sickly warmth of the evening.
The night sufficiently fulfilled all the prerequisite criteria to be "beautiful", so, with that artificial analysis, the young lady, evaluating the cheerful evening objectively from the shade of the corner of the dancing hall, concluded that it was a beautiful night.
Her fingertips crept into the spot of candlelight on the table just to feel its warmth.
There wasn't as much heat to it as she had expected, despite the wax already starting to drip.
The candle had been moved recently, then.
Unsatisfied, her fingers found their way around the handle of the mug.

Without looking at the drink even once, Alina October took a single brief sip of the water that she was wholly uninterested in.
It was the peak time of year for socialising with unfamiliar people. Eventually, someone would come and talk to her.
She had to make friends.
Her new endeavours would without a doubt fall flat if she didn't.

But, as well as that...

She was finally a student.
She was independent now.
She was responsible for her own wellbeing.
She was likely not going to leave the Ringrange where she grew up for long, if at all.
But she wasn't completely sure how she felt about the thought of spending the rest of her years alone.

Yet in spite of everything, Alina could still not bring herself to go and dance.

 

[Shalashaska]

Onyx Norwyn - Timeless Curiosities, Roaring Surf Street

He had gotten lucky. That was the first thing Onyx realized when he opened the wrapped cloth and saw the mess of gears and other intricacies. It was a sight he had gotten used to and, in a way, the destruction of something so exquisite made him giddy on the inside. Because it meant he got to fix it. And, in his mind, the only thing better than creating something is the process of fixing something.

Looking up from the broken timepiece, Onyx took a moment to bask in awe at his surroundings. No matter how many times he entered the shop, which also served as the main hub for the Horology Club, he was always left breathless at the sight of so many different clocks and watches. Some would think he was a strange fellow, but becoming obsessed with time was only natural when you lived with one of the most famous Horologists.

Speaking of…

Glancing to his side, Onyx's eyes narrowed at the sight of the older man. While Professor Norwyn looked like he was only in his late 20s, at best, the man was actually in his mid-60s.

'Old bastard is probably into some bullshit time-traveling voodoo.' He thought sourly before shaking his head. The professor was rambling, as usual, as Onyx had tuned him out a while ago, but he knew what he was talking about. Hell, it was the only thing the professor talked about when he wasn't discussing time or whatever mad theory had popped into his head.

"Knowing how to snort opium out of a hooker's ass isn't going to make me a better horologist." Onyx said bluntly and the professor huffed in indignation. "And don't even say it's a 'skill that'll save my life in the future' – if there's ever a point in my life where it's either I die or do that, I think I'd rather die." He said before glancing back down to the broken stopwatch.

"I swear, you young people have no manners. Why, when I was a young lad I had respect for my elders and I took whatever lessons they taught me to heart. Committed it to memory, I did!" The professor huffed out; still quite offended Onyx was ignoring his expert advice on the extraction of drugs from strange places using questionable methods.

"Mhm. I bet. Look, anyway, I'm gonna go take a walk and work on this watch." Onyx shrugged as he stepped past the professor who rolled his eyes in response. Stepping out of the shop, Onyx looked up to the night sky as the door shut behind him, the ringing of a bell signaling it had shut. He was still shocked at how far he had come, and just thinking about where he started in life put a smile on his face. It was a sad type of happiness, but he welcomed it without regret.

Glancing over his shoulder, he could made out the shape of the professor through the glass door and his smile widened slightly. He was thankful to the old bastard, though he'd never verbally admit it. Both of them hated the mushy crap so they just stuck to lighthearted insults and friendly banter. It was their way of communicating.

The sound of people ambling past him pulled him from his thoughts, though and he slowly descended the steps down to the sidewalk before he began to walk. He couldn't lie – this was his favorite district. Not just because it was home to the Horology Club, which he knew he'd be joining 'officially' when the club activities started, which if he remembered correctly would be soon.

Walking down the street, he began to fiddle with the parts of the stopwatch bundled in the cloth in his hand. Yeah, he could fix it. Not paying attention to where he was walking, the horologist eventually found himself closer to the canal. Looking around, he noticed there weren't that many people save for one sitting on a bench.

His bench.

Okay, it technically wasn't his bench, but it was his favorite bench.

Huffing, Onyx took a moment to compose himself as he took a seat beside the blond-haired guy. His eyes briefly glanced to the briefcase before Onyx reminded himself to mind his own business. The last thing he wanted was to stick his nose where it didn't belong.

Both figuratively and literally.

Directing his gaze back to the cloth in his hand, he sat it on his lap as he began to fiddle with the pieces of the stopwatch, mentally mapping where certain gears went.

"So, nice night, huh?" Onyx spoke as he focused on the timepiece, his gaze locked but he knew making conversation wouldn't break his conversation. Besides, he was a little curious about the briefcase.

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Alison Engels

<Wandering Student district, buying groceries.>

~~~

With a heavy sigh, the partly mechanical girl really, really, really, disliked this.

While a week had passed, she was still not used to this. Having spent the previous few years alone, or tinkering at her Grand Fathers work bench, the old man had been insistent that she set out for this school, and earn a name for herself. Grumbling, it was more like the old fool wasn't sure how he even made her, or how to improve her, even on her first day she was barraged by offers to be studied, that it could pave the way for prosthetics to help countless injured workers and veterans.... She had to admit, given all her family lost in reparation payments, the money wouldn't hurt.. But didn't that just make her a sideshow freak?

Setting this thought aside, the stares she got from time to time didn't help matters. Least the Blue and Whites would make sure no one bothered her too much.. In truth what she wanted was to be alone, but her grandfather was insistent, and so here she was.. Pausing at the Occult club display, it might not be such a bad club to join.. But there might be others as well. So far aside from the so called "Gardening Club" which her custom blade hands were useful for, she hadn't found any extracurricular activities. Well...there was one other activity. Though she highly doubted her Fencing would keep up with the students here versed in it.


"..I can't keep feeling sorry for myself.. can I Grandpa? Though if you want to play god, keep the instructions next time.. Lunatic.."

Muttering her silent curse, a small pendant on display catches her eye. "Said to Ward off Machine spirits.." Exhaling in disappointment, maybe not this club after all.. While there were plenty of restaurants around, the girl was hardly in any mood to go on public display. Turning on her heels, with her short dress fluttering slightly gears shift and turn, nearly stumbling, she had to keep in mind, she wasn't as spry as she used to be.

Step after step, lost in thought, the girl gazes the shop stalls as she passes, memorizing the various prices she could observe. Making her mind up she choses an open window wall shop that seemed to be ran by student with glasses, a young girl from the Iberian region judging by appearance. From her looks she seemed slightly older than Alison herself. The meats were of lower quality, cured, but the vegetables and bread seemed fresh, the former likely from a local supplier. It would be best to stretch her limited funds.

"Excuse.." With her attempt at an introduction, the glasses eyed girl looks up to see the student, as her smile quickly becomes a look of astonishment. Staring at the girl, jaw ajar, the woman seemed quite shocked to say the least."..me.." Waiting for the student to close her mouth, she laughs sheepishly. "Oh Sorry Dearie you surprised me is all, I.. How might I help you?"


"I would like a pound of your Roasted Beef, 12 carrots, a head of lettuce, three tomato's, and a roll of your Black Rye bread l..loafs p-please.." Stuttering slightly, she smiles, attempting to keep things pleasant, Alison still wasn't used to talking to people, but done well enough here, well until she got past the list.

"Oh certainly! that will be--ah..." Looking down, the girl suddenly slams the exact amount that costs would add up to on the table, down to the last copper. Arching an eyebrow the young woman wouldn't complain at least.

"T..thank you." Hurriedly taking her bag of food, it wasn't anything special, just what she would need for sandwiches for a week.

"Dearie are you okay with carri-" Before she can finish whatever she was going to say Alison has performed an about face, wanting to get away from there as fast as she could.. She would like see the old woman again anyways.

With the bag tucked in her arms, there was little more to do than look around, perhaps she would find something interesting on the way back to her room after all. She did need to find a way to earn some money, and it wouldn't hurt to see what clubs there were, least while the Disciplinarily committee was out in force.

 

[Asuras]

=============
Madelon Vallois​

A victory unsavored was mere action for the sake of action. Madelon did not trick herself into thinking pure, hellish study was necessary, or for that matter, what she wanted. It was all for the sake of success, and success could certainly be felt in the presence of celebration. Not one for revelry, nonetheless, she could only enjoy the festivities as the estranged and single-minded could. For now, she was a listener rather than a speaker, and it felt joyous no matter the plainness with which she expressed herself.

A drink in hand was the extent of her wildness for the night. A hangover in the morning would not have been a good use of her time, even now. She gently sipped on occasion, watching the other students with an unapparent fascination. What gripped her more than anything else, however, was the feel of the environment. Warmness was all the more pleasant as she focused on glows, clean air, and the ambiance of joy.

The health, too, welled within her a greater happiness she could not express as anything other than unaspected satisfaction. As opposed to the Dropout District's all-too familiar malaise, the Surf Street appeared as her dreams incarnate. A representation of what she sought after. Madelon gripped her hands around a railing overlooking a small square. It was real. She could touch it, and she was not dissuaded from doing so. She whimsically stroked a finger upon the side of a hanging lamp, nudging it into a light swing. The flame inside flickered, and she scoffed to herself.

Clad in all that she could afford, Madelon didn't care much for the extravagant attire of the more affluent students that danced about the Surf. She was not here to impress with monetary possession, but with veritable skill and smarts she could do something with. Away from the soul-crushing seating of a study table, Madelon could focus on the ultimate goals of her life, rather than the immediate necessities.

Madelon took another drink and sighed with her whole body, leaning upon the railing. Her militaristic study schedule had afforded her no inkling of a friendship, and while she knew such relationships were not conducive to scholarly work, she certainly could not shake the desire for one in her current pacings. With a night of freedom, isolation did not suit her.

As scholarly work granted her knowledge with which to perform well, relationships created the opportunity for performance... so she thought. She took another drink, and for a brief moment, hoped she would be buzzed enough to make a friend out of anybody.

 

[Jakers]

"Hmf?" His eyes darting across, Yohan looked at the man who'd actually sat next to him. Damn it, he thought the suitcase was a clear indication that he didn't want to be accompanied. Now he probably sit awkwardly until the man finished whatever he was doing with that stopwatch.

"So, nice night, huh?"

What? Why was this flour-headed bloke actually talking to him? Yohan couldn't help but feel somewhat suspicious. Feeling slightly peeved that he'd actually have to make conversation, Yohan coughed as he thought about how to answer the question. He could either just give a quiet 'yeah' and sit like an idiot, or actually be himself. The latter seemed more appealing, so he went with it. Looking into the distance of flourishing lights, Yohan spoke.

"Hmph. Well, for the most part. The air is fresh, the band is tolerable, the lights are moderately pretty. It's a shame that whenever I try to enjoy the view of said night, some duo feels the need to display how far they can shove their tongue down each other's throat in the distance." Yohan folded his arms as his thin eyes squinted. His voice was low, monotonic, and was a bit like listening to an out-of-tune cello. "All this business with love. Couples. Look at them all. I bet you only one in eight of those relationships will last. Almost every man nowadays just follows the direction their dick is pointing, not the direction of their heart. Young love never has good odds."

Near the end of Yohan's rant, a couple passed by, the male of the two looking at the hat-bearing man with a somewhat disgusted expression, muttering something reassuring in his darling's ear as they hurriedly walked away. Yohan didn't quite hear what he said, but it was probably: 'Pay no attention to him, loners like that just like to bring everyone down', or something along those lines. He just gave them 'the look' - Yohan's deadliest weapon - even if they weren't looking back.

"Twats." Yohan muttered under his breath to the couple as they were out of hearing view. After a long pause, Yohan turned back to the white-haired lad. Huh. He hadn't scared him off. His eyes examined him a little closer, before looking away as he buried his hands deeper into his pockets.
"...Hey. That little clock you're fiddling with. You made that?" Yohan asked plainly. Although it slightly interested him, he folded his arms and leaned back, trying not to look too impressed. "Hm. If that's the case, I suppose you're a tinkerer too?"

 

[Shalashaska]

Onyx Norwyn - Timeless Curiosities, Roaring Surf Street

Eyes affixed on the watch, Onyx continued to on it. Having retrieved a pair of tweezers and a small screwdriver from his pocket, he had started putting the stopwatch together piece by piece. Though, he had to stop when Yohan's rant began.

Giving the blond haired guy a blank stare, Onyx didn't know what to say. He was expecting a 'yeah', a grunt, or maybe even an insult but the rant came out of left field. And Onyx listened. Not just because it would be rude to get up and leave after he started the conversation, but also because it amused him.

Though, as the rant ended and the couple continued on their way, Onyx merely shook his head and continued to work on the watch.

"Jesus, man, who pissed in your cereal?" The horologist inquired with a smirk as he started to tighten the screws down. "Yeah, I guess I'm a 'tinkerer', but there's no way in hell I'd ever make something like this." Onyx said as he put his tools back in his pocket.

"The jackass that made this thing is really famous. It's one of his 'Collector's Edition' stopwatches. Yeah, it tells the time and aesthetically it's pleasing on the outside, but the inside is a fucking mess. He went for some sort of shitty efficiency while pretending his design was groundbreaking. There's nothing 'new' about a double stack gear, but the way he went about it makes this thing a shoddy piece of shit." Onyx ranted as he held it up, letting Yohan get a better look of the inside before he pointed to the curved ornament that went from the center of the watch before curving around the outside. "This piece of shit is supposed to operate the 'timer', but because he had to make it look so 'pretty' the front doesn't clasp on all the way and the damn screws don't even tighten down completely." He huffed before shaking his head as he finished the repair and snapped on the front.

Sighing, Onyx dropped the stopwatch on his lap before a hand through his hair.

"What about you?" He inquired with a raised eyebrow as he looked around and took in the sight of people ambling about, before his eyes settled on a woman standing not too far away. "Huh." He hummed; whenever everyone was moving, the ones that stood still were usually the most interesting.

 

[Jakers]

"Psh. To answer that I'd need a list." Yohan grumbled as Onyx asked who urinated in his breakfast. It was a question he'd heard from a lot of people, and he always gave the same answer. He always appeared that way because of the following fact: the world one day might run out of oil, gold, fish, whatever - but it would never run out of people that pissed him off. Maybe that was because the slums had always been filled with the twattiest of twats, but Yohan still found himself getting wound up even here. This guy seemed... okay, though. Just okay. For now at least.

As Onyx held up the watch's interior, Yohan squinted at it. The guy was right: it was a fucking mess, as appealing to look at as ripping open a pig and looking at its insides. Gears weren't his main area of craft, but he still knew enough about how they worked to see how inefficient the design was. Still, the guy's professor clearly had the right idea when it came to making things sell. If 'Collector's Edition' was slapped on the front of something, most people wouldn't question the actual quality as long as it looked prettier than usual.

It was then his turn to explain what he worked with. Yohan took some time to look in the distance before answering. He could see the girl Onyx was staring at; another loner in a sea of pairs. They were rare, but you could always find one here and there. Those people always seemed to be the smartest ones. Only mildly interested for a few moments, Yohan turned to answer the question.
"I'm a hydro-mechanist." He paused for a moment, silently playing with the dice in his pocket. "I've always liked saying that term, because it makes my studies sound more complicated than they actually are. It's just shooting out water at high speeds and seeing what you can do with it. Once you get past the brutal truth that gravity is a bitch and never does anything you want it to, it turns out you can make some pretty great things."

As Yohan's sentence came to a close, he realised something. Was he actually socialising? Wasn't he supposed to be some sort of stone-faced bastard that generally hated humanity? Maybe it was because he was interacting with someone that didn't make him want to shoot himself with every word they said. This place truly was different from the slums.

"That's all I can tell you though. My inventions and ideas are all I've got, and I can't risk anybody stealing them until my name is acknowledged, on a plaque, and I'm making a tidy profit, watching everyone using my creations out of the window of my two-story house. Wouldn't have gone to the trouble of getting here otherwise." Yohan mumbled, the last statement coming with a bitter tone as he clutched the dice in his pocket even tighter.

"I'm Yohan Rye, by the way. And I should add this: congratulations. You're one of the few to be tolerable enough to get my name." He paused, before looking in the distance again. "I can see you ogling that probably-single girl on the railings, by the way. If you're going to stare you should at least talk to her. ...But remember what I said about young love."

 

[Shalashaska]

Onyx Norwyn - Roaring Surf Street

"That sounds super spiffy." Onyx said as Yohan explained what he was exactly. Onyx had never heard of a 'hydro-mechanist' before but it sounded cool enough. And frankly, that was enough for him. The very fact someone could find interesting things to do with water did leave him a bit awestruck, even if he didn't show it.

A wry smile made its way onto his face when Yohan continued to talk. The other guy's ramblings amused Onyx to no end; he wasn't sure if it was a mixture of paranoid or just extremely confident in his inventions. At first glance, he never would have pegged Yohan as a chatterbox. But boy did he know how to talk. Though, he couldn't shake the feeling that the guy was somewhat of a pessimist.

Ah, whatever.

Every optimist needs a pessimist to keep them from accidentally committing genocide.

"Onyx Norwyn. Horologist in training." He formally introduced himself as he pocketed the fixed stopwatch. He'd return it to the shop later. Though, he froze when Yohan continued to speak and Onyx chuckled nervously. "I'm not 'ogling' anybody – I'm just… Noticing. Them. Her. Don't be a dick. I'm not in love. Fuck you. You're in love." He stammered out awkwardly, a strangled laugh escaping him as he redirected his gaze to the ground.

Boy, that was some interesting cobblestone.

'Well shit, now what do I do? If I stay here, then he'll probably keep bugging me. But, if I just get up and leave that'd be seriously rude.' Onyx pondered as he took a deep breath before sighing.

"I'm just… I'm gonna go over there and say hi. I'm just… Meeting new people. I mean, you look far less interesting than her, and I still took time out to meet you. Don't make it weird." Onyx said as he stood up, barely able to keep his composure as he began to walk.

'Wait, what do I even say? Well… Hi, usually works, right? Wait. The Professor is usually talking about ice breakers. Like… A compliment. People like compliments, right? Yeah. I can totally think of a compliment.' He reassured himself as he practically staggered along while he pondered going back to Yohan for moral support.

They were best friends now, after all.

Yeah, no, he'd just tough it out solo.

'Well, worst case scenario I can just jump off the railing and hope the fall is enough to end it all before I'm too embarrassed.' He reassured himself as he leaned against the railing, close enough to get Madelon's attention but far enough to not invade her personal space.

"Y'know, as a horologist, I know a lot about time. And if beauty were time, you'd be an eternity." He said as smoothly as he possibly could, adding a smile just for good measure.

 

[Zombehs]

[fieldbox= Caelan Lughr / Student District, royalblue, solid]Resisting the urge to groan as he ran a hand through his hair, Caelan instead leveled a flat look at the two Disciplinary Committee members that had stopped him. Clearly displeased with the situation as they requested he come with them again, he shook his head before acquiescing with a grumble. Tossing the flask into the air, he caught it with a swipe, spun off the cap, and took a swig as he began to follow the two. Hopefully they didn't tie up his entire evening with red tape and other bullshit of the sort.

He was maybe a quarter hour from the dormitories he rented a room from when the pair had shown up. Something about him looking suspicious with stains of his clothing, a segmented staff on his back, and a few other things that slipped the mind. Shit… was he actually a bit buzzed? Anyways, then one of them apparently smelled the alcohol on him, and now he was following them along because apparently he had gotten the pair of stubborn hardasses that couldn't let things be. It wasn't like this was for anyone else but himself anyways. Why the hell would he bother selling this stuff for what amounted to chump change? More trouble than it was worth, and definitely enough to get him punted from the club.

The crowds parted way easily enough for the three of them as the Committee's members led the way. He could hear the hushed whispers in the air even amongst the music-filled air, but paid little attention. He didn't exactly look like an honor student, so of course the assumptions and rumors were probably starting right about now. 'Shit…' Rubbing at his eyes, he clipped the flask to his belt before straying off to one of the stalls that served food on the go for the wandering crowds. A surprised, "Hey," was responded to with a raised finger as the other hand fished a few pieces of coin out to pay the stall owner.

"Look, I'll buy you two something as well for the trouble alright? Just relax a bit." He sighed after saying this and then gestured to the item he wanted off the menu. 'Like damn, chill out kiddos.'[/fieldbox]

 

[Psyker Landshark]

Wen Xifeng

A nod of affirmation at the senior Disciplinary Committee member she was assigned to shadow for tonight.

"Right, I understand. After you, then." She murmured after they apprehended a troublemaker attempting to apply a five-finger discount to a food stall. The first week of classes at Ringrange thus far had been fine, but the clubs had attracted her interest. There had certainly been nothing like this from the education she'd been begrudgingly given by an assigned tutor. Not that she hadn't excelled in her studies back home, of course. A number of clubs had already approached her, seeing as it seemed she was one of very few Far Eastern students at this school. But only two had truly caught her interest: the Student Disciplinary Committee and the Dueling Club.

Which is why she'd joined up with the Disciplinary Committee at the moment, having been assigned to a senior member for them to show her the ropes, as it were.

"See that one there?" Her senior pointed to some scruffy blue-haired ruffian with stained clothes and smelling faintly of alcohol. And...bearing a segmented staff on his back. Huh. Xifeng had thought that was a weapon of her country, not something she'd find at a Western school.

"Yes. I thought drinking was allowed in Ringrange?" Xifeng tilted her head, curious.

"Council-approved alcohol only. So essentially only the local lager. Whatever he's smelling like, it's certainly stronger than a weak beer."

"I see. Do we confront him, then?" Her senior confirmed her question with a nod, and as they approached, she noted that whatever he'd been drinking certainly smelled more like baijiu than the Western beers she'd seen around the city today.

___

The blue-haired student had gone along with them easily enough, but Xifeng resisted the urge to sigh as he stopped for food. As he offered the two committee members some, she shook her head, laying one palm on the hilt of her sheathed sword in warning.

"My apologies, but I'm not hungry. If you'll continue on with us and cease with the distractions...?" She quirked an eyebrow.

 

[Zombehs]

[fieldbox= Caelan Lughr / Student District, royalblue, solid]Quirking a brow at the gesture, Caelan seemed more amused and interested than concerned as he shifted his posture in response. He spared a questioning glance towards the senior Disciplinary member whose expression tightened in annoyance. "Stand down Xifeng. Escalation is unnecessary. Lughr. Unless you want more of the book thrown at you, you will comply."

Whether it was the presence of a "troublemaker" and the Disciplinary Committee members or if the stall was just that fast, Caelan received his food moments after the boy finished speaking. "Thanks." With that he trudged away from the stall and back towards the two, taking a bite from the gyro sandwich. "So recruiting starts early for the Disciplinaries, huh?" While the insignia and markings were different, it was clear to tell the difference in standing between the two. Beyond the lack of any markings on her uniform, the one named Xifeng had also taken an observer role during the initial confrontation. Probably just getting shown the ropes tonight then…

"Yes. Unlike the other clubs, our activities are a constant throughout the year. Recruiting members from the various nations that attend the Academy is also important, so we approach them early on in the year." Nodding at the practiced response, Caelan glanced towards Xifeng once again as he munched through the rest of his gyro. The Disciplinary Committee's headquarters rose into the night sky, towering over its surrounding buildings, and he unclipped the flask from his belt for another swig.

With that done, he reached around back and snapped one of the three segments of the staff free. Focused on fiddling with the seemingly simple and plain part, he nonetheless asked a question of Xifeng. "So, you're in the Committee to get into fights?" [/fieldbox]

 

[Astoria]

[fieldbox=Heidemarie Krupp]
~~~~~~~~

The blond-haired girl sighed. Another year, another chapter. Sitting on an a bench facing the water on Roaring Surf Street, the faint smell of street food rose from the wooden bench, an order of takoyaki brought over from the student district placed at her side. Heidemarie wasn't much of a person to be melancholy, but sitting on a warm night away from home, the murmurs of voices in the background and the sea in front, it was hard not to have a melancholic mood.

It was three years since that fateful incident, and the world, and she too had moved on. Technology paced itself; it was a cruel world, how fast some things went. She made a wry smile, glancing up towards the gentle yellow buzz of a district streetlamp. Taking the tiny wooden stick on the side of her meal, she stuck an octopus ball into her mouth.

The Eirchenstahdt girl had been quick to settle in. Unlike some of her fellow privileged peers from her country, she had packed lightly; carrying a half dozen trunks and an equal number of satchels with elaborate dresses and costumes was not even considered by the golden-haired girl. No; she had only brought a single trunk of clothes, pragmatic in nature, and another for her equipment, paraphernalia required for the sharpshooter's club that she had joined. All the rest, she used what was provided for her in the school dormitories. Even now, her clothing was simple; with a white shirt and a skirt of the opposite color, the only jewelry adorning her body were the glint of cufflinks adoring the hem of her sleeves.

Perhaps it was because of this, the feeling of newness quickly turned to normalcy and finally homesickness within the brief span of a week. How absurd. Heidemarie smacked herself in the cheeks with both hands, shaking her head at herself. She was here to learn, to progress, and to connect. She was not here to brood about bygones or long for home. Placing another takoyaki ball into her mouth, she stood, facing the warm glow of the whimsical Roaring Surf Street. If she was here, she might as well enjoy the rest of the night properly with other students. [/fieldbox]

 

[Psyker Landshark]

[fieldbox=Wen Xifeng, red]
Xifeng nodded at her senior, shifting her stance to be more neutral and less threatening. The troublemaker's impertinent question annoyed her, but she wasn't about to let it show on her face.

"Of course not," She scoffed, turning away from the blue-haired teen. "I have the Dueling Club for that." A representative from said club had approached her yesterday, wanting her to join after seeing her carry a sword around the city the majority of the time. When she'd asked the Disciplinary Committee about being allowed to be in a second club simultaneously, they'd said it was fine so long as her club activities didn't interfere with her duties.

"A question for you, then." Xifeng asked as they walked, pointing at the segmented staff. "That type of weapon design is from my homeland. How did you acquire one this far west?"[/fieldbox]

 

[Wryneck]

[fieldbox=Marionette Socke - Student District, yellow, solid, 10, Times New Roman]
Marionette Socke, Student District, Performing

[BCOLOR=#800080]"School? But what purpose for a god?"[/BCOLOR]
Words seemed to come from the exquisitely dressed, silver-haired puppet.

[BCOLOR=#0000ff]"To introduce you to the worlds of others, O holy one."[/BCOLOR]
A response from a puppet modelling a small boy, the voice impeccably true to its appearance.

[BCOLOR=#800080] "Does a god have such a need for introductions to worlds not her own?"[/BCOLOR]
Another question posed by the godly mannequin.

[BCOLOR=#0000ff]"Does it hurt, O holy one?"[/BCOLOR]
The boy pondered.

The performance continued, with mixed reactions coming from both passersby and the captive audience.
Stuck in her work, the puppet master paid no mind to their reactions until she was through.
A play in which a lonely boy convinces a goddess to accompany him as he introduces her to all the ways of the world.
It was a sort of self insert for her; a goddess with a world meshed with reality.

She gave a bow when it was all over, not revealing how pleased she was that some enjoyed her performance, nor how displeased she was that some chose to ignore her.
It was fine though - she enjoyed much more success here than she had in Dropout District.
Those who chose to listen simply listened, and those who chose to ignore simply ignored.

Packing up her things in a rather large suitcase that, at first glance, no one would assume she'd be capable of carrying, she continued her exploration.
She was rather short, compared to most others here, barely peaking at five feet; as such, she stood out.
It wasn't something she minded, as it only added to the godly image she held of herself.
Such was how she dealt with the world.

In her short time here, she'd only been offered a spot in the Puppetry Club, but she brazenly declined, if only for now.
She wasn't ready to delve into the worlds of other gods in such a way.
Not that she believed any would be superior to her, but rather that some might take too kindly to her and wish to delve further into her own; an interaction she deeply preferred to avoid.
Symbolism of such was easily seen through her recent play in the return of the goddess to her place above.

Her feet paused before the entrance to one of the dance halls.
Dance was something that fascinated her, in the way that people moved so eloquently, as though controlled by some master of movement.
Intrigued, she entered, seating herself at one of the unoccupied tables.
Despite the populated dance floor, there were still a number of people littering the allotted tables.
The one nearest her was afforded to a girl who looked upon their dancing peers with a mixed look of refrain and innocent envy.

She wasn't one to understand why people simply didn't do or refrained from doing things they did or didn't want to do.
If she wanted to do something, or not do something, she did it, or didn't do it.
Deciding there was nothing else for her to do, she approached the female, laying her large case upon the nearest table haphazardly before retaking a seat.
"Why don't you just dance?" she inquired, in an unconsciously condescending manner of sorts.​

​

[/fieldbox]

​

​

 

[Random]

――Ｗｈｙ ｄｏｎ'ｔ 「Ｙｏｕ」 ｊｕｓｔ ｄａｎｃｅ？
―――――――――――i really did it―

Alina jumped a little, turning to the source of the voice.
Getting over her initial shock, her face curled into a soft smile as she examined the speaker in an instant.

―small―high voice――plaited hair
―――girl――most likely of younger age―
―clothes of bright colouration――large case――equipment?―――――street performer―。

――――――do not screw this up―――

"I'm not so interested in dancing," admitted Alina. "I'm just here to see if I can make friends."

――do not screw this up―


She repositioned the mug in her hand idly, as if some small detail wasn't quite as exact as she had wished.
"It'll be hard to do it later, so I thought this was the best place to be. I might have miscalculated slightly."

―do―not―screw―this―up―

"To be perfectly honest, I would much rather be reading or playing chess."

―bitch what did i just say―literally four seconds ago―

"A-anyway," she stuttered, doing her best to divert attention to her oncoming blush by pointing at the girl's case, "i-is that what I think it is?"

 

[Wryneck]

[fieldbox=Marionette Socke, yellow, solid, 10, Times New Roman]
Marionette Socke, Student District, Chatting

"Making friends, huh?"
The girl's eyes fell to the large case on the table.
Of course she didn't mean those kinds of friends.
No, she seemed too normal for that; well, as normal as a Ringrange student could come off as.

"Isn't it easier to make friends in places of similar interest?" she inquired further, before attention was brought to her case.
"Ah... This."
CLACK!
Open the case flew, revealing the two puppets she had used earlier.
"Probably not wholly what you were expecting, but it's what I do. These are my friends."

A look of distraction came over her for a brief moment.
'Maybe I shouldn't have said that...'
She was quick to brush off the thought - she already said it, and she knew pondering the consequences after doing something was a silly behavior to partake of.

"Marionette Socke, puppet master extraordinaire."
A cocky smile graced her face; no doubt was allowed to surface in questioning whether she was confident in her abilities, strange though they were.
"I don't have many friends myself, save for these two. Even though I'm talented, no one tries to get too close to me."
A tale that reminded her of her own situation crossed her mind, a laugh escaping her lips.
"Maybe they're worried their wings might catch fire," she joked, unsure of whether or not the female beside her would catch the reference.

"I do like reading, while I'm not much of a chess person. Even though I'm great at controlling things, the way the pieces move is just..."
She struggled to find the word, while her companion carried on.​

[/fieldbox]

​

 

[Random]

Ｍａｙｂｅ 「Ｔｈｅｙ」'ｒｅ ｗｏｒｒｉｅｄ ｔｈｅｉｒ 《Ｗｉｎｇｓ〉『Ｉｋａｒｏｓ』​〉 ｗｉｌｌ ｃａｔｃｈ ｆｉｒｅ。
――clever―
―――speaks with knowledge on stories――――prideful puppeteer――has potential as a playwright―

If Alina understood her joke, she didn't show it on her face.
Instead, she leaned over, peering into the case.

There were many small mannequins in the box, each with around five strings, give or take, tied with loops on the end.

――markings and scratches near non-existent――no protrusions or depressions besides adornment――strings barely worn―impeccable condition――

"Oh my goodness," she murmured quietly.
Marionette's... well, marionettes were objectively gorgeous.
The craftsmanship was without parallel as puppets went, and there was clearly enough care that went into every segment to last a whole family.
"These are wonderful! Did you make them yourself?"

―――〔Ｆｒｉｅｎｄｓ〕―――confident in her skills――――puppets go under a lot of maintenance―

A particular figure caught her eye; a girl with silver hair in beautifully ornate dress.
It went without question that Marionette cared very much about these puppets, so Alina moved her finger to indicate it while making the utmost care not to touch any of the box's contents.
"I love this one," she smiled, completely enchanted with the entire display. It was inspiring to see anything pursued with such passion, let alone such an expressive art as storytelling.

 

[Zombehs]

[fieldbox= Caelan Lughr / Student District, royalblue, solid]The expression betrayed nothing, but the tone and reaction was quite enough. Perh- No, it was certainly immature of him to let the amusement show, but Caelan figured he had earned it. They ate up some of his evening, he took whatever little enjoyment he could find tonight. "Right…" His muttering seemed a bit disappointed as he twirled the section around in a hand smoothly, letting it slide from palm to the back of his hand.

He had given the club a bit of thought the first few days, but eventually dismissed it. Even if it was good natured sparring, it was still a bit too much like training. He didn't need to hone those skills any further, nor were opponents necessary to maintain his current skill level. Besides, it was weird to be a first year and the oldest student in the club.

Snapped from his thoughts by the rookie member's question, he quirked a brow as he looked towards the object she had pointed out. He glanced between her and it blankly for a few times, hopefully annoyingly, before reaching back and popping it from its carrier. "It's not a particularly difficult design to copy, and we are at Ringrange y'know?" Not quite condescending, but he definitely sounded amused by her question as he kept pace with the two.

Reattaching the last segment he'd snapped off earlier, he gave the staff a few twirls before locking the segments into place. "I don't typically use it in the Far Eastern style anyways, beyond smacking someone by surprise. Normally there'd be a spearhead mounted, but that's against 'regulations'." [/fieldbox]