@Zombehs @Psyker Landshark
“We’ll take her out before she harms someone else.”

Hurled back by a strangely powerful strike from the girl with clockwork limbs, Caelan recovered just in time to see the Committee member leap forwards. Tackling the girl into the ground, he expertly locked her into a sleeper hold, his face clearly showing exertion as his arms bulged underneath the uniform. Sparks flew out as the girl continued to let out a strained screech, but slowly her face reddened, darkened, and finally, she passed out.

With a deep sigh, the young man got up, patting off his uniform. He looked at Xi Feng, suddenly accosted by another individual, then nodded at Caelan. “Thanks for your help, sir,” he said curtly, before carrying the unconscious girl in his arms and walking over to Xi Feng once more.

“Guess it’s as good as any time to show you where the detention centers are. And young lady? If you’re looking for someone, head down Hardner Street and turn right onto King’s Way. You should be able to see one of the Committee’s buildings from there. They should be able to help you.”

With another grunt, he hefted the clockwork ‘monster’ further up, adjusting his grip, before setting off.

After some deliberation, Xi Feng followed, leaving her Morceban companion alone.

@gamer5
Despite her travels and her questions, however, Ann Dora received no answers. Her companions appearance, though unique, were ultimately just appearances, and the prevalence of students dying their hair strange colors only served to further hamper her search prospects. Ringrange was the home to over one hundred thousand students, and while their individual files were ordered by name, there was no similar tagging function that could bring them up by appearance alone.

It was yet another fruitless, futile attempt, and eventually, she left the building, dejected as she was before. The night was growing late now, time not stopping just because she was unable to fulfill her objectives, and soon, on the still raucous streets, she headed back to her dorms.

There were things to forget, things to drown out.

@Click This @Random @Bob Cut
Despite her attempts to approach, the crowds that Alina dived into soon made it difficult to follow. Losing the two petite individuals within the mass of students still out having fun, Heidemarie found herself once again alone, surrounded by those who were together.

With a stained shirt and no particular reason to continue to wander the night, the girl from Eirchenstadt headed off, against the flow of smiling faces and joyful encounters.

@Asuras @Jageroux
As curious onlookers continued to look on, the two continued to speak on the bridge, watching the dark waters as they compared their experiences, learning of each other’s plights. But the night was dragging on, and as minutes became an hour, they bid each other good night as they went their separate ways.

Perhaps there will be a future rendezvous. Perhaps they will meet once more in that broken world. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

But if anything else, Onyx could at least feel a bit of pride in the fact that he managed to chat with the cute French girl after all.

As the moon fell, the sun rose, a gray light once again filtering over the city. It was the weekends now, and stores opened later than normal, bachelors and bachelorettes crawling out of tangled sheets and shaking off their hangovers. Newspaper deliverers pedalled through the cold morning air, tossing papers from their respective clubs against the doors of those who lived in Scholar Street, while larger steam carriages delivered batches of newspapers. As usual, the Third Newspaper Club featured pictures of the elegant Student Council and other Ringrange celebrities, speaking of shocking, baseless scandals as well as a variety of rumors, while the First Newspaper Club featured editorials speaking of international politics, no doubt penned by majors in political science.

It was in the Second Newspaper Club’s articles, though, that the incident of the clockwork girl was mentioned, of the rampage that had occurred before it was swiftly put to a stop by a senior member of the Disciplinary Committee. A small article, all things considered, but the astute would notice something else.

Within the Third Newspaper Club’s tabloid contained another interesting detail within a sensationalist headline of ‘COUNCIL MEMBER IN DETENTION CENTER! AN UNEXPECTED AFFAIR?!’.

Small details, forming a larger picture. A connection so far out that few, if any, would pay attention to it, and even if they did, it’d merely be passed off as a coincidence.

A single thread, within an invisible web.

Day broke, and people awoke.
 
[fieldbox=Onyx Norwyn, red]

Timeless Curiosities, Roaring Surf Street​
"Have a nice day." Onyx spoke without an ounce of passion as the customer left the shop. After speaking to Madelon, he never actually went to sleep, relying on caffeine to keep himself alert. He knew sleep would be impossible, so that wasn't an issue, but retaining his clarity was. He had still been frozen in time, though, mulling over the events that had transpired. While originally he was still stuck in denial, demanding that nothing that happened was real, he inevitably accepted the truth.

And that not only excited him, but also made him worried.

But, eventually the sun began to rise and it was time for him to work. And, luckily for him, it was a terribly uneventful affair. Unsurprisingly, very few people wanted to visit a clock shop while hungover. Most of the customers he recognized somewhat - a few regulars who were checking on repairs or making inquiries about custom pieces.

Leaning on the counter, Onyx returned to the book he was reading. It was something he had snatched from his father's library before heading into work. It dealt with the theory of alternate timelines, something that naturally became very intriguing for Onyx. He had accepted it was real, but now he had to find a way to rationalize it which was proving difficult. What was it that chose them specifically to go to wherever the hell that place was.

What was it even called?

And, more importantly, what did it do to him?

It was the one thing that had kept him on edge. After learning from Madelon that she died, it didn't take Onyx long to begin entertaining the possibility everyone that was brought there met the same fate in one way or another. Which begged the question of why? On some level he knew something was off, but he couldn't put a finger on it. He was aware that he was a lot more nervous in regards to certain things. Things he knew wouldn't bother him under any normal circumstance.

But, well, Onyx knew he couldn't be any more removed from 'normal' than he was currently, so he'd just have to deal with it.

So caught up in the pages of text he was reading, Onyx was legitimately caught off guard when several clocks went off, signaling that it was noon. Blinking, he waved to his co-worker as they arrived, and after an exchanging of pleasantries, Onyx grabbed his things and left. Frankly, he was lucky they could pull off noon-time shift-changes on the weekend - it was extremely convenient.

Yet, as he stood on the sidewalk, he felt a bit... Overwhelmed. Onyx felt small and hesitant as he looked around. The streets weren't busy and the sidewalks were sparsely occupied, but he was nervous nonetheless. Clutching the book in his hand tighter, and with a sharp inhale, Onyx began to walk. There was an anxiety he couldn't shake, but he could only do his best to ignore it. Besides, he knew where he was going - this was fine.

Hugo Memorial Library​
He was a bit overwhelmed by the grandeur of the building, but only because it looked so... Fancy. As he stepped inside, he felt so out of place. He remembered when he was little more than a street rat, but now he was standing inside of an obnoxiously fancy building and no one was even looking at him strange.

Hell, he almost felt like he fit in.

But, as his mind struggled to actually 'acknowledge' the scope of the inside of the library, he couldn't help but wonder if there was a section dedicated to absurd theories regarding space and time.

If only he would be so lucky.​
[/hr][/fieldbox]
[/hr]
 
@Jageroux
As Onyx stepped in, the first thing that struck him was how scentless the entire place was. The library, while not uncomfortably cold, was still cool, the polished marble floors and black, wooden furniture giving off a heatless atmosphere. There were constant clicks and buzzes, sounds of Film Readers being activated. Indeed, the lack of paperbacks seemed odd to him, but then again, such oddities could be waved off as typical of Ringrange.

Plenty of more scholastic students were already in the Library, scratching away at notes in their huddled study groups. A few others meandered through the tall aisles, looking for a Literature Card that held an entertaining story instead of facts they could use for a thesis. Wheeled ladders, attached to the bookshelves, allowed one to reach the highest shelves with a little effort, while the vast amount of space that the library had served to amplify every sound, almost as if it was meant to pressure students into keeping quiet. Those who did speak spoke in whispered tones, taking care not to bother others.

Common courtesy, really.

“New to here, aren’t you?” A hushed tone spoke. It belonged to a mousy-haired youth, a couple years younger than Onyx. He wore an embroidered vest over a silk shirt, and leaned casually over the counter of what was the Library’s information center. A lopsided smile formed on his babyface.

“Not gonna find the place to your liking without a Film Reader, you know? We don’t get many physical copies these days."
 
[fieldbox=Onyx Norwyn, red]

Standing somewhat awkwardly, his mind still struggled to take in everything. Everything seemed so... Strange. Most of the libraries he'd been to in the past were archaic compared to the one he currently found himself. He had expected to see... Books. Lots and lots of books. Instead, he was left confused and a little uncomfortable from how alien the odd nature of the library made him feel.

Shifting on his feet, Onyx legitimately considered leaving. Jumping in response to the hushed voice, Onyx turned to face the boy, an awkward chuckle escaping him. How old was the kid? Like... 15? He was surprised someone so young would be the receptionist for the grand library. Clutching the book tighter, he made his way over to the counter and sighed.

"I, erm, didn't know... More used to... Regular books, y'know?" He muttered, doing his best to remain quiet. "Anyway, how do I get one? I have my ID." Onyx said, his more extroverted nature overshadowing his anxiety. Reaching into his pocket, he quickly found his wallet and retrieved his student ID. Considering it was a library and he was a student, it only made sense for him to use his ID. At least in his mind it did.
[/fieldbox]
 
Hands in long coat pockets, a man with tired bags under his eyes trudged through the streets of the scholar district. The placement of the cap atop his head was wonky. His hair, whilst not hideous, clearly hadn't been attended in the morning. The newspaper had mildly taken his interest, but was in too much of a state to analyse a connection of any sort. It'd taken him multiple tries to pour his coffee correctly, let alone drink it.

All Yohan's night consisted of was speculation. Nothing more, nothing less. Wondering what would come next. Wondering how what happened was even remotely possible. He was still firmly glued to his 'drugged' theory, but at this point, that was just a desperate flail in the dark to try and latch onto something that was real. He avoided drink like the plague, but he was starting to get tempted at the thought of it. Just to forget about the torture ordeal; then he could move on. But even if he could 'move on', was he safe? Would it happen again?

The anxiety Yohan felt was reawakening something inside him. The one thing he'd worked so hard to scrub clean from his body, but it was manifesting itself again. When ever he felt scared or cornered, there was one thing he could go back to. Even if he wasn't assured he was winning, there was still something sweet about the embrace of gambling. Just to feel that euphoria of winning, just once... perhaps it would be what he needed to reignite his spark.

The man clutched the wet dice within his pocket, his stomach hollow with guilt. A wad of money was stuffed in another pocket. And something that was a lot more dark was stuffed in another.

This is a one-off, Yohan told himself. I can stop any time after this. It's just to calm my nerves so I can... figure stuff out, and... get back to work afterwards. Just please, Gods, forgive me this once and don't let that happen again. This is for my own good.

Each step taking him to the more unknown parts of Ringrange, the search was on. It raised the question in Yohan's mind, though... did a place that allowed bets that were above pocket change even exist? Either way, he'd find out. He knew the shady look of a snake trying lure prey when he saw one. Hopefully, in his case, the prey would bite back when shown into whatever parlor they had in store.
 
@Jageroux
“Regular books?” The youth nodded, “Yeah, everyone’s sorta weirded out when they see the ‘books’ in here, but well, it saves up lotsa space and is way easier to carry. You’ll get used to it sooner or later.”

“As far as getting one though…we have a few older versions here you can borrow.”
A rectangular object with a handcrank and a projector bulb was pulled out from under the desk. “They’re sorta grainy, and its one of the older models where you crank the handle to power the machine, but it still works. Literature Club sells these though, down in the Student District. Baxter Street and Tesla Avenue.”

Taking his card, the youth scanned it quickly, dark eyes flickering from one detail to another, before nodding, satisfied.

“Alright, you’re in the database now. Anything in particular you’re looking for? We got maps and directories, but it’s still pretty easy to get lost here.”

@Jakers
Lower and lower and lower. Ringrange’s surface, maintained both by environmental clubs, part-timers, and automated cleaning machines, made sure that the streets were more or less devoid of garbage, regardless of what part of the academic city it was, but things began to change as the messy-haired youth started walking downwards instead.

The Offshore Academy City of Ringrange utilized an aboveground tram system for students to travel, but in the past, there had been developments made for an underground subway. Such plans were cancelled eventually, partly due to the concerns they had with the dangers of an underground collision that would lead to a leak, and thus, all that they had were various empty spaces underground. No Council member ever suggested that the abandoned system to be closed or filled up, and thus, it laid there, unbothered by those who lived on the surface.

It was through one of those staircases that Yohan descended, following both instinct and logic: a rogue’s gallery was going to be in a dirty place, so gravitate towards dirty places. His feet clacked on the stone floor, until he found himself in a tunnel. Electrical lights buzzed dimly, only barely illuminating the area around him, while off in one end of the tunnel, he could see two figures standing, too dark to make out any more details.

A cold draft pulled in the smell of cigar smoke, the sound of humanity.

Would he proceed, or would he back off?
 
A golden glow.
Alina leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut.

She had been planning to take Marionette to the infirmary at some point if she didn't wake up soon, but that idea was completely out of the window now that the girl's eye had started glowing.
"What a nightmare."
She considered briefly checking what the voices had to say about it, but as if she had that kind of time to waste.
It wasn't as if the girl was in critical condition, so leaving Marionette be for the moment, she opened her wardrobe to get changed.

She got as far as her undershirt before she began to have second thoughts.
She had been caught by surprise last time, and was lucky enough to still be alive... somehow.
If she got into a dangerous situation again, there would be no guarantee she would survive.
That settled it.
Hesitating for a mere moment, Alina found herself a shorter skirt from a drawer, and an old white track jacket to go over her undershirt, with some more practical boots.
She looked herself over in the mirror, flushing a little. She felt kind of naked without a long skirt or a proper shirt on, but it wasn't that revealing, and it was in the name of pragmatism, so she could tolerate it.

Glancing over her shoulder at Marionette one last time, Alina set out, locking the door behind her. If she was going to find them, she was going to need to attract their attention.
And the quickest way to do that was media.
 
@Random
As far as Alina stepped out, the first option that came into mind were the radio clubs in Ringrange. Many student clubs had radio channels on the side, from the First Newspaper Club’s news reports to the New Continent Jazz Club’s music channel, offering a wide variety of options. However, despite the popularity of radio, not many would be tuning in to specific channels, if they bothered listening at all. The same could be said for advertising within newspapers. The classified section, after all, was rarely perused unless people were specifically looking for something.

There was, of course, the option of having the Student Disciplinary Committee make an announcement through the city-wide PA system, but for that to happen, she would need to either tell them the fantastical truth or come up with a lie that withstands the scrutiny of the officers’ eyes. Placing an advertisement on one of the many floating blimps was yet another idea, but even more far-fetched than trying to get the help of the Disciplinary Committee. The fees attached would be prohibitively expensive, and Alina didn’t actually have a large enough message to paste on the side of those giant airships.

And then, her mind took a darker turn.

If normal methods weren’t going to grab their attention, what about an abnormal one?

Terrorism was all about sending a message, after all.
 
That smell... that feeling... the voice in the back of Yohan's head that was telling him he shouldn't be here. It was exactly what he was looking for. Knowing you were in a shady area; knowing you were leaving the eyesight of sane people. It was a road that would surely lead straight to his goal.

Who cared if he broke his promise? Nobody. There wasn't a single soul around that truly cared about what Yohan did; he wasn't concerned with this one-off. Keeping his wad of gambling money concealed deeply in his pockets, the possibility of being mugged or worse in a place like this was almost certain. Hopefully he wouldn't have to use the item he'd bought along in an emergency scenario.

Twitching at the very thought of experiencing the thrill of winning again, the squinting eyes of the man didn't look lost, out of place, or even nervous. If anything, they looked impatient. As if returning to something once more.
 
[fieldbox=Onyx Norwyn, red]
"I can't disagree with you there..." Onyx stated under his breath, immediately glancing around just to once again take note on how spacious the library was. The lack of congestion that would have normally been brought about by the mass of shelves required to contain several shelves of books made the building feel... Refreshing, almost. Taking the Film Reader when it was handed to him, he examined it carefully while listening to the receptionist.

"Student District, Baxter and Tesla. Gotcha." He repeated, making a mental note as he got an idea of how the Film Reader worked. Looking back up to the receptionist upon confirmation that he was officially in the database, he took his ID back when it was handed to him before taking a moment to think. "I'm looking for... Uh... Well, I guess anything revolving around the theory of... 'alternate realities'. Multiple... 'Overlapping' realities. Something like that." Onyx explained with a shrug. He needed some sort of definitive answer in regards to what occurred the night before and he couldn't help but feel as though, if he looked hard enough, he could get some sort of idea.
[/fieldbox]
 
VhkoLdS.png

=============
Madelon Vallois

It just wouldn't happen. It wouldn't. No matter how hard she tried, how much she focused... It simply wouldn't stick.

Madelon sat at a dimly-lit desk, illuminated by a single candle and the putrid glow of the slums outside. She kept her shades closed, letting only an inkling of light through from the Dropout District in, fearful of the prying eyes of delinquents seeking a good time. In the tiny cot of hers, she was free from terrible smells and the cacophony of unsavory crowds; she had made sure to isolate the meager abode from the world as best she could. Unable to afford a dorm room in the overworld, this was all she could muster.

There it was again. A drifting focus from her studies. Books and pages laid out before her, she couldn't maintain a single semblance of attention on the betterment of her education. Something just... wouldn't click. Madelon groaned, wracking her hair and bending her head as if in defeat.

It was the night before. It had to be. She was stressed, is all. That had to be it. Madelon took a gulp of water and pushed up from her desk, chair sliding into the side of her ground-level mattress. A break. She needed a break. Madelon shut off her lamplight and picked up a purse, before putting on a ragged jacket; camouflage in the Dropout District. She didn't dare flaunt (intentionally or unintentionally) her status as a still-studying student, much less a good one.

Once outside, she locked three individual locks before cautiously proceeding out into the wanting locale. Head bowed and eyes to the ground, she did her best not to attract anyone's attention. Thus far she'd been unperturbed by delinquents, but she hadn't yet given up the worry.
 
[fieldbox="A morning after a restless night, blue, solid, 10, Book Antiqua"]

Dropout District,
Present Time



Madelon ( @Asuras ) .



Ann slept only the minimal amount of time required that night and used most of it to work on assembling and hardening her gear, promising herself that next time something happened she would be ready and armed. Unfortunately she could not hide a lot of things inside her trunk, but she could half-assemble them in forms that most would not associate with weapons. Finally she also did one last thing, drew a large black monolith and put the image on her trunk. To most it would appear as nothing, but a novelty fad based on ancient Egypt, but to those that went trough "that" it would be a clear message. There were a few more thing that Ann needed but those will have to await the next morning...

... Which for Ann started really early, partially due to her sleeping only a few hours even normally and partially due to what transpired the day before. After a quick meal and change of attire Ann left a small dorm and shop that was run primary by those that came from smaller nobility originating from her homeland. Her destination was the Dropout district, where she had some important things to acquire.

She had reached her destination by the time the Sun, hidden by the eternal clouds, had risen enough for dawn to turn into morning. The store she had entered, Teller's Lies, was not know to many primary because it primary dealt with various goods needed for manufacturing chemicals, and which could be easily gotten, in small quantities, legally. But in this case the store was one that dealt with mass orders as well, operating as both a legal and illegal business. Ann approached the counter, manned by a ruff-looking man, and spoke up: "Graham. I need all the sulfur, saltpetre and charcoal you can give me." The man just asked: "I assume that you want it delivered to the usual place miss?" "Yeah. And make sure to move them there ASAP. I have a feeling I will be needing some brute force quite soon," Ann added, finishing the conversation.

After she stept out of the shop Ann started making her way trough the Dropout district, her destination known only to her. While she was on the way, unknown to Ann, her trunk, which never left her hand, passed into the vision of other people. But out of all people only one, a girl with her head looking at the ground, would care for the drawing of the black monolith that was stuck on the trunk. Yes, unknown to Ann, her trunk and the black monolith picture on it, entered the vision of
Madelon Vallois
[/fieldbox]
 
@Jakers
As Yohan approached further, the identity of those two individuals became clear as day to him. They were wearing blue-and-white uniforms, clearly identifiable as members of the Disciplinary Committee, both of them turning at the sound of the gambler’s footsteps. There was no ‘halt’ though, nor a ‘warning’. Instead, one of them merely tipped their hat in his direction and let him pass.

A strange occurrence? Or were they more concerned with who comes out rather than who goes in?

Regardless of what thoughts he had about that encounter, soon, Yohane found himself standing at the bawdy threshold of the Dropout District. Incandescent lightbulbs permanently lit up the many ramshackle buildings, each having a unique style that clashed horrifically when stacked up on top of each other. There was a smoky haze in the air, equal parts steam, cigar smoke, and stove fumes, but at the same time, the smog made things more comfortable. Warmer. More comfortable.

Nostalgic, even.

Billboards advertised services of all types. Gambling dens were prevalent everywhere, the clatter of dice and the shuffle of cards constantly in the background. Cheap, undistilled liquor was passed around from one person to another, while ‘smoking parlors’ guarded by thickly built twenty-somethings stood out in their magnificence. A tanned Morceban lady, her face painted and her breasts accentuated by a corset, waved at Yohan, a coquettish smile on her lips.

Was actual prostitution legal here as well? Perhaps he could have found out.

But as his eyes drifted in search for a den full of suckers, they caught something else. That pink hair once more. That perfect posture once more.

That same exact face, marked with a singular difference.

An aurelian eye, shining with a light that cleaved through the smog.

And with that singular glimpse, the crowd closed upon her once more, like the curtains after a final act.

@Asuras
Madelon had been living in the Dropout District for a little over a week now, and she wasn’t sure whether or not it was a good thing that she had become accustomed to the constant din and the occasional bar brawl. There was never any true quiet in Ringrange’s cesspool of good students turned bad, not even in the most unholy hours of the night, but if she tuned it out enough, it became white noise, and that was good too, in a way.

Her monthly rent was paid off with by working as a waitress in late night shifts at the Eirchenstadt-style diner down below. Every other week day, from 8PM to 4AM. Mind numbing work, but if nothing else, she had a free meal and ‘free’ lodging as a result.

Not that such benefits really made up for the sexual harassment she dodged during her shifts.

Wandering in the crowds was the safest place to be really, and Madelon plunged freely into the masses. Fresh air within the underground metropolis was an impossibility, but the press of people and the immediate focus of dodging unwanted individuals, at the very least, kept her mind off more troubling matters. She kept her eyes alert to her immediate surroundings, evaded any that looked to be ruffians, and lost herself to the sway of the crowd, meandering, no particular destination in mind.

All the way until she found herself standing in one of the ‘pleasure parlors’ of the Dropout District, the flashing neon sign reading: “The Imperial Harem.” Catering towards those whose preferences were in petite, raven-haired ladies then.

A broad-shouldered grunt looked at her and her clothes.

“Piss off, brat. We don’t need Morceban bitches here.”

@Jageroux
“Oh, sci-fi eh? Wait, no, sounds more like quantum theory.” The youth smiled. “Didn’t think you were the airy-fairy theoretical kind, but sure thing, Onyx! Let’s see…should be third floor, right side, fifth bookshelf, by philosophy. You’ll have to take the ladder though. It’s pretty high up.”

He then giggled. “But then again, your subject matter is pretty far out, eh?”

With that, Onyx set out to gather all he could find…and, unfortunately, couldn’t get anything at all that sounded useful. There were things about parallel dimensions, about higher dimensions, about a whole bunch of theories about their current reality, and even discussion on theology and ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ as different layers in reality, but ultimately?

Nothing that spoke of a world with reversed gravity, a blue sky, and a massive obelisk.

All just abstract theories, all of them filled with thought experiments.
 
That dim lighting. That cobbled-together, crumbling-apart feeling to every building around him. The piles of litter on the floor, the gusts of smoke coming from countless mouths that combined together into one putrid smog that made you want to gag with each breath you took. Usually, he'd despise coming back to a place like this. It gave him anything but good memories. The slum he used to wallow around in was probably a little more dark than this - but only a little.

But if he hated it so much, why was he feeling this... nostalgia? Why was he feeling some sort of good feeling when he'd resorted to crawling down to this fetid shithole? Had the experience of dying in an alternate world and having visions of being burned alive twisted his mind in more ways than he'd thought? Shaking his head, Yohan tipped the cap further over his eyes as he scanned for a medium-stake gambling house. His preferred game was chinchiro, but he'd take pretty much anything. Unless a place had some sort of special house rules or a game unique to Ringrange, there was little he was new to.

As a likely whore deviously smirked at him, Yohan grimaced a little and made the effort to walk a little faster. He'd be caught dead before throwing money at one of those. Whores were a waste of good gambling money, and a sure way to find yourself itching all over afterwards. He wouldn't even be tempted by that when he was full-on pissed.

But as Yohan trudged through the underground, something blinded him. The light of a golden eye. The swirl of strands of pink hair. There was no mistaking it...

Impossible. What's she, of all people, doing in a place like this? Yohan's pupils shrunk a little with concern. Don't tell me she works here as a... Yohan quickly shook the thought. No. That can't be it. Perhaps she's here as a one-off, too. Just like me. But... what would she gain from being down here...? Had the flash of gold from her eye just been a trick of his mind making an effort to notice her, or had it been something more?

After his performance yesterday, she probably didn't want anything more to do with him. Approaching her was ill-advised in his mind; he didn't want her to get the impression he was following her like some sort of creep. Even if he wanted to follow and inquire, a crowd was closing in around her. Would he ever see her return from that crowd, or would this be the last time he caught a glimpse of that mane of red-pink hair?

Shaking the thought, Yohan went back to trying to find a medium-stakes gambling house that specialized in dice games. But seeing Madelon had reminded him of something. Now, winning to calm his nerves wasn't the only goal in mind. Perhaps here, of all places, could be a source of answers of what had happened yesterday.
 
[fieldbox=Onyx Norwyn, red]
Bleary eyed, Onyx leaned back in his chair and sighed, staring up at the ceiling of the library.

'Well, this was pretty pointless.' He acknowledged mentally while rubbing his eyes. How many hours had he wasted searching for answers? 'Goddammit... Are we really the only ones that ever had that happen to us?' He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. Rubbing his face, he stared down at the film reader in dejection. He needed answers - he couldn't escape the nagging anxiety that repeated the same question:

Would he, or any of them, be brought back to that world?

He held his face.

Would they be forced to return there, with death being the escape? He couldn't be sure he had the mental fortitude to survive a cycle as hellish as that. Reaching back down to the Film Reader, he lifted it up and casually twisted it around as he inspected it lazily. Was there even any way for him to find answers?

Standing up, he quickly put everything back where it belonged before making his way back to the receptionist. Returning the Film Reader and offering his thanks, he stepped outside of the library and stood on the steps as he mulled over what his next move should have been. Arms folding across his chest, he pondered over what he knew.

'When we were brought to wherever the Hell that was, we had everything on us... Even Yohan had his briefcase. If I wind up there again, I have to be prepared.' Onyx took a deep breath. He needed a weapon, but that begged the question of how to actually acquire one. 'Maybe I should try going to... Ugh. Shouldn't be that difficult." He had an acquaintance... 'friend' at the Blacksmith Club, so he knew it shouldn't have been difficult to spin a story so he could get himself a decent knife without much hassle.

His destination in mind, he finally stepped off the steps of the library.
[/fieldbox]
 
Wen Xifeng

Xifeng stepped out of the Committee's exercise field, shaking her head to herself. Every prospective Committee member had been required to undergo a physical examination. The senior members had run the newbies through an obstacle course one after the other.

Her own run through the course had gone mostly well, except for the final obstacle. Xifeng mentally chided herself for hesistating at the end, needlessly worrying over the consequences of failure. What was wrong with her? She had never been like this before. Why had her resolve faltered at a mere obstacle course, of all things?

She scowled herself and strapped her sheathed sword to her belt, following after the Committee member she'd been assigned to for the day. Today's itinerary was essentially a tour of the Dropout District, in order to provide trainees familiarity with an area they'd likely have to patrol quite often. Xifeng paused, giving a small sigh to herself before shaking her head. No more slip-ups. Better that she faltered now in training than in something with real consequences. Chiding herself to do better, she moved towards the Dropout District.
 
@Jakers
Indeed, it was true that some sort of answer could be garnered from the Dropout District, regardless of how outlandish and frankly ‘fictional’ his experience was. Maybe he had been an unwitting participant of a Mesmerology experiment. Maybe the rumors of Ringrange developing some sort of three-dimensional projection system was true after all. Or maybe there was a drug out there that did, in fact, link minds together.

Regardless, it was as good of an incentive as anything else for the gambler to seek out somewhere to roll dice and live life on that numerical edge once more.

As he searched through the many buildings for something that stood out to him, a voice called out towards him, a thick accent indicating a Kievan Rus.

“Hey there, lad, interested in a game of cups?”


Sitting against a wall with a small table set up before him, a wiry twenty-something grinned at Yohane, an ornate pipe held between his teeth. Black, curly hair and a pronounced nose marked him as clearly Eurasian, while his eyes glinted with a mischievous light that no doubt chased away many others. He gestured with a long-nailed hand at the three cups, before producing a chess piece, a white pawn, in a simple display of sleight of hand.

“Real simple, you know? You hide this piece in one of the cups, switch them around until you’re satisfied, and I guess which one its in. I win, buy me one of dem fancy girly drinks. You win…well, you’ve just gotten yourself a free favour coupon from me, expiration date, today.”

That grin persisted.

“Good deal, eh? You look the sort to be too yellow to go into an actual den anyways.”

@Jageroux
There were many Blacksmithing Clubs in Ringrange, or at least, many Metallurgy Clubs, but the friend that Onyx knew in particular was a first year by the name of Albert Finch, working within the Industrial Blacksmithing Club. Situated in the large smoky workshops of the Western Central Ward, it was a club full of enthusiasts of mass production, using big machines to attain big results. Catching the tram and paying the fee, Onyx rode through Ringrange on the steam-powered vehicle with nothing much happening, twenty minutes passing until the tram stopped at the Central Ward’s station.

It was another fifteen minutes walk until he found a sign that looked more or less about right. Opening the green, wooden door, the first thing that Onyx felt was the sudden increase in temperature and noise. Gears were clunking. Coals were hissing. Steam was whistling. It was an environment so far removed from the quiet work of a clockmaker that it boggled his mind why anyone would want to slave away in such a place.

Hell, the machines that they rang weren’t even producing anything. They were literally just going at max power because these nerds wanted to see their giant toys move!

Stepping further into the chaos of steel and fire, Onyx caught the shock of neon blue hair, held off a boyish face by two oversized goggles. Amongst the dozen or club members shouting at each other excitedly as they milled around an Eirchenstadtian Iron Stamper, the thickly built form of Albert could be seen, as he shoveled black charcoal into the depths of hell, sweat-steam rising from his body.

If nothing else…it looked like he was having fun?

“ANOTHER CARTLOAD. CHOP CHOP GENTS!”

@Psyker Landshark
Accompanied by Senior Officer Wallace, a Morceban with an interest in Tian Guo’s barehanded martial arts, Xi Feng was lead down into the underground, given directions from behind rather than being lead. Though the blonde with a bob cut enjoyed waxing poetic about the cesspool of villainy and corruption that stalked beneath Ringrange’s garden of education, at least her information was delivered quickly.

There were five main entrances into the Dropout District, two located in the Student District, one in Roaring Surf Street, one (practically unused and under heavy surveillance) by the Council Tower, and a final one in Central Ward West. However, plenty other entrances could be found if one were willing to brave the stench of the sewers.

Furthermore, for all their posturing, the Disciplinary Committee were not there to crack down on crime, but instead to ensure that those vices remained within the Dropout District. Only when actual violence was involved were they authorized to step in, though cases such as weapons production or possession of dangerous substances (poisons, not drugs), were also within their jurisdiction. They weren’t Protestant prudes after all, at least, not while they were wearing their uniforms. Gambling, drinking, and sex out of wedlock were all things that students could get into if they wanted, as long as they suffered the consequences of it.

By the time her explanation was done, Wallace and Xi Feng were both standing before two other guards, who saluted them as they passed. It would just be another five minutes walk before they were truly within the Dropout District.

“Well then,” Wallace said, pulling white gloves over slender fingers, “Jacques told me of your hestitance last night. I get that a screaming girl flailing at nothing isn't what you're used to seeing, but some of the drug addicts here get pretty bad as well. We generally manage to root out the more dangerous drugs that these degenerates manage to breed, but there's always a few that make it through the cracks.”

"Just keep your wits about you." The blonde officer grinned, not unkindly. "Imagine everyone as potatoes, if that makes it easier for you to smack them."


"Didn't approach him?"

"He wasn't the one."

"But he was one of them. Saw his eye. Elysian."

"Stop trying to hook me up with the first one you found."

"I just want to get this over with, ok? I'm not even part of your little fan club."

"No one's gonna like you if you keep trying to be a loner."

"No one's gonna like you if you keep being so picky."

"I just want someone closer to me...anyways, he's totally a quick shot."

"Fine fine, I'll keep my eye out for an Adonis to match your Aphrodite."

"Persephone, actually. Aphrodite's a whore."

"And Persephone has Stockholm Syndrome."

"Don't guys like a little bit of crazy?"

"You read too much smut."

"A librarian shouldn't judge."

"Whatever. Shoo."
 
Simply stopping in place and lightly tilting his head in the direction of the man, Yohan's face didn't seem the least bit impressed by the game; even less so when he heard the bet at stake.
"Tch." Yohan clicked his neck for a moment, wiggling his fingers and rolling back his shoulders in preparation. "At the very least, you know an insult that gets to me." The cloaked man slowly turned; despite his small, unmuscular figure that was less than imposing, there was a certain aura about Yohan that seemed intimidating. "...Very well. Let's play."

It was child's play, really, but it was a good start to getting back into the flow of gambling. If this man had rigged the game in his favour in some way, it would be a wonderful way for Yohan to practice his sleight of hand, using those quick fingers and those long coat sleeves to tip the odds to embrace him instead. Or at least, ensure the intended chance of the game was left unviolated.

"Hm... you just want a cocktail if I lose?" Yohan asked in a monotone, tilting his cap upwards to look the man in the eye. Such a low bet didn't fire him up at all, but he wasn't as naive to assume there wouldn't be a catch. He doubted this man would be able to accomplish the 'favor' Yohan would ask for, but it was worth a try in the case that he won. "In that case, if I win, you're going to help me try and solve a little mystery of mine. That'll be your favour coupon; shouldn't take you too long."

Picking up the cups and pawn and setting them on the floor - regardless of if the man had a table intended to play on or not - Yohan set the three in a line, twiddling the pawn between his fingers as he seemingly pondered which one to put it under. After a short delay, Yohan opened up the middle cup, letting the man look at the pawn underneath it for a moment before closing it up again.

He then began to shuffle the cups. There was nothing awfully special about the way he did it, even if it was notably fast. The cups were somewhat of a blur, but still trackable. The speed seemed to increase as he did it, the cups forming a spiral of potential improbability, before he ended, sneezing as he did so. Wiping his nose with a sleeve, Yohan looked up at the man.

"A one in three chance. It could even be a guaranteed win if your eyes were quick enough, but I doubt that." Yohan sighed under his breath, giving a slight smile as he did so. "Either way, I like this twist on cups. Getting the player involved to make the odds seem more in their favour is interesting. Now..." Yohan spread his arms as the three cups lay on the floor in front of him.

"Let's see if you've earned your girly drink."

Usually, this would just be a one in three chance. But, if the man had marked the cups in some way, Yohan's practiced skills in sleight of hand had taken the pawn from the middle cup at the start of the game, and hidden it within his sleeve as he was shuffling the cups. The sneeze at the end of his shuffling was just a big action to cover up his discreet action of sliding it into a different cup that hadn't been the one the pawn started in.

He was prepared to take a punch or just buy the man a drink if he'd been spotted. After all, if he couldn't do a little trickery in a street game, perhaps he wasn't ready to head into a proper gambling place just yet. Yohan considered this little game but a simple warm-up.
 
[fieldbox=Onyx Norwyn, red]

Hands clasped behind his head, Onyx had quickly found himself casually strolling down the streets of Western Central Ward. It was a far cry from the Roaring Surf Street. It made him nervous, but it was refreshing. There was a part of him that was anxious about going to a place he wasn't familiar with, and it made him hesitant. But, he didn't let it stop him - he powered through it pretty convincingly, with his demeanor making it seem like he belonged or was familiar with the Ward.

Eventually, he arrived at his destination, and as he stepped inside, he was immediately blasted by heat and humidity. Blinking as he attempted to adjust in the change of atmosphere, he pulled his jacket off and slung it over his shoulder. Attempting to focus through the massive amounts of noise, he squinted as he looked around. As he moved forward, he eventually caught sight of who he was looking for.

"Yo, Albert!" Onyx called out, attempting to get his attention as he raised a hand in greeting. "I'm here to collect that favor, buddy!" He shouted before returning his hands to his pockets.
[/fieldbox]
 
@Jakers
“Oh, a mystery?” The Eurasian man smiled. “Playing Sherlock Holmes in the slums eh? Sure, I wouldn’t mind being Watson.”

With that, the game began, Yohane launching into an increasingly fast show of movements. He was confident in his sleight-of-hand, the same skill he used to make ends meet so many times in the past. Swindling, tricking, winning. The pawn slid easily into his hand and slid out just as easily. As far as he could see, his technique had been flawless.

But, focused on his own cups, he didn’t realize that the man had closed his eyes during the entire shuffle. Opening them once more, the man pulled the pipe out of his mouth and pointed it to the rightmost cup.

“No tricks, no gimmicks.”

It should have been the wrong choice. And in this distance, it should have been impossible to pull off any sort of sleight-of-hand. But as Yohane flipped the cup over, the white pawn stood there, unperturbed.

As if it had always been there.

“Well then, that’s one for me. Wanna keep going, Holmes? Watson’s services aren’t cheap, after all.”

@Jageroux
The first shout didn’t do much of anything, drowned out by the voice of another club member announcing the rotational speed of the main gear.

The second shout was similarly fruitless, as the Iron Stamper let out a ear-piercing whistle.

Only at the third did the blue-haired youth turn around, squinting through the heat haze. Upon seeing that familiar face, he dumped another shovelful of coal into the inferno before shouting out, “Heyo, clock dude! How’s it going? You said something about a favour?”