Midnight Flames (Arcadia-Sama/Quinn)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Arcadia, Feb 15, 2015.

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  1. He was dreaming, as he did often, on cold, dark nights. The seemingly eternal bliss of dark oblivion surrounded him as his eyelids closed for the night, all his bodily senses shattering into the ether, his body still, his mind at ease. However, his psyche would not be at ease in the dream world for much longer as light shattered and burst forth into the ether of his unconscious mind, an avatar of himself, blurry at best, appearing in front of him. He could see himself, but this dream was not lucid. He would not be able to control his own actions within this fever dream. In front of him, a figure sprouted of unknown origin. She was a medium in size. Approximately five foot. But she stood simply, head on a tilt up to the blank canvas, whitewash sky that was the dream realm. An all-encompassing giggle could be heard from her as she sprinted away from him, his legs and arms automatons that soon followed their leader in a quick pursuit. "Wait!" His dream-self declared, worry in his voice, fear, desperation, a potent concoction of negativity. "Come back!" He spoke, worry an ever increasing pitch within his voice. He was chasing her, but he could not catch her, his legs losing all motion, the muscles still manoeuvring and the bones still in a permanent cycle of movement themselves, but it felt as if the deep, nebulous abyss of oblivion was calling to him, cradling him, as he sank further and further into an eternal darkness once again.

    Waking up, Cain shot out of his bed, the time on his clock reading 08:45. His brother and father would be up and dressed by now, eating breakfast and talking about the days events to come. Slapping on his red and black jacket, a grey t-shirt, black shorts, white socks and sneakers, he grabbed his carrier bag, filled with school books, and headed downstairs into the kitchen. His father and brother Abel were discussing the days events' as predicted, so Cain simply glided silently to the bread bin, taking out a cold Pop Tart and taking a bite into it, walking out the back door and heading to school.

    @Quinn
     
    #1 Arcadia, Feb 15, 2015
    Last edited: Feb 15, 2015
  2. London blinked awake, staring at the cream colored ceiling that greeted her every morning. She furrowed her brows lightly, pursing her lips in concentration. Oddly enough, she was having trouble remembering part of her dream.

    She instantly regretted letting her mother take her charm to get it cleaned. Had London slept with it, this never would have happened. Naturally, she placed confidence in her memory even without the charm, but occasionally she would misplace of information here and there. This was especially true when she was fatigued. Unfortunately, the Scottish girl had been studying for a chemistry exam far too late before falling asleep that previous night.

    Touching the charm would be remedy enough, although London couldn't help but become frustrated with herself. Lately, the right balance between her studies and her training was becoming increasingly difficult to find. I swear on the gods... She never finished her thought before the rumble of an angry storm became audible outside her window. Swearing inwardly, she shook her head, glancing at the clock. London sucked in sharply. 8:45 AM, that meant she would certainly be late to school unless she left right then and there.

    A brisk 'mornin mum,' a rushed search for her charm, scooping it along with other items scattered around her house into a bag, and she was off, grabbing an apple on the way out. Luckily, her mother wasn't one of those strict ones that demanded explanations on a five-second basis. Besides, she knew how it was. Juggling demigod powers every day was a struggle in and of itself.
     
  3. Walking to school, he passed by several identical houses in his suburb, each prim and proper with a seemingly perfectly trimmed garden with perfectly tilted ornaments and perfect everything. Nothing ever seemed even slightly off in his neighbourhood, and the simplicity of the life around him ceased to aggravate him to no end, a silent plight he swore within himself.

    Cain, after five minutes of solid walking, gazing at the sky and the continual and almost seamless perfection of urban suburbia, he reached the bus stop, the usual start to the tribulations in his day to day education schedule. Three large, stone-built teenagers sat in the bus shelter, a peeling-painted stone structure, smoking and pushing junior students who they thought "got too close for their liking." Cain simply avoided them, by taking the more scenic route and climbing on top o the bus shelter, grazes covering his forearms for his effort. His escape was not limitless however; the three football-obsessed students, built like boulders and as intricate in appearance as a melted wax sculpture, had heard his groans of protest as he climbed onto the bus shelter to pre-emptively end their pursuit, and had decided he was their fresh-meat meal for the morning.

    "Oh hey Cain! Wonderful morning, wouldn'tcha agree?" Spouted Tom Dinklage, Captain of the Football Team and just as intelligent as one would come to think if stereotyping was involved in such a thought process. "Hey Deccy!" exclaimed the captain as his backup, Declan, his usual wingman in all the teen's exploits, if they could be called such, waddled up to the his brother-in-arms. "Show Cain here that we aren't as stonyhearted toward him as he thinks we are." Tom expunged finally a Declan picked up a nearby rock and threw it, with great precision, at Cain's back.

    "Tom, don't be stupid now." Cain muttered in the direction of the boy. "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." He exclaimed, as another rock was hurled in his direction, hitting him on the arm as Cain turned round to face his opponents. Jumping off the bus shelter, peace no longer a viable option, Cain walked straight up to Declan, and shocked the boy by gazing him straight in the eye...and spitting in his face.

    "Urgh!" the wingman moaned in protest as Tom moved to back up his egotistically wounded partner. "You mess with Dec, you mess with Tom." The sports fanatic declared, Cain's steely gaze all he was receiving. This itself was like the red flag to a bull, and the bully swung a ham-sized fist at Cain, the boy neatly dodging the blow. "Tut tut, Tom. I thought you were sporty." He exclaimed in tease, hoping to rile up Tom. However, it was Declan who made the next move, and Cain was ready when the boy stood up and charged, a quick foot to the boy's stomach, winding him. Giving the boy one last kick while he was on the ground, Cain looked toward Tom, who had already gotten within a foot of Cain, his fists swinging like an insane pendulum. Cain could only keep up for so long, his battered arms beginning to bruise at the end of the onslaught. However, Cain was the one to see red, catching Tom's next flying fist, and then doing the unthinkable and, with his other hand, he chopped viciously on the bone connecting the arm and the hand, breaking his hand quickly.

    "Stone me again, and I'll break your pretty boy face, Tom." Cain said finally, crawling his way to the top of the bus shelter as Tom, bleeding hand in tow, tried to tend to Declan.
     
    #3 Arcadia, Feb 15, 2015
    Last edited: Feb 16, 2015
  4. London rubbed against the charm with her thumb, taking a deep breath before biting into her apple. She could tell that whatever she had forgotten was especially important. Her forgetfulness was concerning her to a high degree. Perhaps there was a dark soul messing with her, it wouldn't be the first time. The blonde was lucid most of the time she was sleeping, so generally, she had nearly the same control over herself as she did while she was awake.

    The sound of jeering interrupted her as she continued walking, taking another bite of the sweet, crunchy fruit. Stupid boys. What were they up to this time? If only she had her drivers license already, she wouldn't have to put up with this nonsense. Her thoughts came to a jolting halt she felt a collection of thoughts welling up inside her, casting an image on the walls of her imagination that unlocked the door to every lost part of last night's dream. The Scott's dark hues widened slightly, and before she had a chance to process the burst of information cycling through her head, they befell the fight happening right before her, feet away from where she stood.

    Why hormones had to exist was the real question, considering it made life a million times harder. It also caused the levels of testosterone to exceed civil behavior, to the point where beating people up became the solution to the bursts of adrenaline mixed with dumb pride. What London was really interested in was the guy with the scar on the bridge of his nose. That was the one from her dream, no mistaking it. It was interesting, based on what she remembered, London had become rather impulsive around him last night. Her dream was sporadic and hard to remember, like any normal human being, as if she had completely forgotten how to travel through the dream dimension.

    She narrowed her eyes a moment as she examined him, but the sound of a bone breaking ripped through the air, interrupted her, sending a chill up her spine. That was hardly necessary, to inflict such pain on someone at this time of day. She almost felt pity for the other kid, but he was asking for it. There wasn't time to worry about him now, no matter how much the thought was nagging at her. A few soft words were mumbled softly between her lips, and she continued to gaze on the victor of the small skirmish.

    The energy of everyone nearby became visible in this state after chanting the spell to herself. London saw what she hadn't been expecting. Relief and worry washed over her simultaneously. Another one. After all this time. It was the most extreme coincidence that they happened to live in the same neighborhood. But before she got a chance to say anything, the bus was rolling up to the stop. A wave of dizziness washed over her as the spell faded away.
     
  5. As the bus rolled in, Cain jumped off the bus shelter without a word, and got onto the double decker. Showing the bus driver his student ID so he could get his bus ride without having to pay, he walked up to the top of the bus, moving to the back of the second floor, and sitting in a seat two rows in front of the back row, where the typical sports nerds would hang out. Gazing out the window, the bus moved out of it's parked position, driving on to school. He decided to use this time to have some peaceful thinking time. Who was the girl in his dream? She was recognisable, but he wasn't sure who she was. He might have seen her before, maybe not. Was she in his school? He didn't think so. He would have seen her around. The road passed by with the mechanical whirr of the engine, the bus itself passing by mile upon mile of traffic.

    On another note, he was impressed with himself. He had stood up for himself, though in doing so broke a boy's hand, even in vengeance he could see the wrong in his actions. The boy, annoying as he was, suffered because of Cain's need to dole out punishment. However, the boy shouldn't have tormented Cain in the first place. Therefore, he would perpetuate the vicious cycle of vengeance that would occur. The highway rushed by them as they reached the inner city, school on the border of inner city and suburbia. They were close to school. He could see the grounds in the distance, trimmed to perfection, and he let out a sigh. Everything was perfect in this perfection deprived world of his.

    The turned into the school driveway, and across the avenue they headed, until the school itself, a hulking postmodern stain on tradition, was peering down at them, disapproving, almost, with a hint of superiority. This is where they would spend most of their life in "lessons" being "taught". It was time to face monotony head on. Leaving his seat, he and other students, in a brazen hormonal herd, rushed down the stairs of the transport vehicle and onto the school grounds. However, he felt a breeze, and reading into it, he waited. He suspected someone wanted to talk to him. As much of a surprise that would be for the quiet-going-on-silent Cain.
     
  6. London sat stiffly on the bus, trying to decide what she should do- if she should even say anything. Speaking to strangers wasn't an issue, but it wasn't as if the blonde had experience walking up to people and saying, "Oh hi, it looks like both of our parents are universal rulers! We should probably talk about this, considering you used some of your parent's authority to break a kid's hand."

    She shook the foolish thought away, tossing her hair along with it in all directions. London was in the front of the bus, trying to let the ride take her away from the noise of the thoughts humming in her mind. She had mechanically showed her ID to the driver, who had nodded his head and motioned for her to take her seat. It wasn't long before the vehicle had taken her to the place she needed to be, and by some miracle, she recognized the stop before she road the bus all the way to the other side of the city. What a disaster that would have been!

    London finally reasoned that she didn't have to necessarily approach the guy directly with the realization she had made. Perhaps instead, a more indirect approach was in order. After all, who would believe a complete stranger that they happened to dream together in another dimension of the universe? A small smile crept onto her face as she formulated a cliche little plan. As she got off the bus, she expected that the other kid had as well, as he was wearing a backpack and looked about her age. London drew closer, eyes glued to the pavement the entire time. She was wearing a pair of earbuds, blasting loud music into her ears, and didn't appear to be paying attention to where she was walking. Needless to say, for once she was thankful for a conveniently placed object that she just happened to trip over, knocking the male down with her, who happened to be three feet away.

    The fall itself stung painfully, and the Scott, sprawled onto the ground, swore she probably skinned a knee under the jeans she was wearing, but it would be worth it in the long run.
     
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