"This is Our Home." Ghosting through the halls, a large, dark figure wisped past the doorways to various bedrooms, a clawed appendage of smoke tapping lightly on each one. Despite the total lack of force in the tapping, the sounds echoed loudly throughout the rooms in a wake-up call. This was Boo, the friendly boogeyman, making his morning rounds to wake up the daytime children for breakfast. Within moments after each resounding knock, the trail of bed-headed little ones following along behind him grew. while the older children were usually more inclined to sleep in and ignore the tapping, many of the younger ones would often follow Boo around to avoid getting lost. Not that there was ever any worry of a child getting lost. Not in Our Home. Boo, in all of his monstrous glory, was only one of the four caretakers in charge of these children. They were special children, most of which had been dealt a very bad hand in life, and as such, they required the very best care. What made them special enough to warrant a Boogeyman caretaker? Why, their origin, of course. Think demons, fairies, myths and spirits, and everything in between and around. These children were everything but human, and they were to be treated and raised as treasures, just as their parents should have. The other three caretakers were just as distinct, if not quite as monsterly. Each one played a very important role in keeping everything running smoothly, just as they had for millennia. Perhaps the most important of the four was Rayne. Though he appeared as a human male, Rayne was a Simurgh. A mythical bird that would roost upon the Tree of Knowledge. In one more popular legend, the Simurgh, a very motherly creature, took in an outcast child, and raised it as her own-- The Simurgh was always known to be strictly female. This legend is perhaps why most of the orphans in Our Home are sure Rayne is the founder. As the holder of all knowledge, Rayne is somewhat of a history teacher for the children. Despite each of them being as different as night and day, he could share with them knowledge of their species and culture, he could tell them endless legends and tales, he could give the children their place in the world. That accompanied by his god-like healing abilities and kind disposition, he was considered somewhat of a favorite by many of the children. Next to Rayne were Esme and Kreskes. Esme is the Orphanage's Daimon. A guardian creature born for the sole purpose of taking care of Our Home and its occupants. For the first millennia or so, she didn't even have a physical form. Technically, she still doesn't. A Daimon's lifespan is equal to that what it is born to protect, so as the orphanage is an eternal establishment, she has grown with it over the countless eras, refining her various skills to further her ability to help. On the note of Esme's physical form... She does seem to have one. You can see her. You can touch her. However, it's common knowledge that everyone perceives her differently. She appears however she is most relevant. To a child, she is a child. To a teenager, she is a teenager. To an adult, she is an adult. To Boo, she was a cloud of smoke. This, of course, made it very easy for her to relate to each of the children. As a mother hen sort of character, interaction is very important to her, although she's mostly in charge of cooking, cleaning, and overall nourishment. The last caretaker to examine is Kreskes, the Yehl. Though he was known as an incurable trickster, the Trickmaster, in fact, he was very well liked by the children, young and old alike. Though not much is known about his species or abilities, he serves the orphanage as not only a source of entertainment, but as a skills teacher. He is the one in charge of teaching each child about their specific abilities and how to use them. Of course, he always throws in a few suggestions on how to use any ability for a bit of naughty fun... Whenever there was an outbreak of trickery or a good ol' fashion prank war, everyone knew who was to blame. No one minded. Pausing as he reached the entrance of the dining hall, the large group of children looking up at him expectantly, Boo slowly turned to face them, a glint of amusement in his barely visibly eyes. This was another morning ritual. Boo couldn't physically speak, but every morning he would sing them this silly song in a sort of telepathy. It was only when he finished that they children would disperse into the dining hall for their respective meals. And with a few giggles, off they went.