|| Word Syndrome ||

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Headphones, Jan 8, 2015.

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    music (open)

    “Hey, do you know? Why does the rain hush in autumn?”

    Bit by bit, from the high eaves and edges of the buildings above to the muddy ground of mortals below, the raindrops descended softly from the heavens, making little sound, apart from the occasional tap, tap, tap on the sheet iron surface of an air-conditioner. The sky resembled the stormy evening sea looked at from below and the atmosphere under those slowly crashing shades of grey was like those darkened depths, where all was still, unmoving, serene, with little shards of light passing through from time to time only to fall even deeper and vanish into the darkness. Occasionally, mysterious creatures would disturb the waters just when it seemed as though all traces of life had been lost. Here they had two shining eyes, more often yellow than blue, and would let out a grumble or roar as they followed their blackened pat, letting out fumes to mark their way between the tall cliffs, which ofttimes reflected their light. In places the coral had grown wonderfully in a bright palette of colours, yet few were those, who halted to admire their beauty. Most were still tucked away in their hollows, wandering the labyrinth of slumber, or were already hovering with their school at the usual reef. In those young hours, when the sun was playing peek-a-boo with the clouds on the horizon, the current was barely noticeable and only the underwater rain reminded life of its existence.

    “Maybe it wants to be heard? Or perhaps to be left alone?”

    A bird abruptly flew off into the rain. The cracking of its wings quickly faded into the distance, between the curtain of miniature silver beads, which twinkled ever so slightly as they sank and lost their final glimmer when merging into a small mirror that quickly became obscured by filth. There was neither thunder, nor lightning, nor gruelling wind to disturb the calm surface of this hypnopompic world as its gears steadily began turning in the chilly morning of autumn.

    From one leaf to another, the raindrops playfully skipped in the trees by the tracks. The majestic rulers of the flora kingdom had brilliant crowns dappled in yellows, gingers, reds and browns, a mere handful having a green leaf sticking out. They stood proudly a leap away from the railway, which they had guarded for more than a decade, and observed the world that sleeplessly towered above them on one side and the smaller one that just awoke on the other.

    “The Granline”, a light rail system, served not only as a fast means of transportation, but also as a defining border between the mainly business-oriented Norra Eis Track area, or NET for short, and the more residential Östlich Solnichnii Oka area (Oso). Situated on a hard metal construction hidden by heaps of earth that looked as though it was a natural hill, it belittled the majority of Oso’s buildings and was in turn belittled by NET’s. Rather than concrete arches, its underpasses, set at an approximately equal long distance from each other, resembled the gates of western and Russian castles or those of eastern shrines, but the doodle-like signatures spared no one, neither did the empty glass bottles and cans or the posters torn by both weather and hand. This was, after all, a part of the colourful sea of Oblak City, thus there had to be at least one dash of randomness, one spot of different pain, one word that did not fit into the sentence.
    In the spirit of the miktiopolis, there was an oddity under one of the castle-like underpasses, a peculiar fish out at this early hour. Still under his green umbrella, which he held with his right hand, he had leaned his back on the wall and leisurely scrolled through his black phone with his left. With the earphones firmly in place on each side, he had lent an ear to what the radio had to say.

    “-has returned guilty verdicts of four Saltwater operatives involved in the massacre of 8 Irani citizens in Baghda-”

    “The new album’s coming out next month, so be on the lookout! Her manager says the limited edition was her idea, not his, but fans shouldn’t be worried, because the songs will be released again later this year. But who doesn’t want that cover?!”

    “No ferries on the Kumobloha river until the end of the month, sadly. The general cleaning period is shorter than last year’s, but is that due to there being less rubbish or from having a tight pocket, we can only guess.”

    “-of civilian uprising in Crossroad district. People continue to call for the dea-”

    “-brings joy to the workers at the wildlife foundation. Tigers are still not out of danger, however due to poa- ”

    “-and they say it’s horrible. “Ukraine has no intention of being Russia’s plaything.” says Turchinov,
    but will this result in an increase in clashes or will the two sides hear each other out?”

    “The Cloud Giraffe might have a delay in construction due to the weather. The residents of Famoso are nonetheless happy about the project not being canceled. Local restaurateurs believe it will bring in more customers, since there’s nothing better than a delicious meal after a bungee jump.”

    “-worried about the stray dogs in the area. There have been no reports on attacks,
    but the rise in number is evident, despite the area being marked as spayed. Mothers are af-”

    “The concert will be on the second of November. There are barely any tickets left! Fans are ra-”

    “Fifth day into the Libra-Scorpio, girls and guys! Watch out, because those two are on a role~”

    “ The artist denies having any personal or influential reasoning behind the caricature. “It was just for fun.” as she says.”

    “-concludes gay marriage is still on the debate table of Oblak City. Those were the news
    on 23rd October from me, Annie Williams.”

    Pulling out the white cable from the jack, the man looked down whilst turning off the device after that short period of switching through the many stations. A white-eared black cat was affectionately rubbing itself beside his legs, thus he responded by crouching down and giving it a pat on the head.
    “Sorry, no treats today.”
    The feline let out a warm purr in reply and continued rubbing its head against his hand, uncaring about whether or not it was to be fed.
    “Heh, but you have it the best from everyone, don’t you?”
    Perhaps he would have stayed longer to play with this friendly fellow, however, the rushed passing of a car brought him back to his senses.
    “... Well, I’ll be going. Take care.” he bid farewell, to which the cat answered with a short meow, and the two parted ways.


    Crossing the road that went along the railway hill, the man headed down one of the little streets of Oso. The pitter patter of the raindrops on the umbrella resembled the light jingle of a wind chime being gently tickled by the summer breeze. Not a soul could be seen outside. The balconies were empty and so were the few gardens of the one or two family restaurants that were nestled between the many houses by the winding path. The wooden benches in front of the short-storey apartment buildings were bare and dark from the moisture. The gates were closed and the doors firmly locked. Yet life was ever-present, for the curtains had not been pulled and light shined from countless windows. Sometimes figures could be seen moving back and forth under the light. A short little one, elegant swift ones, slower arched ones. They lived so close, yet had no idea of the other’s presence, much like a beehive, but each was in its own little cell, never bothering to check on its neighbor.
    A sweet smell came from the red bakery on the corner, a cozy brick building two floors tall, from the chimney of which a thin line of smoke was weaving upwards, as if it was smoking a cigarette. Further down, after the crossroad, the buildings gradually increased in height, still being largely residential, yet small tobacco, video and second-hand shops started appearing, as well as the garage doors with the usual graffiti and expressionist declarations.

    Changing direction every now and then, the man continued his stroll through the labyrinthal area. Whilst the road grew wider bit by bit, the jungle of wires on both left and right remained the same and so did the drops that hung from them, as if they were birds perched in a line. By the sidewalk, on a lower level, a natural canal had formed, through which water flowed steadily, just like a river, washing away the city’s burdens. It was not rare to spot a leaf drifting slowly as it followed the current. Having fallen from its graceful tops and now stained in dark hues, it was no longer worthy of remaining on the surface and would soon plummet from between the iron gates down into the chasm of darkness, where all the sewage resided.

    At some point of time in his travel, he came out on Dylan Blue street, one of the three main arteries of Oso. Here the current was moving faster, as there were several pedestrians busily marching on their way and vehicles going left and right, their lights revealing the drizzling rain, which stayed out of sight even on a colourful background. Along this street further east was the “district seat”, a nickname for the building of authority of the area, next to which was the local police station. Being one of the prideful streaks, only the most renowned brands could set up shop here. There were many fashion ateliers, petite confectreys, sophisticated bookstores, cafés and the like, all of which were neat, tidy and open for business. However, the man with the green umbrella payed no mind to the eye-catching glimmer of the beckoning decor and continued onward by going over a pedestrian crossing and leaving the “street of jays” behind.
    The landscape continued to change with each and every step. The buildings were high and far more compact all the way down until he reached Hibiki Umino street, the second main artery, which was parallel to the first. It was diverse in its contents, harboring a wide variety of cafes, present and creative shops and small culture restaurants. Beyond it began the decrease of storeys and increase of greenery. Until then, trees were as if simply placed for decoration, since they were wrapped at their base with small black fences and restricted from all sides by one level plates. Away from the main roads, they lost their fencing and even elevated the sidewalk in places, creating pumps and cracks along the way.

    Soon he found himself passing a school. An honorable building of three storeys, it was a bit shabby with the lack of colour and some of the construction markers were still visible, but it was lively nonetheless. Glancing at the clock placed high on one of the building’s sides would prove that the time was half past six in the morning, which explained why the entrance had yet to become a cacophony. Inside, however, staff could be seen hustling and bustling, some cleaning and others carrying various objects, all of them preparing for the start of classes at half past seven. What had caught the man’s eye was a strange figure on the rooftop. It was enough to make him stop and try to focus, but the rain and distance made it impossible to figure out who or what was there. Blinking once or twice only made it vaguer and after less than a minute the peculiar shadow vanished. Although he gave it some thought, the man chose to move on from the sight.

    “Maybe it wants to hear something? Or rather not hear at all?”

    From the school down Avgustinski road were numerous little signs of all shapes and sizes. Flashing in and out, ofttimes with a burnt or defective light, they advertised an array things, such as hair salons, small markets and drug stores. All of them were notably less in number and flare compared to those he had seen shortly prior, but their purpose was the same and, even if they were inferior, they would carry out their duty until the very last light went out.
    On this rainy autumn day many had chosen to take refuge here, namely because they were caught off guard by the shower. These individuals were, for the most part, women out to buy ingredients for their family breakfast and little birds that found cracks in the rooftops. The swift cheerful swallows and clever sneaky cuckoos had already flown away to their winter residences in Africa and only the small chirping sparrows and cranky smart crows remained to grace the skies. It was an uncommon, but possible occurrence in some parks and village-like districts on the outskirts of town, to hear the call of a dove, which, unlike its pigeon brethren, hummed with a long and calming voice. Chased away by those same siblings, it seldom appeared in crowded areas.

    “It should be something important, right?”

    Left through Marta lane, by the playground where water droplets rolled down the slide like children and a bucket remained forgotten in the sandbox, a turn to Natsuoka avenue, past the ramen shop, around the gas station, between the houses of a thousand tales, he walked on the road that got narrower and narrower, until he finally held to a stop on Stargazer one way. The rain had also almost ceased. There was not a passer by. The gray canvas was breaking apart, revealing the soft hues of the morning. Crouching down, the man picked up a black black book, which had be carried by the small river that had formed by the road. Standing back up again,the man turned around and asked with a smile:

    “Will you hear them, the words of the hushing autumn rain?”

    || 07:00 AM || 23rd October || 20XX
    • Love Love x 1
  2. The sun had barely risen upon a large apartment complex. The weak light found its way inside one of the apartment's windows, shining upon the interior. A decently sized, well furnished apartment. Inconspicuously clean apart from a stack of papers on a table in the kitchen. It was six in the morning. Barry had already finished his morning workout, had showered, and finished his breakfast. The daily routine of a busy life. He was dressed in a light grey three piece suit in an effort to combat the dreariness of the morning. On his belt was a small black case containing a collapsible baton, and under his left arm there lay a gun, hidden by his suit's jacket. He was only supposed to carry it during work hours, but he had gotten in the nasty habit of wearing it on his commute to and from work. It hadn't ever gotten him in trouble.

    He grabbed his phone and wallet, and placed them both in his pant's pockets. He then grabbed the stack of papers from the table and loaded them into a brown leather briefcase before hurrying out the front door and locking it behind him. His apartment building was rather nice. It was all enclosed, kept rather clean, and even had a receptionist of sorts in the lobby. It was probably one of the nicer places in Oso to call home.

    The bulking mountain of a man, with a briefcase in his hand, began his daily commute. First he walked past the receptionist with the daily, "Hello!" ,and out the front doors. He took his usual paths and public transports that found him in front of his office building in NET. He walked inside brushing the rain off of himself and took and elevator up into the building. Even though it was still early, there were quite a few others around. Barry greeted each with a warm smile and a hello before walking past them on his way to his office.

    He entered his office and left the door open behind him. It was a fairly small office, but it was still nicer to have than a cubicle. The furnishings were simple, but effective for what they needed to be. A decent sized wooden desk with a computer, a large leather chair, and plenty of storage for papers. Everything Barry needed to do his work. He sat his briefcase on his desk and set his jacket up so it could dry out. He sat down and began rifling through the papers that were in his briefcase and placing them in a small tray labeled "Complete" so that he could send them out to elsewhere in the workplace later.

    He logged onto the computer and began messing about before a woman came in and dropped a stack of papers on his desk. "There you go Barry." The woman said, "There is all the information regarding that one customer you wanted."

    He replied, "Thank you Mary. You're always so punctual. I love it."

    The woman left and Barry began looking through the papers. It was indeed a thick stack of security information regarding a bank that wanted to hire the security company that Barry worked for. There had been a massive rush of new business caused by the recent terror attacks. Banks seemed to be some of the most common. All scared that if they didn't ramp up security they would also be hit.

    Barry sorted through the papers. Small scale blueprints, current level of security, and how much the bank wanted to spend on new security. There was something else in there. An odd notebook in the middle of the stack. Barry looked at the cover which was seemingly soaked in wet blood, but when he touched it it felt completely dry, as if the blood was actually a part of the cover. It was odd, and he wondered how it found its way into the stack. Curious, he opened it to the first page to find it anti-climatically empty. Barry chuckled as he realized that he was almost afraid to see what would be inside. He then flipped through the pages finding them empty. Feeling slightly cheated, Barry looked at the first page again, this time shocked to see his name, and a list of rules written there.

    Stunned, Barry set the notebook down on his desk. Why hadn't he seen the writing before? Why did it have his name in it? He leaned over the notebook and began reading the rules to himself. To him, it was all odd seemingly made-up none-sense that seemed to suggest that he could make things happen by writing in the notebook. He was unconvinced, yet still curious. He made the decision to set it in his briefcase and check it out more at home and to go about his regular work day.
    #2 Potatocat, Jan 10, 2015
    Last edited: Jan 10, 2015
    • You Get a Cookie You Get a Cookie x 1
  3. [​IMG]

    'Words are an authors weapon and Armor,
    Standing by their master's side,
    Ready to take on whatever faces them.'

    The world had been nothing but a quiet darkness for ten hours and forty five minutes. It was with an ignorant and repetitive buzz that the world announced itself in a sudden and unwelcome burst of light and color. The petite and seemingly fragile arm of a young woman flopped lazily upon a dark burgundy bedside table. The target had been missed completely, lying mere inches from the contact point between the hand and the table.

    The hand searched slothfully for its target, moving instead further from the object it desired. The hand abruptly smacked into an unwashed sock that had hung haphazardly on the edge of the table for the entire night. It fell to the ground with a pathetic flop. A loud and frustrated grumble emerged from within the bedsheets. Its owner was completely hidden, other than her right arm, by a sea of blankets and pillows. The hand continued its desperate search, bringing a torrent of destruction in its wake. Miscellaneous objects, left on the table by its slothful owner, were thrown in countless directions until a breaking point was reached. With a loud, yet anti climactic roar, she rose from the bed sheets. The incessant buzzing continued, growing louder with each moment. With one eye half open, the blue eyed woman struck the snooze switch her left hand, and flopped back onto her pillow, now completely uncovered and entirely uncomfortable.

    Mere minutes passed before she rose again. For what seemed like ages she had attempted to regain the sense of comfort she had successfully achieved before the damned clock had woken her. Alas, it was out of her reach and she was now being forced to seize the day. The blue woman whetted her mouth, smacking her lips together in attempt to remove the morning lining of mucus and other undesirable chemicals from within her jaw. Somehow retaining vision with only her left eye partly open the woman yawned, stretching her arms as she did so.

    After sitting up and successfully removing removing the sleep from her eyes the woman took a glance around her room. Clothing, both clean and not, lay in an ominous pile in the far corner. A small cocktail umbrella stood at its top, almost as though it were some great mountain recently conquered by an explorer with a strange sense of humor. Other strange objects lay around the room. Mostly it was different varieties of food wrapping, however from time to time one could come across something of value. She fell to all fours and scurried across the floor, aiming for an abandoned box of pizza of which she had a suspicion still contained some delicious objects within.

    The blue woman stood, munching happily on a cold slice of 'American Feast' pizza that had been delivered the night prior. She had always loved breakfast in bed. The sleeves of her sleeping sweater hung past her hands, and loosely clung to her body. Her strikingly dark blue hair, hung to her shoulders and dominated her features, mostly because it looked like something akin to Hurricane Katrina. With her free hand she slip into a pair of pink flower PJ's that may or may not have been washed in the near past. Upon completing this task she began stumbling to her door, still mostly asleep.

    Awaking from slumber had always been a battle for this woman. Never had she found herself awaking bright eyed and ready to seize the day. Coffee did that for her, and she had never wished for that to change. So as such, she once again found herself stumbling towards the coffee pot located on her kitchen counter. After pouring herself a glass of the pre-prepared liquid she sat herself down on her living room couch. For a long while she stayed in that spot, sipping carelessly at the black liquid and diving headfirst into her most recent works. Something about this mid morning half wakefulness had always improved her writing. She found that her creative mind improved greatly the less consciously aware she was. Of course she would return to it later for critical editing, but for now she would indulge her morning madness and write without care.

    The blue woman wasted the day away with this, only glancing at the outside from time to time and otherwise ignoring its existence. She pushed further into her novel, rampaging through chapter after roughly written chapter. On a whim, she headed to the bathe. Perhaps some one would pop in, it wouldn't be entirely unwelcome and she would need to be presentable just in case.

    Luckily for her she had been correct, and shortly after slipping into her day clothes she was half startled by a knock on the front door. She had dawned her most preferred dress, which had also been the last one hanging clean in her closet. It was a simple summer dress that hung only as low as her knees. Ribbons creases, and other fanciful designs were spotted throughout it. They added both texture and appeal while retaining simplicity and she liked it for this. Functional yet fashionable. Even if she wasn't a fashionista she knew how to recognize a good piece of clothing.

    The blue woman glanced through the peephole and shuddered at what she saw. It was, unfortunately, the most irritating person she knew that had come to fetch her on this early afternoon. A complacent expression took hold of her face as she slid the door open and peered out to greet her guest.

    "Wow Blue, aren't you dressed for the occasion! Have I come at a bad time?" The woman who had spoken was known as Gabriella Wendell, or Gab by her close friends of which Blue was unfortunately one of. The woman stood before her in a bright yellow summer dress, with bright yellow heels and earrings to match. Blue didn't have the heart to tell her how silly she looked in all that bright and instead smiled weakly.

    "No Gab, it's just fine. Going out with the others then?" Jill was trying to hide it, but her compassion was tearing at the seems. Gab had this way of making her act out of character and it bothered her. That plus the woman's inability to take Blue's profession seriously just really rubbed her wrong.

    "Is that so? Well that is just fine, me and the boys were gonna head out and see that new flick, what was it again... Something with Tom Cruise. Anyway, it looked good and we thought, I mean i thought. Well, you should come anyways. It looks like you haven't seen the sun in ages." Gab was always so nervous around her. Blue understood it but did not see the necessity of tripping over so many sentences.

    "Sure." She shrugged, 'thank you for the compliment', she thought to herself, her cringe at that last bit almost showing on her face. Blue then reached for her umbrella, it was black and simple but it did the job. She glanced at the old thing. Its edges were worn to nothing and it had began to resemble that of a twenty year old leather sofa.

    Jill then set off. A sense of regret on her left, and an irritation chatter to her right.

    #3 Ner0, Jan 11, 2015
    Last edited: Jan 11, 2015
    • You Get a Cookie You Get a Cookie x 1
  4. From the second she walked in, warmth enveloped her. She took off her scarf, hat, winter jacket, and mittens, and hung them on on the rack next to the door. Tiny snowflakes had gathered and clung to each other in clumps at the bottom of her pants. She took one step further into her warm home, the snow all but disappeared. She saw her mother, and smiled. Her hair was loose and curly and whiter than the snow. Wrinkles covered her face more harshly than Celena remembered.

    "I missed you." The words blurted out as the emotion welled within her and spilled over.

    "Me too, but I wanted to tell you something." Her mother turned to the microwave, and pulled out a mug of hot chocolate. There was only one, and it had marshmallows, with a single cinnamon stick. The ceramic cup was warm, perfect temperature to hold. The liquid was hotter, perfect temperature to burn the cold away.

    "What did you want to tell me?" Celena tilted her head inquisitively.

    Her mother's expression slowly changed, and was suddenly cool. "You should change your major."

    A lump grew in her throat. A hand gripped her chest. "Why?" Her mother had never forced her opinion on the matter before. "To what?"

    "Follow your father's footsteps." Her tone was casual, and entirely uncharacteristic. It sounded like a blunt statement, a request that should have been obvious. A breeze stronger than a mere draft chilled Celena. She wrapped her arms around herself, and began to shiver.

    "What?" Her request was incredulous, to say the least. She squinted, the frosted wind drying her eyes.

    "How can you just ignore him?" Her mother's tone was a gentle accusation. Frustration and betrayal—the things she felt for her father—paired all too well with the anger that tore into her numb muscles and fueled her blood with purpose.

    Another wind whipped Celena's hair, chilling her neck and scooping under her shirt.. Her mother seemed bothered by it less, as if it was an inconvenience. The mug suddenly burned in her hand, and she dropped it. It fell to the floor and shattered, spilling the hot liquid everywhere.

    "Now look what you've done." Her mother's expression was abruptly dark and angry. Celena was stunned. She had never said these things—would never say these things.

    Her mother grabbed Celena's hair and yanked. She yelped and fell. She felt the pinpricks of tears from alarm and the emotional attack.

    "Why do you hate him?" she screamed. Celena had never felt so afraid. She opened her mouth to ask her to stop, her throat thick with fear and grief. The cold winter gale whipped around the kitchen of her mother's home like a tornado.

    Music. The radio. The feeling of limp heaviness in her arms and legs. Celena breathed as steadily as she could. Her eyes focused on the walls. They were particularly blasé; the window was grey and she could see resting raindrops through the curtains. The sound of sheets and blankets gently sliding together and apart came from just five feet away.

    Celena dared to move her limbs. Her gaze was wide-eyed, distracted, unsettled. Propped on her elbows, she stared at the room. My mother would never say those things. It was just a dream. She could never hurt me like that. Reminding herself a dream was just that always seemed the most relevant when the dream was a nightmare.

    "Morning," her roommate said, and yawned. It struck Celena that the world had not shattered during the night, her close friend was fine and calm and convincing herself everything was okay seemed much easier. "Are you staying up?"

    Celena turned her gaze to the clock. Her eyes darted faster than she had moved all morning, and that too helped her out of the shock. Chucked her out of a slow and methodical state—relapse into normalcy, of simple things, like wondering what the time was. 7:15 AM.

    "Yes," Celena said. She felt strangely rested and awake, just shaken up. She watched as her friend tackled getting out of bed one thing at a time. Glasses, first and foremost. She pushed the hair out of her eyes. Moved her legs, stretched them out a little. Stared at the blanket and willed herself to pull them aside; the point of no return. Twisted her body until she bisected the bed. Stared some more, at the floor, and wondered which one is the real point of no return. Slid off the bed. Stood up. Stretched some more. Then the morning processes, which also had intricate steps but in smaller portions.

    Celena skipped the uncertainty and reluctance part. She also didn't have glasses, so she stared as her friend made her way out of the room and to the bathroom. She walked to the window and peered outside. Water was dripping from the eaves and puddles appeared everywhere on the ground, but it seemed like the clouds'd had their way and were moving on.

    The sound of the shower drifted through the bedroom walls. Celena shut off the alarm and went into the tiny kitchen to make some coffee. When it was finished, Celena poured two cups. A larger, travel-esque cup for her friend who was readying for work. Celena picked a white mug from the cupboard and poured herself something more casual. She added the appropriate amount of milk and sugar to each individual cup, then stirred. She lidded her roommate's, and leaned against the kitchen counter. Celena looped the spoon in unnecessary, lazy circles, staring at the light brown fluid. Her spoon tinked against the ceramic, the coffee rushing to balance each displacement. It reminded her of the hot chocolate in her dream, but this was a lighter color, and there were no marshmallows, no cinnamon sticks. Celena took a sip of the coffee. Hot chocolate and coffee are two different things.

    Celena turned and looked at the window on the far wall. She wondered briefly where the winter theme came from, when it was still warm enough to rain. Her friend, saving her from over thinking the matter, appeared, dressed for work. Celena handed her the pre-made coffee, still hot. "Have a good day at work," Celena said. Her friend smiled warmly. "Thanks. Don't forget the mail." Keys in hand, her friend left the apartment and Celena was left alone.
    • You Get a Cookie You Get a Cookie x 1
  5. [​IMG]

    Music 1 (open)


    A lone road stretched out into eternity, would it ever go anywhere but onwards? What if you happened to travel this road? When looking up, you would notice the vivid green of foliage, since birches and oak trees lined this path. When looking down, you would see a sea of tulips on both sides of the road. Green, yellow, red, white, blue. An abundance of cheerful sunny colours. The blackbird and pigeon sang a soft, soothing duet, high up in the tall trees, urging anyone who walked this road to continue on their way.

    That day had been a sunny summer day. The air felt humid and sunlight fell down on the path, interspersed with the shadow which the trees provided. The water in the canals had been at an unusually low point and most people were holding a siesta. ‘Most’, the word itself inclines a few exceptions. That day, a tall man with hazel coloured hair tread upon this particular path and walked it with firm steps, headed for an unknown destination. A young, beautiful woman smiled up at him and let her hand intertwine with his. Her head rested on his shoulder as they strolled and watched the two little girls that ran ahead of them. The two could have been twins, were it not for the difference in height. The youngest one laughed loudly as she chased a snow white cabbage butterfly. The elder sister smiled indulgently at the sight of her younger sister running around. The frivolity of youth was no longer something she was supposed to enjoy, or so the nine year old told herself. She turned her gaze to the sight of her parents, walking hand in hand like young lovers. An overall feeling of bliss filled the air and the girl felt the uncontrollable urge to laugh. But why? Weren't all days like this?

    The man halted and brought his hand up just above his eyes to provide them with some shade as he gazed into the distance. The girl realised that she couldn't get a clear sight of his face, no matter how much she focused. But she quickly dismissed the thought. After all, it couldn't possibly be as important as enjoying the feeling of the sun's gentle caress on her cheeks when she managed to avoid the shields of leaves above her.

    "We're almost there Eva."

    Music 2 (open)

    Suddenly, the four found themselves standing on a beach. Wasn't it peculiar that she didn't remember how they had gotten here...wherever here was? Still, none of the others seemed to mind, so the girl refrained from asking her questions. The sun had disappeared behind a dense mist, which drifted towards them from across the silver coloured sea. A strong gust of wind made the girl shiver and brought an ominous feeling with it. The girl was only wearing her thin white t-shirt and shorts and she could already feel the goosebumps appearing on her arms.

    Her sister still ran after her butterfly, happily laughing, oblivious to the cold, yelling words the eldest couldn't quite distinguish. A shiver went down her spine, she couldn't tell what had caused it. The increasing cold wind or some dark feeling of foreboding. She hadn't noticed, not at first. A hole had been poked in her belly and all of the happiness she had felt before, was spilling out. Dripping away, lost in despair. Why was her sister running so far away? She wanted to scream out to her sibling, to be careful, not run too far, not into the cold seawater, it would spoil her cute white dress and she would no doubt cry all the way home. However, no matter how hard she tried, no sound came over her lips. Why? Her sister kept on running, further and further, until the oldest could no longer see her. The only thing she heard over the sound of crashing waves and the howling wind, were shreds of her sister's laughter. As clear and sweet as small bells, yet hollow somehow. Panic nestled in her chest, building a fire that rapidly expanded throughout her entire body. She had to do something, or else her sister would... die... Only then did she look around in search of her parents. But as she looked, all she saw were the waves that came crashing on the shore in front of her, the dunes at her back and the beach that stretched out as far as she could see to her right and left. I have to find them. No, I have to help her first.

    The girl ran in the direction her sister had disappeared in, towards the waves. High they went, deep in darkness, towering, roaring. The further she got, the slower she could move. She could feel the freezing water against her knees, but she kept on walking nevertheless. Her sandals made odd noises as they clutched the mud underneath them, trying to halt her. She kept on wading through the water. Her sister was still nowhere in sight and the water already reached her shorts. The cloth greedily drank in the sea water and weighed the girl down even more. Panic was slowly tightening its grip around her neck and throat, preventing her from breathing. She struggled further. Tears streamed down her face and became one with the sea of despair around her. At last, she halted. When the water came to her chin, her body had stopped shivering and instead a numb feeling encompassed her. The girl let out a pained, lonely cry.

    "Mama, Papa!?!"

    Thunder was the only one who answered, making the little girl cry even harder as she tightly clenched her hands around her ears.

    "Eli....-Ne... ELIAN...."

    Incoherent words echoed after the thunder and the girl looked up at the sky with a bewildered expression on her face.


    "Non... dam...! Open... épouvan... door!"

    The mists around her slowly became darker and darker and the little girl let out another terrified yelp, muffled by her own sobbing and the water that now rose to her eyes.

    Music 3 (open)

    Gradually, the darkness lifted and a small ray of light fell on her face. She could feel it before seeing, the warmth of light on her cold damp skin. When she finally dared to open her eyes again, she noticed that the ray came through a window. A window which was supposed to be closed and instead let the cold morning air fill the small room. The rain had brought refreshment and the air wasn't as humid and suffocating as it had been in the last few days. The girl was no longer little but found herself sobbing uncontrollably all the same. After a while, she regained control over her thoughts and began wondering what had happened.

    She was lying in bed, in her small two-room-apartment. The bedroom was still dark, except for the small ray of sunlight. After becoming used to the darkness, she distinguished her messy desk, with all the pictures and souvenirs, her bookshelves, packed too full but still orderly with books, her chair, wardrobe, mirror and nightstand. All of it was there and slowly the realization came. The terrible suffocation, the feeling of loss and panic had been nothing but a dream. The alarm clock on her nightstand told her that it was only half past seven, meaning that she still had an hour and a half before her college would start. With a sigh, the girl brushed aside a few long, sticky strands of hazel coloured hair. Even in October, it was relatively hot in Oblak city. Elly smiled slightly when she recalled how she and her sister would take a swim in the canals of their hometown with this temperature. Despite sleeping in only a shirt, she often found herself waking up covered in cold sweat here. Especially after dreams like these.

    Only then did she become aware of the loud voices coming from the hallway, fully audible now that she was awake.

    "Elienne? Merde, open this door girl or I'll let Lars bash it in."

    "Me? Why would I have to do that? You're a lot stronger than you look. Do it yourself!"

    "Je m’en fou! You are the guy, you ave to take you responsabilités! You cannon ignore a woman in need. You eard er scream too? Non?"

    "Stop with the French already woman, you know it's annoying as hell. How about I start speaking German? Das werden Sie nicht gevallen, ja?"

    The bickering went on for a while and Elianne easily recognized the voices of Cécile and Lars, both international students like her, living in the same building. Six years ago, the University of Law and Business, Open Mind University and Oblak's Musical University had joined forces and started a project to provide housing for their international students. Over the years, several houses were bought across the city by the three universities. For the sake of diversity and interaction, students of all sorts of nationalities, sexualities, studies, genders, beliefs and personalities would share their living spaces with five others. The group Elianne had found herself in was one of these very colourful groups and they shared the kitchen, bathroom and living room of this German-styled house. It had used to be two ordinary family houses, now combined into one large boarding house by demolishing the walls between the hallways on both floors. The odd bunch of housemates guaranteed an eventful day and apparently, her nightmare had caused her to be that day's event.

    Elianne quickly got up to answer the door, just in time before Lars attempted to ram it. She opened the door ever so slightly, trying to hide her face as much as possible from the two. It wouldn't do for her to show them she had been crying, especially not since she had only been living with them for little over three months.

    "I'm sorry guys, just a nightmare. I do hope that I didn't wake you up?"

    Céline brusquely shoved the door aside and caught Elianne in a tight hug. Her appearance proved to be quite misleading, since the short, utterly feminine girl had a grip of steel on the much taller and skinnier Elly. Céline was curvy, dark-skinned, with frizzy hair the colour of chocolate. At first glance, she was the textbook example of the stereotypical 'overly theatrical and romantic French woman'. She had immediately decided to be friends with the much shier Elianne, or as the Françoise proclaimed: 'I will save you from those terrible housemates.' On her first day in the boarding house, Céline had been the one to offer her a short tour and despite her lacking English and abundance of French curses, the girl had a heart of gold.

    "Conneries, chérie. Yusei as been practicing is piano for alf an our already, no worries. Tell me, what was your dream about?" Céline softened her grip on Elianne and her dark brown eyes spoke of genuine concern. She swiftly wiped a few tears from Elly's cheeks while mumbling something in French.

    "That's... Well... Something of my past.. I suppose." Elianne tried her best to smile, but the sadness and raw feeling of panic were still present.

    "Really, you do not need to worry. I guess I'm just a bit too sensitive." She managed to bring forth a sheepish grin, which seemed to comfort Céline enough to let go of her and take a step back to give Elly some space.

    "Well then, glad to ear you are fine. We should eat together tonight, oke? We can invite Sybille as well. You won't believe what appened to me yesterday." With a smile and a wink, Céline disappeared down the hallway to her own room.

    Only then did Elianne remember that Lars had come to her rescue as well. For some reason, he didn't look at her, instead his gaze lingered on the ground. Lars was a tall, skinny blonde in his early twenties. He usually was a stoic person, only talkative when provoked by Céline (as always) or when discussing law or martial arts, his two great passions. Still, he was never really shy or at a loss for words. For some reason his cheeks were currently slightly flushed and a frown had nestled in between his bright blue eyes. He mumbled something which Elianne didn't understand and an awkward silence formed.

    "What? I'm sorry..I ... I'm afraid I didn't really hear what you were saying Lars." Elly hadn't spoken with him that much in the last three months since she had moved in, and their relationship was still rather awkward. All the more reason why it had been very gallant of him to come with Céline, especially since his room was on another floor.

    "Pan... I mean... Bye." Without looking up, he marched to the stairs on the other side of the hallway. Elianne stood as frozen as a statue for a full minute before she realized the reason behind his awkwardness. She was still only wearing the old oversized t-shirt and a boxer short she had slept in. Elly quickly shut the door behind her, before any of her other housemates saw her in this state. Céline behaved like an older sister around everyone, but she would rather not give Francesco ammunition to tease or Sybil a reason to snicker. Her cold hands managed to cool her cheeks down slightly. Why can't I ever have a normal conversation with someone I don't know all too well?

    Something soft stroked passed her legs, startling Elly for a moment. A long, wailing meow and a claw in Elly's big toe made clear that Katja was tired of waiting for her breakfast. With a smile and some effort, Elianne picked up the fat mottled cat.

    "Wow, Katja... You just keep on getting fatter lately, don't you? Perhaps I shouldn't feed you as much..." As if she had understood what the consequences of such a thing were, Katja hissed at Elly and struggled to get free.

    "Alright, alright. I'll get your food. You won't allow me to eat or dress properly if I don't, will you?" With a chuckle, she put Katja back to the ground. A shower would come later, so for now she put on her sweatpants and quickly went to the shared kitchen to prepare some food for the both of them. Just like that, her worries had blown over and the tight feeling of panic smoothed out.

    Music 4 (open)


    "Shitshitshitshit nooooo, please no!" Just as she was about to hit the button to open the doors, the metro started moving, leaving behind a very disappointed Elianne. A few people snickered at her outburst, but Elianne paid them no heed.

    "Shit." She added, silently hoping that would make the metro stop in its tracks and allow her to board it anyway. She let out a disappointed sigh as her hopes proved to be nothing more than that. Still somewhat frustrated, she made her way through the crowd gathered on the platform and sat down on one of the benches that lined the wall. Beside her sat a man in his mid-thirties, dressed in a suit and holding a briefcase. Judging from the way he impatiently checked his watch every ten seconds, he was a victim of the clock as much as she was. Elianne tightly clenched one strap of her backpack as she looked at the various posters displayed on the wall across her, giving herself over to her ponderings.

    She was only two stops away from Main Okrug, so she certainly wouldn't be late, especially seeing how it was still half past eight and another metro would arrive in ten minutes. With a sigh she recalled how Yusei had deemed it of the utmost importance to discuss Bach's Goldberg Variations with her, just as she had finished her breakfast. Seeing how she played the violin and he was a student of music, it was logical to a certain extent, but still, he could have chosen a better moment. Moreover, it seemed like he had a habit of shutting himself in his room, playing the piano and not speaking to anyone. Why had he chosen today of all days to speak with her? On the other hand, it had been an interesting discussion...

    As her thoughts drifted away, the noises of the crowd around her faded into a soft murmur. It didn't sound much unlike the drizzle of rain she had left behind her at the entrance of the station.

    Remembering the rain, she opened her foldable umbrella and left it on the station's floor to dry. A girl her age glared at her for taking up so much space, but Elly barely took notice of it. The man beside her took out a newspaper and unfolded it, allowing her to read some headlines. Or rather, she would have been able to read them, were it not for the fact that they were in Russian. Elly could distinguish a few words, but nowhere near enough to understand what they were saying. She swung her bag on her lap and rummaged through it until she found her phone. After plugging in a set of earphones to keep out the noises of the station, she clicked the NOS news app. Despite being in Russia for three months now, she like to keep track of the Dutch news as well.

    " Live: Twente vs AZ, 2-0 for the Twentenaren"
    "27 deaths in skirmishes Kobani"
    "Three deaths at Amsterdam dance party"
    "Taliban leader fails on Twitter"
    "Today possibly the results for ebola-test"
    "Dance award for Russian dancer"
    "Student stabbed to death in Voorburg"

    The last headline peaked her interest and Ell clicked it. According to the article, a High School student in Voorburg had decided to take justice into his own hands. After years of intense bullying, he had recently stabbed one of his bullies to death after finally standing up for himself. Now he would have to face justice in court.

    "What on earth is becoming of this world..." Elly mumbled to herself. The man next to her looked over for a bit, but quickly shifted his attention back to his own newspaper.

    The sound of rolling thunder announced the arrival of a metro. One glance told her that it wasn't hers to catch and Elianne quickly returned to her news-app. The man beside her did stand up, folded his newspaper and left. Elianne watched him go and just before she shifted her attention back to her phone, she noticed a small notebook on the spot where the man had sat before. It didn't really stand out all that much, but Elianne found herself picking it up nonetheless.

    "Sir, you forgot..."

    The crowd fluttered towards metro as moths to a lantern and there wasn't a trace of the man left. Slightly puzzled, Elly put the notebook in her bag, deciding that she would take care of it until she saw the man again. But what were the odds? Perhaps it would be a better idea to bring it to the lost-and-found office later. Before she could decide what to do however, two things happened at the same time. Her metro arrived and her phone suddenly started ringing. A frown formed on her face as she quickly grabbed her bag and umbrella as she walked towards the metro. It was a small miracle that she had reception down here, but nobody was supposed to call her. Would something have happened to her family? Her mood alternated between curiosity and worry, as she grabbed a hanging strap and answered the call before the doors closed behind her.


    || 08:40 AM || 23rd October || 20XX
    #5 AlidaMaria, Jan 13, 2015
    Last edited: Jan 14, 2015
  6. When all that remained of the coffee was the filmy coating against the mug's ceramic walls, Celena pushed herself into motion with the day. She showered briefly, running soap through her hair an scrubbing it against her skin. When she finished, she got out, dried off, parted her hair, then got dressed. She hunted down the set of keys to a shared mailbox between Celena and her roommate. When she found them, she left the apartment unceremoniously, and made the walk to the set of bills that probably awaited her.

    When she got there, she stuck the key and turned it. It unlocked loyally, and she reached in unthinkingly. Her fingers wrapped around a stack of envelopes, all standing upright and leaning against the wall. She gathered them up and noticed something, in the back of the box swathed by shadows. She would have never noticed it if not for the way the light just hit it—a tiny glint, something twinkling at her from the shadows. She reached out, her fingertips brushing a texture distinctly thicker than a letter. She got her best grip on it and pulled it to the open.

    It was a little folded, what with the size of the mailbox. The cover was deep and blue. The binding was black, and cold, like steel in the winter. Just looking at it, there was a hidden texture, but something in the depth of field that made you think you could reach right into the design and touch each little glint. A single white star slept on a small mound of glittering blue. White reflections that looked more like tiny sparks of light dappled the cover brightly in the blurriest places, like a lover kissing places least loved.

    "It's a little flamboyant," she muttered quietly, but all the same she gently dragged her fingers along the surface. She could swear she felt something, the gentle grain of things made tiny by distance, but the cover was flat. She blinked, and her fingers felt different—smooth surface, searching for the texture of a picture.

    "Is this Jen's?" Celena asked herself, still outloud, speaking about her roommate and flipping the notebook over to see the back cover. It was a picture supposed to be a continuation of the front picture, so if one were to hold the notebook and place the front and back cover on the same plane, they would see a longer version of the same subject. She flipped it back the right way and cracked the cover—there was no name on the first page, so she flipped through the others. Nothing, just blank. Was it a gift? Celena searched the envelopes from something from her mother, or Jenny's last name. There was nothing there either.

    Celena turned the cover again and discovered her name and a set of rules. Thinking it was still a "present" of some sort, she thought to herself that the rules were a little unnecessary, being a couple years over "legal adult". She soon read the first rule, and realized something different was going on, but what, she couldn't say.

    Confused, but pushing the notebook from her mind, she closed the mailbox and locked it with a swift turn. She yanked the key from it's partner lock and made her way back to her apartment. Once inside, she set the envelopes and notebook on the counter. She was already dressed and so she simply grabbed her shoulder bag and dug around for an umbrella just in case the rain returned. She was on her way through the door when she gave another cursory glance at the notebook.

    The notebook is mine, she thought for a moment. At least, I don't think it's anyone else's. It has my name on it. Why let a good notebook go to waste? Maybe she'd use it for drawing, Celena never took a blank notebook for granted. She snatched it off the counter and stuffed it in her bag, then left her apartment to go to class. Her phone told her it was 8:04 AM. She was grateful the notebook hadn't thrown her completely off schedule. When she reached the first floor, this time she headed for her dull grey car. She opened the backseat, tossed her bag in, then got in the driver's side and started her reliable rust-bucket. It would take her no more than twenty minutes to get to Open Mind, and that would leave her about five minutes to get to her first class before it started.

    She drove, unrushed, into a normal day, with an abnormal notebook sitting in her backseat.
  7. Nisoku.Hokou.full.1192959.jpg

    Ripples spread as the light footsteps of a young female tapped down upon the small puddles that lined the city streets. The day was just beginning, and there were very few people yet out, except for those heading to school and making the early commute. The clouds that had previously filled the air were beginning to lift, and little bits of sunshine broke through. A crisp chill caught itself against the walking female's cloak and made it flutter in the wind before allowing it to fall back in place. The city looked peaceful right now. Strangely peaceful, compared to how busy it usually was. Rainy days had this effect upon this particular city. It seemed to calm the Hell that this city was on any other given day. This was something Aois enjoyed though. She was able to walk the streets without as many worries.

    There weren't many worries to be had for her anyway. She lived on the "better off" side of the city, so the dangers were far less numerous than what they were in the "less successful" portions of the city. She lived in a modestly-sized home with her grandmother, where she did most everything. She was even homeschooled, which was a necessity on the part of her albinism. Today was a day for which she was outside for the most part. She had the clouds that were once blocking the sunlight thank for that, though they were starting to fade now. The rain stopped early enough that Sam would still open up later today. Aois would be able to get some of the churros that she'd always eat on her way home after being out.

    She didn't pay it too much mind though. She was determined to use this opportunity to go farther than she'd previously gone before; to places that were, more often than not, barred from her access by the sunlight.

    Aois swiped a bit of her shoulder-length, black hair behind her ear and examined the park before her with her dark purple hues - another byproduct of the albinism she was inflicted with. She wasn't very fortunate to be inflicted with such mutation, but she did what she could what what she had, and she enjoyed life the best she could. Right now though, she wanted to relax.

    One of her pale hands set itself down upon a bench that overlooked a small pond. It was wet, naturally. There weren't many other people around, so she was pretty much by her lonesome here. She pulled out a small towel that she'd draped over her arm and laid it down on the bench, folding it over before she took a seat. She was a short person, only five feet tall, weighing only ninety-five pounds. She would seem quite frail, compared to most fourteen year olds. Anyone who saw her sitting there would rather think that she was a child. The only thing arguing against it was the level of indifference that was displayed on her face.

    Once she'd settled herself, she went about to petting the black cat that had found his way from as close to her leg as possible to her lap, where he curled up as if he was going to take a nap there. The chances were likely that he would indeed take a nap as she sat there, feeding the birds with the breadcrumbs she'd brought from home. Little words were spoken by the invisible young, male that stood near where she sat, watching her as she fed the birds. His quietness would normally concern her, but she was enjoying the peace for this moment. The sun wasn't fully breaking through yet, and it was her chance to spend some time, even if only a little, in what was, to her, the most beautiful part of the city.

    As she watched the birds pick at the breadcrumbs she'd presented them with, she noticed something under the bench that she was sitting on. It was positioned in a way that protected it from the recent rain, as well as out of sight. The only reason she spotted it herself was because of the bird that was pecking at it. Being a writer, she became curious as to what such a notebook was doing there. Upon picking it up, it certainly appeared different than any such notebook she'd seen before. She ran her hand over the cover before opening the book to its first page, upon which rested, in what appeared to be her very own handwriting, her name. This only piqued her curiosity further. Why would her name appear in a notebook that she'd never written in herself, and in her own handwriting no less?

    She turned towards the boy that was standing next to her and spoke to him for the first time since they'd reached the park. "Is this something that you've done?" she asked the young boy, who turned his gaze towards her for a few moments before responding.

    "I've never seen it until you showed it to me. Maybe you have a secret admirer?" He snickered a bit at his own suggestion. He knew how she would take it, seeing how they both knew she couldn't possibly have a secret admirer. She hardly ever interacted with anyone outside of her own home, and the only people that knew she existed aside from her family were those she saw on errands, and the twins that she encountered several years ago.

    To his surprise, she actually ignored the remark and began flipping through the notebook. "It's certainly curious... I'll look at it more when we get home. At any rate, if it has my name in it, I don't see any problem with taking it for a little while." The boy nodded at her in agreement, a sour expression on his face proudly displaying that he was disappointed in her lack of reaction to anything he'd said.​
    #7 Bob Cut, Jan 14, 2015
    Last edited by a moderator: Jan 15, 2015
  8. [​IMG]

    "The world is but a stage, and all of us actors in the grand play of life."

    A heavy complacency had replaced any feelings of negativity she had possessed upon initially meeting with Gabriella. The soft booming of the city grazed her senses as it arose from its temporary slumber. The fact that such a populace place could ever grow quiet astounded Jill. The young woman had always wondered at how so many different people could disappear at one time. It use to drive her mad as a child and the memory of those simple times brought the hint of a smile to her face.

    "Hm?" Gab cocked her her head as though she was some sort of curious animal and Jill internalized a small laugh. "Summin' on your mind Blue? Seeing a smile cross your face is a rare treat." The look of amazed curiosity that emanated from her companion sat wrong with Jillianne.

    "Is it so surprising then?" She retorted with a smirk of indignation. "I'll have you know that I am quite the joyous person. In fact, I would say that most could do to learn a few things from the way I view the world. All bright and sunshiny as it were." Blue gestured to herself as she begun the retort and finished with a sweeping hand motion that had been meant to portray the rest of society.

    "Is that so then?" Gab gave her an unimpressed glance whilst turning to Jill and bending over so as too gain eye contact. "Whatever is it that has got you down today then oh Miss princess of sunshine and rainbows?"

    "Oh I wonder what it could be?" She rolled her eyes and flipped her head slightly, gesturing to Gab who was very clearly egging her on.

    "Humph, whatever you say grouchy-pants. Now what was I saying.." Gab trailed off momentarily before having an epiphany-esque moment of realization and continuing her previously interrupted train of thought. It was in this moment that Blue remembered that Gab had been speaking earlier after all, and that she had been pulled back into the conversation by her own foolish slip up.

    Jill sighed internally as she attempted to once again tune out the bug that had dragged her out of the comfort of her own home. Blue's thoughts drifted with the wind as it chilled the pair who waited impatiently for the promised arrival of transportation and companionship. The woman's eyes danced upon the raindrops as they pattered upon the ground lightly. Blue scanned the street, searching for something to grab her attention while they waited out the rain. Eventually they drifted upward, studying the grime covered overhang that offered the two sanctuary from the elements. She studied the strange barrier between the overhang and the open sky. It intrigued her at how separate the two places seemed. It was almost as though they were in a different world, a fictitious parallel universe that could easily be crossed by either of them. This imaginary barrier gave her solace. The Woman felt safe below the protection of the overhang, and for a moment Blue felt at peace.

    The booming honk of a car's horn broke this marble of thought and cast her back into the jaws of reality. "Oy, what's two fine young ladies like yourselves doing all alone on such a rainy day?" Marcas Asimov, a Russian immigrant with a knack for getting himself, and those around him, in to troubling situations. Blue had met him in Uni and had never managed to fully get rid of him. He was loud, rude, and a general pest, but he had a soft side that made him rather charming. Those that got past is initially rough personality usually became lasting friends. Jill was one of those. She had yet to decide whether that was a blessing or a bane. "You comin' or what Blue? We are gunna miss the show if you keep day dreamin'."

    "Yeh, sorry about that." Blue lifted her head to see Gab gesturing for her to get herself in the car. Marc shot Jill a knowing smile when he saw her expression, followed by a snicker and his own welcoming gesture. She raised an eyebrow at him before continuing forward. Marc's brown hair, accented with yellow tips, added stark contrast to the rest of his wardrobe. The sunglasses were out of season and the plaid jacket did not work with the Hawaiian vacation shirt. It was pathetic, but that was how he usually was. Jill did not mind, but she knew Gab would say something. She always did.

    The drive was not long for Jill, she spent most of it observing the raindrops as they collected themselves on the windshield, like children collecting themselves atop a mountainous water-slide, they dashed down and out of sight, disappearing into the muddy pools that littered the street. The other two discussed numerous things, addressing her only briefly out of either worry or boredom. She would play along of course, but that would be all. Blue had never been a conversationalist.

    After arriving, the three gained another member, who announced himself much the same way Marc had. Jill vaguely remembered meeting the fellow during a similar trip with Marc several weeks ago. His burnt mahogany hair had been cut shorter since their last meeting. Jill had complimented him on it briefly, causing Gab to go off on another wardrobe malfunction tirade. Apparently blue jeans were no longer 'in' and some other strange offense had been made by the color of his jacket. Jill did not care to antagonize her further, even though she had secretly enjoyed the look of the man's outfit. He reintroduced himself as Stan Sterling. German mother, American father. They were apparently wealthy and had set him up in a 'sick' suite just a few blocks from the theater. The plan, as it was decided, was too continue on to this 'sick' suite after the show. Jill had no complaints.

    Before long the impatient flow of father time brought them to their seats. Jill had always enjoyed a good film. She really got into them, no matter the genre. As long as the story being told was believable and charming the woman always enjoyed it. Gab was their however, and somehow she had managed to prevent Jill's enjoyment in even this. Whenever Blue found herself getting lost in the story, Gab would pull her out with some strange, barely whispered comment about her opinion on the situation. It was driving her mad.

    One hour and forty five minutes in and the woman had, had enough. Jill rose from her seat and whispered "Bathroom," in a barely audible tone as she left the showing room. Blue swung the door open, emerging from the darkness of the theater with a rage in her heart. Her frustrations reached boiling point, she was at her limits. Jill let out a monster of a growl and stomped her feet childishly. "That little worm!" She exclaimed to herself before charging of in the direction of the restroom.

    Blue hated this feeling. She never understood how Gab could change her so much, how the simple existence of that person could get her so riled up. It drove the woman mad, and it dominated her thoughts for hours after the initial offense. Such feelings were pointless. Jill knew Gab wasn't at fault, but she was helpless to stop them. It drove her mad how little control she had over her emotions. 'Maybe, it is pointless..' she thought to herself, losing almost all of her hope of overcoming the relationship. 'If only.. If only I could do something.. God dammit Jill! Why are you so weak!' Her head shot up, she screamed this thought at her reflection. Blue did not want to feel these things. She truly did want to enjoy her time with Gab. Gab was such a bright person after all.. Tears streamed down her face as she realized her own helplessness. 'Why.. If only I was strong.. If only I was more like you..' Jill did not know why her father had come to mind. Jill never knew why her father came to mind. He always did though, whenever Blue felt weak or sad she thought of him; of the distant memory of his warm smile and calming voice. Perhaps Blue hadn't truly gotten over his loss.. Perhaps she was still..

    A soft thud broke her train of thought. She turned suddenly in fear. Jillianne did not want anyone, not even a stranger, to see her like this. Jill was not the type to get this emotional in front of others.

    To her surprise, no one was there. In fact, nothing was there. Nothing but a strange note book lying at her feet...

    She cocked her head, much in the way Gab did on a regular basis. Blue's curiosity got the better of her as she wondered at how this book at appeared. The blue woman bent down and retrieved it from the floor. Jill studied it. The coarse leather cover had been worn to disrepair. It looked to be a survivor of a library fire. It smelt of dust and light rot, and stains littered its surface. Blue's hand went to pull back the cover, yet a strange feeling engulfed her. A premonition, a feeling of fear. A small voice told her no, but it was drowned out by an overwhelming sense of curiosity. A million questions raced through Jill's mind, questions she could not ignore. She pulled back the cover...

    "Jillianne Crosse Lovell"

    A look of disbelief overcame her. 'T-that's me..'

  9. || 7:30 || 23rd October ||
    || Teufel Gates Security Firm || Feverlane street No.85 || Oso ||​

    “Hey, Mary, cleanup on aisle 4!”
    “I’ll clean you up later, George!”

    All she had wanted was a moment of peace. Mary-Anne Dwight, a young woman at the age of 27, was leaning her back on the wall at the end of the corridor by the coffee machine, passing her time in a manner most detestable by her standards. Albeit TG Security was her uncle’s firm, she was reduced to the lowly position of “simple staff”, a tedious task, which required her to carry packages and papers back and forth, bring other members coffee or some kind of snack, check who is present and sort out paperwork when it piled up. Quite the unbefitting profession, considering the fact that this person understood more about programming, computing and management than the majority of those standing in front of the screens in the many offices and cubicles that composed the two floors of the building, which the agency occupied. Convinced by her relatives to start out at a secure job, as awful as the pun was, until she gained enough experience, Mary had spent the past two years as an errand-girl, due to the low demand for IT specialists and their excessive amount on the free market list. Since she was an average human being and not a genius as some of her former fellow university students, the mis was stuck at this awful job, which she continued to comply with for the sake of written experience and a salary. Disturbing flirtation and mockery were things she had to bare with from time to time, as well as angry complaints about getting the type of latte wrong. Today would be no different.

    “At the coffee maker again? Who is it this time? The Fish or Horsefeet?” snickered Howard, one of the computer mice from downstairs.
    “Neither.” Mary replied with a composed snap. This man was nothing more than a hindrance with a helpless cause.
    “Oh, being cold again? Come on. Why don’t you come down more often? Don’t wanna be an uncle’s girl forever, right?”
    “Uh, give it a rest.”
    she replied and went in front of the machine, which had given out a light “bing” sound to signal it had finished preparing the warm energizing drink. “A girl like me will never sto-”.

    music (open)

    Unfortunately, the young woman was unable to finishing her sentence, for a thunder-like sound had startled her and the rest, who had heard it in the corridor and rooms nearby. Albeit resembling the natural phenomenon, it seemed deeper and came from the floor above. For a split second, everyone quieted down and the only noise that could possibly be heard was the low buzzing of the computers, which oddly grew louder and louder. With a spark and a snap, several of the machines blanked out, whilst the screens of others became disrupted. Yelps of alarm and low murmuring followed, yet only remained present for five seconds or less, until the feared scream came.

    “Fire! Our floor’s on fire!”

    Despite the lessons they had learned in school, regardless of the advice, ignorant of the movies and stories they had seen and read about, humans could only truly learn from experience and this was no exception. The workers were thrown into a state of utter panic. Anxiety soon conquered the perimeter. The tight space between the walls became a stage for the recreation of a documentary film about the passing of the antelopes through a crocodile-filled rapid river, yet this time it was narrow and the predator was much more elusive. A marvelous spectacle of the fall from grace of intellect. What had been prized as logic and clear thinking had been reduced to ashes long before the actual flames had even touched living flesh. A dance of pushing and shoving, be it animate or inanimate, burning on the inside from the instinct for self-preservation. Screams and yells resonated within the floor and the heating of the air, as well as the appearance of thin grey smoke, only increased the mindless battle of the pseudo-Houdinies. Their accelerated heartbeats were like the tick-tock of a bomb, counting down the seconds whilst terror choked their very soul.
    Two clusters had formed, one on each side of the floor, where the staircases and elevators were located. The latter were out of order, thus the mortals were jumping over each other in an attempt to pass through the wide-open double doors, which now resembled the beckoning gates of heaven. Thankfully, two or three people had taken up the roles of apostles and tried to guide their lost sheep in an orderly fashion to the promised land. However, as history proved again and again, the voices of the benevolent were seldom heard. The mindless masses, which had become tantamount to a herd of cattle, marched forward without a note of hesitation, even trampling over one of their shepherds and those, who had tripped and fallen down the stairs. In the name of salvation and continuing their linage into existence, one must sometimes step over the line drawn by morale. Such was the deplorable fate of a society, whose scales had been ever so slightly disbalanced.

    Down on ground level, the first survivors were starting to emerge. Their over-exaggerated gasps for air were met by the many flashing lights of the pedestrian five-minute journalists, who had stopped in their tracks and taken the privilege to bask in the misfortune of others by capturing every single moment on camera. They had all the reason for celebrate, for they were safely out of danger’s reach, and the footage they would take would prove to be an interesting observation on the global networks.
    Much like snakes hissing at an unskilled flutist, the flames were crawling out from one of the windows on the third floor, which had been TG Security’s second floor of occupancy, but smoke could also clearly be seen curling out from a broken window on the one above. The bystanders had made haste to avoid the sidewalk by the burning building, on which lay scattered innumerable pieces of shattered glass that reflected the crimson element by giving off a twinkling ginger shine. A number of the passersby rushed forward to help those in need, however, they could barely make it through the front doors, from which people were fleeing like bees that were moving their hive. The cacophony quickly consumed the road as cell phones rang left and right, cars suddenly stopped in their tracks and klaxons were blown in frustration. Heads popped out of the windows in the nearby buildings, only to see the terrifying sight and to hear the rumbling of the gathered multitude. Some were escorting those who came out, others were cursing aloud their circumstances and there were those who had no idea what was happening and were merely asking whoever they saw, like confused tourists in a foreign country.
    In the midst of this boiling caldron, a woman shouted as loud as she could:
    “Hey! Stop! Thief!”
    yet to no avail.

    The culprit, a youngster, not even past their eighteenth year, had used a knife to quickly cut through the straps of the victim’s handbag in the hazard of the general confusion and was now making a hasty retreat with the prize in his hands. Running through the crowds was no easy task, yet the boy managed to accomplish it with little effort, only bumping into strangers once or twice, but never stopping. This success he namely owed to his smaller size and evident experience in the art of thievery. Scurrying off like a rodent from a cat, the lad made a swift turn to the right and set off on the road. Forwards through the trash-ridden path, then left under the growling ventilation, right by the ripped poster of a politician and left once more, between the art gallery of anonymous urban talents. The alleys were the same as elsewhere, cast under the shadows of the looming pillars of hope for the diligent, with an air that felt similar to a salamander’s skin, damp and possibly poisonous. Only the artworks that painted the walls and the creative colourful calligraphy could bring about a smile or even a laugh. The runt could care less about them at present, however, and continued his accelerated stroll. Alas, it would not last for long, for he halted momentarily when, after turning around the corner and leaping ahead with several steps to the middle, he saw there was someone at the other end. Two guys, clearly older than himself, were towering over a person, who had crouched down or perhaps fallen under the pressure of their sharp gazes and smug grins. One of them noticed the newcomer and turned towards him, making a thorough scan from top to bottom with just one look.

    “Hey, what’s your business here, bud?” the man asked.
    There came no reply. Because of this, he made a better inspection and noted the condition of the bag.
    “Seems like someone’s been huntin in our territory.” he smirked and steadily headed towards the intruder. Keeping his head slightly forward and low, which made his broad shoulders seem even larger, his stance was that of a predator ready to bite a chunk off of his enemy. Despite taking a few steps back, all hope for escape had been lost for the boy. “Com’ ‘ere, you!”

    As if breaking through an invisible barrier with the might of his body, the alley-cat jumped forward to capture the young rat, but the latter managed to dodge the attack swiftly to the right. However, his escape route was blocked by the former’s strong left hand, which came in to grab his weak shoulder. Instinctively taking advantage of the moment, the boy shifted his body so that it faced his attacker and revealed the knife, which had been hidden behind the bag while he had been holding both. The man had not seen the weapon before and neither did he do so now, until it was too late. After grabbing the target, he instantly moved forward to push it against the wall, in order to completely trap it, however, the result of his action was him unknowingly impaling himself on the blade. It took the two of them only a breathless second to realize what had happened.
    Grip now completely lose, the ruffian took a few steps back, releasing himself from the tool, as it was still being firmly held by its user. A dark red spot momentarily formed on his blue shirt as blood poured out and steadily slid downwards. One hand on his abdomen, the man bent forward and fell down on his knees, letting out a low, yet audible sound of agony.

    Eyes wide open, the boy stared at the scene in front of him for a mere heartbeat, before breaking away from the entrancingly horrid image and running towards the exit at the end opposite the one he had come from. The stranger’s companion did not stop him, as he was too busy making his way over to his friend. As for the one who had been crouching on the ground prior to the event, he did not budge an inch from his position. Whatever his fate may be, to run away or help the one who had been tormenting him, was of no concern to the culprit, who now had another crime to add to his collection.


    With a stumbling, yet brisk gait, the misguided soul knew no rest as it wandered through the streets dappled with puddles. Not the shortness of his breath, nor the mild traffic accident he had caused could stop him from his desire to escape to an unknown destination, as far away from the present as possible. The short-haired blond woman had put her foot down on the brakes just in time to avoid hitting him just when he had gotten away from the dreadful alley, yet she had also stirred sideways and crashed into a hotdog stand. The boy had not honored her even with a glance behind his shoulder, for he was busy running away from his past. With the money in the bag, things could have been much more optimistic, were it not for the shedding of blood. They would come after him and he knew it. Thus he took as many turns as possible, trying to delude anyone or anything, if they were following him, but the streets of this district were no like the ones at his old home. They were always a bit wider, a bit cleaner and simply felt tidy. Not even the back-alleys were as messy as the ones he had grown up in. The little streets he passed, the lanes and roads, all of them appeared homely and welcoming. It was a bitter taste to him, who no longer had a place to go back to, at least not one he wanted.
    Finally slowing down his pace, the lad found himself walking by a tall brick wall, which soon gave way to a metal wire fence, beyond which was a playfield and several buildings. The joyous and competitive screams that could be heard suggested that this was a school of some sorts. In an attempt to not be noticed, the boy put some distance between him and the barrier and stayed in the shade of the trees. A turn to the right on the corner, he was still following the school’s border, now once more a dark brown brick wall, when a loud ding-dong echoed through the area. Curious about this, the culprit hurried ahead, only to find himself at the next corner a few feet away from the school gate. The peculiar sound had come from a clock, which had been placed high on the wall of the school building, above the entrance. It was half past eight in the morning.

    ‘’What a day! What a day! They can’t all be peaceful, as they say!’
    Such were the thoughts of Benedict Nobunaga, the principle of Gregor Mendel Public School. A finely plump man in the middle of his 50s, he was a docile soul, but not too soft, with a sense of dignity and honor, but not too strict. A simple average person, who loved nothing more than to live out his life in a steady orderly fashion, without the hustle and bustle of the other areas. His job was neither too high, nor too low, thus people both respected him and could relate to him, providing a stable position in society. The only troubles he ever had were with the delinquents. Despite having made peace with the local gang, the rambunctious adolescents were a menace when they didn’t know how to not cross the line or where it was, for that matter. However, today was an exception. While a complaint about misbehaviour had not yet come, the problems upon this honest man’s balding head were already stacking up. First the electro, then the ventilation, then the canal and now a substitute teacher leaving on a last minute’s notice. It was all proving to be a bit of a handful for this senior, but his determination did not allow him to lose faith in himself. Things had to be done, one worry at a time.
    Marching as fast as he possibly could to his office, he opened the door and headed straight for the school’s home phone. With a hasty dial, the man hoped his friend hadn’t been pulling his leg with that recommendation.


    “Ah, yes, hello?” the old man’s voice quickly responded with a puff. “This is Benedict Nobunaga, principle of Gregor Mendel public school. This is Ellanie Ploeg, correct?” he inquired, yet before he could correct his mistake or respond to the reply the girl would give him, a woman, his vise-principal, came into the office and began rambling. Albeit he put his hand over the mouthpiece, her words were still audible to Elianne as incomprehensible chatter.
    “Who? Tell her I’ll call her later. Oh? No, we’ll do that on the 7th. I don’t care how full his schedule is, if he wants his pay, he better work!-” the principal replied to the interrupter and continued as planned to the one he had called. “Ah, excuse me, Miss Ploeg. I am calling you for a request. You see, I am well acquainted with one of your history lectors, Mr. Hoshino, who recommended you to me. Unfortunately, a history teacher of ours called in sick and we require a replacement.-” Yet there was another interruption. “What now, Mrs. Dole? Gum in the ventilation? Well, what do you want me to do? Get in there with my size? Call a technician, for crying out-” In an attempt to maintain a proper conversation, he gave up finishing the sentence and went on. “Ah, my apologies, Miss Ploeg. It seems our staff is having a hectic day today. In any case, it will only be for today, maybe for tomorrow, can’t say for sure.- Would you pipe down for a second, Mrs Dole?!- You will only have four classes today: one with 9th grade, two 10th grades and one 11th. Come around at 9 o’clock. We’ll pay you- I’m coming, already!- Have a nice day, Miss Ploeg! We’ll be expecting you!” Mr. Nobunaga wished in a hurry and the call ended.


    || 8:30 AM || 23rd October ||
    || Public restroom by Monkey Madness Movies || Siren street || Oso ||

    music (open)

    “‘Scuse me”
    With a single knock on the halfway opened door, a man effortlessly pushed his way into the women’s restroom by M.M.M. A peculiar individual; wearing a long black coat with a messy beige fur collar, which followed the brim of the hood; a nicely ironed black tie and white shirt, the cuffs of which had silver buttons; styling a black fedora with a single silver ribbon and having his light black hair tied in a high short ponytail, it seemed as though he had been taken right out of one of those old Italian gangster movies. With a small tip of his hat the newcomer acknowledged the presence of the young blue-haired lady with an old tattered notebook and, murmuring a gentleman’s “Coming through”, he went right past her. With a tap tap tap his footsteps resounded on the clean restroom floor, until he held to a stop in front of the last cabinet. Turning slightly towards the other person in the room, he looked at her and used his right hand to gesture a gun pointing right at her, his fingers snapping whilst doing so, as if he had fired a bullet.

    “Cover for me”
    he said without a single note of hesitation.
    Having done that, the man entered the cabinet in question, but rather than using it for its purposes, he began reading through the many pieces of writing on both the white-plated walls of the building and the creamy white ones of the little square. “Better out than in”, “Halfway gone”, “No more saphire stars!”, “Karina Marina down in the sewer!”, “Where is thy end, tell me, Joanne?”, “Ricco Gaburson should eat this!”, as well as other poetry, cursing and death threats could be seen littering the hard canvases. Inspecting every centimeter of the scene, he bent his head several times, in order to read everything properly. After a minute or two of concentration, he took out his phone and started taking pictures of the writing for future references.

    “What’s gotten you down in the dump, bluedylocks?”


    || 7:50 || 23rd October ||
    || Towagoto park || Oso||

    music (open)

    Bit by bit, the last water gems were dripping from the metal poles and fences down to the colourful carpet of leaves. Even in death, they were beautiful, the many children of the old and mighty guardians of the Flora Kingdom, which stood firmly in their place, surrounding the playground, benches and little paths within what the humans called Towagoto park. Few souls had gathered at that small natural sanctuary, the majority of which were the very residents of the welkin - the avians, however, where there had once been countless kinds, now only the sparrows remained, with the occasional magpie and jackdaw.

    The beige puffs of feathers, resembling the creamy sweets one could ofttimes see in dessert shops, fluttered about and playfully jumped on the ground towards anyone or anything they fancied. Today their first visitor was a young girl with short black hair, whose eyes were cold, yet hands - gentle. This was not the first time she payed them a visit and they had learned from the several pleasant occasions that this person was not one to be feared. She did not lash out and try to stomp them, neither did she use stones, nor one of those banging metal sticks that made their brethren drop dead whilst in flight. A kind living being, odd as any two-legged was. Her essence was quite intriguing to them, who usually did not pay any mind to such things. The black tom cat, the child's usual companion, never attempted to hunt them, not when she was around, at least. Even now, he was curled up on the her lap, while the lass carefully tossed the group the much appreciated pieces of bread.

    Coming by food in the city was not as exhausting as it was on the field, yet, as winter approached, it would no doubt become harder and harder, thus every opportunity had to be taken and experiments had to be made, even at the cost of their safety. Watching from the side as the more competitive members of the flock swiftly grabbed the crumbs they were being thrown, one of the sparrows noticed an unfamiliar object below the human perch. It was oddly shaped, a peculiar sight for the young bird. Finding it far more interesting than the petty squabbles for a bit to eat, it gracefully jumped over to it and gave it a pick with its break. The surface was hard and, perhaps, not edible, but before further investigation could be made, a loud thump gathered the attention of all the little eyes.
    The black tom had lept off from his resting place and landed soundly amongst them. Regardless of whether or not his intentions were friendly, every little winged creature flew off at a safer distance.
    The feline remained and was slightly puzzled by their reaction, for he had only made this sudden appearance, due to the movement of his beloved friend, who had decided to bend down and take the peculiar object. Observing her with steady greenish-amber eyes, the cat watched as the girl took what appeared to be a notebook and flipped through the pages with her little pale fingers. He had seen such items across the entirety of her den, so it was not something of his particular interest, yet he was happy simply from seeing the female's unspoken joy from obtaining such a find. This feeling of hers was confirmed seconds later, when she began talking to thin air.
    With the passing of time, the tom had learned that it was during moments like these that his companion mewed in her incomprehensible language and that the addressee of this call was not him or anyone at all. The timbre was the same and so were the gestures and glances. Albeit he could not comprehend what she was saying, it was reassuring to hear this, since, to him, this mean that she was content.
    However, merely because she was in this state did not mean he had any obligation to constantly pay attention to her. The human herself often lost track of his movements when expressing pleasure in this manner, thus he took his leave.

    The dew was shining like polished pearls on the sandy bottom of a clear blue ocean. The grass carried a fresh smell, yet the essence of autumn still floated in the air, reminding every living being with a sense of smell that the time of warmth and games had ended and it was time for harvest and rest. Rodents would undoubtedly become easier to catch, since they would venture further and further from their hiding spots in search of food. Yet the elegant black cat was not in the mood for a hunt at this hour and preferred taking a carefree stroll through the park. Always keeping his friend in sight, he jumped through the gardens, chasing a bug or two, but always returning to the human path, in order to continue a few steps ahead.
    However, as he reached the point where another path flowed into the one he was currently on, a round little ball rolled quickly past him from the left to the right. A chestnut it was, the little rascals loved to run away when a foot or paw touched them, but always stopped without checking if they were being chased. Instinctively being attracted to the running target, the tom followed suit with a graceful jump. Three leaps ahead and the prize had been caught. A rather uneventful chase it was. The feline looked puzzled at the nut, which he released after delivering a bite. Was it dead? No, they never seemed to lose their vitality, not when humans were around, at least. He would have taken it to the girl to show off a bit, yet alas, a call came from behind him.

    "Hey! That's mine."

    Turning his head around, the tom saw a young boy, perhaps near the age of his own youngster, with messy brownish-red fur on his head and sharp green eyes, which resembled those of Sesil, one of his lovers. Before being carried away by pleasant memories, the feline noted what he recognized as anger on the human's face. Had this male been chasing the target? Had he just stolen another's prey? The prize belonged to whoever caught it. Such were the rules of the hunt, but maybe the lad did not know it, since he was still a kitten by cat standards.
    Not taking a single paw away from his position, the tom calmly awaited the young one's comeback to his relentless stare and he did not delay. The human stomped forward, growling in his own language, yet the cat was not intimidated by his size. Pulling his ears back, he attempted to stand his ground, yet quickly jumped back when a foot attempted to kick him.

    "You little pest!"

    Thus the boy began chasing the cat, wishing to land at least one hit on the poor animal. The feline did not feel guilty, for the prize was his and no one else's.

    #9 Headphones, Jan 22, 2015
    Last edited: Jan 23, 2015
  10. The Security Adviser was avidly at work when he heard and Earth shaking boom and moments later saw fire start to form. Barry watched as fire spread around the area of his office. Fear began to fill his entire being. His fellow office workers were screaming and running for the exits. The mountain of a man began to break down in his own mind. His inner walls crumbling as he watched the inferno spread throughout the office. He had to get out of there as soon as possible. Smoke began to thicken the air and breathing became more of a challenge.

    In a panic, Barry ran out of his personal office into the larger work space. He watched as the frantic masses poured over themselves in an attempt to flee from the spreading flames. It was pure chaos. Every fiber of his being told him to flee as fast and as far as he could, and he listened. He barreled through the burning office space, passing a few other employees that were moving slower than himself. It was understandable. He was a very fit man, and quite fleet of foot. The air continued to thicken, but it was of little issue to the muscular man's strong lungs. After turning a corner he found himself facing the backs of many of his employees as they funneled through a pair of double doors and towards the stairs.

    Fortunately, he was still ahead of much of the crowd, and so the stairs had yet to been completely cramped and there had not been time for trampling hazards to form. He began to run down the stairs, and on the back of the man in front of him as he ushered him to hurry. He made it down one flight of stairs when he noticed someone standing off to the side through a door in a currently empty hallway. It was the second floor, and a familiar form. He recognized her immediately. He had only last seen her minutes ago. It was Mary.

    He side stepped out of the stair well narrowly avoiding being pushed over and trampled. He ran over to Mary, who seemed utterly shocked by the events unfolding before her, and grabbed her arm. "Come on, we have to get out of here!" He yelled right in her ear in a monstrous volume. Perhaps because of the panic, or because of a temporary hearing loss caused by the sound immediately preceding the fire. He dragged the much smaller woman with him as he shoved his way back to the stairs and down another floor. Barry soon burst out into the open air of the outside world, Mary still in tow.

    He lead Mary a ways from the building before turning to look back at the growing fire. Without a word Barry simply fell back and sat on the pavement, watching as the flame spread and later as the fire department arrived and began to push back the advancing flames. In the end, it seemed that the building would be saved, but that the few floors surrounding the floor he was on would have been almost completely destroyed.

    After the fire department finished their job, Barry gave his account of the events to a police officer and then went to find Mary. He felt an innate need to check up on her after having pulled her out of the building, "Hey, are you alright?" he asked, concern heavy in his voice.

    "Yeah," She replied, her breath heavy, "I don't think my uncle is going to be very happy about the fact that his offices burned out."

    "Well, at least it seems most people got out of there okay, but who knows who didn't." He shuddered at his own words, "No doubt there will be a full blown investigation. I mean, it was almost as if a bomb went off."

    "Yeah, did you happened to see anything?"

    "Not really, you?"

    "No. Just heard the noise, then later smelt the smoke and heard people yelling about fire."

    "Well, I already gave a statement to the police, so I'll be heading back home. You sure you're fine?"

    "Yeah. Don't worry about me."

    With that Barry began the walk home. The recently smoked and terrified man strolled down the street as if what had just occurred never did. After a few minutes, with a light breeze picking up, he realized that it was a bit colder than he would have preferred. "Oh shit. I left my jacket in my office. Its probably burnt to nothing." He paused everything for a moment before laughing to himself and shaking his head. "Yeah, great priorities." A second later he came to another realization. "Oh shit!" His handgun hung openly and obviously from under his arm. "Well, none of the cops said anything. Probably because they knew where I was coming from, and I have my papers in my pocket. If anyone asks I can explain." He hoped beyond hope that was true.

    Barry turned back to his path and began to walk before he saw it on the sidewalk. A blood soaked, black notebook, not but a few steps away. How the hell had that gotten there? Concerned, he walked briskly towards it and picked it up. Barry turned to the first page, and sure enough his name and a list of odd rules were written in the lines of the paper. Honestly? How had it gotten there? He had left it in the office. The burning office, but here it was, perfectly intact. Barry closed the notebook, and with it in hand continued on his way home with a look worried look in his eye and with a much faster pace.
    #10 Potatocat, Jan 23, 2015
    Last edited: Jan 24, 2015
  11. IMG_95798751899660.jpeg
    7:45, 23rd of October​
    Near Teuful Gates Security Firm
    Feverlane Street No. 85, Oso​

    The young female of only eighteen years watched as the building that was only down the street burst into flames. A smile stretched itself across her face, but the companion of this observer let out a sigh in response to what just happened. “People always make things so messy…” he spoke in a voice that was free of accent, even though he had a bit of Japanese in him. The former companion, his sister, was the same, but different.

    “We can’t let this bother us. It merely makes things easier in the long run, granted the old man doesn’t make it out before we can get to him.” Ryali Minene, a young assassin, was one to look on the more positive side of things. This did little to calm her enormous ego. Her brother, Ryuki, was a different story. His demeanor was that of a more serious one, almost business-like. Then again, assassin work was a business just like any other; the only difference is that assassination is the work of the underground.

    The young male slowly walked towards the building and observed the surrounding buildings with a squint of his eyes. “We’ll be lucky if he’s even there. Based upon the information we were given, Mr. Dwight is rarely at work himself.” He agreed that it would make it easier for them to slip in and out with the confusion, but the possibility of the man that owned the firm itself was very slim. This was their only lead as of present, though, and they had to take their chances.

    After finishing his observations and coming up with a plan, the eighteen-year old male turned to his gray-haired sister and motioned for her to follow him. He spoke only as they ran, as they’d grown accustomed to doing over the last three years. ”We’ll be cutting through this building next to the firm. If my calculations are correct, we should be able to make the jump over to the firm.” Ryuki pulled out a small sheet of paper that contained a basic layout of the firm, examining it as quickly as he could before returning it to his pocket.

    Ryali was rather quiet until they reached the building they’d be cutting through, when she began to speak up. ”Who gets to deliver the kill?” It was a silly question, considering what Ryuki had previously stated about the male possibly not even being there. A smile adorned her face nonetheless; she was antsy. It’d been a while since their last assignment, and she was growing tiresome. This wasn’t their usual case though. There wouldn’t be any “false friending” of Mr. Dwight, and the kill would be swift and quick. That’s assuming, of course, that he’s there.

    It didn’t take them long to reach the top of the building, and the gap was small enough for them to make the jump and remain out of reach of the roaring flames that had yet to spread to that side. Ryuki pulled out the gas masks that he’d thought might come in handy and handed the shorter female one. ”We’re only covering the top floor. If he isn’t there, we get out.” Ryali nodded at his words and they both made the jump.

    As expected, there were still many people running around on the top floor like chickens with their heads chopped off. Luckily for them, it meant that no one would be paying much attention to the two newcomers to the building. Their sweep was quick and efficient, but it proved to be in vain. The man they were supposed to assassinate was nowhere in sight. Without exchanging any words, the two towards where they’d come from. The male companion stopped before the gap and pulled out the sheet of paper containing the layout of the building and threw it down into the flames. As soon as he knew it was burned to ashes, he grabbed the hand of his sister and they leapt, quickly making their way to safety, using the smoke as cover from sight.

    7:55, 23rd of October
    Towagoto Park, Oso​

    The book placed by her side, the female looked on as the birds retreated into the air. Her feline friend had hopped off of her lap (as would be expected when someone bends down), and was the cause for the retreat of the creatures of the air. She watched as the black tom ran along the path in search for entertainment, occasionally hoping into the bushes for an insect or two. She allowed herself a smile at this display, as it was unlike him to venture too far away from her. They were always together, but she still wasn’t used to how he would slightly wander away when they were at the park.

    ”It seems he’s at his games again…” These words were directed towards her invisible friend, Tobi. The response was merely a chuckle. Tobi, though he wasn’t real, enjoyed watching the cat as much as the female did. He’d sometimes wish that he could fool around with the cat and annoy it for fun, according to what Aois might tell someone. This wouldn’t last too much longer though, as the cat would soon be seen running towards the girl.

    The feline’s own thoughts were focused on escaping his pursuer, but he nearly halted when he saw he was nearing the girl. He didn’t want to trouble her with his free-spirited nonsense, but he knew that she’d been watching him this whole time and already knew of the trouble he’d gotten himself into. Rushing over to her, he hoped into her welcoming arms. He watched from her hold as the young boy approached them, still a bit upset about the stolen prey.

    “Hey! That cat stole my catch! He needs to be taught!” The small boy moved closer towards the pale female before him, his hands moving in a way as if he were going to snatch the tom straight from her arms. The female backed slightly away from his reach and giggled a bit, which was a rare event to see from the girl.

    ”Well, he is a cat. I’m sure they have different rules than humans do.” Aois went about to petting the tom and listened to his purring. ”I’m sure he’s merely playing. You can’t expect a cat to understand the morals of catching and the like.” At these words, the tom made a noise as if to protest this statement, and a noise was all the brown-haired boy heard. For Aois, though, it was different.

    ”I’ll have to say that we understand such things perfectly well. It’s only that we don’t care for such things, cats as we are.” The boy couldn’t hear anything, but the female heard it clear as day. For a moment she was taken aback, but then recomposed herself quickly. It wasn’t too much of a shock. Doctors had said that her imaginary friend was a disease, so she was already deemed a bit off her rocker. Hearing her closest animal friend speak understandably only added to it.

    Aois redirected her attention towards the young boy and gave a slight bow. ”I apologize for his behavior. I’ll be sure that he’ll avoid interrupting the chases of others in the future.” The boy merely looked at her for a moment before nodding it off. Aois smiled in return and offered the young boy a piece of bread. ”I’d been feeding the birds, but you can have a slice.”

    The boy’s eyes lit up at the prospect of feeding birds. Normally, the flying creatures were merely targets for chasing and rock slinging. He truly was a rambunctious young fellow. “Feed them? You can do that?!” His excitement was easily detectable, and generated a laugh even from Tobi. Aois nodded and then turned towards the birds that could see the bread in her care again. She took a small piece off and tossed it out to them, which was quickly devoured.

    ”Try it,” was all she told him. She made sure to watch him as he did, and continued to so herself. The tom was now on the floor again, letting out what humans would call a “sigh”. He made his way back over to the bench where the notebook was and curled up next to it. So long as his female was having fun and being happy, he supposed he could take a short nap before they’d make their depart from the park. It wouldn’t be too long now, as the sun was creeping further and further through the dim clouds. She’d need her umbrella to cover herself, which she’d always brought with her. Today was no different.
  12. || 8:35 AM || 23rd October ||
    || Public restroom at Monkey Madness Movies || Siren street || Oso ||

    The sound of footsteps startled the blue woman as the last few syllables of her previous statement fluttered from her lips. With a single motion she closed the booklet and dropped it too her side. A look of utter disbelief overcame her as Jill saw the culprit of this most recent intrusion.

    A man, dressed rather finely, shuffled past her with a good mannered 'Scuse me.' He was extremely well dressed, almost unfittingly so. Blue attempted to hide her expression of shock, but the fact that she was already somewhat emotionally unstable coupled with this man being a man in a woman's rest room, threw Jill off a small bit. Her eyes remained on him for the entirety of his unwanted intrusion.

    She studied his features; the man's crisp and clean attire confounded her. Not a single wrinkle or blemish could be found on his entire outfit. It was a flaw famine. Even the rest of this gentleman was neat and tidy. Everything from his hair cut to the way he held himself. Careful, organized, collected, studious, everything was within a hairsbreadth of perfection. It disturbed her.

    After another seemingly random and needless comment, he disappeared into a stall. Blue could not imagine what he had meant by "Cover for me," nor did she want to guess. The man was strange and unpredictable; the exact opposite of his appearance, Jill shuddered. A million questions raced through her mind. After a few moments of panic she had successfully formed a question in her mind. Jill would need to be strong, wiping the tears from her eyes, Blue lifted her gaze with defiance only to be met by another foolish statement. 'Whats gotten you down in the dumps, Bluedylocks?'

    Blue blinked twice. "Wha..?" She was hopeless. Unfortunately Jill had yet to recover from her recent outburst and the appearance of this man was only causing her to become less functional in a conversation. She gathered herself, picking up her posture and righting her glasses as Blue prepared her no longer seemless response. "It is nothing, what is it that you wanted from me sir?" Jill had given it her best to appear polite and aggreeable; she did not know what this man was capable of and was not entirely willing to find out.

    "Just a lookout, in case a prickly old lady comes in and sees my humble self in the ladies's bathroom." the stranger replied without any form of restraint or worry, as if he were having a daily chat at a cafe. "Or are you going to flush me down the toilet, Miss Solemn Blues?" he asked, not once taking his eyes away from the screen of the phone, with which he soundlessly photographed the palette of promises and declarations of the anonymous wordsmiths.

    Baffled by this impossibly calm demeanour, Jill found it impossible to contain the feigned calmness achieved earlier. A small laugh escaped her lips, a laugh that slowly transformed into a quiet but powerful chuckle. This sudden escalation of emotion was enough to divert the gentleman's attention. Taking a few steps backwards, he bent back and glanced at the young girl, which to her would have probably appeared as an unamused yet curious fedora-wearing fellow poking his head from behind a bathroom wall, an even more laugh-provocing sigh. The now jovial miss gathered herself, wiping the tears away with both hands. The notebook, which had been concealed until now, was brought into plain view and attracted the man's gaze for a second. After noticing this she quickly tucked it out of sight.
    "Whatever is it that you are doing here," she began, "this is hardly a place for a courteous gentleman, such as yourself. Infact I find it hard to believe that one would enter the womans' lavatory without a good reason," Jill stated, sarcasm coating her words, almost as if it was intentionally provoking a negative response.

    During the following short moment of silence which passed, the man carefully observed the person before him. A youth like any other was what first impression told. Of an average height, lightly dressed despite the weather, with a peculair hair colour, yet composed, literate and calm. The thought of this being a trap either by his or by his customer's foes passed his mind, yet was put aside as a hasty presumption, albeit, if it were true, then the setting had been perfect.
    "A good point" he admitted whilst talking another step back, in order to no longer be pressuring his back. "There is always reason behind an action." Taking a turn to his right and a step forwards, he exited the cabinet. "Even if the reason itself is,no reason at all''." His right hand locked the phone and placed it back in the inside pocket of the coat where it belonged, while the right caught the edge of his hat and slightly pushed it upwards. This movement revealed his face, light and still as it was, and those two steady light brown eyes, like those of a leopard in the bush. "In most cases, though, the action itself is more important than the reason." With only three steps he was right in front of her. "And I am just doing my business, like any other person that comes in here."

    Shock and awe would have been the proper words to describe her reaction to the situation. With every passing moment the man managed to break the barriers of his own ludicrousy, achieving new heights that no sane man would have thought possible. Jill took a step back. Her free hand nervously fidgeted to adjust a pair of non existant glasses. His sight was fixated on what had been attempted to be hidden, an instinct he had developed over the course of time, yet broke away when he took note of the slight shiver of the girl, whose heart was painfully pounding within her small chest. Traveling upwards, in an instant, their gazes locked and it was as though the feline had successfully embraced the young rabbit after a silent elegant pounce.

    "Hey now. Don't look at me as if I'm a ghost you see once in a blue moon." the shady individual broke the stillness of the moment. "Well, can't loiter around here any longer." he announced and began walking forward. A heartbeat later he was at the restroom door. "Care to follow?" he proposed as he gave her a final look before taking his leave. After what seemed like a brief moment of hesitation, she did so without a word.
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