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*socurious*



*moarcurious* o3o



<D

eeee Syuuu~

(( to go in the expanded info))

The Long



The History

Younglings often attempt to understand the nature and circumstances of this world, and find it hard to grasp all ins and outs of how their home became what it is today. To help them, a story was come up with, a metaphor for the scientific details.

A Tale of Sunshine

A world existed once, like all others. It became and it matured, nurtured by the sun's rays. People came to be, all kinds of them, and they were few, but they were happy. The sun gave them life and magic, and energy to use. But the sun waned, and the rays that reached the earth no longer gave energy. Instead, they dropped to the ground in small slivers of gold, and remained there. Soon, the shards were embedded into the world's surface, and it was left cold and starving.
People attempted to free the sunlight from the pebbles, and only rarely they succeeded. It was as hazardous to excavate the solid sunlight as it was to try and set it free from its prison. Those who accomplished the feat were rewarded for their efforts, though. Only the brave and strong could harness the shards and release the energy, holding the power of the sun in their hands.

Usually, the tale ends there, as either most children understand what it was that set the sunlight free, or they are not supposed to ever learn.

The scarce energy led to a crisis. People fought each other for the sunlight shards, and there was much suffering among them. There was no balance.
Then, at the time of deepest despair, they arrived. Mysterious creations made by mankind's most adept researchers, that had the incredible ability to set the sunlight free. They took no side, and soon, everyone could use this tool to claim there share of the abundance locked into the world. And the sunlight returned.
War ceased, and people lived in equality once more. The sun overcame its weakness and shone, and no more shards fell.

The tale is not over, but the recent history is generally told with the gravity that topics of great taboo are laced with.

The creations with the gift of harnessing the world's energy were saviours, then. However, they overstepped their limitations, and scorned their creators. In a mockery of human life and identity, they attempted to be like us. They stole our uniqueness and rebelled against us. They changed, corrupted by the vast amounts of energy they possessed.
But today, that last threat is no more. The creations have been taken back to their mysterious source, to be undone and granted peace from their previous purpose at last.




((the actual shop prose lol))


The Short

Historic overview

The planet of Drente suffered a long-lasting ecological crisis several hundreds of years ago. The energy received from the sun was no longer available, instead locked away in the Source. It proved to be hard to excavate and hazardous to convert into usable energy, but those who succeeded gained critical advantages on their competitors. This ever-shifting imbalance led to a great war that left the world torn.

A group of scientists -almost by chance alone- discovered a new element, something they called the Essence, that could be grown into a new tool, an intelligent creation. They were versatile, and depending on the purpose they were imbued with, could become efficient and powerful aids in all sorts of tasks. A lucky discovery that greatly lessened the workload of the taxed human populations.

In a valiant effort to live by their ideals, they distributed the Essentics equally among all warring factions. Soon enough, they had become a common sight. Only later a a much more significant facet of them was revealed... They could safely harness the Source and relay it to mankind, using only a fraction of it for the upkeep of their Essence.
The widespread tools converted the Source all over the planet rapidly, and the energy sealed into the Source quickly saturated the world again. Things went back to normal. The Essentics, however, now no longer deprived from the energy their Essence connects them to, finally began to unveil their true purpose: to continue to serve mankind, and to adapt to do so more efficiently. Their ability to acquire very specific traits and perfect their mimicry frightened many people. The fact they showed emotions and intelligent thought beyond the robotic-instinctive quality they had before didn't help matters, either.
Soon enough they were discarded, labelled as cheap copies, or treacherous enemies that would try to take over mankind's empire.

A decade ago, the government opened a public vote, and the Essentics were banned, as illegal tools and weaponry. So they were collected, hunted, and destroyed. Their creators were disposed of, and the data they collected was lost.

… according to high officials.



The World of Drente


Developmental Index
Technology does very well in almost all ranges of the world. Holographics and communications are reasonably advanced, albeit warfare lacks in subtlety due to the severe rarity of energy to invest in research.
Most cities have covered up the war scars, and provide sufficient shelter for people from a wide array of social statuses. Rich or poor, they can exist in the luxury they can afford.
Magic is widespread, in all classes and societies. A great portion of mankind possesses an innate ability to use the world's energy, but very few show real talent.

Geographical-Biological Data
A planet recovering from an ecological disaster, Drente is mainly covered in dry wasteland. Forests and fields are only beginning to settle again, and they are being taken good care of, but the war-torn land on the inter-city axes will need more time. Scattered all over the country are minor and major communities and metropoli.
Food and energy resources are relatively abundant, and trying many means of handling this overflow at once has left things a little shaky. Mankind is learning.
The current world trade capital is Vargash. A grand city built with its back against a shield of mountain, flaring out onto the wastelands surrounding it.

Population
Drente's main thinking-feeling species is the human as we all know him, and his co-existers. Call them elves, call them weres, faes, angelics, demons, call them all you want, they identify themselves as humans with deviating needs and abilities, born from the same Mother of all.

The Essentics, however, are created, not born. They are considered the ultimate mockery of human life and souls. A few seem to claim the opposite, and defend the claim they are just as worthy of the title of 'human', but in the current political climate, it is not a smart idea to say that too loud in the vicinity of agents of the law. In general people defending them are ignored however, and since the single violent cleansing, the government has ceased the ruthless pursuit of the Essentics and their users.



The Essentics

Created to serve, live to learn


Through a secret procédé that was never revealed, these hightly versatile tools find their origin in the Essence.
What it is nobody ever found out. It worked, and people never needed to know more.

They were first used as intelligent tools, for they possessed the capacity to learn faster than any sort of previously manufactured robot, performed their tasks well with an uncanny skill at accommodating their masters, and while they required 'food', they were able to recover from a lot of damage by themselves.

To simplify distribution, they were grouped into purpose-classes, for example the social, combat, services and magic groups. This allowed buyers to quickly choose an Essence base that would fit with their intention.



Life Essentials ~spiritual and pragmatical assistance
AKA
Essential Biotics Inc.

In a busy narrow street, like all others in one of Vargash's lower districts, an unremarkable, gaudy yet oddly auspicious sign beckons the lost souls that wander here to come and take a look.
Hidden behind the façade of yet another promise of swift fortune, the entrance to an emporium calls.

Banning I DeLonghy, the renounced noble and wealthy git unknown to none but the upper classes, takes his residence here.
Is it boredom that drives him, curiosity? The thrill of illegal activities? Nobody is foolish enough to question him, so most likely it will be his secret forever.

He will offer you an Essentic. How? People say they can't be manufactured any more! But they can, and Banning wishes to share. The Essentics will not be forgotten, for this man has revived them. How he acquired the plans, the data, that is for him to know and for you to not even think about.

His offer: A newly created Essentic, at your service. All he demands in return is discretion.
They are tools, so use them for your own benefit. Become friends with them, enlist them in the military high performance project, have them do your job; Banning doesn't want to know what you will do with them. Accept his contract, and the Essentic is yours.

Choose your Spark, dear client.




Essentic Growth


Stage One: Essence Spark

A physical form tied to the ectoplasmic. In other words: a rock with glowing stuff on it. This is what a customer receives upon closing the deal. The inhibiting seal placed on the Essence Spark is released by the shop staff before handing the Essence over. It may develop into its first useful stage from anywhere between instantaneously and several weeks, though usually it happens within three days.
This purchase or donation comes with a Contract.


[Spark Groups]

For easy choosing, the sealed Essence Sparks were colour-coded according to their purpose and assembled into groups. Customers may be allowed to choose from a selection of these groups, or be presented with an ungrouped Essence.

-Social Spark:
Purposes: Human interactions, relationships, social care and empathy.
Docile templates, highly receptive of human emotions. Can be quite the personalities.
Colour code: Colours of the sky, from sunny to cloudy blues.
examples: Childcare Spark, Soulmate Spark

-Combat Spark
Purposes: Labour, martial arts expertise, military applications, endurance.
Innate assertiveness (aggression if misguided) and able to surpass their own limits if pressured. Least stable, but can be trained into self-control.
Colour code: Dark reds, rusts and metallics
examples: Aggressive CQC Spark, Gunplay Spark

-Services Spark:
Purposes: Specific tasks and jobs in all ranges of society.
Have a high potential to develop great skills in their subject, are well-adapted to business situations and possess a natural toleration to stress. Known to be more intelligent than other groups, as well as have a healthy level of professionalism.
Colour code: Green-blues in intensive hues
examples: Messenger Spark, R&D Data Spark

-Magicker Spark:
Purposes: Tasks that require skill in magic.
Neglect of most other skills in favour of using various types of Source magic with great proficiency. An amalgam of personalities, tending towards the eccentric quite a lot though.
Colour code: indigo over purples and lilacs to magenta
examples: Pyrotechnics Spark, Hydromancy Spark



Stage Two: Essentic Proto

The Proto stage is the form that most industrial Essentics possessed during the Crisis, due to the deprivation of a constant energy flow. In this developmental stage, they clearly show their true side. Only remotely human, shaped from an amalgam of materials and ideas, they function despite often lacking many humanoid characteristics. Faceless, feral, mechanic, ethereal or everything at once, they are rather alienating to observe. During its Proto stage, the Essentic will absorb concepts and elements from what exists around him. This can be orchestrated to force the creature into a specific direction or occur with serendipitous circumstances.

All in all the process of acquiring new characteristics is a very short one, and can take less that three months is properly exposed to stimuli.
Their learning speed varies, but most are eager to grow and please their owner. Like a recently activated android they will bumble and err and cause general awkwardness, but their intelligence allows them to solve problems almost independently. More socially oriented groups tend to display quite some creativity, too.

Stage Three: Essentic Alter

The Alter stage was most commonly found in heavy-duty Essentics with very specific tasks that require human interaction. After the Crisis ended, almost all morphed into this next stage overtime, like a child grows. Their energy reserves are sufficient to support the body of a young adult.
Their abilities will continue to grow and specify, and their temperaments become more and more human. Their identity develops much like any other young humanoid's would, according to their base personality and their circumstances.
Throughout their Alter stage, they will continue to adapt gradually, and begin to make conscious choices about themselves and what they wish to be. This could lead to acquiring more characteristics after their final growth, or to an altering or suppressing of what they have already gained, depending on their preferences. Depending on their personal growth rate and eagerness to change, this stage can last from a few months to several years.


Stage Four: Essentic Essentic

The now mature Essentics, with a purpose and a stable identity, the tools from ages past are now fully adapted beings. After this last growth they will have chosen a form to remain in, and will not easily change themselves any longer.

Stage Five: Essentic ???

*******


Items of Note:
Deprivation of food and Source material may force both Alter and Essentic stages to temporarily reduce their physical age (and energy consumption) as a means of self-preservation. This will not alter their acquired characteristics but may affect their mental state if prolonged.

The number of influences in an Essentic is reversed to the intensity of any of those influences. An Essentic mimicking two influences will gain more characteristics from either influence, than another who has been influenced by five sources. The bigger their pool, the more diluted their elements are.



An exemplary life cycle: an essentic study summary

Individual X

Received as a Social spark. Purpose: replacement for a lost child.

Unleashed into Proto. Gained a name and was put into the family to learn. Exposed to anything related to the lost child, and starts gaining its mannerisms and adapting to being a child. Accidentally exposed to another influence: the family parrot.

Grew into Alter. Due to purpose retained a juvenile form, having taken on a mimicry of the deceased child. Mimics regular human growth and mannerisms. Retains bird-like qualities in its body but neglects their development, as it wishes to fit in better.

Grew into full Essentic.
Due to striving for a perfect adaptation and fulfilling its purpose, suppressed rogue parrot characteristics. Succeeded in replacing the child he shaped himself after nigh perfectly. Continues to grow according to the normal human life cycle.

Records ended after twelve years of observation. Subject terminated.

((note to nychii: this will be more significant later on! Ask me about it! XD ))

[There we go... San's background, his first life.
For the Labbies reading this, adjust the ages to make him a year or three younger. Else it gets a bit odd to explain how he met Diego xP ]


Prologue
Gunslinger


Warm rocks strewn around the red earth, patches of dry grass and cacti, and a vibrant red sun sinking lower and lower in the west, announcing the coming of the cold night. This was where a lone ranger was leaving a trail of upswept dust in his wake. Looking ahead into the direction where he was headed, there wasn't much to see. More rocks, and more sand, and the occasional lizard deciding it was time to stop basking and hide before a bird of prey came soaring over for a late meal. Following the cloud of red back, it was clear he came from a nearby inhabited place though, as all men tended to come. Humans were civilised and homely these days, and it was rare to catch one far from their dwellings.

In the early evening on the prairie plains, familiar sounds played over the field from the little town. A dusty, warm place it was, straight from the Wild West movies with pistol-wielding bandits and righteous sheriffs. This small community had no such armed troublemakers residing at this time, and the worst threats to peace were gossipping churchgoers and the occasional young man having a rowdy moment.
It had been a modest Sunday, and in the early summer heat, most people had spent the day hopping around from shade to shade or taking sweaty naps indoors. At this time, people were having dinner in their homes or finishing their game of poker in the pub, to settle down for the night. What could it be that drove our lone ranger out into the grand outdoors at this time? His siblings had briefly looked around town, the two eldest brothers, young, virile men, trying find their youngest, his sister checking the house they lived in. Eightteen-year old boys didn't disappear into thin air, and nobody thought he had either. It had been a hard day for him today, his mother knew, calmly appeasing her husband with soothing words not to bear a grudge at her dreamer of a son for needing some time alone.

Away from the ruckus he'd left behind, the lost son had settled down on a large rock outcrop, leaning back on his arms with a long, heartfelt sigh. The sullen sound got lost in the heavy air, taken away by a low, hot breeze sweeping over the sand. So there he was, Rekkun Felis. Third child of the well-loved Felis family, named by his late grandmother. To be frank, everyone in town wondered what had made the old hag propose such a name. The last name she'd given to a newly-born relative was Cookie, and the proud bearer of that nomen was Rekkun's younger sister. Even if Rekkun had been entered in the town registry under the name, not even his own mother called him that.
He was San.

_____________________________________________________________________


A heavy mop of ruddish hair, as if it was once an insignificant dark brown that had seeped up the earthen tones, and warm brown eyes in a suntanned face, with a broad-rimmed hat on top. A quite toned physique on a body of unremarkable length, testimony of an active life outdoors. The telltale dirt-streaked pants of your typical roll-in-the-dust male, tucked into heavy leather boots. All that made up this particular Felis. His brothers were both taller and leaner, and sported a noticeably paler complexion. Study-heads and indoor workers they were, not quite like their free-spirited sibling. Even his sister was reigned in and kept a closer eye on than him. Neither of them envied him for his freedom though. It had already brough him grief, and while he could be an insufferable airhead, he was a particular sort of easy-going. People knew him as alert and friendly, and nobody had ever managed to be mad at him for long. It's hard to hold a grudge against a young person who seemed incapable of holding one back, and honestly didn't like it when he grieved someone by accident.

San had grieved people, many times. As a child he'd never had much of a noteworthy attention span or focus, and it always saddened him to find he'd once again forgotten to pick up something for father, having gotten distracted to go and play instead. Needless to say, mister Felis himself wasn't pleased either, and after a series of such incidents, he'd managed to teach his son to avoid such missteps. Little San had been humiliated and had cried, after all, he did his best. Today, Young Adult San knew to thank his old man for his harsh but just education. None of those things were on his mind now though. No, he was thinking about Andrea, once again.

What a dream that had been, a shard of paradise on earth.

His eldest brother, Mitchell, had often teased him about his youthful romance. 'That's one straight from the fairytales', he'd said. The elder people in town thought much the same thing. That didn't deter them from finding the view of a young boy and a young girl playing together the picture of sweeter days though. They'd been a 'pair' since childhood, in all naiveté. Lass moves into town, meets the local lad, and then they married and had a dozen of children and lived happily ever after. That was how it had felt like, for years and years. Andrea had never even considered other young men in town, no matter how they vied for the pretty lady's attention, and had San not broken her heart, she would still be his, she would still be here.
In Arda, maturity comes to a person when he is ready for it, people say. It had taken a long time for San to grow up. A fifteen year old boy telling tales about indians on their ritual hunts, painting his face with ochre and springing around like a young horse, it was quite unheard of. His brothers had already started to take over some of their father's tasks at that age, helped out like grownups, studied literature and new-world technology faithfully. Cookie was being taught everything a modern female should know by her mother and her mother's friends. Nobody had ever deemed San even capable to do the same. He was left in peace, to act on his dreams and whims, free to court his young blossoming love under the watchful eyes of Andrea's mother and his own family. No that he had ever considered doing her reputation any harm, people almost started wondering if they should place bets on when he would gather up the nerve to even kiss her properly.

The townspeople, less than two hundred in total, had fondly looked upon the young duo growing from children, making rock-heaps and gathering flowers in the field for the young lady's imaginative garden, into young adults. The first stir they had caused wasn't as much their fault as it was an unlucky consequence of Andrea's far relatives moving in, a quartet of her cousins. They came from that fabled place called 'the big city', and they'd come to 'get some fresh air'. To San, they had looked like sallow, frigid corpses at first. On a second encounter, this impresson changed to them not only looking like that, but actually being angry wraiths that had snuck into his territory to break the peace and quiet. Of course, this was only his vivid imagination running wild. They were not as healthy as most people 'out here', but that didn't mean they actually lived in the earth under gravestones, as San had claimed once in a frustrated tirade to his Andrea.
They'd wanted to take her away from him. They'd made her sad, so they couldn't possibly be the 'good guys'. San couldn't understand why they said it was wrong of him to be with her. Why should she start 'dressing up nice'? She looked beautiful in pants, too, and you couldn't go bareback horseriding in a hoola-hoop skirt. No sense those men. Why was it wrong to take a girl out in a rainstorm to celebrate the new season, she'd never caught a cold from it before, and she said she greatly enjoyed those moments.

Yes, when Andrea's cousins had confronted San about his grave misconduct, he hadn't been very complacent, showing just how stubborn he could be. His own siblings had looked upon the unfolding family drama, wary to try and get him to grow some common sense at last. He'd never been a problem to anyone before, and they liked him too well to betray him now. It was an empty sort of pity that held them back, and only after a long ordeal would San show them he was worthy of more trust than that.
The first argument was brought to an abrupt end with a nicely aimed punch to the face, with San on the receiving end. A move the four brothers would regret, as it set Andrea up against them. The next months were anything but blissful for the couple. For the first time, they were faced with intolerance, reproachful looks instead of complacent nods and smiles. San endured it for her, unaware his sweet lass would rather have shared in the burden than see him get the full brunt of the blame.

Mitchell called these months 'the second act of the play'. San could never tell if he was joking or not. He and Andrea spent a lot of time together out on the plains, away from their home that had now become a suffocating nest of wary gossip and the occasional direct attack. If the cousins knew what they did all by their lonesome, they'd probably have locked her indoors. San could truthfully assure them he did 'nothing of that sort'when pressed, though.
In their hours away from home, leaving the tension and the complex rules of society behind, he tutored her. Years before, he'd started teaching her how to make a wooden bow. And how to aim and shoot at cacti. By now, he had picked up more skills himself. His steady hand and patient mind had made one of the old coots pick him up as a part-time student and taught San his marksmanship. Later, he'd relayed this skill to his friend. Even if Andrea never came close to matching him, it were carefree hours spent together in heavy focus. Making very loud noises in the open prairie was also an excellent way to rid oneself of stress.

Then came the 'third act', as Mitchell said. The situation stabilised, the thunderclouds moved on, leaving a lighter, happier world. Andrea was quick to boast that they'd shown her relatives who was boss, rejoicing in their victory. They'd given up, they were beaten, the forces of the good prevailed! Indeed, the time they were to spend in the great outlands was coming to an end, and they had stopped accosting the pair. With a defeated acceptance, they left them be, even encouraged them to go and be happy.
Yet San couldn't smile. This had never been about winning or losing, didn't they see? Now that the force he'd been struggling against faded away, he got the room to think clearly. Andrea's parents would be leaving with their relatives, to that big city of miracles. Before the arrival of the four, Andrea'd always spoken of it with the words of a wonder-filled child, seven or seventeen years old. San had listened to her tales, smiling and nodding and knowing this was the place for her. The older he grew, the more he came to realise that while this was where she would belong, he would not follow. Now was the time for her to leave. If she didn't, she'd lose everything she had. Her future and her family, who despite everything they'd done that saddened her, still cared about her like nobody else in the world could. He'd always known, somehow.

The fourth act Mitchell never recognised as such. Fairytales don't end with the prince casting away the princess.
That was what San did though. He told Andrea to go. Go with them. At first, she believed he was joking. He wasn't serious about this, nah. He couldn't be. Not after all this.
But he wasn't joking, he wasn't pulling her leg, he wasn't being funny for shock-value. Go with them. He pleaded her to go, with a deep melancholy resounding in his voice as he told her the words he knew would break her heart.

Playtime is over, my sweet Andrea. We can't remain like this forever, we both know that. If you linger, you will lose everything you could have ever had. The people who love you and worry about you, the adventures in the city you spoke of so passionately, the modern tinker-things and the music and the colour... and for what? For a silly young Mexican son of a gun who dances with the prairiedogs in the spring rainshowers and will never, ever, be able to provide for you this way. You know you need more than childlike wonder, everyone grows up. You will grow weary, and curse the day you decided to abandon your future for the mirage of living in a dream forever.
Go with them.

His soul cried for her when she wept, pained with the knowledge he'd shattered a fragile illusion he'd held up for so long. She hurt him back. 'I don't know you anymore', she'd said. 'Why are you betraying me, you're in league with them aren't you?', and 'All you want is to stunt me and keep me locked up in a cage!'.
San let her rage, burst out that bittersweet tirade, knowing fully well all he wanted for her was to grow happy. She didn't need him for that... the world was larger than they both could ever encompass, surely there were good men out there who would love her and care for her and provide for her. Not without a wry feeling of irony did he acknowledge the worth of her four cousins who'd so valiantly defended her, yielding only to his blind stupidity because their animosity towards him grieved her.

Act five wasn't a real act anymore, the story was over. It started with her cold goodbye -at least she had spared a moment for her old friend, now demoted to jerk-of-the-town. She had coolly called him by his given name, and it had made him wince. Ever since his face-heel turn she had tried to change his mind, desperately wanting her friend back the way he was. He didn't give into the temptation, for her sake. And then, she was gone. Andrea, and her parents who'd always treated him well, and her cousins. Her mother had left him a vague address, with strange codes that apparently lead to where she would live now, but he didn't see how that would help. In this little dump, people didn't need an address. More importantly though, he didn't plan on going to see her again. Not anytime soon, at least. No, never again.

Dreams aren't meant to last. He'd woken up now, and the new day was hard to face.

The last months had changed him. San was no longer the child he'd been before. He dutifully helped his family and the townsfolk with their tasks, volunteered more, played less. He was home for dinner on time more often, and even got around to helping his mother in the kitchen. His father's speeches finally found another listening ear, and Mitchell was even allowed to try and teach him how to multiply with numbers over twenty. He learned, and fast, if without much animo. Word spread that he'd contracted some sort of disease, why else would he suddenly lack his usual abundance of energy? The old whispering ladies were eventually silenced by the town medic, who claimed San was perfectly fine after giving the reluctant youth a quick exam. They settled on shaking their heads and lamenting about the poor child losing his spark whenever he passed after the discussion that followed. Nobody seemed to truly realise he was eightteen by now, and hardly a child anymore.

While he was generally praised for his change in attitude amongst the professional workers, they noted a remarkable lack of concentration in him as well. Even in his most productive moods could he suddenly fall into a slump and stare off into space, looking quite noticeably distraught. After the vicar repeated the medic's procedure and stated that his soul was intact, only adding a bottle of holy water on his nightstand, the superstitious idea of a demon leeching off his health was abandoned also. As the weeks crept by and Andrea's departure faded from the collective of topics to be chatted about, San's state hardly improved. She was always on his mind. Regrets filled his days, worries his sleepless nights. He only grew more skilled in hiding his distress. Sometimes he just fled, to get away from it all. Then he would venture out, far out. Not to play sill games, not to rejoice in the celebration of life this dry dusty place could be, no. Only to be, to try and find the silence again. When had his mind become incapable of quietening down? He really wasn't good at this mature thing yet... nobody else seemed to have trouble doing what they thought was right.

_____________________________________________________________________

So there he was now. Once again stuck in that loophole of thoughts and memories, almost wishing he could turn back time and start over. He only didn't actually long for that because he knew he'd do it all over again, just the same.

At last he was jolted from his reverie by a harsh cry of someone closing in on him. The sound of the man's voice was like a splash of frigid water, aimed right into the neck, and made him wince. The chill faded when he realised it was Old Coot, and he turned his head to face him, with a forced smile. He'd always liked the man, and his expression was warm and welcoming.

“.. why you..” the haggard elder was slipping out of his tirade with very second he was forced to look into that face. “I knew I'd find you here.” he halted a few paces away from the youth and sighed as if he was lamenting the tragic loss of another good pair of shoes. Never much of an actor he had been, and his tone made San chuckle.

“I'm sorry pops.. I lost track of time.” he grinned, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“Again. Lad, that's the fourth time this week You really have to snap out of it, you hear me.” he shook his head. “Now, my lady's waitin' for me, you better make sure you get home now, on the double.” Already he made to turn back. His 'lady' didn't like it when he came home late, and he didn't like having dinner cold. Being punctual was a win-win situation.

San nodded placidly, slid off the rock he was perched on and half-heartedly patted the red dust off his trousers. He glanced aside to see Old Coot wander back to his cosy home, and only straightened to follow once he was out of earshot. As he started to walk, he saw the old man cast a look back over his shoulder, and he responded with a wary smile. Aw, shoo. I'm coming, I'm coming...
He took his time, solemnly kicking up sand with every step he took to idly marvel in the cloudy patterns he produced. Only when the elder had dissappeared behind one of the sheds at the edge of town did he speed up his pace. Soon enough he was back into the long shade of the houses, loosely striding past the pub. Yup, still people having a late drink, entertaining the bartender and possibly discussing things like new rolls for the piano or a new beer the big city had churned out. It made him smile, knowing things would probably never change, not overnight. Maybe in twenty years, but he had no idea where this town would be, where he himself would be. For the time being he envisioned himself as the town idiot. What a marvelous future.. tolerated and pitied. The way things were going he wondered if it would take that long at all. Maybe he already was the fool of the neighbourhood, more then the Donovan's little mentally challenged daughter. Sweet child, if a handful to look after.

The young gunslinger nearly tripped over a wooden stool when he rounded a corner, and noticed that soon, night would fall. That magical hour in which everything was blue, and all contrasts were reduced to nothing until the moon would rise in the pitch black. The buildings' shadows were thrown far and solid, leaving brilliant amber cuts where the sunlight slipped through the slits between the houses. As soon as he felt the urge to start dwelling in those golden flecks, he berated himself. Don't make things worse now, Old Coot will be sad if he hears you didn't head straight home.
Doggedly heading on, his hands went to his hips, felt for the two pistols he'd been granted for his sixteenth birthday. That they let him walk around with those, locked and loaded, at least proved they didn't think he was some sort of dangerous psychopath. He took pride in knowing proper weapon protocol and keeping the twins polished and safe to handle. Just as he slowed down, getting lost in thought again, quiet sounds attracted his attention. He dazedly looked into the direction they were coming from, and felt intimidated for a moment. Never before had he found himself overwhelmed before by standing in the shadow of the bank.
The sturdy building was proof of one of this little town's most prided functions. For the small amount of people living here, a bank was hardly necessary, but that counted for the surrounding villages as well. A small dozen of other communities had confided in San's town, known for its just sherrif and calm inhabitants, to be the safe haven for the people's most treasured goods and savings. Nobody was supposed to be here at this time...

San halted, moved closer to the front porch, instinctively falling into a low crouch. Whoever had talked before had ceased now, but... there was movement in there, definitely. A quick glance around affirmed that nobody was in the street right now, oh dear. Maybe he should alert the neighbours? No, whatever could THEY do... A young married couple and their parents with a small child, no. Only their old pops knew how to wield a gun, and he suffered from his old age enough to be unrelia- ...
What WAS he thinking now. He could've smacked himself up the head. A bank robbery, sure. Such things happened in Mitchell's children novels, and in towns far far away. He might as well start running around yelling the prairie fairies had finally arrived. Yes, think this over first, then decide if you'll go and-
And there was that noise again. He held back a gasp and crept closer, soundlessly making his way around the porch through the sand, then carefully climbed up the edge of it to peek through the dirty window. The first glimpse of movement inside was enough to make him duck under again, hanging onto the porch rail with a racing heart. It took him a while to summon up the nerve to take a second peek. Maybe his imagination was playing tricks on him now?
Eventually he dared pull himself up a bit again and took a careful look inside. Didn't anyone EVER clean these windows? What a shame. Maybe he'd ask the supervisor if he could do it sometime. He'd almost headed off on that tanjent when he now clearly saw something, someone stir. His mind stilled, and headed into prowling-modus. He squinted to try and make out details, but all he could tell is that whoever was inside didn't want to attract attention. Hunched over posture, busy movements but not a word said... and oho, there was the accomplice. He didn't recognise either as someone from in town right away, but he couldn't see this clearly enough. He lowered himself back down to the ground, felt the weight of his guns by his sides. Now don't go paranoid. It could be pranksters...

Shivering in the shadow, San strafed around, flitted up the porch and pressed himself against the wooden outer wall beside the door, that was opened slightly. A measure many people took to let the buildings air out at night and prevent cats from getting stuck inside, and everybody knew that people who wanted to break into the bank would not be held back by a simple wooden door anyway. They'd most likely entered through a window further at the back. Again, San realised how silly he must look now. He was riling himself up, right? This was just a game of indians and cowboys and he was the only one playing. A nearly grown man having a solo session, yeah. By the bank, for laughs.
No, wait. Voices from inside, tensely hushed. Or did they only sound that way because he warped them in his head? They were definitely saying something though... He made a little o-mouth when his mind vocalised a loud and dramatical 'whoooops' upon making out they'd heard something. Quiet footsteps padding towards the door, oh ye god, one was coming to check. He heard the familiar click of a shotgun's safety handle.

When a pale brown eye peeked out the dark, glancing around in a way San almost heard the noise of a snuffling rat to accompany the sight, it found nothing. Mere inches below the man's line of view, San had slid down to his haunches trying to appear tiny and insignficant. Apparently it had worked, because he obviously hadn't been detected. The eye disappeared back into the black and muttered something at number two. It left the young man in quite a pinch. What now? He still hadn't confirmed they were up to anything bad, but now he was certain they weren't from around here. If they WERE robbers, thieves.. No, he couldn't let them damage his peaceful hometown's reputation, he wouldn't let them steal hard-working people's goods. But.. if he ran now, they might be alerted... Maybe they'd already be gone by the time he got help, and still, what if he as just seeing things. Dad would lynch him for sure if he ever pulled a 'boy cries wolf'.

San could have spent all evening pondering his next step, hadn't circumstances pressed him to make a decision. A dull sound from inside reverbed through the entire structure without warning, and a trickle of dust rinsed down from the roofing panes. It startled him, made him look around, was the building still intact? No broken wooden poles? No, he'd have heard that...
What had that been then, what's going on? He carefully stood up, and looked inside through the window. He resisted the urge to groan. There was a large hole in the wooden inner wall now, and the two men were attempting to lug one of the heavy vaults out through the gap. That tremor earlier must've been caused by them heaving it over the bump they hadn't been able to hack down. At least there was no doubt now, they were burglars, robbers, thieves, scumbags from out of town! If he let them get away now... They wouldn't get far with their load, not at all, not without proper transportation...
The thought had barely crossed his mind when he slunk off the porch again, and tiptoed along the side of the bank house. He stifled a cry of joy when he found they had indeed brought their own rides... No less than six horses, and well-trained ones too. How could anyone have missed those? A look left and right made it clear that their town had made a mistake in planning here. No back porches or lawns at this end of town. They were planned, but nobody actually had a clear view on the back of this row, unless the family two houses down the street harboured someone who enjoyed peeking out the small top window. At this time of the day. A closer look around gave him the hunch that pair had been here a few times before, probably to inspect he place and observe the neighbourhood.

The idea made the young gunner's blood boil with righteous fury. How dare they! Why would anyone want to take things that weren't theirs to begin with, of this kind of value? He'd never understood that. At least in stories there was good and evil, but he couldn't believe people with a heart and soul were capable of such atrocities. Little did he know just how sheltered he'd lived.
Acting upon a whim, he snuck to the horses that quietly stood arranged, tied together to pull their load. They shifted out of the way a bit, snorted at him, but he wasn't afraid, and he knew how to keep his presence from feeling like a threat. It took him only a minute to figure out how the chainlinks worked, and soon enough, he had buckled them all loose from the carriage. Not a bad idea, this way they'd be stuck here. At least, that was the plan when he sent them scurrying. Two of them ran off, the remaining four lingered around undecisively, as if they knew they weren't actually supposed to go.
Never before had equines irked San so, and he stomped after them, shooed them off. Go you, go away, be free! Don't let these dastardly men abuse you for their schemes, shoo! Eventually he did manage to scare them off, and as he watched the dustclouds rise in the ever reddening sunlight, he suddenly became very, very aware of the ruckus he'd made. Hurrying back to the bank, he cringed when one of the horses whinnied in the distance. Immediately the voices from inside started talking again, in gruff panicky barks, however hushed. From one side of the building, steps approached, and San hurried to run around the other side. What now, what now? He couldn't go back, and he'd left a trail now too, he'd come after him now. Staying in the narrow alley wasn't an option, in a matter of moments that guy would come and check. So he scuttled further around, up the front porch again. The second voice resounded from further away now, he must've joined his partner.

Remaining still like a hare on watch, San tried to listen over the sound of the blood rushing in his head. They were talking behind the house now and their voices became fainter and fainter. Slowly, he released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding; would they really be gone now? He didn't know, he couldn't know. He stood up, terrified to make a sound, tiptoed over to the open door and peeked inside. No movement. No reaction to a nudge against the door either, and after five long seconds, he opened it further, and stepped inside cautiously. Like a bobcat on unknown territory he treaded carefully, managing to hardly make a sound on the woodchips and the gravel inside. A brief inspection of the toppled vault had him stifle a relieved sigh. The lock was untouched.
The adrenalin rush was wearing off quickly now. There hadn't been a sound in minutes, neither in- nor outdoors, and he'd begun to feel safer again. It was only when he heard a sharp click, too close by for comfort, that he realised he'd made a crucial mistake somewhere.

The third man probably thought the same. You stay behind while we go check it out, sure. His nerves were already frayed, and the sight of a local was sending his mind reeling. At the sight of the two pistols by the young man's side, he'd readied his shotgun, hands shaking. And shot.

San had whipped around towards the sound and frozen. Too close, much too close. His eyes widened in shock when he stared right into the haggard face of another male, pale and sweaty and just as terrified as he was.
The sound of the gun that was pointed at his abdomen firing drowned out both their cries.
____________________________________________________________________


Well this had gone wrong, big time...

The force of the impact sent San reeling, threw him onto his back, a pain like he'd never experienced before surging through his body. In the excrutiatingly long seconds before he fell unconscious, he couldn't pin his mind on anything. The unreal feeling of catching a glimpse of structures in your body nobody was ever supposed to see, it paled in comparison to the deadening realisation that no matter why or how, you were going to die.

How would he explain this to his father, his sister, everyone? He wouldn't, he'd never talk to them again. Andrea would never know, he'd never passed on her address to his mother.
How would the robbers fare, would they be judged? He almost felt sorry for that haggard weak trembling man who was leaning over him, looking like he wanted to eat his hat and choke on it. The shotgun lay discarded, would never be used again. Mister Felis would surely confiscate it. He was a thorough man. His only failure had been the education of his youngest son.
San loved him, he loved them all so, he was sorry for all he'd done, for the mess he'd made now. Yet again, if he got the chance to do it all over... He knew he would make the same mistakes all over again. He was who he was, a free spirit apparently doomed to a short existence.
I'm sorry guys... everyone.
I'm sorry.

For months, his mind hadn't been able to find silence. Now, after a surge of all worries, all pain and all regrets, it quietened.

In the early end, San was left to darkness.



[there ye have et. *whistles* any comments? feel free to drop'em by]

After the Lab [305] Valentine RP had ended, the organising talent Chloe Star found herself with a few plushies to spare -you could win them my gambling RP-wise-
and they were charitably given out to the other Rpers...
Now I 'd never have thought I'd be included in the list, as I didn't exactly "go down to roll the dice" sweatdrop , but it seems Chloe-dono was so extremely nice to include me in the list whee



*tacklehugs Chloe*

Well, and I was so lucky to actually win a Raevan plushie 3nodding

.... issocuuuute!!!!! *totally spazzes* 4laugh rofl blaugh whee
With much props and cookies to Aphismet, who drew them -or; in the RP, made the plushies-

I shall now take this little Sisay with me to bed, it's just so adorable. I wish I could make one IRL.


and to include the little Seahorse the dearest Lab provided me with last Christmas, my first Secret santa in the internet EVER, with much much MUCH thanks to Chrystali:


I'll have to think of a name someday...

RP between Asahi Kumoru, Chloe Star, peachymint and Graficcha

Though he had cleaned himself up and thoroughly brushed his hair after his little excursion onto the roof of his house the night before, Kumoru had had to settle for band-aids on each of his palms to cover the scrapes he had acquired. And, finding that he had run out of plain skin-tone bandages, the mage had gone ahead and used children's band-aids instead. Each palm sported a white adhesive bandage decorated all over with colorful miniature dinosaurs.

He discreetly tossed his fare into the collection machine at the front of the bus before disembarking, and immediately balled his hands into fists and thrust them into hiding in the opposite sleeves of his robes. Kumoru kept his arms crossed like this as he walked through the sliding glass doors and into the waiting room at the joint Project X and Lab 305 facility.

"Hello?" he called out, glancing around as he made his way to the front counter. Kumoru squirmed a little as he took hold of the soul bottle and his vial of essence, each of which he was holding in one of the pockets of his sleeves. Hopefully, he could take care of dropping them off right now, and not have to worry about them for a good long while.

Chloe looked up with a blink, her glasses sliding down the edge of her nose. She wore her usual... a stark white labcoat and colorful scarf wrapped about her neck. She gave a small smile as a familiar face entered the Lab.

"H-Hello.. a-ah..." Familiar face but not name. She frowned, biting her lower lip. "A-Ah... Ice Rose.." She looked down at the small yellow sticky notes that covered every possible space behind the receptionist desk. Not finding what she desired there she reached for a notebook, flipping it open and feaverishly looking through it's pages before giving a small exclimation of satisfaction, finger stabbing at someplace on the white lined paper. "K-Kumoru. Hello, Kumoru.." Her smile turned sheepish.

"C-Can.. I help you with something?"

"Hello," the mage replied with a small smile and a slight bow. Careful to keep his palms down, and the silly kiddie band-aids hidden, Kumoru set both the essence and the soul bottle down on the desk.

"There is your essence back, and a bottle, this time with the right soul." He glanced up at Chloe and tucked his hands back into his sleeves again. "Is there any paperwork or anything else I need to do for you right now?" Kumoru asked.

Chloe gave a small sound of pleasure at seeing the Essence and filled Soul Bottle. She lifted them with all the tender care of a mother lifting a sleeping child. She peered curiously into the Soul Bottle, watching as colors swirled perpetually.

"A-Ah.. no papers but.. if I could ask.. w-what soul is in here.. if you k-know."

Kumoru leaned forward a bit to peer at the bottle, too. "Oh, it's an owl. Not exactly sure what kind, since it was a ghost when I caught it, but it had a round face. Like a barn owl, I think?"

He smiled a little. "It's a good strong one, too. It really struggled to get away when it realized the bottle was trying to suck it in."

Outside the Lab 305 doors, Graficcha was very tempted to slink out of her little hideout. She had been observing the man, Kumoru he was called according to her little notebook, for a while now.
Ever since that day, on which the little sociopath had first seen a Raevan, her interest had snatched that spark and caught fire. Something inside her was undeniably attracted to the beautiful creatures, and she had quickly grasped the concept of the Raevan-guardian relationship.

Graficcha had no real intention to ever talk to the owners, though. Well, she might have, but her instinctive ways of avoiding contact and being a 'good, normal person' had her insides crawl at the thought of ever being spoken to.
People told her to 'get real'... to 'just do what you're supposed to do'. It had turned her into a sneaky spy-like person, who didn't realise just how abnormal her behaviour really was.
Standing out in a crowd was her greatest fear, but in trying to lay low, she had buried herelf in the masses. Her skills of dissappearing had an almost paranormal quality, and often, if someone noticed her, she'd desperately will you to forget all about her.

Now, she had been keeping a keen eye on the happenings around the Lab, enjoying that feeling whenever she saw Zavier and Tsu together, when Lazarus and Kyou were arguing or enjoying a moment of 'peaceful silence', and like now, when that 'new' person came in, suspiciously carrying a little something that Graficcha took a great curiosity in.

She blinked, holding the bottle up a little higher with interest. "Oh my.. a ghost owl?" She then turned and placed the essence and soul bottle delicatly in the glass display case behind the desk, scribbling a small message on a yellow sticky note.

Sticky note Wrote:
Kumoru - Ice Rose - Ghost Owl Soul


She then slid the case closed and turned the key in the small silver lock, pocketing it safely. She turned back to Kumoru, bowing her head with a smile. "Dr. Kyou will tend to it as soon as he is able.. there's a limited number of tanks and there might be other Raevens forming right now."

She blinked, looking past Kumoru's shoulder as the doors to the lab slid open but no one entered, they soon closed and she shrugged, someone must have walked too close to the sensors and set them off.

Jae Eun paused in front of the building before her. ....Had she just seen someone in the bushes? She looked instead at the somewhat crumpled piece of paper in her hand, and decided it was worth a shot. She had heard about this place from one of her professors, so it couldn't hurt to invesigate, right?

Slipping the rather crudely drawn map and note back into a bag that hung diagonally across from her shoulder, she smoothed her skirt, and headed for the entrance.

Walking through the doors, she paused as her eyes adjusted to the change in lighting. She could see two people at the reception desk, and well....was it just her, or was there a floating rose made out of ice and a bottle with swirling.... colored...stuff in it sitting on the counter?

Graficcha had hushed past the sliding doors to get a better view. She saw Miss Chloe, one of the Raevan owners and Lab assistants, in an exchange with Kumoru.
With a pang of dismay, the spy noticed how she had missed the female's entrance in the building.
Need to pay more attention!

It worried her that there was still no sign of Roux, the ice Raevan. Graf had spent many an hour thinking about how one could please this pretty, egocentric and vain Frei, and make him a little more conscious about the feeling of the people around him. She had yet to find an answer to that one. The tricky part, in her mind, was how to teach him empathy and tone his ego down, all while being honest to him and still keep in control.

He seemed to need something besides praise and the care he got from his loving guardian, but he didn't exactly make things easier for Chloe.
But now, he seemed to have withdrawn somewhere. Graficcha guessed that that could not be a good thing, and it worried her, but she didn't dare break into Chloe's house to see what had happened to him -or even, what anyone had done to him.

While thinking about this, the girl's brown eyes darkened. No one had the right to hurt a Raevan, those pure beings, completely new to the world, and still unspoiled. Where things were headed with Rivener bothered her as well, but that seemed to work out alright. For now.

When Graf saw Kumoru-san hand over the vial and bottle, the bluish sparkle of the ice rose made her even more conscious of the fact that soon, a new Frei would emerge into this world.

You better take good care of your charge... she thought towards the man.

She started when a girl suddenly decided to turn to the doors of the Lab, and she hastily scurried a few steps back, and silently, Graf clambered up a tree and watched.

"Alright, thank you," Kumoru replied, bowing slightly to Chloe again. "And will he call me or get in touch, I guess, when... things are ready?"

He watched as the doctor locked away the items he had brought, feeling a slight pang of regret that he had not been able to further study the bottle. After a moment, he ventured to ask, "Is there more you can tell me about the soul bottle? How do they work?"

The necromancer had the old one at home, but he was not sure it would still be the same, as it had already captured a soul, and then been taken apart.

Feeling as though he was being watched, the mage shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly, then glanced out the window behind him. Someone else was entering, but he had a feeling there was another person out there, too.

Chloe looked once more over Kumoru's shoulder as the doors opened a second time, smiling as she saw someone entering. She gave a polite nod to her. "H-Hello.. I'll be with you in just a moment.. f-feel free to take a seat.."

She turned back to Kumoru, giving her lip a small bite. "I-I'm sorry.. I don't really know how the soul bottles work. They're Dr. Kyou's invention.. I-I haven't asked him to explain it to me. I'm sorry.."

Hearing the greeting from the receptionist, Jae Eun smiled back and gave a small bow.

She seems like a nice woman! she thought to herself.

Looking around, she saw that there were in fact some sofas surrounding a table not too far from the entrance.

Picking one that would allow her a view of the reception desk and the entrance, Jae Eun seated herself and pulled out her handphone. Setting it on vibrate so as not to disturb the receptionist and her current visitor, she opened it up and busied herself answering text messages.

Chloe gave a small start as her watch gave a series of beeps. She looked down at the time, giving a small gasp. "O-Oh! Excuse me." She stepped back out from behind the desk, gently taking one of Kumoru's hands in both of her's and giving it a polite squeeze. "Please forgive me, I have to go work on something.. I-I'm so sorry."

She turned to the girl who had entered and sat on one of the couches, even more distressed about leaving her behind. "I.. I'm so s-s-sorry! Please forgive me b-but th-there's something of importance I n-need to attend to.. I-If you could come back at another t-time tomorrow, perhaps... I-I can answer what I can of a-any question you have." She gave a deep bow of apology to the other woman before hurrying back toward the doors that lead into the corridors behind the receptionist area.

When the girl entered, Graf could barely contain her excitement. She HAD to know who this was, and the pull of the Lab's inner workings were strong today. Once or twice, she had snuck in, pretending to be a random Gaian coming to check things out, but whenever someone came into the entrance hall, she hurried out, walking calmly, invisibly, following walls to the exit.

This would be a chance to get in, right when Chloe and Kumoru would focus on the new arrival.
It'd be a risk, and somehow, Graf could feel she might be too tense to flick in.

She knew she'd do something wrong, get upset, be noticed, but this was IT. The doors hadn't closed just yet! Thinking fast, she broke of a broadly leafed twig, climbed to the end of the branch and waved it right above the doors, in front of the sensors.
She jumped down from the tree branch into the bushes where she had hidden, timing her jump so that the noise of impact would be drowned by the sound of a passing car.
Keeping an eye on the motion sensor, cursing it after it had nearly betrayed her just a moment before, she quickly inched closer to the entrance, and chose an angle from which the light wouldn't make her too light or too dark.
Their attention's on the girl.. now or never Graf!

She slipped inside an blended into the shadows inside the building, hoping she had done it right.

Looking up from her phone as the watch beeped, Jae Eun watched as the receptionist apologized to the man at the desk and to her.

Standing quickly, she bowed back, not realizing she had dropped her phone.

"Thank you for the kind reception!" she said, not aware that the woman had already gone through the doors and out of sight.

Looking up, she realized she was already gone, and there was no one but her and the man in the room.

Graficcha watched the man and the girl in the hall. Her heart was thumping madly, but she remained quiet.

Now, she began asking herself how the hell she should get out again later. Going deeper into the sacred dwellings of doctor Kyou was out of the question, but taking the chance to take a quick peek at what Chloe had written might be interesting.
But Graf started making a few mistakes. For one thing, she didn't stop to calculate the two people's range of vision, and certainly did NOT remember that there was a light switch placed on the wall she used as a cover.

The lights clicked on when she brushed against the trigger with her black coat, and her eyes widened in shock. She switched them off with a little jab, and dashed for the reception desk, pouncing behind it like a cat, scared out of her wits.

Chloe bustled out of the double doors that lead into the back workings of the lab, heading toward the receptionists desks in a hurry. She'd forgotten something. Again.

She blinked as she noticed an unfamiliar face sitting behind her workspace. She gave a small frown, fretting with her labcoat sleeves. "A-Ah.. excuse me... C-Could you please.. not be behind here? O-Only staff is supposed to..."

She crept sideways past the sitting girl, noting with perplexity how emotional she seemed. Maybe she hadn't intentionally gone back here but had fallen? Chloe picked up her notebook from behind the desk. The girl didn't seem like she was about to move but... well.. Chloe was -very- busy.. and it wasn't too bad, the girl seemed to just be sitting there... She hurried back through the double sliding doors into the back halls of the lab.

The girl's sudden outburst and following reactions left Jae Eun dumbfounded. She seemed okay...and then all of a sudden, she was sitting on the ground!

She watched in shock as the other receptionist emerged, told the other girl that behind the desk was 'staff only', and disappeared again.

o.....kay..... she thought to herself.

Deciding she had had enough excitement for one day, she pulled out a pen and a small sticky-pad with some floral stationary on it. She scribbled a quick note for the receptionist.

To - Miss Receptionist

Hello! My name is Kim Jae Jae Eun Kim.
I came into the Lab earlier today.
I am a student majoring in East Asian Lore at Durem University.
One of my professors mentioned to me that there is someone here
by the name of 'Kyou' who is extremely well-read on mythical creatures.
I would really like to meet Mr. Kyou if possible. ^^
I can be reached on my hand-phone at xxx-xxx-xxxx
I hope it isn't too much trouble!

Thanks~ Jae Eun <3

Leaving the note on the reception desk, she re-shouldered her bag and headed out. She paused when she walked up next to the man.

"It was nice to meet you today! Maybe we will see each other again sometime!" she said with a polite bow before quickly exiting the building.


Kumoru frowned with concern at the strange girl who had been running away and then stopped in the doorway. From the words of Chloe, however, he suspected that she was not supposed to have been behind the counter in the first place.

He bowed again, almost reflexively, as Jae Eun spoke to him again, and turned his attention to her. "Nice to meet you as well," the necromancer replied. "I will probably be back here quite a bit, like when I need to get my daughter out of the house for a while. So maybe we shall see each other."

His business was taken care of for now, as his soul bottle and essence were now locked away. Best he get home as quickly as the bus could take him; maybe he could spend at least part of the afternoon further examining the various pieces of the dismantled bottle. And maybe wash out the scratches on his palms again. Touching the pads of the bandages tenderly, he walked out of the lab's sliding doors and headed for the bus stop.


Graficcha finally snapped out of it when the hall went silent. Everyone had left the perimeter, and the shock wore off.
Even if it hadn't been planned, this 'little' breakdown had been a most welcome evasion manoeuvre, and the girl took the chance to stand up slowly, approach the doors, and finally escape into the outer world again before Chloe or anyone returned.

The fear and the frustration still lingered, but she would definitely come back.
Oh yes, she would.

.
..
...

Okay, done! xp
hd to figure things OUT to get this popped in here >>
Now to see how this'll continue ninja

This RP started on page 3230 of the Lab 305 thread.

We had to end quickly, simply because we all had to leave at a certain time.
I believe we did a good job on wrapping things up though ^^

Raevan concept owned my Kyou
This little design 'owned' by me 3nodding no stealing!
His name's Amadan (I was listening to the Ommadawn when I thought of a name, hence...), and his design's inspired on a bat soul.

Second installment. Introspective. YES, I can write dialogues. I just don't right now. sweatdrop

This is mainly what I'm like in real life, only not as extreme... Done for RP purposes, for future reference. Comments on my writing style are greatly appreciated.
I must also add that 'Raevans' belong to Miaow / Dr. Kyoupiruchi. So don't say I'm stealing the dear doctor's concept, I'm not. If anything, I'm humbly self-inserting my character into this RP-project.

I know the beginning sounds boring.






Well, that's about it for now. I'm planning on posting a picture to go with this, but actually my current avatar works best to help imagine 'me'.
Sheesh, 950 words... I rambled again. sweatdrop

Greetz

~Graficcha whee