The Golden City [ a literate original ]

[Prophet]

No I'm sure they didn't forget. I PM'd GoH about it earlier today, and she hasn't forgotten. I'm sure we will start when GoH is ready. Now enough spam from me. I will edit this post with my second template.

Name: Isaac Menthos

Age: 20

Gender: Male

Race/Ethnicity: Human

Occupation: Sculptor

Level you live on: 13

Personality: Isaac is very determined, passionate about things he believes, but has the unfortunate traight of believing that he is the only one right in these matters. He is slightly paranoid, always thinking that people are out to steal his ideas, and is somewhat of a loner when it comes to his work. He carries an air of tiredness around him most of the time, and he seems to be a little jumpy when not in the trance-like state he sculpts his clay with.

History: Isaac was born, early in the morning while his parents rushed to the infirmary. His mother could not hold the baby any longer, and with a scream that shook the levels of the fifteenth level, Isaac popped out into real life. Unfortunately, his father was too busy keeping his mother from fainting to notice that Isaac had shot out of his mothers womb, and landed quite solemnly in a puddle of juicy mud. However Isaac didn't cry. Isaac didn't weep. Instead looked at the mud in wonder, and at an early age, began to make the equivilant of a mud pie.

As Isaac grew up, he quickly realized his passion for creating things. He did sculpture with bronze, with wire, with metal, but his all time favorite was working with clay. As he sculpted his heart out with clay, he began to get noticed, and soon the money began rolling in for his sculptures. At first he was reluctant, but his parents encouraged him, and he dove into the world of art in Ledonaath.

Unfortunately, this dive into fame and fortune lead into some shady activities. Little did his parents know about his exposure to the drug of the Golden City, Ledomeeth, which was made from the powdered leaves of a plant in the lower levels and smoked like a ciggarette. It was powerful stuff, and it left Isaac in a state of mind he had never seen before. And even though he knew it was bad for his body, he saw that he sculpted better than ever when he was in that "high" so he kept going.

Now that he has moved away from his parents, being old enough to care for himself, he has begun to realize the implications his sculptures are making. What was this power he had? What was he really sculpting in those trances? Only time will tell for Isaac Menthos.

Weapon/s: He carries a sharp sculpting knife with him wherever he goes, as well as a thin wire used for cutting into clay. They could be used as weapons, but he has never felt the need.

Power/s & Abilities: Isaac can sculpt the present, as in he can sculpt any event or person and what they are doing in Ledonaath at that time as long as he is in that special state of mind. Right now, that state of mind is only achievable by him smoking Ledomeeth.

Appearance: Isaac has long brown hair, and a scraggly stubble from where he hasn't shaved. He wears a light blue, unbuttoned shirt, covered in clay from his sculpting, and wear's plain blue jeans under that. His eyes are a dark brown, and turn a pitch dark black when he is sculpting under trance. Being 20, he stands at about 6 feet tall.

Theme song/s: None

Other: He is addicted to Ledomeeth which puts him in the trance neccesary to sculpt the present. But this may not last the whole RP...

 

[Tobuoi]

She was working up a long post but then her computer started being ghey. I'm sure that she'll get us started within the next 24 hours. Don't worry, she has full intent of keeping this RP thriving.

 

[Samber]

okey dokey i was just wonderin, because i'm very interested in this rp.

oh and Toboui i saw you voted me most improved, thanks!

 

[GuardianOfHearts]

{Thank you Tobsy. As she said, yes, my computer was being decidedly homosexual.Near the end of a long post, the keyboard stopped working, and I lost it all. Now I'm back, and hopefully nothing untoward will happen. Sorry to have kept you all waiting!}


"Nhyxie ... ? Nhyxie, wake up, I'm hungry. Really hungry. Can I have something to eat, please please please? Are you awake yet? Can you wake up right now?"

Arian blinked, then sat bolt upright, scattering papers across her desk as she looked wildly around, sleep-glazed grey eyes coming to rest on the bright dragonling hovering before her.

"What time is it?" she said, aware that she was slurring her words slightly as she rubbed her knuckles across her eyes.

"It's...." Raouhmo cocked her tiny head, as if listening. "A quarter to twelve. You haven't been asleep too long. Can I have lunch now?" The dragonling fluttered on the desk and peered up at her friend wistfully.

"Oh, good," Arian said, breathing out a relieved sigh. It was still her break. She had been out late last night, gathering nocturnal ingredients, and had consequently fallen asleep as soon as she had put her head down for what she had wanted to be a brief rest.

"No one came in, or even tried to get past your ward," Raouhmo chirped, stepping back and allowing Arian to collect her scattered notes. "Though someone looked in the window and stared at me, which I thought very rude," she added, amusing coming from a creature who was apt to stare at anything interesting regardless of manners.

And well might someone stare at Raouhmo. She was small and lithe, the size of a small cat, but not at all inconspicuous. Her fine scales were bright and colorful, varying from deep blue to mermaid green. In parts where she lacked scales was brown hide as soft as new suede. Her slender wings were tapered a moth-like, a translucent blue. She had a long, narrow head dominated by large, slanted triangular eyes, normally a liquid blue but shifting with her moods.

Now they were streaked with the orange of hunger, her long pink tongue eagerly flicking out from a maw devoid of fangs: only a distant relative to true dragons, her tastes more closely resembled a butterfly, preferring to suck nectar than to eat meat.

"I'm still hungry," Raouhmo interjected, breaking up Arian's thoughts as she fluttered up to perch on her already tousled head, tail twitching.

"All right Rao, I'll get you your lunch!"

Running a hand through her red hair and absently plucking Rao from her favourite perching spot, Arian made her way down the winding staircase, going through the storage room of a shop and entering behind the front counter.

First, she placed a small wooden bowl on a nearby shelf, filling it with a mixture of sugar water and honey for Raouhmo, who greedily descended upon it and began lapping it up through her uncoiled tongue. Then, Arian released the ward she had placed on her shop and opened the door again, pausing a moment to let the fresh air wake up her more thoroughly. The street outside her modest shop was alive with the usual hustle and bustle of mid-morning activity. She waved to a Guard passing by and a kiosk owner she knew.

Reluctantly, she pulled away from the warm Ledonaathian sunlight and went back to her counter, taking out the vials she had prepared early this morning, their newly-acquired ingredients having been left to soak.

She was making a restorative, useful in the aftermath of battle to ease wounds and augment the healing process. White liquor mixed with dissolved nightsease, added to a concoction of several minerals and blueberries.....

Arian's mind worked automatically, her hands motioning through a recipe she had done a hundred times. It was soothing, in a way. She liked making things- taking bits and pieces and putting them together to create a new whole. She wondered if it was what a deity was supposed to feel, though her religion {if it could be called that} didn't exactly go in for deity-worship. Her beliefs were focused more on life and the spirits and spiritual energy it encompassed, not giving much particulars to gods or goddesses, if there were any.


Either way, it was a nice feeling.



Tonight I saw
The death of a star,
Like a lone light of hope
Fallen afar.

The night sky spoke
Of an endless lament.
My own heart broke,
My own tears were spent....

Rhyme was singing. Her voice carried over the clop of hooves and boots over the sun-warmed tan cobblestones, weaving in through crowds of people even to the far ends of the fountain square on Level Fourteen. It was as if a stray wind had picked up her notes and flew them specially to each person's ear. Which, actually, it had.

Rhyme's wind-friend Mimishi had stopped by just when she had begun her song, and, wanting to help, had carried the lyrics across the crowd, like a comet with a tail of sound. Mimishi was a sweet-natured child of a wind who liked hearing the street-rat's songs, though Rhyme was grateful because more people meant more possible money. Maybe she could actually have a tuck of something for lunch.

Also, it let her focus more on quality than range. This is was heartfelt song she had written a few days past, meant to be sung with grave care. She worked at her tone, trying to make it throb with emotion, as though on the verge of tears. It was a sad song, after all, possibly funerary in nature.

Yeah, like she'd ever have funeral to go to. No one she knew well enough in the slums could afford a funeral, and no one rich enough cared whether a grit lived or died.

Rhyme ended the song, lowering her hands that she had instinctively raised to keep time with, signaling to her listeners that she was done. She grinned at the applause and- hey! -the few cheers that even came her way, and especially the white marks that were thrown into her grab-bag. She quickly scooped them up and transfered them into her pocket before other, less endowed people could get any ideas. She didn't need no pint-sized snatchers nabbing her hard-earned marks. There were even a couple copper ones in there.

Before her crowd dispersed, she noted that more than one person was dabbing at their eyes. Her satisfaction grew at this. She had chosen this song because years of picking up street smarts had made her notice exactly what kind of crowd had gathered, the first line being a group of middle-aged marries and their tots, who she could very nearly always count on to get teary over anything remotely sad.

Rhyme was a seasoned street-performer: she knew her audiences.

"Thy, Mimishi," she said cheerily, as the wind tangled about her and fluffed up her short yellow hair. Mimishi hummed with snatches of giggling conversation.

Rhyme had always had odd tastes, and her friends were no different. The closest friends she had were the winds that blew through the Golden City. She had never met anyone else who had her particular gift for listening, and selfishly, she felt sort of glad that she was the only one who could hear what the winds brought. There were several she met, or who met her, rather, every day.

Mimishi was a quick and bubbly wind, always bringing happy and excited bits of conversation. Tak and Kyu would share with her pieces of other songs they heard and would give her jokes that always made her laugh. Gerdo was an odd one, liking to share with her snatches of talk that showed people at their most emotional. Mem was the only one who could actually be counted on to give her anything relevant, such as important gossip or word of crimes. Leono was fun but could never stay consistant.

It was cracked all right, but Rhyme looked forward to her daily hit-and-run meetings with the various Ledonaathian winds. And they liked her music.

With a last child's laugh as a goodbye, Mimishi bounded off, ruffling the hanging scarves at the nearby kiosk. A few people looked at Rhyme askance, probably wondering why she was smiling, but she didn't care. It was only their loss if they couldn't hear winds.

Rhyme hopped up onto a statue of a wolf in white marble, sitting in its stone forepaws like a seat and taking a swig from her unfortunately lukewarm water flask. She needed a break after three songs in a row.


{ Beware of Rhyme's slang. ._. }

 

[The Big Lovin']

“Can you get me a net over there, Icura?” Icura looked up, placing a large catch of fish on the ground to face an older gentleman. He was short, his wrinkly face and grey hair definite signs of his old age. But he looked as if he was built like an ox, strong, and strong willed. Icura looked over his shoulder, seeing a messy stack of nets on the ground, quickly bending down and swiping one up, then tossing it at the older man. “Thank you,” he said, grabbing the net as it crossed his face. Icura smiled and nodded, picking up the large catch of fish again and tossing it over his shoulder, then wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead. The older man’s face became distorted, slightly surprised.

“Is that whole thing your catch?” the older man asked. “Yeah. I’m heading up the market now to hand them over to the boss,” he responded, a grin crawling to his face. “I’m sure he will be please.” The older man laughed a roaring laugh. “If it wasn’t for you Icura, Raoe would be out of business. Don’t worry about pleasing him, kid. You work hard enough as it is.” Icura tilted his head, his face becoming concerned. “You know, you guys do a great job too. Don’t give me all the credit.” the old man shook his head, throwing his net onto his massive shoulder. “You are too modest, Icura. Why don’t you come out and have a drink with the guys and me tonight? My treat.” the old man flashed a set of dull white teeth, his offer sincere. “No thanks. I think I am going to head over to the library and see if the Librarian needs any help today.” he began to turn his body and head up from the river, the old man’s voice stopping him.

“Well, ok. See ya then.” the old man picked up his arm, waving at Icura. “Aveahe iao oodagu neaou” Icura said as he began to speedily walk up the river, making it look more like a jog. Today was a good day, a large catch, getting done with work early, and, hopefully, a nice afternoon at the library. Icura’s pace slowed and he veered off toward the river’s edge. The river looked magnificent in the mid day sun. The sun made it sparkle like a thousand diamonds, the peaceful sound of the running water was enough to sooth any wild beast. Life was in abundance around these parts. From fish and lizards to birds and horses. Truly spectacular. But the only thing that topped that came up on the horizon. A sparkling gold city came into view, full of life and excitement. Icura smiled, his dark eyes filled with warmth. He began to stray away from the river and onto a small, abruptly appearing trail in the small grass. Home was just around the way.

 

[Swag]

Tonight I saw
The death of a star,
Like a lone light of hope
Fallen afar.

The night sky spoke
Of an endless lament.
My own heart broke,
My own tears were spent...

Roran could hear the voice all the way from where he was on level fourteen, though whether or not it was because he had singled it out or that it was just that loud he did not know. Often had he listened to the female sing, using his power sound that he could hear her voice and her voice alone. It was beautiful to him, and every time he heard it he was play his guitar along with her melody. He wondered if she had ever heard him playing along with her, although he doubted it. Not everyone could hear any one sound they wanted from up to a mile away.

As the song ended so did Roran's guitar, strapping it back to his back where it usually was. He sat there for a moment, sitting on the edge of a fountain, staring off into the sun which was high overhead. One million thoughts filled his poetic mind and not even he knew what they all meant. Soon however, one thought (or feeling rather) overcame them all; accompanied by a familar rumbling of his stomach. "Time to eat," he said half under his breath.

Hopping off the fountain, he began his daily ritual: Find an unsuspecting person, pickpocket them, go buy some food. He didn't like the fact that he had to steal to get the things he needed, but it was a thing that was unavoidable. Not everyone is lucky enough to be born wealthy, and those who aren't just have to cope however they can. Looking around, he found his first target of the day: a wealthy-looking obeast dog-like creature. He assumed it was a woman, as it was wearing a dress, but of what species he had no idea. Not like it mattered anyway, he was going to steal from her no matter what kind of humanoid being she was.

All of a sudden he began walking at a rather brisk pace, taking long strides instead of his usual cool and slow-paced traipse. Heading straight for the "woman" he roughly bumped shoulders with her as he passed; ducking his hand into he purse, pulling out her wallet, and replacing it in one of his own pockets. "Oh, mam I am so sorry," he said in a sincere tone.

"It's quite alright," replied the woman in a sweet "grandma" tone, "I understand. Young folks these days always have some place to be."

"My sentiments exactly," said Roran as he began to swiftly walk away.

I wonder how long it will be until she realizes I just got her, he thought as he walked; getting quite a bit of distance between him and his victim. Producing the wallet from his pocket, he opened it up to find ten gold pieces inside. Today is definately my lucky day, he thought, a smile coming across his face. Turning the corner and looking a little down the path, he saw a girl that seemed to be smiling just as he had; though for what reason he did not know. She then hopped up on the statue of a wolf, sitting in between his great paws and taking a swig from her water troth. She looked about as hungry as Roran was, perhaps hungrier. Decideding to do his boy scout good deed of the day, he cooly strode up to the woman and spoke.

"I know this place about a block from here that serves great food. If you're interested that is."

OOC: I hope I got the locations right, if not then I'll just edit what level Roran was on.

 

[Prophet]

OOC: I edited the restaurant so its on level 14, if that makes it easier for people to connect.

IC:

Morning.

The beam of sun cut through the window like a knife, and buttered the bed with beautiful ease and grace. The bed however was empty, and the smell of hot bacon and eggs swept into the empty room, filling the void with its aroma and sound, the crisp bubbling of the bacon frying and the lovely golden aura that came with the scrambled eggs. The window was open, so the smell drifted outward, like a cloud of eternal goodness ready to envelop any person it passed by in an embracing sense of hunger. The smell was coming from the frying pan Chris wielded in his right hand, and as he checked the small timepiece on the wall, he flipped off the stove with one hand, and scraped the eggs and bacon onto two seperate plates, one for him, and one for his boss, Sandra.

Sandra. Her name was as beautiful as she was. And in the last three years, she only tripled in her beauty. It had taken him a year, but Chris had finally been able to talk normally with her. Maybe it was because he had lived with her for so long, he didn't know. All he knew was that she and the Monks were the only family he had. He had better learn to talk with her. So as he took the steaming plates around out of the kitchen, and into the main dining area, each table sparkling clean and ready for the oncoming day, he called out to her, placing both plates on an empty table.

"Sandra, breakfast's ready!" he shouted, and as he sat down he heard her light graceful steps coming down from the upper floor, coming through the doorway before slinging herself onto the chair with a tired yawn.

"Thanks Chris," she said gratefully, taking her knife and fork and digging into the eggs with delicious fervor, "If I knew how to cook half as well as you, I'd never complain again."

"It's just eggs and bacon, Sandra," laughed Chris with a smile, taking a bite of his own bacon, "But thanks anyway. So what's on the menu for today?"

"Well, we open in about five minutes," replied Sandra, checking her watch before turning back to him, "We've got bacon and eggs for the breakfast meal, along with toast, pancakes, Ledonaathian Loaves (French Toast), and the usual."

"Got it," said Chris, downing his eggs as he finished up, taking his plate back over to the kitchen where he washed it and scrubbed it clean, before laying it out to dry, "Anything else?"

"You just deal with cooking our food Chris," she said jokingly, her eyes narrowing, "I'll deal with the business end of it." Chris raised his hands in surrender and she laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief and her brown, curly hair bouncing lightly as she turned to the cash register to prepare for the day. But it was true. He was helpless when it came to money and business. That was Sandra's end of the deal. However he did know how to do one thing with the shop.

He whistled lightly, and a small dog shot out of the corner, swiftly running over to the front of the shop, and flicking the sign on the door with its nose. The sign flipped over, so the side that said OPEN was no viewable to the public. The Golden City Diner was open for business.

 

[stripes]

OOC: Can I still join, I'll pm you my template GoH

 

[Prophet]

OOC: Here comes my second character

IC:

Isaac couldn't see anything. He was surrounded in a haze of color, and of sound. Every noise seemed to soften, mix together into an eternal wave of soft euphoria. Every color seemed to dance in his eye, and his skull felt like it was burning with a pleasurable smokey inferno. If anyone could see him inside of his art studio, which was impossible since he had the windows covered and the doors locked, they would see his eyes were pitch black, overrun by an inky black haze. He could sense his hands moving, feeling the beautiful soft clay, each finger individually molding and sculpting so that the clay twisted like it was boiling, taking a shape that Isaac didn't recognize. He didn't care either. All he knew was that the twisting clay was part of him, and he twisted with it, every nerve burning with a dull smoking sensation, and the stick of Ledomeeth in his mouth burned his throat as he coughed lightly, his eyes widening as he pulled it out of his mouth, collapsing on the floor as the world swam before him.

That was a good one. He stumped out his stick, stepping on it and grinding the flames out, his head pounding slightly as he gazed up at the clay sculpture. The clay was already hardening, and he could see the form he had created. It was strange, because he didn't remember making them at all. All he could remember was his hands, twisting that clay softening it, pushing it into place. Whenever he sculpted under the influence, it was like this. He didn't remember sculpting it, and yet, it seemed to be better than any of his other work.

It was a boy, a teenage one by the looks of it. The expression on his face was perfectly captured, a look of calculations and cunning, as the boy was frozen in time, bumping into another figure, a woman, one who seemed to be startled at his presence, her mouth open in slight confusion. The boy's eyes were filled with a small sense of regret, and his beard came out into three distinct points. He looked muscular, or at least fit, and Isaac blinked as he looked at the picture. He didn't recognize this boy at all. Why on earth would he sculpt him? He walked around the sculpture, examining it as best he could while ignoring the pain in his head. The consequences for doing Ledomeeth were severe. The pain in his head, the possibilty of getting busted, yet he needed it. It wasn't just that he was addicted. He needed them to do this sculpting.

Finally, as he turned around a final time, he noticed the boys hand doing something. It was reaching into the woman's purse, and Isaac had no doubt what it was after. So he had sculpted a pickpocket. Big whoop. A pickpocket with a guitar on his back. The guitar itself was a piece of work, and Isaac could see every detail inside of its beautiful design. This Guitar sculpture itself would be worth a lot. Yet for some reason, Isaac felt protective of the sculptures he did while he was under the influence. They were his own, private collection for now.

 

[Samber]

The noon sun shone through her window gently onto Sahara's face. She grupily rubbed her face and got dressed. As she entered the living room she saw her brother Derreck making a pancake- like breakfast.

"Why are you up so early?" said Sahara in a groggy voice. She was still wobbly and tired from just waking up, she is definetly not a morning person, as she always was quick to temper in the mornings.

"I'm makin breakfast, want some?" He said cheerfully as he placed the pancake on a plate.
"I guess......." Said Sahara as she sat at the small round dining table. Derreck put the plate in front of her and started pouring some substance on it.

"Woah, woah, what it that? It... it smells like flowers!" She said hysterically.
"Don't panick, it's the city's version of syrup. It may not taste exactly the same but..." Derreck stopped talking as Sahara shoved a piece in her mouth. Her facial expression slowly turned to a look of disgust.

"This is horrible." She said flatly and pushed the plate towards Derreck.
"I'm full.... i'm gonna go get somthing to eat, Bye." Derreck waved goodbye and Sahara rushed out the door.

She was walking down the stairs, and when she was in level 14 she could hear a woman singing.

Tonight I saw
The death of a star,
Like a lone light of hope
Fallen afar.

The night sky spoke
Of an endless lament.
My own heart broke,
My own tears were spent...

It was a pleasant tune to Sahara, though it seemed kinda sad. She continued down the stairs, she had a bag hanging from her shoulder across her chest, and the bag hung loosely by her waist. when she finally reached the level where the business were, she started plotting.

She saw a loose board in someone's kiosk, she descreetly kicked it and made all the tomatoes fall all over the ground. And thus, while everyone was paying attention to the tomatoes she snuck some oranges and one man's coin bag into her bag.
"Worked like a charm." she said softly to herself.

She reached the bottom level and sat by the fountian and started peeling her oranges with her dagger, and started eating.

 

[Crisis Break]

"Hello, welcome to the Lacuna Syndicate. We offer many magical advances that will fit any need! May I help-"
"I need the profile of someone who works here. A miss Aalrith Ordelias."
"Ah, Azo? I'm sorry, sir, but we cannot offer that information to the general public."
"Perhaps this will change your mind."
"...Yes, sir. Let me just access the file..."

-name]
Aalrith Z. Ordelias, although known as Azo. Other nicknames include Aalie and Rith.

-age]
Twenty-six.

-gender]
Female.

-race]
Elysians, although the derogatory term for them are 'Eelies.' Being a predominantly female tribe, their affinity for traveling has labeled them venturers of the world. They are naturally slender and are magically adaptive, possessing a fragile physical stamina due to the lack of adrenaline Elysians do not generate. Like their Siren counterparts, they are seductive and wily, and naturally enjoy toying with mortals. A fatal weakness Elysians have is their brittle glass-like bones, which can shatter easily through strenuous activity.

You can pinpoint an Elysian just by looking at their eyes- they lack any luster even when exposed to light, and can view the sun without needing to care for their eyes' wellbeing (they have excellent eyesight). Their hearing ability is slightly more potent than the average human. Though their species is abundant, it is uncommon to see them prowling about Ledonaath.

-occupation]
A 'Muse' hired by Lacuna Syndicate who offers 'inspirational' guidance to anyone who is in dire need of it; actors, artists, and musicians primarily consisting her troupe of clients.

-level of residence]
Because her job primarily consists of assigning inspiration to various clients, Aalrith has no official residence, and usually satisfies her exhaustion through various hotels sprawled along each floor. To cure the appetite of her longing mind, she frequents libraries in pursuit of intellect, attempting to learn more about the world around her and those who inhabit it. However, every morning, Aalrith reports to the main office of Lacuna Syndicate on the thirteenth floor to receive the information required to relay inspiration to all paid-for clients.

A particular favorite place for her to relax is Three Steps Sideways, a small magick shoppe on the nineteenth floor. Enjoying the music from numerous street performers as well as giving them inspiration is also one of her nice pastimes.

-behavior]
Aalrith is a natural cynic, hiding behind sarcasm and humor to avoid her true disposition. Idealistic yet sensitive, she forces herself to complicate simple situations and interprets anything with a psychological outlook. Preferring the peace of nature rather than the shallowness of the city, she lacks self-confidence and withdraws from arguments, painful situations, and complicated matters to the point of expressing cowardice.

Recently, Aalrith has been increasingly erratic about a recurring ailment she is suffering from- blackouts. Because it interferes with her assignments and her life, Aalrith desperately holds onto her consciousness, and her sanity about these blackouts has been steadily rising. Although denying its existence to friends, Aalrith is attempting to tackle the ailment with minor healing spells, with little to no relievement.

-history]
A childhood like Aalrith's was better left forgotten, and it was. Like a fading dream giving way to the jaws of reality, Aalrith Z. Ordelias snapped into consciousness and found herself inside a menacing and abandoned warehouse, which she would later know as the former business hub of Arcana Emporium, master shoppe of various weapons. Without any iminent memory before that moment, she wandered in absolute fright, before being attacked by devilish fiend that lunged toward her from the rafters. Luckily, a gleaming silver sword cut through the beast and saved Aalrith.

The sword belonged to a prominent entrepeneur, who, in stroke of luck, heard Aalrith's cries for help and jumped into the emporium to help her. His name was Mister Phalruge, and soon after learning that Aalrith had broken nearly every bone in her body, he nursed her to health and promised to take care of her. And for the next nineteen years, Mister Phalruge did, becoming a close father figure to Aalrith, despite the odds set against them.

Noticing the magickal talents the young Elysian possessed as well as heeding Aalrith's request to become a worker of Lacuna Syndicate, his most prominent business, Mister Phalruge created a revolutionary program that provided artists, musicians, and actors with the sense of intense inspiration, fueled by Aalrith's naturalborne abilities. He christened it the 'Aalinspire' program. Now, with materialistic needs fulfilled, Aalrith is in search of something exciting, new, and out of routine. Who knows if her needs will ever be accomplished..

-weapons]
[Pyrath]: A fiery rapier teeming with a brimming glow, capable of dealing third-degree burns with a single touch. Made with an intricate design, the blade is shining silver at its edge, its center pitch black and engraving ancient words along it; Aalrith obsessively cleans it off with a simple linen cloth. The weapon has a fiery theme; it is curved and possesses a burning eye-like materia forged amongst its hilt. Possessing a handguard made of pure gold, it is melded and is for sheer appearance only. The edge of its blade utilizes the powers of the materia, elemented with fire comparable to hell's itself. One wouldn't want to face such a weapon, and with Aurel's mastery with a blade, it makes fast death favorable.
[Avarice]: A strange jewel that was with Aalrith the day she awoke in the warehouse. It shines forth a radiating glow, and has the strange property of absorbing sunlight into a fixation in the center of the crystal. It is of a vibrant scarlet hue, and hangs on a thread of silver chain. Aalrith hangs this on her neck, and believes it to be a good luck charm. It has no apparent powers, though.

-abilities]
Whilst Sirens rely on their voice to captivate, Elysians can bring about submissive trances through their eyes. A direct stare into an Elysian's eyes forces any living thing, be it a man or a woman, into a soulless submission. Aside from that, Elysians can spark creativity and emotion through their physical touch, although they must desire it so for creativity to be transferred.

Aalrith possesses no other abilities other than the typical Elysian, which is detailed above.

-appearance]
Aalrith is an Elysian brimming with feist, possessing beauty comparable to that of a Siren's. Possessing an elegant drizzle of bright sienna hair, her eyes are a faded gold, hidden under shades of brown, red and green. She possesses smooth milky skin and a very slender build. Casting illusory spells to hide away her countless bruises, Aalrith hides underneath a flowing velvet gown.

-theme song]
Lux Aeterna

-miscellaneous]
- If GoH wills it, Aalrith is one of the Lost Children, although due to her inability to remember the trip to Ledonaath, she herself doesn't know she was one of them.
- Former inspiration assignments include Rhyme, Mime, Roran, and Pan.
- For their abilities, Elysians are prized tools for artists, and their services are heavily paid for. Mister Phalruge was the first to make Elysians act as inspiration harbingers, and by creating 'Aalinspire', he has set the popularity of Elysians to an all-time high. Being the face of 'Aalinspire', Aalrith is a subject of controversy, admiring or depreciating the fame of her race.

 

[GuardianOfHearts]

{ ...xD

Accepted, of course.

And yes, GoH wills it, because GoH is only one letter away from god. ;D

Anyway. I'll post here again once I get back from archery today. See ya. }

 

[Tobuoi]

OOC: Lmao, don't get too cocky there, eh, Amme? Oooh...archery? That's cool. Painful if you're a clutz like me, but cool.

P.S. You guys post a LOT...not that that's a bad thing.

Pan: It was morning, now...the time for Pan to thrive. She was already on her way out into the city. Today, she had on a sort of bikini and a red sarong that she had tied in a dress-like fashion around her neck so that it covered her body, from her chest to her knees, and flowed freely as she moved.

Pan reached for her knife that was sitting on her bed and tied the sheath around her waist. Funny how it seemed that when one carried an open weapon, they were mugged less often. Finally, she picked up a small pouch that emitted a full clanking noise from inside (money) that deeply satisfied Pan. She looped the draw string around her wrist a few times so that it was secured to her. With that, she reached back, ruffled the vibrant feathers around her neck and thought...there was nothing else that she needed. Pan turned and with very few strides, made her way to the door.

The sun was shining brightly, today. There were very few clouds in the sky, and the hot temperature was a blatant result of it.

Pan stepped out onto the street and looked around for a taxi. She didn't think that she could afford an automobile one, so she instead, looked for a carriage. There was one just across the street and she hailed it with her arm. The money pouch jingled as she did so.

The carrige was drawn by strange creatures...they weren't like horses or mules in the slightest. They had four legs, but they were in a diamond formulation--two on the side, one in front, one in back. Their front and back legs were mounted on a strange sort of axel thing with wheels, while their side legs were used to pull them and the carriage.

"Where to?" asked the man directing the carriage. He looked back at Pan as she climbed onto the back of the carriage. "The fourteenth level, please...the Diner," Pan answered, making herself comfortable on the carriage bench and reaching into her money pouch.

 

[Samber]

Eventually Sahara was done eating her oranges, so she threw the peels away. She walked around the city aimlessly wondering what she could do for fun.

Ugh.. i'm so bored, but i don't feel like walking all the way back up to the 16th floor to find Derreck. She thought to herself. But then one little boy bumped into her.
"Sorry Ma'am." He said poiletly. Sahara grabbed his arm quickly.
"Give it to me." She said plainly. The boy had a look of terror upon his face, he then slowly gave Sahara her dagger back.
"See if it were anyone else, you'd be in prision right now, but i'm letting you go, see ya." Were Sahara's parting words.

The boy has much to learn, that pickpocket trick was so obvious. She thought to herself.

She continued walking around when she saw some children playing in a pool. Sahara gazed lovingly at the pool, the day was hot and miserable, as she drew closer to the pool she was stopped by, what seemed to be an officer.

"Sorry Ma'am only palace worker and their families are allowed in the pool, but you can go in the river." Sahara looked over to the river, the water was a light brown color and you could see fish swimming in it.
"No thank you." she said to the officer. She started walking away but then stopped. She then turned around, and ran into the pool. there was a big splash, and the children seemed to enjoy it. As suspected she was forcibly taken out of the pool. It didn't matter to her though, for the rest of the day she was going to be nice and cool.

 

[Taokitty]

Name:​

Originally known as Kami Hoyte
Now known as,"Lyste,"

Age:​

22-26

Gender​

:
Female, hun. <3

Race/Ethnicity​

:
Demontay

Occupation:​

Originally the Envoy of floor 10
Now known as the mass murderer of floor 1 and up

Level you live on​

: Usually roams on floor 7 and 6, 7 being a large park.

Personality:​

"No Kami! Don't eat the rice, don't eat the-!!!"
"RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICEEEE!"

Once upon a time, she was a girl. She was a courageous girl that dared to leap for her dreams and cared for people's well being. She was a kind soul that could sooth any that came her way but busy none the less. She was sharp, smart, and had a fiery temper when provoked. She took her job seriously and could tolerate no prejuice towards racism or scathing of her work. She always tried to make people life's better, so why should they show no gratitude?

Despite this, she was a strong spirited woman that loved children and who always had words of advice when she passed by. Socialable by nature, she would randomly chit chat with the random person out of mere whim. Whether it was a guard, or a child or a mass murderer or to nothing at all at times. She would talk as if there was a living, breathing person there right beside her. But there was no one, right? So the people believed.

Maybe that was the first sign of her falling.

Many people loved the passionate woman she once was, but one day {or was it night?} there was an ear piercing screech from her habitat. Some people think it was in her blood that caused her to be, some think insanity came to visit her with it's eerie laughter mocking you at all times, knowing what you'll become. However, fewer think that it's because of what hse thought was there, that she was always showing signs of insanity.

Whatever it was, she's nothing like how she used to be.

She's a mere shell of a person now. She mumbles incomprehendable sentences to herself that no one of the keenest hearing could make sense of. When she forms sentences, it's in a slur of words mashed all together and only certain things can be understandable of what she says, usually the word,"GOD,"and,"SINNER," can be heard from the girl.

Far from normal, she always talks to herself, talks of simple actions and it's hard to tell if she even SLEEPS. She figets at all times and from far away if not approached, she looks like a broken soul having a break down. It seems tears stream down her face but that's a lie beyond comparison.

This sadist never cries. Though her movements are always jerky, she's swift against her foe and her murmurings only become worse then. Whatever is the cause of her insanity, it has driven her more up the wall than she's aware of. Scars can be seen she inflicted on herself from the instable state she's in and she'll easily kill a person, never mind attack them and despite the mesh of what was once a person, it seems pleasure is found rippling through her spine when she sees that wonderful fear of the innocent.

She loves to play with her victims, the strong minded she stays away from, no, she doesn't like strong minded people, don't you Kami? You especially like rice Kami for it makes you hyper, right? Right. And Kami likes to laugh and chuckle insanely, right? Right Kami, you do.

But surely underneath that mad exterior there is still a living, breathing person with common sense, and compashion right?

History:​

Like many people that can be found poplulating the busy streets of this city, she really isn't a person at all.

Or atleast, a human being.

Bred on the lower levels, she was born a Demontay. A ferocious bred of human that carry distinctions of a certain animal at birth. In the past, they had been known to become insane and kill people without mercy, even feeding on the flesh of the human. This was only at night though.

Truly, they were like ravenous animals, and for years people didn't know of their existance. Because of the horrifying truth, many were hated and killed. Sadly, there was one thing no one knew.

They still had a mind of compashion, during the day, they were like any human, but it was at night did the beast unleash itself.

However, Kami, proved to differ.

Being the last of her kind, people despised her naturally, but didn't do anything against her finding no real reason to kill her. And, being under the protection of the guards of the city didn't help either.

Kami being confused didn't understand why people didn't like her. She didn't understand why they treated her like riff raf.

Had she done something wrong? Had she offended them? Were they appalled by her cat ears? Did they... Hate her for being herself? For being Kami Demontay? She changed her last name.

Finding no answers, she meekly watched people going about their business, wishing she could join that community of humans, of people. She wanted to belong, but she couldn't, could she?

Though, after the years, she noticed something.

She wasn't the only one suffering.

Finding a new bit of hope, she embarked from her haven of shadows and holes and decided to have a try at humanity.

People still despised her, yes. She accepted that. People would always hate her, she knew. However, it didn't stop her from her efforts to make the city a better place. These efforts would be acknowledged until she would become the Envoy of that floor.

She no longer had to hide in those shadows (despite the longing and comfort it brought to her) and she no longer had to hide her ears by hats. They accepted her after many years for the kind cheerful soul she was and she showed no sense of her past ancestors, right?

Though, everything good has to come to an end, and so the stop line came. And in came the fall.

No one knows exactly what happened to her, all they heard was that ear piercing screech and the heap of a body that should of been Kami Hoyte.

Not anymore.

Replaced, she was a mad woman. People were horrorified by this, claiming it must of been insanity while others who discrimated her claimed it must be in her blood. No matter what the people tried, it was evident.

She'd have to be send to a mental asylum.

And so she was taken there. For how long she was would be short until she broke out and was sent free. Her blood running loose in her veins, she wanders the nights and hides in the day. She's killed many now, but no one can stop or catch her from doing so. There's no sign of her ever recovering and it seems she's forgotten to speak.

The only thing she really said that made any sense was in the mental asylum. Before she left, she simply said this," Call me Lyst."

Weapon/s:​

Anything she can find. Poles, knifes, spoons, shovels, wood, claws, teeth, hell even dirt! She uses whatever comes to mind or whatever she sees, always killing her victim whether it be drowning or slaughtering or torturing. However, she always carries these three weapons.

Her teeth.
Her claws.
And her butcher knife.

Power/s & Abilities:​

She doesn't have many, besides the fact that she can jump really high into the air or has super human strength, she can't stand water nor fire nor the sun. She hates light, and will do anything to get out of it.

Appearance:​

Before, she was simply a brunnete with serene green eyes and yellow brown striped cat ears with a tail.

Now, she barely looks like that.

Instead of tanned healthy skin, there is simply clumps of skin. Orchid in appearance, the sickly skin is smooth despite this and covered in what once can assume is puss or something of the rotting human body. Her body looks more like it's a liquid than really a solid for the organ holding it all in is covered in mountains of this thick, odd goo that emits from her being. Underneath the skin can be seen to be a darker shade of purple of high concentration, shapes in what seems to be bubbles; as if there is no circulation or water on those parts at all.

Her face is the only thing really spared from this. A sickly pasty white, her face is scrunched with wide eyes that easily bleed red for how far they're spread apart. Long, narrow scars cover her face in a symmetrical pattern around her eyes where droplets of that life saving substance easily fall to fill the crevices; always renewing the wounds. Her eyes are red for what can be seen and a smile is always placed on her features as well.

Tattered dry mud coloured hair (that was once hair neatly put in a bun) covers her. Each strand of hair seems to go off into the direction it's assigned to, slightly curling. The colour of the said hair looks far from healthy and split ends cover her to no end falling limply at the back of spine. Like waves in an ocean almost.

The hair covers indecent areas, including the torn remnats of the shirt she's wearing, or rather, of her straight jacket. The buckles long undone, the blue shirt's buttons (of those of the asylum) are torn off to show a bit of her woman hood in her chest area. However, not all the jacket's buckles are undone and it only torn to let her pull her arms out. Still hugging her tightly, the baby blue shirt she wears is barely visible then.

Underneath to cover her legs is a mud covered pair of pants that are torn on the bottom.

And protruding from her head are sharp cat ears, still a tangy yellow with furry brown stripes still.

Probably the only thing that didn't change.

Theme song/s:​

Purity (Either by Metalic or Slipknot)

Other:​

((Hmm... I hope my profile will be of satisfactury (is it just me, or does the spelling look wrong?)! ^-^
I was actually originally planning to join when you put up the original one but seeing you closed it... ~ <3

I'll try to read everyone's profile later on, if there is anything conflicting or that would not make sense or you would prefer I get rid of, please tell me! <3

Hope no one else has this idea xD;;

Also, don't give 'er rice. >>;;;

Well, if anyone lives or has anything to do with the 7th floor, please tell me! o.o

Hope no one minds I made it into a park seeing some parks did take up a whole floor... *Sweat*

By the way, I'll fix the coding later on, neh? n_n

Also, if you give Lyste cat treats, she'll stay loyal to ya.

Also note I spell color,"colour," cause that's how we spell it in Canada. >w< ))

 

[Swag]

{I'm waiting for GoH to post, just thought I'd put that out there.}

 

[GuardianOfHearts]

{ Sorry for the delay. Taokitty, accepted.

And yes Tobsy, archery is indeed, very cool. <3 Yum. Archery gloves. }

Rhyme looked down from her vantage point cradled between stone paws. Was this boy talking to her? Yes. ...why?

"I know this place about a block from here that serves great food. If you're interested that is."

Of course she was interested in food. Needs for self-control and independence aside, Rhyme had nevertheless learnt at one thing from her time in the Level Eight slums: "Never mix pride and an empty stomach." This moral had been said by an old man who had actually cared about what happened to her: she had been sorry when he died. "You can still be proud and accept charity, child."

Rhyme slipped off the plinth, hands hooking into the worn loops of her pants as she cocked her head up at him. She wondered what the catch was. It was rare indeed that she got lucky without a catch.

"Mayhaps I am. But why are ya interested y'self?" she drawled, back into the lazy and unaffected street cant she had grown up with, as if it were a totally different person who sang so gracefully. "Were ya pokin' around here lookin' for someone t' share charity with, or...." and here she smirked self-mockingly, her speech shifting again. "Or where you simply smitten by my delicate charm and voice, enough to offer this poor, street-serrated maid a meal in hopes of having a good deed to bring back to your priest at the end of the week?"

She could speak gracefully too ... when she wanted.



"For the last time: no."

The young man across the counter glared at her from behind dirty-blonde bangs, his face contorted with frustration. "I said I'd even pay you double. It's none of your business what I do with it, but it'll be worth your while."

Arian raised herself up to her full height, storm-grey eyes darkening with anger, though she tried to keep herself under control; her Anima was ready to lash out and forcibly throw this Kaeryk {if that was really his name} from her shop, but she knew that would only make things worse- and maybe even bring along a Guard to boot, one who didn't like humans anyway.

"No amount of money in Ledonaath would have me make poison for the likes of you," she snarled. "Now get out of my shop."

Without warning, Kaeryk reached out and grabbed Arian by the arm, his fingers tightening like iron bands. With a startled cry, she tried to pull away, but he was young and strong, and only pulled her closer. He took hold of her other arm and pushed her against the back shelf. She heard several bottles clink ominously behind her.

"Look human, I'm warning you: take the offer and you'll get paid; if not, I'll make you do it anyway," he hissed.

Arian only growled and tried to jerk away again. Her vision seemed to sharpen, blossoming with clarity, everything edged in a white light.

"Strength," she whispered, feeling the flow of Anima magic through her veins, rising up at her spoken command. For a split-second, time seemed to slow for her as she focused, pushing the magic into her limbs, building up power.

Then time caught up with her again, and she tore herself free from Kaeryk's grasp, so quickly that his nails left inflamed red lines on her forearms. Before he could react, she curled her gloved right hand into a fist and punched him squarely in the jaw.

Knuckles stinging, Arian watched in no little satisfaction as he was thrown back from the augmented force of her punch, hitting the counter and slipping down to the floor. With a single quick gesture, she released the razor-sharp blade from her bracer and crouched down, holding the end up to Kaeryk's exposed throat. He blinked sluggishly, stunned from her blow.

"Leave now before I kill you regardless of the consequences, and don't come back," she spat, pulling him roughly to his feet. She pushed him in the direction of the door and he stumbled out with only a single backward glance, burning with hatred.

Arian stood there for a moment, trembling from anger and adrenalin and the magic still welling up inside her. With a deep breath, she soothed her emotions and let her magic disperse, though the after effects of the instinctive fight-or-flight reaction still remained.

Leaning against the counter, the redhead looked down to survey her arms, the marks from Kaeryk's nails still burning on her pale skin. She pressed her palm to the wounds, wiping away a line of blood with her thumb.

"Ari!"

The Anima witch started up guiltily as Raouhmo zoomed into the shop, a rolled-up newspaper clutched in her paws. She hastily dropped it onto the counter and buzzed around Arian, crooning with worry as she saw the blood and smelt the aftermath of violence.

"What happened? Are you all right? Did someone hurt you? I'll show them!" she said vehemently, her eyes flashing from the pale yellow of worry to the deep red of anger.

Arian hastily reached out and grabbed the little dragonling before she could fly off and hunt Kaeryk down. "I'm fine Rao. See? I'm okay. Just a little cut."

"Someone was mean to you!" Rao said, nosing her human friend's cheek.

"I was mean back. Go on, leave it be. I want to read the paper."

"Tomry the newsstand man says hi," Rao added as an afterthought, her eyes slowly but surely making the transition from orange to blue again- albeit a pale blue, intimating that she wasn't completely happy. She seemed to perk up a little though, as Arian, obviously fine, sat down and opened the newspaper. "And I didn't lose any of the money this time!" The dragonling hummed proudly, tail swishing.

"That's good, "Ari said absently, scanning the print. She sighed. A man dead of the Plague- he had held on for more than two weeks after the last full moon, a record. A brutal and unexplained murder. A grande opening of a new school on level Eleven.

Arian turned the pages to the political section. The Envoys would be gathering at the palace tomorrow for a meeting. With a sinking heart, she read the caption:

SEVENTEENTH ENVOY GIVES SPEECH ON LEDONAATH POPULATION.

The witch ran a hand through her tousled hair, her expression hardening as she encountered lines such as, "Envoy Falbrich stated that humans were 'outcasts of creation' and 'unaccounted by the gods new and old.'" and "Falbrich is gaining popular support amongst even the lower levels."

She put the paper down with a sigh, rubbing at her eyes. Level Seventeen was too close to home for anti-human feelings to be rising. There was enough discrimination already. And when a politician brought his own beliefs in ... Whatever gods this man believed in, they obviously didn't seem to like humans.

Religion and government should never mix, Arian thought to herself.

 

[Samber]

Sahara was walking around the city when she saw her brother Derreck. She dutifully ran up to him and started talking.

"Hi bro! What are you doing all the way down here?" She asked curiously. Derreck worked on the 9th floor and usually never went lower then that. But today he was on the ground level with Sahara.

"I came to show you this article in the paper." He said as he handed it to her. She began to read the page.

SEVENTEENTH ENVOY GIVES SPEECH ON LEDONAATH POPULATION.

"Envoy Falbrich stated that humans were 'outcasts of creation' and 'unaccounted by the gods new and old.' Falbrich is gaining popular support amongst even the lower levels."


"What is this all about? Does this guy wanna rid the city of humans or somthing?" She continued reading the paper.

"I'm not sure, but what i DO know is that this guy Falbrich, is anti-human. and he's on the 17th floor! One floor above us!" Derreck stated hysterically. "You know we're half human! And i look more human than you!"

"You look completely human." said Sahara while reading.

"I know!" Derreck was pacing as he continued to ramble on about how this could get out of hand, and this or that.

"Derreck, if you keep pacing like that you're gonna put a dent in the ground." Said Sahara flatly.

"Well sorry if i'm a little worried." Sahara gave Derreck a blank stare.

"A little?"
Derreck then slapped his arms on his sides and sat on the ground.

"Don't worry we'll be alright, c'mon let's get lunch." Sahara dragged Derreck up and started walking to the 14th floor where the resturants were.

 

[The Big Lovin']

((Man, if I new everyone was going to write up large character bios, I wouldn't have been so lazy xD))

As Icura approached the city gates, he was met with curious eyes, his large catch gaining unnecessary attention. But he thought nothing of it. Even though it has been attempted in more than one occasion, stealing his catch wouldn’t be easily done, and this city was notorious for petty crimes such as that. Icura continued into the gates, walking onto the sidewalk lined with dozens of little tiny shops. Icura knew the owners of nearly almost every shop on ground floor. Being the backbone of this city, he has worked with almost all of them. But even then, a day hasn’t gone by to where he hasn’t seen an abundance of new faces, many of them travelers or merchants passing through. And today was no exception.

After walking a few blocks into city, Icura came to a stop at a large staircase, ascending into the massive building. It wasn’t crowed, like the elevators, which is why he preferred to take it up. After walking it for so many years, it didn’t bother him in the slightest. So he continued onward up the staircase, a few onlookers staring at him in disbelief. That was also natural for him. He grinned, showing his flawless, pearly white teeth. After a few flights of stairs, and stares, he came to a large opening with a sign above it, marking it as level 6. He walked in, the overwhelming stench of fish evident, but still, crowds of people were gathered. Icura continued inside, laughing as a young, green, faced human woman came rushing out of the building.

He stopped at the 5th store on the right of the hallways, the largest store on 6th floor and the most popular in all of Ledonaath. He entered the building, having to push his way through the crowds of people inside until he made his way to the back, ducking into a door and into a large, ice-cold room. Inside was just as hectic as it was outside, dozens of people working with many different machines, other with knives and other cutlery.

‘Icura! My main man!” a nasally, little voice called out. It made him cringe every time he heard it, and it only meant one thing, Raoe. Icura slowly turned around, only to see a small, green, scaled man walk over. His eyes were pointy and beady like, his head extending to a point. He was a Gonaoe, a ‘lizard man’ as humans would put it. Putrid creatures. They were greedy and very sneaky, looking out for themselves only. The acted tuff and hard, but when it came down to it, they were cowards. ‘I’m liking what I am seeing! Go dump your load off and uh, you can go and get your payment from Jane. I added a little bonus in there for ya,” his little, scaly eye winked. “If you know what I mean. So I wills see ya later.” And just as fast as he came, he was gone.

Icura shook his head in pity, walking off to the weighing station. After rounding the icebox, Icura came to a stop at a large scale, carefully lying down the sack of fish, then walking over to the booth in the corner. He stopped at the window, a small, blonde human girl inside. He tapped on the window gently, startling her, making her jump. She slowly turned, reveling her piercing blue eyes and beautiful face. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Icura apologized. She looked into his eyes, obviously at a loss for words. ‘Its…ok. Um, here is your payment,’ she handed him a small bag, clanking with coins. Icura slowly grabbed the bag, his eyes still focused on the girl. She looked anxious, scared. “Is something wrong?” he asked, throwing the small, brown bad into his pocket. The young woman began rubbing her arm, looking away from Icura, he anxiety showing even more. ‘The boss…wanted me, as a bonus, to,” she paused for a second, letting her blond hair fall, concealing her face. Icura looked at the girl puzzled, his brow raising in confusion. “…sleep…with you.” The young girl stood still, slowly looking up to meet Icura’s gaze.

He was infuriated, his surprise and anger showing through his blazing red eyes. How can somebody do such a thing? How can she possibly think of doing this? Degrading herself just for a small, shallow earning. He focused solely on the young woman’s eyes, her fear reflecting his anger. “Has he asked you to do this before?” he controlled h is voice, but it was still hard. “Yes, only a few times. But I never went through with it. But this time he threatened to fire me. I can’t lose this job.” her voice was but a whisper by this point. Icura reached out to brush the stray hairs away from her face, his anger turned into comfort for the girl. “You don’t have to do anything with me or any other person. I will talk to the boss, and if he continues, tell me. I will take care of him personally.”

The young woman’s eye began to tear, and she opened her mouth to talk, but just nodded instead. “I live on the 5th floor, apartment 206. If you need anything, you can come to me.’ He smiled a crooked smile, his warmth spreading to the woman. She smiled, he face turning red. Icura nodded, turning away from the booth, and walked into the factory, his anger returning. His eyes scanned the area, his ears sensitive to the nasally voice. But he was gone, off doing who knows what. Icura stormed out of the building, nearly running, swiftly evading any obstacle in his way. What a way to end his good mood. Maybe the library would still be promising, but who knew?

 

[Sean]

OOC: wow kinda hard to catch up on all those posts...

IC: Morixen was brought awake by falling off of his bed. "Oh crap, must've overslept." He said as he slowly rose from the ground. Morixen deliveres items to various people of different floors of Lenodaath. He stood up straight to shade his eyes from the blinding sun. His attention was caught by the grumbling sounds coming from his stomach. "Food first, then work." A few minutes passed as he took a shower and got dressed for the day. As Morixen opened the door he picked up a small box about the size of a mouse, and shoved it into his pocket.

The walk to the resturaunt was quite far so he walked a little faster than usual today. While walking he was greeted by friends and neighbors, and avoided the people who held grudges against him. By the time the resuraunt was in sight the place was crowded with people. "Great, another reason to starve to death," Morixen mumbled to himself.

He found people that he knew well to get less of a wait for food. During these movements he made sure that the box was still in his pocket, for some of these little bastards had sticky fingers that could go anywhere. Morixen found a seat next to some strangers and placed his lunch order. After a few minutes he was ready to enjoy his favorive meal of all time: a double-cheese burger with grilled onions with a side of fries and a strawberry shake. That was all he needed to get him through the day...