[Sandbox] Reflections

[Aethyrium]

[Envious]

Character Name: Farrah
Date: 09.29.1322 | Friday - Squire Trials Reflection
Wearing: As pictured with shield
Tagging: Mila incoming


The words sat heavy in Farrah’s heart. It never hurts to have someone watching your back. She stood comfortably on the earthen dias, her shield gripped loosely in her left hand as she listened to the lecture. It hurt to hear those words, but Farrah’s pleasant smile never faltered. She didn’t need to ruin the moment with retrospection. Her place in the academy was not about the past, it was about the future. The warrior looked ahead to the woodlands. It was a serene picture from high above, but Ettinus kept the danger of the area at the forefront of the conversation.

The task, as promised, sounded simple. Find a partner? No problem! She had spent most of her travel listening, but she hadn’t been opposed to participating in direct conversation when prompted. There were a few people in her immediate vicinity who would be good candidates who had been fun to listen to. There were even people here who matched and surpassed her physicality! It would be cool to have a partner who was at eye level with her. She turned her golden eyes back to the Headmaster. The seriousness of his words required the respect of eyesight, but surprise and panic swept over her as she braced herself from the sudden downward pressure instead. She could feel her body strain as she fought the downward squeeze, but she stopped her resistance when she realized it was a part of the trial. From the corner of her vision, a person to the left had been launched skyward.

“I hope you’re seeing this,” Farrah sighed wistfully, her left thumb caressing the palm strap of the shield. From there, it was nothing but anticipation. Everyone seemed to interact with their flight differently. Screams of terror, shouts of joy, yelps of surprise abruptly ending in silence, no reaction at all… people to the left and right were forced mercilessly into the air until it was Farrah’s turn. She couldn’t describe the noise that left her mouth as she whooshed up into the air or the full-body tingle as she experienced weightlessness, but laughter erupted out of her as she began her descent downwards!

She scanned the tops of the trees in search of a trunk that would take her weight. There were plenty to choose from and she whipped her shield arm outwards in an arc and extended the whip. The clacking of metal as the weapon extended to its full range was loud - subtly was not in the cards for her - but even louder was the crack as the chain coiled around the tree. Flicking a lever caused the line to tighten, pulling Farrah in towards the tree! It took little effort to position her body so she was flying towards the tree feet forward and with her trajectory changed, she snapped her whip outward. It caused a ripple of slack to extend down the length to dislodge itself from the tree before coiling back toward her shield. Farrah hit the tree feet first and the impact caused the tree to groan and bend backwards. 

There was a moment when it threatened to catapult her back towards where she came from, and she considered allowing it to happen, but it would have been a painful journey through the tops of the foliage of the trees. Just when it seemed like the tree could take no more, Farrah clicked another lever within her shield and the bladed whip shot back out, digging deeply into a branch of a different tree beneath her. She forced the whip to coil back into the shield, pulling her downward to the new tree as the old one snapped back upright. Unhappy branches and broken leaves exploded into the air and rained down on top of Farrah as she sheathed her whip and jumped down, limb from limb until her feet were back on the ground. 

She landed with a heavy thud that absolutely left an impact on the ground and she stretched her arms upward as if to acknowledge her triumphant descent. “Ten out of ten. Good job, me,” she praised, giddy with surviving. She assumed not dying on landing was the first step to success. The second…? Survive. The smile slowly faded as the serenity from above changed into ominous tension. She hadn’t been quiet. Was it possible a Hollow had her in its sight? She didn’t wait around. She looked up at the sky to check her position - there wasn’t much of it visible with the leaves above, but she could spot the damage she had done and extrapolate a direction from that. She began her journey back towards the landing pad, eyes keen on making sure she was not taken by surprise by a hollow.

There was a scream overhead as a student was flung through the sky, but Farrah couldn’t see them. Their vocalization faded far behind her. She hadn’t been flung as far as others. Maybe due to her weight? She felt a little bad about refusing to backtrack to find a partner, but they were all moving in the same direction. They’d all find someone eventually. 

The first 10 minutes of travel were nerve-wracking, but uneventful. The forest was alive with more than Hollow - woodland creatures frequently scurried and skittered through the habitat. At first, Farrah had snapped to rigid attention. How many had died alone and afraid to a Hollow? It quickly became apparent that the seriousness of the situation and her imagination were going to be her downfall, so she changed tactics. Instead of being afraid of every small noise, she acknowledged it with a guess of what it could be while moving ahead. 

A shuffle in the leaves caught her eye and kept it as she trudged onwards, but it failed to live up to its terrifying potential. Probably a snake. A single twig falling from above? The casualty of a squirrel jumping on it. The shake of the underbrush of a bush? A rabbit hopping away. Ahead of her in the canopy of the trees, she heard the unmistakable flapping of wings. She didn’t see any birds, but she stayed on alert with her shield ready to rise up in defense. Probably fighting over a berry, she decided. Imagining the daily drudgery of animal life kept her focused on her surroundings without going crazy.

[Dove]

Character Name: Mila Rios
Date | Time: September 29 | Daytime
Location: Squire Trials Reflection
Wearing: Athleisure
Tagging: Farrah

These first couple of trials were fascinating to Mila. She hadn’t really thought that the tests and tribulations that this Hammer Academy laid out for them would be any fun. Maybe a spar here or a weapons proficiency test there. Hell, she wouldn’t even put it past them to throw in some lame obstacle course complete with a rope net climb. But this? First person you find is to be your partner… but who is to keep people honest? There ought to be some competitive people in the group that would try to set themselves up for success by finding their perfect partner and match. But Mila was completely on board for this blind date-esque trial. It was destiny… or something.

“Oh, hell yeah,” she said to herself, watching as a couple folks were shot into the sky. This was sick. Had they designed this very trial for her? When it was her turn, she curled herself into a ball naturally as she was catapulted towards the trees. She found it easy to let her body spin, almost like a cannonball until she let her frame unfurl. Arms outstretched and legs together, there was a subtle arch to her back that made her look like she belonged in the air. “Woooooo!” Her call was pulled away by the vacuum that was her arc, air rushing past her as she picked up speed towards the trees. Not once did she attempt to slow down. Well, at least not until she broke the trees. Wishing that the fall would have been a bit longer or more drastic, she found herself sighing as she tucked her legs to her frame and made use of her shimmer to help slow her fall. Catching a hand on one invisible plane, a foot on another, but in such quick succession that she never quite landed. It was a gradual slow until she came to a perch on one of the wide branches above the forest floor.

A quiet laugh escaped her, a hand finding her chest to steady herself. Hands reached up to readjust the beanie on her head. It really was a miracle that the thing managed to grip onto her hair the whole way down. To be fair, she did have an entire collection should she have lost this one. But hey - she loved each and every individual piece in that collection. She brushed fingers over the beanie as if to provide some consolation that it was irreplaceable.

Looking down to the ground, she didn’t catch sight of anyone immediately. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. What was a good thing is she also didn’t notice any Hollow or even predators for that matter. Staying above the forest floor was better, she decided. To have the height advantage was always a good thing. It was probably why she preferred to fight without touching the ground. Could she fly? Well, not really, but Mila liked to think so. She found it easy, then, to traverse the trees, leaping from one to the next like some graceful Tarzan. She couldn’t even help laughing here and there, though she did try to keep that to a minimum. While she was a generally carefree human, she also had a brain. And Hollow were no joke.

That was when she caught sight of something shiny down below. It was off in front of her and was partially obscured by the leaves, so she had to jump along a couple more trees before she could see the culprit. Quite a large and muscular woman, pointed ears and light-colored hair. The shiny something she’d seen was a shield, which had her pursing her lips some. Technically, this was the first person she saw. And looking around her, she didn’t see anyone else that may have been partnered up with the warrior. Looking her over, she followed along quietly overhead, noticing the subtle tension in the woman’s shoulders. Was she nervous out here? It was quiet and supposedly dangerous. And she did look capable.

Throwing caution to the wind, she put herself right above the woman before letting out a little whistle. “Hey, heads up! Think fast!” And in the childish nature that encompassed nearly everything Mila did, she let herself fall towards the ground. Her arms were up and toes pointed, aimed right in the spot in front of this woman. If she didn’t catch her, well, that’d be a bummer. But nothing her shimmer couldn’t help. And if she did, well, that would earn a hearty laugh from Mila. She wasn’t too heavy, so shouldn’t be too much for the likes of her new Elven friend. Whether she’d been caught or not, she would find her way to her feet next to the woman and grin, extending a hand towards her in greeting. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with me. Lucky you.” A lopsided grin came over her features, a combination of confidence (maybe a little cockiness) and charm. “I’m Mila.”

[Aethyrium]

Artanis Mellow

Character Name: Marlowe “Lolo” Ashe
Date | Time: September 28th | Late Morning (~11am)
Location: Hammer - Courtyard of Champions
Wearing: Black pinstripe, double-breasted satin jacket, floor length skirt, heeled boots, top hat with rear feather display
Tagging | Mentioning: Artanis
Lolo’s meeting with the headmaster was scheduled at a quarter after one, so she had the whole morning to herself - emphasis on herself. She had tried to interface with the others who she’d shared a dorm with the night prior, but they each had seemed eager to carry on their own business rather than get involved with her. To anyone else it might have been a dreadful omen about the years to come, but Lolo took it in good spirits and meandered around on her own. She’d gotten breakfast, explored a handful of corridors, made certain she knew how to locate the headmaster’s office, and then eventually found her way outside into the courtyard. With a few hours to go she was considering going down into Onyx - the city was familiar, more so than Hammer, at least. Before she could get there however, she found herself in front of one of the courtyard’s heroic statues. The roughly chest high pillar and its associated panel identified the man immortalized in stone as Kamahl Lindsor, and shared a few details - that Marlowe only briefly acknowledged - about his life.

“I didn’t know they were letting dolls into Hammer these days.” Artanis’ smooth voice jabbed from behind her. The lean muscled student crossed his arms and looked up at the statue.

Pulled from her thoughts, Lolo turned around half way to face Artanis and blinked at him. A smile tugged on at the corner of her lips, “Well if you’re saying I look good,” Her eyes drifted over him, “I’ll take it as a compliment.” Reaching for him, she offered her hand.

Artanis scoffed, “What I’m saying is that you look soft. Maybe Hammer isn’t as hard as they say if they let people like you in.” He ignored her hand entirely.

Marlowe’s eye twitched just a little. Her fingers curled back into a loose fist and she withdrew her hand. “Is softness something you struggle with?” She tilted her head, innocently. “Don’t worry, no one is judging your performance. Oh wait…” Lifting a finger to her lips she tapped it thrice, widened her eyes and looked surprised, “They are.” Her finger dropped, pointing at him.

He didn’t look nearly as tickled as she did. “Humor.” His eyes rolled, “The defense of the weak.” Advancing on her, Artanis drifted to herside, slowly circling around her, “Take a look around, Lolo.” He stopped on her left side, facing the same direction as her. Untangling his arms he casually draped one over her shoulder and reached out with his other hand gesturing at all those present in the courtyard. “Do you see anyone else running around gussied up like a downtown escort? No.” Artanis squeezed her against his side, “That’s because we’re fighters, not pin ups.”

Her other hand curled into a fist as he taunted her. The urge to whip around and slug him was rising, but she bit it back, if only because having to see the headmaster before her meeting for pummeling another student seemed like a tragically bad idea and she had far too much riding on her time here to risk it all. Still, he was doing a great job at pushing her buttons. And how did he know her name? “What can I say, pin up on the streets, hard in the sheets. Or something like that.”

Pulling away, “I don’t think that sounds as flattering as you think it does.” Artanis turned around and started walking slowly backward away from her. “All I’m saying is, you couldn’t make it down there,” Arms slightly extended he rolled his wrists and pointed both indexes downward, “Amid a bunch of people armed only with sharp tongues, and there you at least looked the part.” Shrugging heavily, Artanis stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned away, heading for the academy doors, “Do everyone a favor and get out of here before you get hurt, let a real champion fill your spot.”

She was one breath away from following after him. But the jab about being real hit her right where it mattered. It was a sucker punch and it froze her midstep. Lolo’s shoulders sank a little and she shrank back into herself. Her eyes flicked side to side, looking for anyone nearby. Suddenly the courtyard felt… Awkward. Like eyes were on her, and while she would normally have adored the attention, it felt like she was exposed - like everyone was judging her. Even if it was entirely in her head. The landing exit was the nearest to her, and Lolo silently made a beeline for it, her vibrant energy momentarily subdued.

[Envious]

Character Name: Farrah
Date: 09.29.1322 | Friday - Squire Trials Reflection
Wearing: As pictured with shield
Tagging: Mila 


Think fast? Her weakness! Exposed so early! Farrah looked up in surprise at the call to see a woman falling from the sky. She supposed she did quickly think oh shit, but it wasn't the beginning of a plan of action. Planning wasn't really something Farrah did. She reacted the best she could in the time that she had, and her time was dwindling quickly. The angle of the woman meant Farrah needed to move. She could pull, but that might frighten the woman who didn't seem entirely bothered that she was speeding towards the ground.

Farrah dropped the shield and then pivoted and vaulted up with a mighty jump! It allowed her to meet the woman mid-air and when her muscular arms were in line with the back of the knees of the woman, Farrah reached out to scoop up the student. The weight was nothing to the burly elf and as they fell back downward, she absorbed the impact of the fall without strain.

By that shit-eating grin on Mila's features, she hadn't needed to be rescued. "I'm- My name is Farrah." As they separated, the elf picked up her shield and looked up from where Mila had come from. She laughed and shook her head. She couldn't help but think of the cheesy pick up line did it hurt when you fell from Heaven? "Lucky me indeed. You're already falling for me," she joked. She looked Mila over, sizing the human up.

"Big and burly, little and lithe. What a combo we'll make!" she said approvingly. 

[Dove]

Character Name: Mila Rios
Date | Time: September 29 | Daytime
Location: Squire Trials Reflection
Wearing: Athleisure
Tagging: Farrah

Mila couldn’t help the hearty laughter that shook her small frame as she landed on top of the larger woman. Farrah. Dimples appeared on the smaller human’s cheeks as she popped up to her own feet, offering a hand to Farrah if she wanted it. The shield on its own looked like it could swallow Mila whole. Luckily, since they’d found each other - or since Mila found Farrah - she wouldn’t have to worry about that shield being used against her. Or maybe the better way to put it is that the shield might be watching her back… or her front… or her side.

The two seemed to share a similar once over, both looking over the other as if to take in what they might be capable of. Falling for her? A lopsided smirk came over Mila’s features, fingers reaching up to brush through platinum locks as she shrugged her shoulders. “Tall, dark and gorgeous? Who wouldn’t?” The tip of her tongue sat between pearly white rows of teeth, a playful look on her face as she put her hands on her lower back, stretching backwards with a small groan. “Woo - that was quite the fall, huh?” That second comment was more to herself than her new companion. But the elf was right. From the looks of things, they would make quite the team.

Mila looked around then, pursing her lips as she took in the quite normal surroundings. It looked like any other forest, filled with trees, rocks, shrubs, the occasional critter. “So what now? We’re just supposed to head back to the platform I guess. Probably get attacked by something or the other. Maybe we’ll run into one of those little Hollow shits.” She looked left and right though, a soft and thoughtful sound humming between her lips. “Trouble is… not sure how great my sense of direction is without any landmarks. Do you know the way?”

Brows rose over her eyes, before she held up a finger, eyes popping open as she had a thought. “OR! I could always go up to the trees again and spot out the way. Then you’d have to catch me all over again!” Her arms went out to her sides in a big shrug, as if to say ‘what a shame’ that she’d end up in the tattooed arms of her new elven friend. Farrah… What a pretty name.

[Envious]

Character Name: Farrah
Date: 09.29.1322 | Friday - Squire Trials Reflection
Wearing: As pictured with shield
Tagging: Mila


Farrah smiled at the flattery and looked up from where Mila had descended through the canopy. "Hopefully the first and last time I'm tossed off of a cliff." She didn't say it, but the evidence was clear across her body. Bendy branches had scraped across her skin. Most left behind a white streak of unhappy skin, but a few had broken the surface to allow droplets of blood to well up. Nothing serious, though.

She took of her shield and placed it in the dirt with enough oomph to have it remain standing upright. "Saw the whole thing," she said confidently, tapping her temple twice to indicate everything they'd need was floating between those two, pointed ears. She pointed to the top ridge of her shield, right below the blade of her chain whip. "I was launched here and then sailed over the trees," she made an arc with her hand, cupping her fingers downward as she took a knee to descend her gesture closer to the ground, "went through the trees about here, 60 feet up in the air," her free hand modeled the top of the canpoy for Farrah's fingers to crash into, "used my whip to grab onto a tree about here. And then again with another tree. And then boop, boop, boop," each boop was accompanied by a tap of her pointer to an imaginary branch on her imaginary tree, "bam. Landed here." Two fingers sunk into the grass and then she began to walk the fingers towards her shield. "Then started walking that way, where I found you." She pointed to Mila whom she smiled proudly at. "So we keep going that way and before we know it, we'll be back!" The earnest explanation with all its gestures had been entirely unnecessary. Tossed east, so return by going west would have been a more succinct response but in her enthusiasm to make a new friend she had rambled.

"But I don't mind catching you again," she said, standing up and putting her shield back on her arm. It went on her right hand this time and she began moving so they could walk and talk. "I'd much prefer that to finding a Hollow out here. Do you think they were serious?" The warmth of her smile faded into purposefully blank expression. No expression at all was better than showing something negative in her mind, and she didn't want that negativity to dampen the mood! But every Hollow she had ever seen in person had resulted in the death of someone and it made her somber.

"Ah, no matter." She flexed her right arm to let the muscle bulge while she gave a cocky smile. "Between the two of us, I bet we'll be fine." The calculated bravado lightened her mood. The smile returned as she gave a little jab with her fist out in front of her. Likely punching a pretend Hollow! "Heard lots of people talking about all the cool stuff they can do. I guess my thing is being strong? I can also cook and do cartwheels. How about you? You got a thing?"

[Aethyrium]

Character Name: Marlowe “Lolo” Ashe
Date | Time: September 30th | Late Morning (~11am)
Location: Temp Assigned Dormitory
Wearing: White long sleeve with lacy neck, black pinstripe skirted corset coat
Tagging | Mentioning: Lyreilynn |
It had been Marlowe who needed to move following the squire trial - fortunately for Lyra, the dorm that dilemma squad was assigned to was the same one she had been staying in since the admittance ceremony. Lolo hadn’t been thrilled, but only because she had so many clothes that needed moving. And when asked she assured Lyra - and the four others who occupied the space - that they were all absolutely necessary. That had earned her more than one set of rolled eyes, but she didn’t let it phase her. Once moving in with her partner was complete, Lolo had been pretty content to rest - the trial had been tiring. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to me being on top.” She’d told Lyreilynn with a suggestive wink, and a completely suggestive lack of personal space, when she claimed the top bunk for herself. It hadn’t taken long after that for her to fall asleep.

When morning had come, Lolo tended to her morning routine. She got out of bed dressed in something that anyone conservative leaning or with a sense of shame would have called utterly inappropriate. And everyone else enjoyed the view. It left nothing to the imagination, and it didn’t seem to bother her one bit if people watched - if anything, she enjoyed it. Lolo vanished into a shower for twenty minutes, then locked herself into a bathroom for an additional forty minutes or so. By the time she emerged, she was dressed for the day and ready to go. Lolo made some idle remarks to the squads they had been bunking with, which all amounted to, ‘Yes, I am going to do this every morning. Hope you like the view.’. From there she’d ended up in Lyra’s bed, sitting casually on the edge until she got her attention, and got her moving - breakfast was soon, and they didn’t want to miss that. They’d talked about the actual trial the day before over breakfast - Lolo was curious about what it was that Lyra had been doing, and there really hadn’t been time to dig into it afterwards. She was of course familiar with Arcanite, but only in the most layman of ways. Most of what Lyra told her seemed to go over her head, but she was attentive and invested nonetheless. Somewhere amidst all of that the offer to take a look at the clothing that had been completely messed up, both by the ungraceful fall as well as the hollow encounter.

* * * * *

Lolo sat on the edge of the desk that Lyra had selected to work at. Everyone else was gone, so the dorm was pretty peaceful. She twirled the hat she’d been wearing yesterday in her hands, fussing over the damage that it had endured. “They should really warn people about the whole being flung into the air thing.” She idly protested, even mostly understanding that it would ruin the surprise. “They could at least insist on a dress code for it.” You know, don’t wear hats. Pick pants instead of skirts. That kind of thing. Except, almost as soon as she said it, Lolo stuck her tongue out and shook her head, “Nevermind, that’s a terrible idea.” She’d seen the school uniform. Even if she was willing to accept that it wasn’t terrible - and she wasn’t at all willing to concede that - it looked very uncomfortable, and Lolo wanted to stand out, not blend in. Uniforms were about as antithetical to her personal fashion statement as you could get.

She scooted back against the table and leaned back until her shoulders were planted into the wall and she was creating a long slope with the flat of her abdomen. Lolo set the hat in her lap, and looked over at what Lyra was doing. “So,” She reached out and traced her fingers nearest Lyra in an idle pattern just next to the fabric that she was working on, “Think you can save it?” Marlowe certainly hoped so, losing an outfit on day one would likely not mean great things for the longevity of her collection.

Her tongue ran over her lips as she studied Lyreilynn whilst she worked. It was probably awkward, her staring like she was, but Lolo really was drinking Lyra in while she waited. Her scarlet orbs bounced from feature to feature, like the blue-silver sheen of her hair, the powder-blue of her eyes, the sharpness of her ears, or even her chin, were the most interesting things in the world. “I’m glad we figured out that you came here to be with me.” Her lips tugged up into a small grin, “I can only imagine how lost you were before we found out. Want to tell me about it?”

[FyreFoxx]

Character Name: Lyreilynn "Lyra" Xyrven Myalis
Date | Time: Sept 30th | Late Morning
Location: Temporary Dormitory
Wearing: Long sleeved white wrap blouse, navy blue skirt with silver embroidery
Tagging | Mentioning: Lolo | n/a


Lyra let out a small huff as she set a pile of clothes down next to similar piles of yet more clothing, a now-free hand reaching up to drag the back of her palm across her forehead, shifting to then tuck a few stray strands of that silvery blue hair behind one long slender pointed ear. Somehow – she couldn’t recall exactly how it happened – she had gotten roped into helping Marlowe move some things from her temporary dorm room assignment to the one that Lyra was currently stationed in. Something about how partners needed to stick together and how she’d love her forever and ever and that it was only right that she helps out. Or maybe she imagined the entire exchange and was hauling clothes off from the goodness of her heart. Nope, absolutely not. Definitely one of the former.
 
At least two other people had also left the temporary room assignment and replaced with partners of the remaining two. One of them having been a particular Silenus she had not been so thrilled to be bunking with, however temporarily it was going to be. One night had been more than enough for her and they had been there since her first day in the room. Marlowe seemed to be a bit of a flirt with little regard for personal space, but the Silenus in question had far less reserves about it. In fact, the very first night together, they had seemed to want to bed every single person in the dormitory. Every. Single. One. And not just theirs. Every dorm attached to their hallway, if not the entire floor. Something about their boundless love and energy needing to be shared with all. Three of the other four people in their dorm had taken them up on the offer – one had been a solo adventure while the other two took a more joint-effort approach, to which the Silenus happily obliged. There had been little sleep that night and more ‘pillow over the face blocking out everything’, before she had given up and taken to wandering the halls until she was chased back to her room for breaking curfew. Thankfully, both acts had wrapped up by then. The solo adventurer remained when the assignments were shuffled and they quietly avoided the gazes of Lyra and the remaining occupant witness, although they were quite pleased with the addition of Marlowe and her forwardness.
 
After having gotten so little sleep the night before, Lyra was all for collapsing on her bed, which thankfully remained the same as before, much like the room had. Marlowe – she insisted to being called Lolo for short, but Lyra sometimes had trouble using nicknames – had happily taken over the top with some suggestive remarks before retiring for the evening. It felt like she had barely closed her eyes for just a moment before the shuffling of the bed above her head had woken her. Lyra could be a light sleeper at times and little sounds caught her attention quickly. Had she even slept at all? The nearby window said she had, but her body protested that fact. One silver eye cracked open as Lolo landed gently on the floor next to her bedside, feeling the heat rise to her face as the early morning rays bathed the other woman in enough light that Lyra got a good look at what she was wearing. Whatever it was, it was entirely inappropriate! There was far too much skin being shown! Face aflame, Lyra rolled over away from the sight, using her hands to cover her eyes before turning a bit more to bury her face in her pillow, hiding her shame and embarrassment. It was just skin, she reminded herself, however inappropriate the choice of clothing was. Just skin. Everyone had it. And at least she was wearing something, unlike that Silenus, who had opted for a more ‘natural’ approach to sleepwear: absolutely nothing at all.
 
Lyra attempted another bout of sleep, but was pulled from her light slumber by a weight settled on the edge of her bed. Back still turned, she opened her eyes, staring at the wall their bunk was pressed against, feigning sleep as she hoped the occupant would give up and let her go back to resting. No such luck. Pulling herself from the confines of what little sleep remaining, the lithe elf unwrapped herself from the sheets, starting her day. She was going to have to get used to those early morning starts, far earlier than she had normally woken in the past. It wasn’t long afterwards that both Lyra and Lolo had been walking down to the mess hall for breakfast, engaged in a topic of interest to the elf. Arcanite. It had probably been the most animated the elf had been in days, more than happy to discuss the ins and outs of the subject and answer the questions Marlowe had about what she knew, her use of it, and what had transpired during the trial together the day prior. While most of it seemed to go right over her head, Lolo was at least invested in hearing her talking, if nothing else. Already in a good mood, the topic of Lolo’s torn outfit had come up. Lyra had already mentioned in passing during the trial she could fix her hat, but nothing had come of that just yet, and Lolo was whining about an entire outfit possibly being ruined. So, a new offer had been extended to take a look and see if anything was still salvageable. Lyra was usually happy to please others if it meant they would like her just a little bit more. Perhaps that had been a mistake…

* * * * *

 
Lyra was seated at a desk in a far corner of their shared dorm, choosing to work in peace in the comfort of their room in the common area. The rest of the occupants had dispersed for the day, off to find something better to do than watch someone sew some fabric together. One of the guys they were sharing with had mumbled something about how it was a useless skill, why didn’t she just buy a new one, and that only lower class people should do such demeaning work. That hadn’t sat well with her, so she only gave him her most charming smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes, as she reminded him who her family was. Even if she wasn’t an Onyx native, the Myalis name was nearly synonymous with arcanite in some parts of the world. It had left a bad taste in her mouth, using her name like that, but she also didn’t like how he associated skills to societal ranks. In fact, she had grown up knowing the ins and outs of needlework. Granted, that usually only extended as far as embroidery for someone in her station (it was a ‘proper’ pastime of noble ladies, she had been told time and time again), but she had continued learning the trade out of curiosity due to the nature of arcweave – weaving together arcanite and cloth into something new.
 
“I do agree a warning would have been nice,” she quietly admitted, flipping the obscenely fluffy skirt over in her hands a few times. There was far more fabric here than she had first realized, now that Marlowe was no longer wearing it. Lyra spent more time trying to figure out its orientation and how it was rouched in certain spots than she did trying to locate the tears. It was definitely more than she was used to working with. While some of her own outfits were multiple layers, they were thin silks and cottons that laid over one another flatly, not bunched up or such thicker material as this. Pursing her lips, she held up another section closer to her face, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. It seemed to be a common motion while she was thinking, since she rarely tied her hair back with anything.
 
Lyra had been of similar mindset to Lolo about the whole trial ordeal. They both had been wearing some form of skirt when they were unceremoniously launched into the air. Using one hand to keep her skirts in check as she was flying through the air and still have the other available in trying to conjure something to assist in landing safely had proven rather difficult. That had been shortly before meeting her current partner, who was now fussing with the hat in her lap while the elf nearly created a tent with the skirt laid out on the table, her head almost swallowed up in the fabric. “Yes…” she said after a moment, withdrawing from the skirt as she smoothed it out with her fingers. “I think so. I have never worked on this kind of design, but the premise is similar no matter what form it takes.”
 
There was a small box next to the elf sitting on the edge of the desk, which she opened to reveal tiny bits and bobs. There was a plethora of colorful threads, all wound around wooden spools; needles of varying sizes and thickness pierced into a scrap piece of what looked like leather; a few loose ribbons of silk and swatches of cotton; small vials of colored liquid that may be ink or some kind of dye; at least two pairs of tiny differently shaped scissors, a metal hook, seam-splitter, and another oddly shaped cutting utensil; and what looked to be a half-finished handkerchief covered in intricate embroidery sticking out at the side as she carefully moved things around to gather up the materials she needed. She pulled free a spool of thread that closely matched in color to the skirt closest to the tear. At least Lolo’s color palette was fairly limited and it would be easy to hide any stitches in the folds.
 
There was a curious lift of an eyebrow as Lyra looked up at her partner. Came there to be with her? Specifically? Well, that was certainly… ambitious? And very far from the mark. And besides, wasn’t it technically Marlowe that came to be with Lyra? The inuendo had flown right over her head. “Were you not the one that came to me?” Both in the trial and the dormitory move, Lolo had been the one to come to Lyra, rather than the other way around. Flicking her gaze back down to the needle in hand, she threaded it carefully, then pulled a long length of it free from the spool, folding the thread in half to create a double line of it before she snipped it free, knotting the ends carefully. It wasn’t long before the small hole in Lolo’s skirt was mended and the process was repeated at least four more times on tears of varying sizes and shapes, each one carefully repaired with a nearly invisible seam. There was one particularly stubborn rip, where something had apparently snagged on the skirt and torn it at an awkward angle. That had been a challenge to get repaired properly and it took at least three attempts before she was happy with the stitching on the third try.
 
Setting the needle and thread aside, stuck into that stray piece of leather so she wouldn’t lose it, Lyra stood and pulled the skirt free from the desk, shaking it out before holding it up to Lolo. “Here, it should be mended now. Go try it on so we can see if I repaired all of the tears. I am sure I did, but I would feel bad if I missed one and sent you off without checking first.” Once Lolo had taken the offered piece of clothing from her, Lyra held out a hand palm up towards her. “Give me your hat and I will work on that while you change. Was the blouse you had on that day also in need of mending?”

[Aethyrium]

Character Name: Marlowe “Lolo” Ashe
Date | Time: September 30th | Late Morning (~11am)
Location: Temp Assigned Dormitory
Wearing: White long sleeve with lacy neck, black pinstripe skirted corset coat, White lacy panties
Tagging | Mentioning: Lyreilynn |
For as much as Lolo liked clothes, the end goal was to be able to afford anything she wanted, whenever she wanted. To some degree she agreed with the guy who had mentioned buying something new. That absolutely would have been her first instinct, except that now that she was attending Hammer all the avenues she took to collect her wardrobe were effectively closed. It wasn’t like she had time to schmooze and convince those with money to buy her replacements. And the money she had made? Well, that got spent nearly as quickly as it had been earned - it was expensive, maintaining her facade. Back home she had never worried about learning homemaking skills - her mother was perfectly capable, and sister if not. She probably would have, eventually, out of a practical need, but she’d left long before that had come up. So having someone like Lyra with the skillset was handy, even though it looked like she was maybe a little lost as she surveyed the skirt. Actually, the most interesting thing about that whole exchange had been Lyra name dropping and how the guy had reacted to it. How it had shut him down. Lolo blinked and glanced between him and Lyra - clearly clueless, but even she could pick up that it had meant something.

Lyra struck Lolo as the type who would have liked the warning because she was filled with a tightly wound sense of shame. Probably had something to do with that name drop from just before. Lolo had found that people who came from a world where their names meant something often went hand in hand with a sense against impropriety. No one knew or cared about the Ashe name, not beyond the humble edges of Evergreen. Which was exactly the way she preferred it. She got to invent herself, define the sort of person she was going to be - without any of the modest baggage that came with a name like Lyra’s. “Great!” Lolo beamed, watching Lyra try to tame the ruffles. “Not your style huh?” She gazed over the smoother, silkier fashion that Lyra wore. Truth be told she didn’t hate it, “I don’t think anything you have will fit me.” Definitely not, and not simply because Lolo was so much taller, but their proportions were vastly different. “But I think I’d like to try it.” Lifting a hand, Lolo lightly plucked at Lyra’s sleeve. She could definitely see adding one or two similar pieces to her collection someday. Maybe with the deeper cross in the front and much shorter skirt. “We should go shopping sometime.” One of Lolo’s more vain reasons for appreciating being paired with Lyra was that the elf seemed to have an idea about being fashionable. She didn’t just throw on whatever - which felt like what most other squires seemed to get by with. “I bet we’d have lots of fun.”

Meeting Lyra’s gaze, Lolo grinned, “Well… Not yet, but if you want to change that...” She bounced her brows. She licked her lips, pondering if that was Lyra’s way of dodging talking about herself, or if she really was just entirely caught up in the commentary - either was fine, she was already finding joy in getting little rises out of the elf; and looking forward to getting much bigger ones, later. “So what’s the deal with your name?” She questioned, pushing forward and slipping off the desk. “Are you a big deal where you come from?” She traded Lyra, skirt for hat. Taking a few steps away, not really going anywhere, Lolo reached up and started fiddling with the tight clasps of her suit’s corset, clicking them one by one to release. “Yeah, it does.” Glancing over her shoulder at the locker area, “I’ll grab it in a sec.” Once the half dozen clasps were free, the corset coat opened up entirely and she shrugged it gracefully off her shoulders - leaving her in the long, white blouse that buttoned up the front, extending just to the top of her thighs. And of course a pair of immodest lace panties peeking out from beneath the soft edge of the blouse, brightly hugging her darker flesh. “You know, if you were sure that you did it right, I could just leave it off…”

Despite her words, Lolo lifted a leg and slipped it into the skirt, quickly followed by the other. But she did take her time drawing it up her legs, making deliberate slow gestures to - ideally - draw Lyra’s gaze. Pulling the skirt up became more about caressing herself, and showing off the thick, soft, and gentle curves of her thighs than it was about obscuring them. At least until she got it up to her waist and cinched it in place. It felt weird without the corset on top that it was meant to be worn with. Patting down the edges, she swayed from side to side, “Feel free to get under it if you need,” Lolo hiked the front up a little, “To check your work.” Of course that’s what she meant.

[FyreFoxx]

Character Name: Lyreilynn "Lyra" Xyrven Myalis
Date | Time: Sept 30th | Late Morning
Location: Temporary Dormitory
Wearing: Long sleeved white wrap blouse, navy blue skirt with silver embroidery
Tagging | Mentioning: Lolo | n/a
Lyra tilted her head to the side, glancing up at Lolo as she picked at her sleeve, slightly pulling her arm away as she swatted her hand. “No, certainly not. There is just… so much of it.” The elf eyed the skirt in her hands. While many of her more traditional outfits often included a lot of layers, they were still single thinner pieces, laid one over the other, and not a jumble of ruffles and thick material bunched in odd places. It was a far cry from the smooth silks and thin cottons she was used to. Perhaps it was a cultural thing? Unovia was very far from Johtan, after all, and she couldn’t quite recall if they had discussed their homelands. Lyra was pretty sure the answer to that one had been no, so focused were they on battle strategy in the past for the trial. Little else besides names and a quick rundown of battle skills were on topic.

When Marlowe mentioned not being able to fit into her clothing, there was a slight smile gracing her lips. “Ah, you might be surprised. Our clothing is much bigger than it appears, to account for many different body types and sizes. We make it that way so that alterations are simple and acquiring new pieces are easier. I could show you something later that might fit you?” There was an earnest question there, innocent. Lyra was still very much in the mindset of wanting to be liked, and while sharing clothing wasn’t very personal in her mind, it might bridge a gap and get someone to like her just a bit more. To find that slight acceptance she sought so hard for. “Shopping,” she mused out loud, tapping her chin lightly. “Yes, I suppose that could be arranged. It would be nice to see what kind of fashion is commonplace here. The fabrics here are very different than those I am used to back home.”

As she handed off the skirt, taking the hat from Lolo, the dreaded question about her name came up. Lyra opened her mouth once, but quickly closed it, pursing her lips together as she thought about it. The boy from earlier did not further comment about her name once she had mentioned it, and Marlowe had not brought it up since then, so she had hoped that perhaps it would never be. That hope died rather quicker than she expected. There was a pause in her movements, staring down at the hat in her hands rather intently, like boring a hole into it with her gaze alone. Well, it was bound to come up sooner or later; she just hoped it would have been later, much, much later. “Ah, my name…” Chewing lightly on her bottom lip, she didn’t look up just yet, twirling the hat between her fingers, half inspecting it for damage and half just not seeing it at all, simply doing it for the idle motion of keeping her hands busy. She shook her head to clear her mind, as if the action of it would toss the thoughts out and dismiss them entirely. Of course, the moment she looked back at Marlowe, the taller woman was beginning to strip right in front of her, unbuttoning her corset. Lyra’s face turned three shades darker, her pale features marred with crimson as she immediately turned not just her head but her entire body away, dropping the hat into her lap before it tumbled to the floor at her feet. She stammered out a quick apology for that as she scrambled to retrieve it, keeping her back turned. “I, uh, I expected you to… to head back towards the lockers or the bunks and, and change.” Skin. It’s just skin, she reminded herself, chanting it over and over in her mind. It’s only skin. She’d seen her family enough times like that, especially her older brothers, who were notorious for training without shirts on, and at least one of her sisters was far less reserved than the other, always shortening her dresses and wearing high slits. She would probably get along well with Marlowe, in fact.

She cleared her throat, her silvery eyes unnaturally focused on the hat between her fingers, flipping it over and over a few times as she sought out both the damage caused to it and the next words that kept dying on her tongue. She changed the topic back to the other thing she could think of, as much as she didn’t really want to discuss it, it would at least get her mind off the half-naked woman standing a few feet behind her. “You heard the mention of my name and the way he reacted to it, yes? How he balked at the name Myalis? I do not like relying on that name, but I find it has its uses at times.” She sighed, defeated and deflated. “Lyreilynn Xyrven Myalis. That is my full name. My family, Myalis, is from Unovia, and one of the largest arcanite producers in the world. Where I am from, there is no one that does not know who we are. Outside of my homeland, the name is still held in high regard in many circles.” She had picked up a thicker needle than the other used on the skirt, threading what appeared to be a braided string through the eyehole. A simple thread would snap doing this repair, so she had taken numerous strands and twisted them together to create a stronger one. “This far away, there are still those who do not know it, and I… I find that I enjoy the bit of freedom it offers.” Lyra’s lips turned up just a bit into a sort of sad smile, fingers deftly moving to repair the rip on the hat’s brim and fix a corner that had its stitching come undone. “My name, Myalis. It is like a shield, a comfort for the familiar, but sometimes, it feels…” she trailed off with another sigh, that sad smile still present as she finally looked back over at Marlowe, who had finished dressing.

The topic was apparently dropped, the lithe elf deigning to address it no further as she stood from the desk, shifting from storyteller to seamstress again. Her face was still slightly red, cheeks tinted with that flush of embarrassment, but it was a far cry from the earlier coloring. She had definitely taken notice of the way Marlowe had been moving from the corner of her eyes, fingers twitching every so often as she tried to focus on her work and her words, instead of the way her partner was moving and attempting to show off. However, with Lolo finally dressed decently, she could hone her focus onto the skirt itself rather than its occupant. She crossed the distance between them, and held the hat back out to Lolo to take from her, then used her free hands to reach behind and smooth the back of her skirts against her rear end and the back of her thighs, tucking it against her body as she bent at the knees, crouching down to settle on the balls of her feet. Without asking for permission, since Lolo had basically already given it, Lyra reached out and let her fingers trace over a particular ruffle that had been damaged earlier. “Stop moving for a moment,” she commanded as Lolo swayed, who was apparently pleased with the return of her skirt. Lyra took hold of the lifted front that Lolo was teasing her with, tugging it back down in place as she glanced up at Lolo, a quizzical expression present. Was there a need to expose herself like that? “How does it feel?” Lyra shuffled on her feet a little, reaching for a different part of the skirt as she lifted it slightly, inspecting one of the repaired stitches. It was one of the more obvious ones, but still hard to see unless you were looking for it directly. She fluffed the skirt out a little, then raised a hand, index finger pointed in the air as she made a circular motion. A twirl. She was silently asking for Lolo to turn in place, since it was far easier for the taller woman to turn than it was for the small elf to scoot around her. Or under, as Lolo was hoping - in vain, she might add.

However, that frown returned as she noticed a small tear near the back of the skirt. “Ah, I did miss one… There are so many ruffles. Having you put it back on was the right choice and helped out. Hm, I should be able to stitch it like this, if you do not mind? It would only take a moment, but I understand if you do not want needles in any vicinity near you.” There was hesitation in her voice as she looked up at her partner, still crouched as she was at her feet, like a kitten asking for permission to play with a piece of yarn.

[Aethyrium]

Character Name: Marlowe “Lolo” Ashe
Date | Time: September 30th | Late Morning (~11am)
Location: Temp Assigned Dormitory
Wearing: White long sleeve with lacy neck, black pinstripe skirted corset coat, White lacy panties
Tagging | Mentioning: Lyreilynn |
Marlowe’s eyes lit up a little bit when Lyra suggested that she could show her something that might fit her - and while part of that excitement was definitely born from another chance to shed clothing with the elf, it really was being keen on the idea of getting to experience something new. “That would be great.” She said quickly, smiling, “Let’s do it.” Even better was that Lyra seemed genuine in being interested in going shopping. It immediately occurred to Lolo that she didn’t have much to shop with, but that never stopped her in the past - she’d figure it out so that she didn’t look out of place. “I know some great spots.” Lolo chimed, obviously. Shopping trips might not have been exactly what the headmaster had meant when putting squads together and telling them that they needed to stick together, but to Lolo that was an open ended decree. If she was going to need to be side by side with this silver-haired beauty for the next four years, well, then she was going to be all up in her business. And more. Lolo smirked at the thought that passed through her mind.

Lyra’s initial hesitancy to talk about her name was a little peculiar, and as Lolo snapped the clips of her corset open she watched the elf dig into her thoughts. If Lolo had a name that could make someone shut up, she’d be name dropping herself at every corner. That was the dream, wasn’t it? To be so known, so prominent, that a mere mention of your name changed the behavior of people around you? It could open doors or dismiss riff raff. She was just about to comment on Lyra’s reluctance, when the elf turned and got all sorts of red. Lyra looked good with a deep splash of blush painted on her features - was it born from that deep rooted shame, or was it attraction? Certainly Lolo hoped for the latter. She giggled quietly as Lyra twisted around and fumbled her hat to the ground - avoiding being frustrated by it entirely, simply because inducing that fluster in her companion was the most delicious kind of delight. “I thought about that.” Marlowe admitted quietly, popping another button, “But then I thought that it’d be better for you to see what you’re working with.” She leaned in a little, near Lyra’s shoulder as she worked the skirt up, and whispered, “Besides, you look good in red.”

It was a little crazy to her to think that Lyra had the sort of name that she wanted, but seemed reluctant to use it. “Wow, really? That’s crazy.” She murmured upon learning the status that Lyra’s family held. Lolo regarded her partner with a new sense of reverence - the refined nature she had, the elegance of her. She came by it naturally. Maybe four years with Lyra would be just what she needed - even if she couldn’t quite track how Lyra could possibly be more free without the benefit of her name than she was with it. “Ashe doesn’t mean anything.” She offered when Lyra trailed off, giving a little shrug. “No one knows my family, and it certainly doesn’t carry any weight.” Her voice was tender, saying those things - regretful, even. “But I’m going to change all of that.” Her eyes widened with intensity, and she caught Lyra’s gaze, “I wasn’t born to be a nobody. That’s why I came to Onyx originally. And turns out, we really are a match.”

Looking down at Lyra, Lolo laughed softly and nodded when given instruction. She stood still, except for twirling the hat between her fingers. She lifted it up and crowned herself, nodding, “Feels fine.” Lolo twirled on cue, slowly spinning around at Lyra’s direction. She paused, turned away, and arched her back, looking over her shoulder and back at the elf as best she could. “Are you sure? I don’t mind taking it off again for you.” Marlowe commented with a snicker and a wink, “I guess it’s fine, you can put your hand up my skirts anytime you want.” Straightening out, Lolo faced the wall, “I won’t move, promise.” She said a little more seriously so that Lyra could begin the stitching.

“Unovia has a battle academy too, doesn’t it?” Her knowledge was cursory at best, but she recalled Kenny mentioning something about each of the great cities having one. “You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?” Marlowe did her best not to jostle her skirt, but she really wanted to look back at Lyra. “I thought Evergreen was far, when I moved. Oh, that’s the uh, village that I’m from.” Boring, she thought. Lolo was a country girl that didn’t belong there at all. The city, despite the challenges that had come with it, was where she knew she was meant to be. “But Unovia, that’s like, really far. Why’d you come all the way out here, Lyra?”

[FyreFoxx]

Character Name: Lyreilynn "Lyra" Xyrven Myalis
Date | Time: Sept 30th | Late Morning
Location: Temporary Dormitory
Wearing: Long sleeved white wrap blouse, navy blue skirt with silver embroidery
Tagging | Mentioning: Lolo | n/a
Lyra kept her face turned away from Marlowe as her lips twitched up further into a gentle smile. There was just something about Marlowe that was infectious. Her smile, her laughter, her entire demeanor. It was confusing as it was infectious. She had never met someone like her before, someone so obviously friendly and extroverted and just had this aura of begging for attention. No, it wasn’t begging. It was almost commanding. It was a strange feeling to be around the other woman, but perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad? Time would tell. After all, they were now partners for at least the next year. She couldn’t remember if that extended to all four years at the academy or not. She merely nodded to Lolo’s enthusiastic display of agreeing to her words; both for offering some clothing choices and for the prospect of shopping.
 
She left that topic where it was, especially as Lolo began to tease her, although maybe a change in topic would have been better, since her name was the current one. It wasn’t something she liked talking about. And so far, Marlowe had been the only person to really ask about it. She had introduced herself a few times to professors as needed, but that boy earlier had been the one and only time she had name dropped her own family. It felt strange to do so. Something so obviously familiar to her but here, in Hammer, it felt foreign, being so far from home. It still held quite a bit of weight and it reminded her of the very reason why she had agreed to come to this far off academy in the first place. While her mother had been insistent on it to ‘spread their influence’ to the other continents – she was fairly certain that one of her sisters had been sent to Sinnat, bundled in as many layers as she could while still being able to move, complaining the entire time about the cold, just before the decision had been made for her to be sent to Hammer, a decision her sister had been furious about due to their very different climates, since arctic biomes didn’t affect Lyra as badly – she had her own reasons and plans to stay here, trying to remain under the radar, but she’d already blown that cover. That boy had just irritated her so much, it was like being back home and being told she couldn’t do something because it was beneath her or it wasn’t ladylike enough. Enough that she had, in that split second, decided to put him in his place with her obviously higher social standing. And then immediately regret the decision, as it was something her family would actually do, but family names shouldn’t hold any meaning here when they were all students of the same rank. At least, that’s what she thought.
 
That gentle smile was replaced with a sadder one, turning her head slightly to glance over at Lolo. “You are more lucky than you realize,” she mumbled quietly. “Ashe might not mean anything now, but perhaps in the future, it will mean something. I am sure you can change that. But a name can be as much a burden as it is a pedestal to stand on. Remember that.” She had to remember the next time she introduced herself, she should shorten her name. Lyra was the name she preferred to use when away from family. There was just something whimsical about the sound of it that she liked, nothing like the mouthful that was her full name. And maybe just being careful about when and where she used the Myalis name. ‘Lyra Myalis’ was certainly shorter and less intimidating than ‘Lyreilynn Xyrven Myalis’ wasn’t it? It had been at least two generations since the family name merger.
 
Shaking her head of those thoughts, she went back to the matter at hand. That is, the skirt held betwixt her fingers as she accessed the damages she originally missed. Lolo seemed perfectly content with her stitching up the last tear while still wearing it, so Lyra stood momentarily to retrieve her tools, setting the small kit down by her feet as she crouched down once more, the free hand smoothing out her own skirt beneath her as she bent down. That flush of red returned to her cheeks as Marlowe continued to tease her and Lyra narrowed her eyes slightly as she peered up at the woman. “I have no reason to put my hands up your skirts like that,” she retorted dryly. Honestly, this woman was going to be the death of her. And four years of this? She coughed slightly to hide her embarrassment as she reached for the fabric, eyeing Lolo carefully as she did so. Once Marlowe agreed to stay still, Lyra began to stitch the final tear.
 
“Unovia? Hm, yes, it does. It is called Light Academy. My eldest brother attended that one. I have been told that most members of my family attend the academy there. It has only been this generation that we have seen Myalis branch out to another academy.” Lyra answered without looking up from her task, placing the needle carefully between her lips for a moment as she used both hands to inspect how the stitch was coming along. Resuming the stitching, Lyra continued speaking. “Evergreen. That has a pleasant name. Where is that? Ah, yes, I suppose Unovia is quite far from here.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, mulling over Lolo’s question. “Why? Well, that is a good question. Why, indeed...” She let it trail off, painfully obvious that she wasn’t intending on answering that anytime soon.
 
After a moment, she used a pair of tiny scissors to snip the end of the thread, close to the knot she had just finished tying off, then slipped all her tools back into the roll of leather she was using as a means of keeping her things together. Smoothing out the stitching, you could barely tell it had ever ripped in the first place, fluffing the skirt out to make sure it blended well, her hands on the underside of the fabric, fingers brushing against Lolo’s calf. As soon as she made contact with skin against skin, the little elf quickly recalled her hand back, as if she touched something scalding hot. She cleared her throat, trying her best to pretend nothing happened, as she went back to fluffing the skirt, from the outside this time. “T-there. That should be the last of them. Did you also want me to mend your blouse now as well, or perhaps another time? I did promise you both of them."

[Crash]

Character Name: Meena Tor
Date | Time: 09.26.1322 | 8:00 am  ---> 09.26.1322 | 2:00 pm
Location: Kite Street, Onyx Central
Wearing: Black leather pants, beige winter coat, white stocking cap and love sleeved white blouse and leather wedge boots
Tagging | Mentioning: NPC’s

"Sorry."

"Sorry 'bout that."

"Just meh tail. Got a mind of its own, that one."

"Sorry."

Every bump and jostle, regardless of fault, received the most heartfelt apology. For the last three years, Meena Tor had bounced from city to city, and she still wasn't used to the number of people that could be packed in one place. Far from intimidating, the tall Silenus found the mass of people, pressed tightly together on the wide streets of Onyx Central, to be exhilarating. There was a constant buzz to the city that contrasted so starkly with the natural silence of Tor. Meena drank in the energy around her, practically flouncing her way toward Hammer Tower to catch the academy shuttle. 

It was going to be a great day!

Plumes of steam issued from her in the crisp morning air, every breath another burst, like a merrily chugging locomotive. Meena stood head and shoulders above most of the morning crowd heading to work. It offered a unique vista in the sea of bobby human, elven, and yes, occasionally Silenusian heads. Shops lined the lower floors of the glass skyscrapers framing either side of Kite Street, named for the shimmering veils of cloth spanning from building to building. Little more than an elaborate art piece now, they harkened back to a time when the old shops of Onyx would string kite-like tarps and cloth between them to keep the sun or rain off would-be customers. It was pretty and vaguely reminded Meena of the colorful yurts of her home. 

The morning buzz was periodically broken by a cart vendor hawking hot coffee, tea, or the local newspaper. Cafés and shops that catered to the hustling and bustling crowd spilled out onto the walk with small tables and chairs or advertisements for what lay within. Everyone, including Meena, was bundled against the chill of the morning. She had long given up the study and utilitarian clothing of her home as impractical here, where the cold was a different kind of cold than the biting winds that whistled mournfully across the Tors.
As it turned out, Meena quite liked the fashions of the city. They could be needlessly complex and strangely constrictive to someone Meena's size, but she loved the ever-changing riot of color and style urban fashion provided. Meena embraced it when she could afford to do so. Still, there were many things about the Tors that she missed. There was a beauty in the harshness of the work she grew up in. From the cracked viridian earth to the stacked rock formations that gave the Tors its name, the land held a magic to it that ingrained its majesty into those who lived, loved, and prospered in its unforgiving beauty. There was nothing in the world like her homeland, but today was not the day for reminiscence. It was a day of joy and celebration.

The energy of the morning crowd, or perhaps it was the thrilling exhilaration she felt with every step towards Hammer Tower, had Meena positively giddy as she stopped in front of a flower vendor hugging a building so tall; when Meena looked up, its glass sides appeared to go on towards infinity. The stall's owners, a human man and woman of middling age, eyed her suspiciously. It was a look Meena felt she would never get used to seeing, but she greeted their wary gazes with a bright smile and kindly said, "Howdy."

She even gave a stiff-armed, open-fingered wave that crossed her body, pivoting on her elbow. It didn't seem to help put the couple of much smaller peoplings at ease. Unperturbed, Meena turned her appraising eyes to the potted plants with deep green leaves and winter-blooming flowers. Camellias, pansies, witch hazel, and violas smiled at her, and Meena smiled back. It was apparent the couple cared for their plants. They were hale and healthy. Meena appreciated that. It's not always an easy feat surrounded by metal and glass.

While perusing the pansies, Meena caught some movement out of the corner of her eye, and looking out their corners, she saw a young girl that could not have been more than 9 years old peaking up at her from around a pot of hellebores held in her hands like she was trying to hide behind them so she wouldn't be noticed. 

The relation to the stall owners was easy to see. She had frizzy brown hair that her mother had meticulously braided in two long braids from forehead to nap and down to the small of the girl's back with faded and torn green and what might have been gold ribbons woven into them. She wore a green dress and brown smock and had the most curious brown eyes.  Casually, Meena squatted, acting as if she was simply getting a better look at the flowers lower down on the display before she turned her attention to the little girl.

"Hello there," Meena said with another open smile. The girl pulled away, knowing she had been caught staring.

"You have very pretty flowers there," she complimented. The girl stopped, looked down at the pot she was holding, and back up with a smile as bright and open as Meena's had been.

"It's Leandrin's Rose," The girl replied, holding up the plant to show it off. "It's also called a hellyboard," the girl offered, mispronouncing the name in the most adorable way. "It blooms in the fall instead of late winter. That makes it different from other hellyboards," the girl offered with an assured nod."

"It does? Isn't that interesting," Meena replied. She already knew this but wasn't going to steal the girl's thunder. "Thank you for telling me," Meena added, letting the girl know it was appreciated. She could feel the girl's parents watching their interaction nervously.

"You have horns," the girl blurted out, and Meena laughed.

"I do," she said enthusiastically. "I have a tail, too," she offered. Her long, thin tail with its tuft of brown hair happily swung into view, causing the child's eyes to widen in amazement. 

"Whoa," the girl breathed, those curious eyes following for a moment before they returned to Meena's.

"You are a Silenus," she said with the same surety she said hellyboard, to which Meena nodded.

"I am," she replied with a nod of her head. 

"Are you a pirate?"

It was Meena's turn to get wide-eyed before she laughed mirthfully.

"Oh gosh, no. I'm a Champion." Meena said proudly and stood up to her full height, practically posing with her hands on her hips.

"REALLY?!" The girl practically squealed in delight. "You're a champion?"

"That's right!"

Well, that wasn't exactly true, but Meena had no doubt she had passed all the tests. Today was really just a formality. All that was left was for her to go to the academy so they could confirm what she already knew and start her training. 

"Mom! Dad! She's a Champion! She's a Champion!" The girl yelled to her parents, who were only a few feet away, before turning back and motioning for Meena to come closer. Meena knelt down again. The girl cupped her hand against her mouth on her parents' side and spoke in a whisper that was not a whisper.

"I'm gonna be a Champion, too," she whispered loudly in that way the children do.

"Well then. I look forward to meeting you again, Champion," Meena answered, bringing her arm across her chest in a salute that the girl promptly returned while standing at attention. Meena fished some money out. She didn't have much but was about to start training at the academy. She wouldn't have a lot of need to save for room and board anymore. 

"I have a mission for you first. I want you to pick out the best Landrin's Rose you can find for me, okay?" The girl nodded and handed the pot she had been carrying to Meena.

"This one," she said with a firm nod.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay then. Sold. Now I must be going. I have to be at the academy, and I don't want to be late," Meena exaggerated the gravity of her words dramatically, and the girl nodded. She started to run off before turning back.

"I like your horns," the girl said, and Meena just melted under the kind truthfulness of a child as the girl ran back to her parents with the money. As Meena walked away, potted plant in hand, she could hear that little voice speaking excitedly.

"She was a Champion! I'm gonna be a Champion, too! Mom, can I have a tail?”

***********

"I don't undershhhtand," the whimpering whisper issued from under a mass of platinum curls and a cockeyed stocking cap. Its fuzzy ball flopped over and rested on the bar top, slowly soaking in the sweat of an empty mug. Four such empty mugs were arrayed around the disheveled mass of murmuring hair.

"I pashhed, but I did passhh? How doeshhh that happen?" The question wasn't clearly directed at anyone except maybe the potted plant beside the empty glasses. There was an exhale, and some of the hair fluttered, revealing a tear-soaked eye and bubble of snot that expanded and contracted with each breath but hadn't yet popped. 

"I did everything right. Okay maybe I wushent sho good at the obssshtical coursh…coursh…thingy, but I shhtill passhed, Issh totally not fair." She whined to the cheerful plant, her only companion. A hand crawled across the car and up the pot's side to gently touch one of its leaves.

"I don't undersshhtand," she said for the millionth time. "I passhed."

The velvety soft leaf under her besotted finger gave a light pop and came off, fluttering down to the bar in what felt like slow motion. The red eye widened, and there was a strangled gurgling sound from the platinum mass right before the wailing and thud of Meena's horned head gently thumping repeatedly against the wooden bar started.

"Hey, don't go messing up my bar!" protested the bartender, who had been ignoring the disheveled mess of a Silenus as much as possible until the thudding started.

A misery-stricken face rose sharply from the mass of hair, stocking cap falling to the floor with the sudden motion.

"Now I'm a plant murderer!!!!!" Meena wailed before her head thumped back onto the car, and the next round of crying started.

"Miss. Your plant looks fine. It's just one leave." A miserable squeak answered, one hand rising slowly from her side. 

"Another round, please," the squeak asked.

"I think that will be enough for today," came a lyrical voice from behind the distraught Silenus. It held way more iron in it than a voice like that should. Meena's head rose up, and she swung herself around on the barstool, almost completely toppling over as she did so. 

"I will desshide when I've had…" Her vision took a moment to focus, and she was halfway through her drunken rebuke when her sight and brain caught up to what her ears had already recognized. 

"Shhumina?....Shhu….WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Meena threw herself into the much smaller woman, almost bowling the two of them over.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I am sooo sorry. I failed you…I failed… I'm a failure!!!!!!!" the ugly sobs started again as the slender, elven woman held her. 

"You have a room," the lilting voice of the elven woman asked the bartender, who clearly wanted to say no but knew it would be a bad idea. Eventually, the man nodded and retrieved a key.

"Upstairs. Second on the left," the man said, sliding the key across the bar. 

***********

"Okay, in bed with you," Meena felt the support of the other woman, her mentor, release her, and with the tiniest of shoves, she fell face first, starfish-like, onto the small bed. One leg and one arm hanging off of it. 

"I am sho shorry," Meena continued to murmur.

"Stop that," the woman chided Meena while she worked at getting Meena's boots off. She found a blanket to rest across her before fetching a bucket to place next to the bed for when the vomiting inevitably began. 

Sumina looked at the woman, barely into adulthood, and sighed gently. She was so young. The elven woman pulled a chair up near the bed to hold Meena's hair when needed and pulled a book from her satchel to read. She would wait until Meena passed out, then she would leave.

Meena eventually moved her face from the pillow so she wouldn't suffocate herself in her sleep and let her eyes briefly focus on the woman next to her. The woman whose wounds she had tended as a little girl. The woman who had saved her village. The woman she had traveled two continents to find.

"You’re sho pretty," she murmured words she should have only been thinking and promptly began to vomit.

[Crash]

Character Name: Meena Tor
Date | Time: 09.27.1322 | 11:00 am
Location: Eastern Quarter
Wearing: Black leather pants, beige winter coat, white stocking cap and love sleeved white blouse and leather wedge boots
Tagging | Mentioning: Sumina

“Owwwwwww…someone kill me…please,” The pounding in Meena’s head was so bad she swore her horns hurt.

No curtain had been pulled over the window of…wherever the heck she was, and the morning sunlight felt like hot glass being rammed into her eyeballs. Her stomach rolled after a whole night of vomiting. Oh, there was so much vomiting. There was nothing left for it to do than to repeatedly tell her brain that she was the dumbest of dumb dumbsters that had ever dumbed, and it would continue to remind her of that until she stopped dumbing.

“I don’t want to live.”

“You will never be a Champion with that attitude,” came the lyrical voice of Sumina Inès dè Océane.

Meena groaned even louder at the realization that not only was she not alone, but Sumina was still there. Hungover was terrible enough. Now, she could add mortified to her growing list of reasons to die this morning.

“I’m never going to be Champion,” Meena responded plaintively. “I failed.”

Meena only had one eye open, and it squinted against what she felt was the raging morning sun. Clearly, even the Sun was disappointed in her. What did I ever do to you, Sun? 

“You didn’t fail. You passed. There were not enough spots, Meena. It happens. Every squad member is paired with another squad member. You were, quite literally, the odd man out,” Sumina’s tone was firm and rebukeful.

Meena winced and not from the light or the sound. Well, a little from the sound.could make out liquid pouring from a pot and the heavy thump of a cup being placed nearby. Again, she winced.

The smell of ginger and rosemary tea wafted towards her.

“Now get up so we can talk.” It was an order, one Meena obeyed reluctantly. The room wanted to spin when she managed to sit up in the bed, still primarily clothed in what she had worn the night before, and it forced Meena to close her eyes. She swayed a little, trying to keep her stomach from revolting, and managed to do so.

Thank the gods for minor miracles.

Platinum bed head coiled around her horns, and loose coils fell down her face. Thankfully, most of it had been tied back out of the way by Sumina the night before, preventing it from being a soiled mess. 

“How is that any different from failing?” Meena groaned again. “Mmmm.  Words hurt,” she grumbled and reached for the cup of tea, holding it in both hands and taking a sip. There was an audibly exacerbated sigh from the elven Champion.

“Gods, what happened to the girl that followed me across two continents. You never gave up when they wouldn’t test you at Ruby because you were too young. You didn’t give up when they wouldn’t even look at you at Pearl. Why are you giving up now?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Meena asked, hopelessness ringing in her voice. “I passed, but they still don’t want me.”  It was a real kick in the gut to be told you are good enough, but we still don’t want you.

“What formal training do you have, Meena?”

“Well…everyone in my clan knows how to fight.”

“Sure, but do you? Fight? Often?”

“Well…no. Not that often, but I am really good with that.” Meena pointed at her massive green arcanite war maul, Heart of the Mountain.

“Sure. You have a lot of natural talent, Meena, but you were up against others trained to be Champions since birth.”

“But I beat most of them!”

Sumina arched a brow and gave Meena a questioning look.

“Okay, a lot of them…more than I didn’t."

“And you were apologizing to them AS you were hitting them, Meena.”

“Well, yeah, but…but they aren’t my enemy! They are champions, too!”  Meena raised her voice and immediately regretted it.

“I know. But when it came down to the final choices, you can see how that might look. They took the ones they felt had the best training and experience. It was close, but that’s what happened.

“So what? Are you asking that I change? Be mean..er? I won’t. I want to be a Champion. I want to help people that need helping….” Meena was adamant. She wouldn’t change.

“No, Meena,” Sumina said softly. “No. I don’t want you to change. I want you to stay. Give it some time. Train.

Sometimes, squires can’t hack the training. Sometimes, they get hurt and don’t want to continue. What I am saying is. This isn’t over. I will help when I can, but you must find some way to continue your training outside the academy.

Meena sullenly sipped her tea. She hurt, and it wasn’t just her head. Her pride had been battled, and she was embarrassed. Meena didn’t remember much about last night, but clearly, Sumina had stayed with her, nursing her massive hangover, and that was enough to make her want to crawl into a hole and hide. Being admonished by her made it even worse. She set down the mug and let her hands drop into the blanket balled in her lap. Her lips screwed to the corner of her mouth, and her shoulders drooped with shame.

“Now, snap out of it,” Sumina ordered, snapping the book shut with a loud clap, causing Meena’s body to straighten instinctually.

“No more of this self-pity,” Sumina said, standing and placing her book in the soft leather satchel hanging from the back of her chair. “You had your day. Time to move forward. Champions do not give in when they face a setback, and they do not quit.”

Meena nodded but did not feel confident enough to trust words yet.

“Good,” Sumina said with a nod of her own, gathering her satchel before heading for the door.

“And Meena,” she paused to glance at the disheveled mess on the bed. “Thank you.”

Meena’s brow wrinkled in confusion, looking up at the heart-achingly beautiful Champion, meeting her gaze questionably.

“What for?” she asked.

“For thinking I’m pretty,” the woman said with a mischief-filled smirk.

Meena’s eyes turned as wide as saucers. Struck utterly dumb, Meena stared at the door for a solid minute before her brain finally kicked in and she fell groaning, back onto the bed.

[Aethyrium]

Character Name: Marlowe “Lolo” Ashe
Date | Time: September 30th | Late Morning (~11am)
Location: Temp Assigned Dormitory
Wearing: White long sleeve with lacy neck, black pinstripe skirted corset coat, White lacy panties
Tagging | Mentioning: Lyreilynn |
Lucky? That got Marlowe to blink and look down at Lyra. She sure didn’t feel lucky. What was lucky about being just like everyone else? A face in the crowd? A smudge of ink in the background of someone else’s painting? She couldn’t find any luck in that. But then, Lyra had perspective that she lacked. Lolo had done her best to imitate the things that she saw from people like her - the type of people she craved to be - and understand them. So this too she wanted to understand. She imagined as hard as her little brain could what sort of burdens might come with being the focal point of things, but it was hard to picture downsides. Too much attention, perhaps? But Lolo had never experienced anything like that, nothing that came nearly close enough to satisfying her seemingly ceaseless greed for attention. Even now, right here, just the two of them, where Lyreilynn had no one else to focus on, Lolo's desire wasn’t satisfied. In a sense she had all of the elf’s attention, but it could have been more - it could have been deeper, more intense. If Lyra’s attention was a juice box, she was being given a sip when what she wanted was to tear off the top and guzzle it.

Straws were for the timid.

“I’ll try.” She said. Maybe it was the sort of thing that no amount of imitation could make her understand - there were things, Lolo had gathered, that just wouldn’t make sense until they did. Situations that couldn’t be understood until you were living them. In a way that barrier kept her imitations from being flawless. How could she talk to the welltodo when they talked about their experiences when she lacked them? She could dress in their clothes, style her hair the way they did, and use the words they liked, but in that way she was very much a caricature of a debutante - she’d never driven a fancy automobile, so how was she supposed to talk about it? She had to ride in one, and then extrapolate from there, which worked for some things, but much less well for others. That was, perhaps, why her efforts to navigate Onyx’s high society had gone so mediocrely.

“Well,” Marlowe smirked, “That’s not a problem.” She shook her head, “Barely an inconvenience!” Lolo reached just a little and brushed a few strands of Lyra’s hair, “I’m absolutely positive I could give you a reason. We can find them together.”

That Lyra wasn’t the first champion of her family, but that it seemed some kind of family tradition, was probably one of the more shocking things that she’d heard. That couldn’t be normal, could it? The life certainly wasn’t for everyone - not even most. “How many Champions are in your family?” She asked, with a mild shock in her voice. Thinking of her own family, she couldn’t imagine either Linnea or Roderic picking up weapons and charging in against the Hollow. Hell, she couldn’t really envision anyone from Evergreen doing it! “So you’re going to be an important name in your family even, huh?” For Marlowe it was just one more attractive trait in Lyra’s favor. “Hmm? Oh,” Lolo swiveled her gaze around the room, as if that were going to give her some spatial orientation. When it didn’t, she gestured vaguely - only accidentally actually pointing the right general direction, “North east of Onyx. Maybe… Two hours from here? It’s built inside a crescent moon bend in a forest. There’s a small peak nearby that you can get up onto and look over the forest and see the whole shape.”

When Lyra didn’t provide an answer of her own, Lolo was happy to fill in the blank, “It’s okay to admit you were looking for me.” She teased, “I don’t mind.” One thing that she had learned in her dealings with people of Lyra’s station was that digging was often frowned on. People liked their ability to move away from a question if they liked - which was nothing like the idle chat of peasantry, where a juicy lead was like a worm on a hook to a conversation and prompted endless clawing until conceit or something drew a harsher line to back off. That had been a more difficult lesson to learn, and she’d learned it early upon arrival.

Even though it was accidental, Marlowe was basically infatuated with the little touch - or maybe, more likely even, it was Lyra’s response to it. She might not have noticed it at all - yes she would have - if it hadn’t been for the tinge it put on the elf’s pale skin. “If you’re up for it. It can wait, though.” Lolo crouched in place, the ruffles of her freshly mended skirt bunching up around her. She reached and took Lyra’s hands gingerly, slowly raising her back up to a stand. “Thank you for doing this. You’re pretty handy with the needle.” Marlowe smiled so brightly that her eyes closed, and she squeezed Lyreilynn’s hands.

Finally giving Lyra her hands back, Lolo swayed a little and stepped back, giving her skirt a little twirl before dusting it down. “So, if we’re going to be together for the next four years, is there anything important I should know? Allergies?” She took a step closer, “Fears?” Another step, “Hopes?” One more, “and Dreams?” Right into Lyra’s bubble, “Favorite positions?”

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date July. 13 | Time: Afternoon (~2p.m.)|
Location: Onyx University
Wearing: Black pants, yellow shirt, white shoes. Black and purple messenger bag.
Tagging: CLOSED | Mentioning: None |

Part 1/3

"Oh cripes, here he comes. Everyone brace for the Nici and Haim show." Mock retching followed. And Haim smiled down at his engineering text. He waited for it as electricity ran over his skin.

"Oh-Haim-oh~~!"

He felt the surge of giddy energy instantly, despite Haliy's continued fake retching. He rolled his eyes dramatically and let his face fall in mock consternation anyway. It was what was expected of him, but not in a bad way. It felt comfortable. "When are you going to stop saying that Nici? You're making Haliy jealous. She just wishes she had a partner half as clingy as you."

"When you stop loving it, silly. So, never." A dainty pink tongue shot out at Haliy who pulled a comical face in return. A smattering of chuckles applauded the little show.

For Hiam's part, any actual protest melted almost instantly as he unfolded from the bench and stepped into the arms that came at him. His hand slid along a cheek bone and cupped beneath that delicately pointed ear. The kiss wasn't one that would heat up a room or anything, but it made Haim hungry. He huffed a breath into his lover's mouth as it broke and stared into his eyes a moment. "How often do I tell you you're beautiful, Nici?"

"Every day and not nearly enough." The kiss was continued.

More retching noises and a chorus of 'get a room's chased them back to their bench in the quad. Around, similar benches in the vicinity were occupied in pairs and trios of friends or lovers. Haim's gaze slid around the usual crowd easily. His chest felt full. He laughed brightly and bowed. He and Nici were an infamously besmitten couple. They got mocked for it, but everyone would have been destroyed if they broke up. No invite ever came for one of them anymore. They'd even taken to presenting themselves as a unit. Nici was one of the first decisions Haim had ever made where his father's opinion was never even considered. It had been the subject of their last, explosive fight though. The last time he'd bothered talking to the man. Connie was constantly trying to mend bridges between them, but Haim considered them burnt. He didn't care about continuing the species or the family.

Haim leaned into a second chaster kiss and then made room for his boyfriend to fold in beside him on the bench. "So, done with classes for the day?" He knew the answer. He knew Nici's schedule better than his own. But the other man didn't like feeling predictable or when Haim assumed things. That was a fight that he didn't want to have again. He tightened his arm around the man and squeezed his trim waist. It felt good when Nici leaned into his shoulder with his legs folded under him.

"Mm, Professor Holdem's class on zoological physiology. Today we started our unit on rabbits. Haimie? Why did I ever want to be a veterinarian?"

The pouty eyes made Haim guffaw hard. He booped the boy's nose playfully and tweaked his earlobe. The other man shivered. Haim knew playing with his ears was asking for it. "Because you care about living things. Especially cute things. And you have a lot of love to give. Also, you're damned good at it. Haliy? Sheom? Corroboration?"

"Hmm, that's true. I don't think I've met a more caring soul, Nicialan."

"True as rain. Nicialan was born to heal and help, so why he dates Haim, I'll never know."

He smirked at his former romantic rival then nodded down at Nici, "See. A kind, gentle soul. Remember that stray dog the other week?"

The other man cuddled in closed, "Knew there was a reason I keep you around. But all I recall about that night was walking funny in the morning." Haim smirked and stroked along one long ear-point. He felt the boy shiver.

"Tee Em Aye, Nicialan! Ewww." Nici pouted and glared at Haliy.

A bright laugh escaped Haim's throat and he kissedthe top of Nici's ear. He caught a pretty wicked look as he shifted to look up at the sky again. It was good. Everything was good. His own studies were progressing. Most of his professors were already talking about internships and job offers if they weren't trying to talk him into doing a doctoral program. It was everything he'd ever wanted professionally. Personally, he'd found a partner that seemed to fit him perfectly. He'd never have expected those gray eyes locking with his first day of biology 101 in his second semester nor the little bundle of femme energy that came with it impacting his life so hard, but it had been over two years with Nici now and Haim was pretty sure he was in love. Nici had even met Connie. Not dad though. Just the thought of his father curdled his good mood. The thought pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Slim fingers reached up to stroke his chin, "Baby, don't think about him. It always upsets you." He looked down into those soft gray eyes and ran a finger along his jaw. He nodded and looked up at the sky. Clear blue with only a few clouds here and there. He glanced down at the lunch box stuffed with rice, a half eaten omelet, some sausage, slices of cucumber, and a little cake with a frosting smile that Nici had made that morning. He grabbed the cake on impulse and split it in two. He popped half into his mouth and then fed the other half to Nici, letting the end of his finger get caught in little perfect teeth. The other man giggled and then sat up straight, "Let's go home, Haimie. I'm horny."

Guffaws and chatter rattled around them. It was weird that the openly sexual relationship Haim was in was the norm for their group. Nici rarely made any prevarications about his high libido or who inspired it. Haim just wouldn't have ever expected himself to not only indulge it but openly love it. He looked up to his lover's gaze and saw it there. That spark, that fire, the hunger. It usually meant Nici would be walking funny and Haim would be sore in all the most pleasant ways. Again, not something he'd expected when he'd finally won the right to attend university. He needed to remember to thank Connie again the next time he saw her. This happiness was at her expense. Hands cupped his cheeks and made him stare into those now stormy gray eyes.

He laughed nervously but that look usually brooked no denial. Haim bit his lip as his stomach jumped and then his eyes flicked to the school, "Nici, I got Professor Lowed's class next..." Almost nothing else would have gotten him to resist Nici's more carnal needs. The pout that came at him was potent. Haim groaned and knew that he'd give in. he always gave in. It felt wildly, excitingly wonderful to let the smaller man have his way. The idea of pinning him down and making him moan and squirm had Haim half hard. The fist that struck his chest was light and playful. The fire still backlit Nicialan's eyes but he was also looking indulgent. [glow=gray, 1]"Alright, Haimehen De Temps Infini. You get a pass on wrecking my cute ass."[/glow] More guffaws that he ignored. "For now. I expect payment. in full. when you get home tonight. Compris-tu?"

Haim laughed and held up his hands in surrender, "Ouai, ouai, J'ai compris. Acheter des fleurs. Présentez des excuses vigoureuses." He pulled the man into a tight hug and kissed him until he was gasping.

Or he had intended to until a small cough interrupted him. Well, not the first or second polite cough, but the third. "Who does not get the hint tha-" But the words died stillborn on his lips as he caught sight of the uniform. He read the standard military uniform like a book: Lieutenant D. Gomez, logistics and command, dress uniform, veteran, engineer. She was his father's executive assistant and it spoke volumes the man had sent her personally. He felt the tight form in his arms going cold. He got there a second later as his eyes fell on the envelope in her hands, "Haimehen de Temps Infini? Captain de Temps Infini requests your presence in Command HQ." The envelope was pushed towards him. He eyed it like it an angry viper. His father had always been overly formal, even with his own children, at least since his mother had died, but this was stiff even for that man. "And he can fuck right off, too." He saw her go stiff and anger flash in her eyes. Another lickspittle that worshipped his father as a logistical genius. Probably sucked his cock, too.

The gentle hand on his chest pulled his attention from the lieutenant. Gray eyes watered into his own, "He won't stop and you know it will only make Connie angry. She wants you two to get along."

The old rancorous bile that had always surged when he thought of his father calmed down. How had he gotten so lucky to have two such presences in his life? He shifted Nici away and rose to approach the woman. The letter was extended to him and he snatched it quickly. He heard the hiss behind him; he saw Nici's disappointed face. It was the same face he made whenever Haim left his underwear on the bathroom floor. Swallowing his ire, he smiled an apology at the clerk and turned the letter to inspect the seal and address of his father's suite of offices. Slowly, he craned his head back to look toward the floating island that dominated life in onyx. He saw a shuttle heading to it through the air and recalled the hundreds of times he followed that path. The last time had been last winter when Connie accepted her commission into the Onyx Military. That had been the last time he saw Auguste de Temps Infini as well. The insufferable prick had been beaming proud as other officers congratulated him.

Something bitter stung his own heart. "That's enough, Lieutenant. Bye." He turned his back on her and into that disappointed look he hated. He hated it but it had made him better. He knew that. He sighed, "Sorry, Miss Gomez. My father puts me in a sour mood. Tell him that I will make an appointment at my earliest convenience." But he wasn't paying her any attention as he plain military heels clicked away. He watched that look melt into indulgence. Then that indulgence turned into a wicked look and Nici was gnawing his lip.

"Watch out everyone! Nici's on the hunt again!"

Haim laughed and felt a weight lifting off him as Haliy and the others chorused. He gave her a look even as Nici bounced over and poked him, "Soooooo~~~ Still going to Dr. Lowed's class?" The weight lifted completely and he picked the other man up to swirl him about recklessly. The giggling and grip on his arms was like electricity. When he stopped, Nici stumbled a bit and gave him a dirty look. But Haim cut off any remark with a quick peck, "Go, get your things. We'll swing by Tino's on the way home, kay?" That smile was worth it. It was worth anything. It was quickly becoming the center of his universe, "God, Connie was right. You are a bad influence on me." He turned and smiled at his friends and waved even as the smaller form of Nici collided with him again and wrapped around his arm. He stuffed the letter into his pocket and forgot it. Some Unovian Cioppino, a good snuggle, a movie, probably getting lucky? What else was there?

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date July. 14 | Time: Afternoon (~3:13a.m.)|
Location: Haim and Nici's Apartment
Wearing: Nothing
Tagging: CLOSED | Mentioning: None |

Part 2/3

The sharp, brassy sound rattled into the dark quiet of the apartment. The tumbled textbooks, half-assembled models of devices, and twin desks paid no mind to it, but one of the forms in the bedroom stirred.

Haim's eyes cracked open and a moan slowly hissed from his lips. His hand slipped from beneath the covers and flopped onto the nightstand like a landed fish. The rattling ringing sound sounded again and he moaned angrily and flopped more enthusiastically until he felt the edges of his phone. He dragged it into the bed and put it up to his ear just as the ringing erupted again.

"Haimie~~~! Make it sto-" The mumbling complaint reduced to a disgruntled mumble as the owner buried itself into his side and pulled the covers up over his ears.

Haim flinched away from the phone at the sound but then blinked at it. The face wasn't glowing; the sound wasn't coming from there. Wakefullness started to more fully invade his mind as he frowned at the device. The rattling ring echoed into the apartment again and the figure buried in his side flopped in protest. "Alright, alright." He tossed the phone back onto the stand and pulled the cover up to slide his foot over the edge. his torso started to follow, but a pair of arms gripped him tighter and snuggled into his shoulder. "No, stay."

He smiled indulgently down at the tousled head and, since the covers were up, took a peak down his naked form. The night's activity came back in a rosy glow and he shifted as an ache summoned a smile to his face. He let the covers fall over them again and his foot retreated. The ringing rattled again but he ignored it. They could call back at a decent hour if it was important. He pulled his lover in close and buried his nose into his hair. All he'd have to do was push a knee between thighs, kiss soft lips a little insistently, grab a very grabbable butt and he might summon his boyfriend for another round. His hand slipped along the muscles of his bask and over the mound of his ass as the thought formed. He felt the smaller form respond slightly. He felt his blood speed up at the little man that his squeeze summoned. Then the form burrowed into his shoulder again and a hand swatted at his chest.

Chuckling, Haim let it go. It would have been round three for them and he'd only really been half-excited and half-hard. He snuggled down into the covers and realized the ringing had stopped. Smiling, he started to drift again.

He physically vibrated when it rang again. He groaned loudly and ripped the covers off and was out of the bed before Nici could complain. The boy shivered and retreated from the night air. Haim was not happy with whoever was summoning him from his bed and extremely snuggle-happy lover. The cool air flowed over his nakedness as he stormed out of the bedroom and into the small kitchen to rip the phone off the wall, "Who th-"

"Haimehen. Why didn't you come see me?"

"Auguste. It's the middle of the night."

"Is it? Dolores said that she gave you the letter this afternoon. She said that she found you with your bohemian friends in some park?"

He frowned into the phone and grumbled. He could just imagine his father in his windowless office, windowless because he had turned down the corner office because it was distracting, and calling because he had just gotten out of a meeting or was just done writing some report. He felt a sourness rising in his gullet. "Who the fuck is Dolores? What let-"

But the memory trigger even as he was talking. He moved through the kitchen, twirling so the phone's cord passed beneath the arm closest to the wall unit, and stepped into the short hallway by the entrance to open the closet there. He smiled at the rack of coats and jackets all jumbled together. He was able to run his eyes along them and know whose was whose. They were intermingled and intermixed in a way that he knew would have driven Auguste mad. Would have driven his own self mad two years ago. Military order had ruled his life with his father. This reminded him more of the de Gemmes clan. He'd spent years out in the west away from the city running wild in the fields with Connie. He'd learned to strip a motor down with Etienne and Jean had showed him the basic of shooting. They were golden memories in his mind to the silver of the years when his mother had yet lived. He sighed happily and looked down to honeycomb racks filled with shoes of various types. Atop the left one was the old box which contained the set his father had given him on his eighteenth nameday. There was a black garment bag in his closet that contained their match. He looked for the bag he'd been wearing that day.

He smiled as he thought of him and Nici stumbling into their favorite Unovian restaurant and being snuggly and cute on the bench as they waited. They'd spontaneously stopped at a video rental store and gotten an old favorite where the guy stood out in the rain with a sign professing his love. They'd barely made it halfway into the movie before things retreated to their bedroom. He chuckled lightly. He pulled the right bag taut on its strap, gripping the phone between cheek and shoulder, and then started searching the pockets. In all the good fun and canoodling, he'd forgotten the letter completely. Nothing distracted him from the blacker parts of his former life like his current lover. He blushed and grinned. He thought about the warm little form waiting for him back in the bedroom.

"She said that she told you it was urgent." Haim pulled the slightly maligned envelope from the outermost pocket and noted the red-striped edges. He glared at the thing, "I honestly wasn't listening to her, Auguste. What's this about?"

"Haimehen, I'm your father. Show me respect."

He rolled his eyes and moved to the sink. He pushed the mostly empty aluminum container the cioppino had come in aside and picked up a knife. There was a bit of butter and some bread crumbs on it, but he jammed it under the letter's seal to snap it, "Captain, yes, Captain." He started working the knife along the top fold.

"Haimehen, that's is not what I mea-"

"Fuck you, Auguste." The grumbling sigh on the other side made him smirk as the envelope gave way. The knife clanged metallically back into the sink and he spun to lean back. The cold metal pressed into the flesh of his ass. His toes gripped the linoleum. He snapped the letter open. "K, reading now. Let's see. Dear... blah blah blah. This letter is to inform blah blah blahbity blah. Christ Auguste, even in a letter to your own son, you have to use this language? Let's see? Blah blah blah on the date of blah blah at blah blah time. Abbarak Base was att... by... a class... Holl..." His throat slowly constructed, chocking the words. His heartbeat invaded his ear drums. Cold sweat popped on his palms and back. Something was trying to choke him. He couldn't breathe. His silently begged his eyes to stop, but they kept reading. No survivors were found

He felt the edge of the counter hit the back of his head as he dropped to the floor. A distant voice echoed in his ear like a gnat. His world collapsed down to a singularity. Something hot was flowing down his face.

[Aethyrium]

Ettinus Maro Lin Oscoro

Moss Kirk

Namid Valentine

S T O R Y T E L L E ROctober 10th, Early Morning (~7am) | Hammer Academy - Headmaster’s Office
Cutscene | Haimehen
Dazzle & Dust had left a mark on Namid to be certain. She’d not been quite the same since. Even getting Haim back had only done so much to lift her spirits - it was impossible for her to look at him in the condition that he was in without blaming herself. She’d not slept well, her dreams were plagued with thoughts of Mila and the taunting voice of her stepfather reassuring her failure. She heard Lolo get up and begin her daily routine. Beneath her, Haim was probably still asleep. Her little buddy made a quiet, almost sad, whirring noise as he looked at her in the bed. Like he could understand what she was feeling - which of course, he definitely could not. It was all projection. Soon everyone was rustling around. Breakfast was coming. Joining the team, Namid slipped from bed, quiet as a mouse and got ready. But as she looked in her locker, she stared at her blade. It’d been cleaned of Ocean’s blood, but while she looked at it, she swore she could see Mila’s. It’d been days and still no word, no progress. “I’ll catch up.” She said to everyone, making for the door. Tiny Namid looked at Haim and smiled, “I’m glad you’re okay.” She repeated for the dozenth time since he returned to them.

She exited ahead of all of them.

Tracking down Moss wasn’t a terribly difficult task, and she made a case that she needed to speak to the headmaster right away. So off they went together to the fourth floor and the ornate office that she’d only been in once before. As they entered a number of holographic screens surrounded Ettinus’ desk, projecting all sorts of information to him. He looked up at the pair, and with a wave of a hand they stopped before much information could be soaked up from them. “It’s a little early for meetings isn’t it?” He inquired, head tilting.

Moss shook his head, “She insisted.”

Namid stepped right in front of the desk and lowered her head. “You made a mistake.” She whispered, “Making me team leader. It should be Haimehen, I’m not cut out for this.”

The two professors passed glances between one another. Rising from his chair, Ettinus circled around and leaned on the edge of his desk, “It’s normal to have doubts, Namid.” He frowned sympathetically. “But I picked you for a reason, and I don’t doubt my choice.”

Her small frame slightly trembled. “You’re wrong.” Her voice wasn’t any more steady. A tear rolled down her cheek. “Mila is gone because of me. And the team… They needed me, and I failed.”

“Everyone fails, Namid.” Ettinus attempted to soothe, “It’s what we do with those failures that defines us.”

Looking up at the elf, Namid frowned, “You’re not hearing me. I can’t do this. Not just being a leader… This.” She gestured at the whole office, “I froze. I can’t be a part of something bigger, if I can’t function on my own. Gravity is better off without me. Hammer too. I’m not a Champion…”

Ettinus furrowed his brow, “We’re not born Champions, Namid. It’s a choice. One we make every day. Because someone has to.”

“Well someone isn’t me. I’m making a different choice. I’m leaving Hammer. Please… Please tell everyone I’m sorry for letting them down.” She turned and, lacking pride, ran for the door, vanishing through it.

“Should we…?” Moss asked, stepping toward the door.

Lifting a hand to stay him, Ettinus shook his head, saddened deeply. “It’s her choice to make, Moss. You know as well as I do that the path we walk isn’t for everyone. Better she learn that lesson now, than before it's too late.”

“With her gone, that means gravity only has four members. It’s been a long time since we had a four man team. It would be good if we could get Mila back. Any news?” Moss slowly approached the desk.

Sighing, the headmaster turned around and shook his head. Reaching across he tapped a sensor that activated one of the projections he’d hidden. “No, nothing yet. And it’s worse than you know.” Ettinus stroked the shadow of his chin, “News of Mila’s disappearance is going to reach her father eventually. And likely the circumstances surrounding it.”

Moss squinted, looking up at the report on the projection - a live entry from the OES that talked about their investigation into the jet, the jackals, and Mila. “Well we haven’t been keeping it a secret. The life of a Champion is dangerous, he won’t be the first father to lose a child.”

Flicking open several other screens, Ettinus shook his head while Moss’ eyes went wide. “You don’t understand my friend. Mila Rios doesn’t exist. Her real name is Mila Trinity, and her father is Santiago Trinity. And when he learns that his daughter is missing, and the role her teammates played in that, they will have unwittingly made an enemy out of one of the most powerful men in Toil.”

Swallowing hard, Moss looked at Ettinus, “And they’re down two members. Two broken squads. A four man team? We haven’t had one of those in years.” He took a deep breath. “We should tell them.”

“No.” White hair shook quickly, “Gravity has enough to deal with, without worrying about a shadow that might be. If we find Mila, we fix the problem. As for their diminished team, I have an idea about that.” Grinning, Ettinus straightened up and looked to the door, “I’m going to be gone for a few days. Hold down the fort, will you?”

[Aethyrium]

Apple Blossom

S T O R Y T E L L E ROctober 11th, Early Evening (~6pm) | Onyx Public Broadcast
Cutscene
Crime continues to spread across Onyx. After last week's debacle, involving Hammer Academy students, which left nearly a dozen dead and tens of thousands in property damage, yet another Arcanite business has been robbed. Leading many to question if Onyx leadership is truly capable of maintaining our safety.

It’s been four weeks since the first report of an Arcanite robbery at Sheema’s Cuts, where we know over a hundred pounds of refined arcanite crystals were stolen. The escalation of events since that initial incident is staggering. Including today’s heist, a total of seven Arcanite businesses have been robbed. And while we cannot confirm, thanks to the flubbed interference of Hammer Academy students, we have reason to believe that the incident at Dazzle & Dust was intended to be an eighth target.

And let’s talk about that for a moment. Eye witness reports say that Hammer alumni and professor Silk Whyte was at the scene in the aftermath of the destruction. What was an esteemed Champion doing? Sheltering five fugitives from the Onyx Enforcement and Service Bureau doing their job. Is this one more overstep by Councilor Oscoro’s agents, acting with impunity against the best interests of our city? You decide. I won’t tell you what to think, but I will ask you… What good are Champions if their actions are the destruction of our homes and the deaths of our neighbors?

We’re told that the Crimson Jackals, a violent and disruptive mafia that has knowingly festered in the streets of Onyx, is involved with all of this. And what have your leaders done about any of it? Criminals walking freely through our streets, known, and accosted for years. More than a thousand pounds of Arcanite crystals and powder, gone without a trace. And now, so-called Champions are turning our homes into warzones.

I’ll tell you what they’re doing. They’re doing nothing.

No, worse than nothing. They are actively blocking the attempts of those who are brave enough, bold enough to want to take measures to secure our sanctuary. I have here a recorded statement from just an hour ago from General Apple Blossom.

The playback switches to a fiery redheaded woman, the Apple Blossom, General of the Onyx military.

The events of these past four weeks have been trying for all of us. My heart goes out to all those who have suffered at the hands of these Crimson Jackals, and anyone else who has sullied the peace of our great city.

We live in a dangerous world my friends, and we face threats not just beyond our walls but within. I have long championed initiatives that would increase security across all of Onyx. Because every citizen matters. No one living among us should have to worry when they step out into the street, or open their business for the day. But my pleas have fallen on deaf ears, and I have been met with resistance at every turn.

These events showcase a need, a growing need, for us to dedicate more resources to the peace and stability that we all want to enjoy. We have ever relied on the Champions to provide us protection, but it is a job they cannot do alone. It is one they do not do alone. Our great military has stood beside them and protected our borders from the Hollow, all while maintaining our internal peace and foreign endeavors.

I see you. I see your perils. I want to fix them. I want to give you the stability that you dream of, that you deserve.

But I cannot while my hands are tied by those who lack the will to step up and ensure our long term prosperity. I have fought for you, for each and every one of you. Against the Hollow. Against crime. Against our enemies. And I will keep fighting for you, but I cannot win this alone. I beg you to look around you and see what is happening to our city. Look at what your leaders have allowed to happen, and ask them the question when is enough going to be enough? How many of you must suffer for their comforts and complacency before we do something about the problems growing in our heart?

Go to your leaders. Demand change. You can make them allow me to help you.

And to my peers, my fellow Councilors. Please. I’m begging you. This is only the beginning. We must unite against the forces that would tear us apart. Join me in creating a better, brighter, stronger, Onyx.

[Aethyrium]

Shir Dhan

Ettinus Maro Lin Oscoro

S T O R Y T E L L E ROctober 12th, Afternoon (~1pm) | Onyx Prarie - Eastern Quarter
Cutscene | Meena, Vesper, Haimehen, Lyreilynn, Farrah, Marlowe
It had taken a little effort, but Ettinus had not struggled much to track down either Meena or Vesper. To say nothing of being well connected in Onyx, Ettinus wasn’t one to take his eye off of pieces floating around his city - and make no mistake, whether the two novices knew it or not, they were pieces in a grander game. After his meeting with Moss, wherein Namid prematurely retired from her career as a Champion, Ettinus had wanted to get some hands-on involvement trying to track down Mila and getting a lead on the Jackals - and the mystery man who had apparently been leading them. That involved tapping some people who didn’t necessarily want to openly communicate. So, he’d left the academy and vanished for two days as promised - during the later part of the first, he subtly delivered some invitations to both potentials. Merely letters that gave a time and a place, and a simple promise that if they still wanted to become Champions, there was an opportunity.

The invitations led both of them, two days later, to a small bar in the northernmost part of Onyx’s eastern quarter. An unassuming little place that was neither a hole in the wall, nor particularly noteworthy. There weren’t more than a dozen patrons, Ettinus aside, when they entered. He was seated at a table in the back of the room, facing the door. And when the first of them entered, he stood to get their attention and then took his seat. “I’m glad to see you came. Please,” He gestured at a chair, “Have a seat. We’re waiting on one more.” Who, of course, didn’t take much longer to show up. Again he rose, signaling them over, and offered them a seat. “Meena.” He nodded at her, “Vesper.” Repeated with him.

“My name is Ettinus Oscoro.” The name might very well have been enough without the title, but to leave nothing to mystery he added, “I am the Headmaster of Hammer Academy.” He leaned back in the chair and politely folded his hands on the table in front of himself. “Since you both showed, I think I can assume you’re both still interested in being Champions?”

Confirmation was good, and Ettinus began to explain. “Hammer finds itself in a… Unique situation.” His neutrality nearly betrayed the mild annoyance - or was it concern? - surrounding that truth. “You see our students are paired up into squads, and these squads are pulled together to create bigger teams. Six people together make a full team.” He passed a glance between them, “Perhaps you’ve heard about the recent incident involving some of my students? Well, it was a team. Gravity.” It didn’t much matter if they had heard or not, though at this point if they had watched anything on the Onyx news it may well have been impossible not to hear about the Dazzle & Dust incident. “And they have found themselves missing two members.” Unfolding his hands, Ettinus gestured at the two of them.

“Meena, you passed Hammer entrance exams, but you weren’t selected because of slot limitations.” He said, looking up at the taller-than-he-Silenus. Eyes sliding to Vesper, “And you would have been selected, I believe, if you had made it here in time to be tested.” Reaching into his long, ornate, flowing knee-length coat, he produced a data pad. “Your protectors had great things to say about you when you applied for Savage.” How he possibly had that information was a mystery. Shifting it in Meena’s direction, “And aside from notations about excessive kindness, I don’t see anything wrong with your scores. As if that is a problem.” He smiled lightly. “Now it is not in the nature of the academies to backfill positions. Champions don’t always make it through the testing, that is the nature of this path. But… You two both strike me as exceptional candidates, missed opportunities. So, just this once, I’m willing to make an exception.”

Tapping the pad against the table, Ettinus leaned toward both of them. “I have a team that’s hurting, that’s lost two people and I want to make them whole. You can do that. You’ll have to work harder, you’re going to be behind. They’ve had time together, and you’ll be coming in on a rough foot, but that’s the life of a Champion. So the question I have for you is… Do you want it?”

* * * * *

Later that evening…

Called together by Shir, gravity was brought to their dorms. Shir, unfortunately, didn’t have much information for them except that the headmaster wanted to see all of them - him included. By then, Mila and Namid’s things had already been removed from the room. The group was just getting comfortable when a knock sounded and the door opened. Ettinus entered the room, followed by Vesper and Meena with their packed things. Ettinus greeted each of them one by one. “It’s been a long week for all of you. But the world doesn’t stop because we suffer losses, I’m afraid.”

Shir, perched on the back of the sofa, looked past the headmaster, surveying the two individuals with him - trying to gauge who they were. Entirely new to him for sure.

“We have to accept that Namid has left us.” Ettinus looked at Haimehen and nodded, then looked to Farrah, “And we won’t stop looking for Mila until she’s been found.” More generally to everyone, “But gravity will go on. It must go on. You’ve been off balance since this happened, well, it’s time to set that right.” He gestured at the students one by one, “Lyreilynn Myalis, Haimehen de Temps Infini, Farrah Tinkerspan, and Marlowe Ashe.” He pivoted slightly to his right, “This is Meena Tor.” Then to his left, “And Vesper Cabello.” Ettinus looked past the students to Shir, “These are the new members of team four. You’ll be taking new students.”

To say that Shir looked stunned was an understatement. He blinked rapidly and looked at both of them and then at Ettinus, “New students? That’s never been done. A team is viable with four…” He trailed off, interrupted.

“No, it hasn’t. Regardless, I’m doing it. Meena, Vesper, this is Shir Dhan, team four’s mentor.” Ettinus cleared his throat, “Your team will remain named gravity, we will honor those we’ve lost. But… There is the matter of squads.” That was a bit tricker. Ettinus looked at Farrah, “Farrah, you will take Meena. And you will be called squad… MoFeTTe.” He glanced to Haim, “So Haimehen and Vesper will parter, and become squad… aCHIeVE.”

Ettinus stepped to the side, “This will be different for all of you. Like before, but harder in some ways. But this is you being made whole again. They’re going to need you to catch up, it’ll be up to you to bring them in. But make no mistake, you need them. You must move forward. Since they have yet to be tested,” He looked to Haim and nodded, “Haimehen will remain interim team leader until such a time as I see fit to name an official one. Shir,” He beckoned, “Let’s talk while they get familiar and settled in.”

[FyreFoxx]

Character Name: Lyreilynn "Lyra" Xyrven Myalis
Date | Time: Sept 30th | Late Morning
Location: Temporary Dormitory
Wearing: Long sleeved white wrap blouse, navy blue skirt with silver embroidery
Tagging | Mentioning: Lolo | n/a

Lyra tapped her chin lightly as the question of champions came up; specifically, how many were in her family. Just how many were there again? The Myalis name was nearly synonymous with arcanite, at least the type that was exported from Unovia. Being hailed as Champions wasn’t what one thought of when thinking of her family, but the truth was still the truth, whether one believed it or not. “Perhaps… two or three each generation? My father retired to marry my mother, and her father became one to win the hand of her mother.” She paused for a moment, trying to mentally visualize her immediate family tree. Relatives were lesser known to her. “There is Chetan, of course. My eldest brother. And Anwyn, I believe, recently graduated? My second eldest brother. As did Anamaris, my eldest sister. Mareika was sent to Equinox just last year. In Sinnat.” There was a small quirk to her lips upon that memory. “I remember her complaints upon heading to that frozen land. She was quite adamant that it should have been me, instead, since the cold does not bother me anyway.” A blink, a set of lyrical notes playing through her head, before they were promptly dismissed. “I was too young to enroll then, of course, so mother insisted that she attend.”
 
She had paused in her work to recall the memories, looking at a random spot in the room in the far corner with fondness. She was seeing, but not seeing, instead looking at long ago images that flitted through her mind. “Anwyn may likely remain as a champion, but I do not believe Chetan nor Anamaris will. Chetan will instead most likely succeed my father as the eldest son, and Anamaris will retire when she marries.” There was a small frown that crossed her face then as she thought more on the subject. “I… suppose it does make it seem more of a sense of prestige than the willingness to help.” That thought alone made her recall the statements of the headmaster, how he questioned her resolve and the way her mother insisted she attend Hammer, instead of Light closer to home. Lyra remembered the way he had looked at her, thinking her nothing more than a pawn for the matriarch of Myalis to sink her claws into a foreign academy, and therefore its land. That only further cemented her reasons for staying far from Light and the reaches of her mother. “Anwyn, however, I know he will make an excellent Champion. Chetan is, as well, from what I can recall, but I know he will retire one day, for the sake of the family. I am not sure what Wyndell will decide, once he is old enough.” She cleared her throat, dismissing talk of her family and avoiding the question of her becoming someone important. Perhaps she might. Perhaps she could make a name for herself that didn’t rely on the foundation of Myalis, one that could stand on its own and have no fear of being toppled over with just a bit of coin.
 
Conversation drifted back towards hometowns and locations, merely nodding along with Marlowe’s words as she had begun her work again in earnest. “That sounds lovely. Truly. Unovia is mostly desert, you know. Very dry and arid.” She gestured towards her outfit. “It is why we wear much silk and thinner fabrics, as not to overheat.” She was glad for the change in topic. How long had it been since she spoke so much, and so readily? And about her own family, of all things. True, she wasn’t on bad terms with them, but neither was she on good terms. There was some fondness, yes, but it was more like how one recalls the familiar in a sea of uncertainty.
 
After some more casual discussions, her mending was completed. Marlowe seemed pleased and that, in turn, pleased Lyra, a gentle smile returning to her features. “I can mend it whenever you wish, when I have a spare moment to dedicate to it.” Lyra had just finished rolling the bit of leather used as her toolkit when Lolo crouched down to take her hands. Fumbling with the kit, it was tucked under one arm to free the hand that was now in the other woman’s grasp, being helped to her feet. “O-oh, thank you,” she mumbled quietly, not expecting the assistance. “It was nothing. All women in my family learn handicrafts.” She left it at that, declining to further elaborate on the subject. It was mostly embroidery that the young ladies learn, not exactly the art of sewing and mending. Like their rude dormmate had said, it was a peasant’s craft, but something that had become both a necessary means to an end and useful skill to have in her research. What difference was there between stitching torn flesh and mending clothes? The difference between arcweave and normal fabric? The difference between hiding the tell-tale signs of destruction and abuse on her clothing and pretending nothing happened in the first place?
 
Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Lyra removed the sewing kit from underneath her arm, clutching it to her chest as Lolo did a twirl, inspecting and dusting off her skirt. That smile widened slightly at the action, seeing something she helped fix pleasing another person. However, it faltered just slightly as Marlowe took that first step towards her. “A-allergies? How, how is that relevant?” Another step forward, as Lyra took one step backwards, keeping the distance between them the same. Fears. “Um, I-I am not sure I un-understand.” Her voice was starting to crack under the game of twenty questions and the intense way Lolo was looking at her now. Her cheeks began to warm as the color rose to them. Another step forward, a half step back. Hopes. “Uh, wh-what?” That pale skin was tinted with the pleasant color of roses, silver eyes wide in bewilderment. Dreams. “Er, Ma-Marlo—” She trailed off with that final step, right into her bubble. “Favorite what?!” Her eyes were like tiny moons now, wide in confusion more than surprise, stuttering over her words and unable to form a complete sentence anymore. She felt the solid form of the wall at her back as she pressed into it, trying to get as much distance between herself and Marlowe as possible, but that small corner of the room was not allowing such movement. This woman confounded her to no end, despite only spending days with her. Something about Marlowe both intrigued and frightened her. She was everything she aspired to be; friendly, open, carefree; and everything she couldn’t be.
 
“I… I… I am sorry!” In a moment of desperation, Lyra shut her eyes tight, ducked past Marlowe, and escaped out the door in a blind panic. Why did this woman fluster her so? That was a question for another day.

-End Scene-

[Aethyrium]

Sandie Beach

S T O R Y T E L L E ROctober 16th, Morning (~8am) | Hammer Academy - History 101: The Great War and Forward
Cutscene
As the last students filtered into Sandie’s classroom - which was a traditional gallery style hall, only just large enough to fit the forty-eight students of any given year - Sandie was doing the same thing she had done every morning as class began… Powering down a twenty-ounce can of her favorite energy drink, Velocity - Wild Tango Cherry flavor. “Goodmorning.” She chirped as she tilted back the can and finished off the last of it. Tossing it in the trash, she immediately grabbed her much larger cup of coffee and slipped out from behind her desk. “Tooodaaaay, we’re gonnabetalking about Onyx’s response tothethreats of Emeraldbutfirst,” She took a sip of her coffee and all but bounced in front of the front row, “I have somethingevenmorefun to share.” Bright brown eyes lit up and she swept them over the room. Throwing her arms wide, her coffee sloshed and the professor jittered toward it to make sure she didn’t lose any. Once it was stable, her skittering, energetic attention returned to the class. “The Unity Tournament.” She said with a level of annunciation that felt strange coming out of her mouth and certainly had to be deliberate.

Excited and hushed whispers spread like wildfire across the class. “As I am surethatyouknow, one of the great cities opens its borders to the rest of the world for the Unity Festival.” This is well known, it’s a major event - perhaps Toil’s single largest holiday. “And duringthisfestival is the Unity Tournament. A chance for our beloved Battle Academies tocometogetherand compete in a great event. The tournament remindsustoalways strive for excellence, and is extremelyprestigious to its victors. It is a chance for the growing generationsofChampions to come together, meetandshare, explore and learn from oneanother.” Sandie, animated as always, paced twice across the front of her hall while sharing this, stopping at the dividing stair. “AndasSquires of Hammer Academy… You have the chance to participate in thisgrandhistoric celebration!”

Starting up the stairs she continued, “But only if you work hard, and prove your worth in representing our glorious academy. Only forty teams get the chance to compete each year, each academy is allocated eight positions onthetournament roster. Slots are given on merit, notexperienceorseniority. Skill alone earns youtheright to represent your academy!”

Sandie stopped about half way up the rows of seating before turning and nearly leaping back down to the ground. She flew to her desk as if the laws of friction didn’t apply to her and scooped a remote off it. A simple click and a holographic display populated, showing the layout of the tournament. “Four rounds, each gradually smaller. In the first round full teams, six on six will competeinsingle elimination. Round two, theremainingteams must select only four of their members to compete in a four on four single elimination round. Ten teamsremain in round three, and they will select two members to represent them. And finally, each academy will be representedbyasingle member of the remaining five teams who fight in a glorious battleroyal to determine the Unity Champion!”

Sandie would go on to explain some of the sources about the tournament and how it got started, what it represents, and what it means to claim victory. Also that Onyx would be hosting this year's Unity Festival. They had months to prepare, but everything between now and the week leading up to the festival would determine eligibility to compete in it. At the end of the day, the headmaster’s of the academies select the teams that will represent each academy.

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date July. 28 | Time: Afternoon (~8:45a.m.)|
Location: Hammer Academy
Wearing: graphic band Tee, cargo shorts, windbreaker, sneakers
Tagging: CLOSED | Mentioning: None |

Part 3 of 3

A breeze rammed into the loose windbreaker as he stepped off the shuttle into the small landing area. A heavy weight say on his chest as he craned his neck back to look up into the bright, sunny sky. Bitterness rose up within him, but he blinked it away. That sort of feeling served no one: it neither honored the sacrifice his sister had made nor the ones he had left behind to be here. He shrugged and pulled the coat around him. This, in turn, caused the weighty pack on his back to shift. It pulled his consciousness away from the world and to the items which occupied it He pressed his lips together and let a heavy sigh slowly escape him. Some of the pressure lightened but he knew that it was a burden he now bore. He craned his neck to the side, feeling the series of cracks, and then strode forward.

The massive, impressive building of the Academy rose before him. Only three stories high, it seemed to take up more space than that. In truth, he knew it did. Most of the island was dedicated to the building. Well, most of it was simulated wilderness really, but the building drew the eye. It was majestic, solid, powerful, purpose. He felt his knees wobble but it was just a bit of gravel under his trainers. Right? He squeezed his eyes shut.

The rapid fire steps were heard instantly. He 'saw; them too. His eyes cracked open and flicked left in time to spot a blur of yellow and a flash of blonde. He saw it coming; he leaned into it. It felt like running into a wall with just his face. One second it was moving forward, then next it was jerking to the side while the rest of his tried to keep going. He spun, planted his foot, got his bearings. The yellow flashed again and his eyes flicked up to the familiar face. The fist was coming for his face again. If it had been his torso, he might have allowed it as he had the first. His former friends were, after all, not trained in combat. He stepped back, ducked low, and spun around. He caught the third blow aimed at his head and jerked the wrist aside and forward, causing the face to come within inches of his, "Good morning, Haliy. Please stop hitting me."

Her eyes flared and he pressed his lips together as he defended against several more blows to his head and allowed a handful of solid punches to fly at him. He skipped back, smiling on the inside.

"Haliy, stop hitting him." The voice froze him. A punch landed against his cheek but it had no force. He stared back along the arm into teary eyes. Those eyes looked past him. He felt ice run along his shoulders.

"Why? He deserves it! He was going to leave like a coward." He finger jabbed at his nose. Thre was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

"Still, please stop." There was raw sadness in the voice. Anger, too. Like the chime of a steel blade striking stone, anger vibrated in the voice and he accepted it without reservation. He blinked back salty tears and willed steel into his soul.

"How?" He saw Haliy roll her eyes and stare hard daggers into him. He felt something in him thaw. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Right, my mother works in the registrar's office. My father works for your father, Haim. Like, d'uuuh~. ANd you are supposed to be the genius?" He grunted and rolled his shoulders. Tension was building. "But I wasn't going to tell him. Not until... you're such a coward!" He slumped as the calculations where he erred ran through his mind like quicksilver. He always forgot to factor emotions correctly. He'd never been good at seeing them. Connie had been, Nan had been, but not him. He sighed heavily and backed away from Haliy slowly. He kept his gaze directed at her.

"Tu ne vas même pas me regarder, n'est-ce pas ?" The figure moved into his vision and he flinched away. Pinched his eyes shut until a soft hand touched his face. He opened his eyes a crack and stared into the soft gray eyes of his lover. The hand abruptly smacked him sharply. It hurt to his very quick. It hurt more than anything else. "Did you think I wouldn't understand, Haimie? Or did you just want me to stay angry at you. Cauterize the wound?" His eyes sent the answer and the other man sighed heavily. "You always were such a softie, Haimie. Always willing to hurt and suffer for others. Connie knew it. She warned me. At the spring festival. She warned me that you would cut off your arm rather than let it offend or attack what you love."

He stood tall. He tried to summon stone into his face. That soft hand slapped him again. The stone and steel dissolved and he barely held the sob in, "I have to go, Nicialan. I have to find it and kill it."

"Like fucking hell you d-"

"Leave it, Haliy. I know, Haimie. I know you will go. Je savais qu'il y avait toujours une personne qui pouvait s'interposer entre nous. I never thought she would. But she did. She's taking you away from me. And I don't know how to stop it, not when I cannot even slap her face. I cried, I prayed, I raged, I bargained. I begged professor Lowed. I.. I..."

"You fucked Sheom." A bit of the steel came back then. A spark of anger flared in his voice and in his heart. He saw Nici flinch and he felt guilt.

"I was angry. I thought.. if I made you jealous or..." He stopped and frowned at Haim, "I don't need to defend myself, Haimie. I was hurting and I did what I did. Just like I know you are hurting and you have to do what you are doing. So, when Haliy told me, I came to tell you something."

He braced for the begging or the cursing or the crying. He looked into the other man's eyes and saw something different. His heart froze and his eyes got big. He felt the panic rising and bile surging. But he forced himself to stand there and take it. Nicialan put his slim hand on Haim's chest and leaned up to brush dry lips over his, "Je t'aime, Haimie. Je te pardonne d'être parti, de t'être faufilé pour récupérer tes affaires et d'avoir fait des bêtises pour me protéger. I love you now and maybe forever. But, Je te laisse tomber." Nici slapped him softly again. Tears were streaming down the other man's face. A second later, he realized they streamed down his own as well. He surged forward and embraced the man. At first, Nici was like ice then he melted, "You big, stupid idiot. Now, go kill that fucking piece of shit that hurt our Connie. You kill it and you survive, Haimehen de Temps Infini. Kill it and bring a piece of it back and lay it at my feet and maybe...MAYBE I'll take your stupid, stubborn, idiotic, handsome ass back. But. don't. you. die."

Then there was only air in his arms and Nici was walking away. Haliy fell in beside him and waved back at him. She also stuck out her tongue and flipped him off first, but then she waved and wrapped an arm around the smaller man's shoulders. Haim felt lighter. Nici always knew what to say, how to make it better. He turned to face the building again and traced the small gem set into the butt of Feu. A garnet pendant Connie had given him at the spring festival. her last gift to him. He wasn't sure he could keep his promise to Nici. He wasn't sure he could survive this. But he'd try. He took a step and then another and a third toward the academy. He wasn't running away, he was charging forward. That had been Nici's last gift. To put a hand on his back and give him permission and a shove. He smiled and laughed and skipped a step.

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date Oct. 17 | Time: Evening (~8p.m.)|
Location: Firing Range in military Academy
Wearing: Uniform, cast, crutches, red shoulder bag
Tagging: Closed | Mentioning: None |
One of the incidental benefits of being a local and a military brat was that Haim knew many of the nooks and crannies of the Military Academy from the dozens upon dozens of times he and Connie had been turned loose while his father or mother were working. It had always been a bit of a guess whether they'd be left in the apartment with stern orders to 'behave' that they ignored or equally stern orders to 'not cause a scene' on Hammer Island. Haim smirked and broke open Fureur to slip another round into the barrel. They'd gotten into plenty of trouble, but never really anything that came home to roost. Haim knew places where even Lolo would not be able to find him. Like a firing range in the Military Academy side of things.

He leveled the pistol, sighted along the irons, and squeezed the trigger as he exhaled. The downrange target manifested a new hole dead center. A twinge of pain lanced up his leg. He squeezed his eyes shut and let it run through him.

He placed the pistol alongside its twin and hit the button with the heel of his hand that summoned the target blindly. The siren blared and the hum of the machine whirred. He 'watched' the ripples of the sounds flow through the air. The sharp clacks of the pistol settling echoed out into it and faded rapidly. For a moment, his mind floated empty in the space.

The siren sounded again and he refocused on the target. Four neat holes, large holes, sat in a roughly equal spread that formed a near-perfect square in its torso. His eyes raised to the crude drawing over the face: sharp ears, wild yellow hair, red eyes, that elfin face. If you cleaned that hair up a bit, maybe a bit longer, softened the eyes, pouty lips sayign naughty things... doing naughty things. Haim bit his lip. The anger flared hot as the word whispered by those lips, that flash of ruby recognition, struck him. He slammed his fist down on the paper, growling. "Vous sayez quoi, putain aux oreilles ternes?"

With all that had been tearing at him, he'd not lost sight of the moment. It was a kernel of clarity that was his and his alone. He shook his head; his sister was his business. He would not keep her existence a secret from the others, but the circumstances of her... whatever or wherever she was now... were his problem. His and his alone. Not his father's, he'd already written Constance de Temps Infini off as dead. Haim scoffed and loaded another round into Feu. "De toute façon, un connard froid la verrait probablement comme un échec." He set the loaded weapon down and loaded up a new, similarly defaced target, and sent it back. He didn't even wait for it to reach the back before sending the bullet through the left eye. He relaxed his arm and brought the gun up to his ear. He tapped it with a tuning fork and 'listened.' He hummed the pitch and nodded. His mind drifted back to the strange cute elf. No, the elf hadn't been cute. The hair was too messy. He clicked his tongue and cursed his lecherous mind.

He pushed his thoughts into constructive avenues. How can I find out more? He didn't know the name of the man Lyra had been helping or the elf that came to his rescue. He knew they had resources and money, that jet was not cheap. He was almost certain, at this point, that the Crimson Jackals had been just hired muscle. They might know a name though. Was it a private individual or an organization? He picked up Feu to load it and paused suddenly. What had they been in Dazzle and Dust for? He snapped the cartridge in and closed the weapon. The metallic click of the weapon closing sped through the silent room. Had they been there for the old man? That seemed unlikely. He aimed slowly, carefully. The arcanite? He squeezed the trigger and the paper fluttered as it was speared again: the right eye. He set the weapon down.

That spree of robberies?!

That fiery red-headed reporter with the sexy lips and shit spewing from her mouth had captured his attention recently. There was so much to think through. He pursed his lips tightly and sighed. He wanted to track that elf down, pin him down, and... He blushed furiously and shook his head. Perhaps that invitation to Lolo earlier in the week had been subconsciously aware of his own frustrations? It had been nearly three months since that last night with Nicialan. He wanted to ask the man questions, get information about his sister. Haim had never believed she was dead; he felt it in his guts. She was his twin; their bond was all-consuming. He slipped another round into Fureur.

No, the secret laid in what the bastards had wanted from Dazzle and Dust. And he felt that what was missing from the other locations hit would make that plain. He sighted along the pistol. It vibrated in his hands as a surge of energy flared in him. As he exhaled and it steadied, the image of the elf came into focus. He squeezed the trigger and watched an ear disappear. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. And they might have learned something if Lyra hadn't been so determined on helping the man escape. He felt bile stir as he recalled that moment of clear realization that she thought she was protecting them from the man. He smirked; they'd demonstrated just how rapidly they could have taken him down right after. If she'd not been playing little miss interference, they'd have had him down on the street. No need to be up on a building, no need for said building to be blasted apart and lives lost, no need for Mila to be mid-air, no need for him to be in this bloody cast. No, she'd rather assume they were all incompetent combatants on the verge of being bested by the asshole and help a criminal escape. He clicked his tongue harder and reloaded Feu. He leaned onto his injured leg and hissed through the pain. He saw her logic; he recognized it. But he hated it because it was based in not trusting them. Maybe they hadn't deserved it? He didn't believe that, he had bene ready to charge to her rescue. She'd been on his list. Just like he'd said to Lolo about her and Farrah. Just as he'd tried to protect Nicialan and was ready to die for Connie. He'd have burned down heaven and hell for Lyra. And she'd betrayed him. He pulled trigger; the hook holding the paper disintegrated. "Putain de bordel de merde!. Bon sang! Nique ta mère!"

He threw his weapon down and clawed at his hairline. It was all a mess and he needed time to figure it out. The team had to function. He had to become a champion and gain the skills needed. He needed allies. He had to figure out the mystery of his sister's disappearance.

But the hyperactive History teacher had to go and remind them about the Unity games. And then Shir had visited them during Self-Directed Sparring and dropped this bomb about training. Haim didn't think for a second that it was true. Something like that? For one, the numbers didn't make sense. Hammer operated in teams of six: always had. Sixteen? Nonsense. Headmaster Oscoro was not that random; neither was Dhan. It'd also throw off Hammer's roster for the Unity Games. No, he didn't believe it, but he had to act like it might be true. It might be true. He saw through most of Shir Dhan's nonsense. The man was cautious, not reckless. He invested dangerously, so he kept potential investments at arm's length. Haim recognized his own MO in the man.

He picked up the abused weapon and held it to his ear. The tuning fork rang sweetly and everything seemed fine. He broke the weapon open and loaded up an incendiary round. He growled darkly. He hadn't bothered skipping evening meals like some of the others though. Whatever nutrients his body could absorb before he threw up was acceptable. He'd spent half his childhood on a farm, he'd learned to strip and reassemble a tractor's engine before he was fourteen, he was not fussed over hard work. He'd also planned to pack some protein bars and plenty of water. He stared down at the pistol for a long moment. He would get through this. He would find a way to make gRAVIty work. He would acHIeVE his goals if he had to burn the world down to do so. His wrist flicked and sent the ruby bead of energy down range off the hip. The flimsy sheet of paper went up like a bomb. He stared at the face as it dissolved beneath the advancing ruby line.

Sighing, he called the target to load another.