There is a river that cannot be crossed when the candles go out

The Watercolor of Song

2011-01-21T03:59:01Z

[Title] The Watercolor of Song
[Fandom] Super Junior I kid you not
[Characters] ~~Kui Xian~~ Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi
[Warnings] None
[Summary] The color of song is muted watercolor that seep into the paper like drowning.
[Dedication] Aniki, because it's all her fault.

Only Aniki will get this one, because. Lol. I don't even.

/goes back to writing Jack/Glen sob

The Watercolor of Song

想寫一首歌給你　關於愛的秘密

愛來的時候　想你的時候　忍不住的喜悅在心頭
愛來的時候　想你的時候　閉上眼睛想想你就在身邊

Sometimes Zhou Mi thinks, as he splashes paint across the canvas and pokes at the blobs until they spread themselves in a semblance of equality, he should have been born a musician. It’s particularly bad on days like these where the pitter-patter of rain is wet against the backdrop of the overcast sky that he feels the melodies like an itch in his fingers, crawling slowly up his wrists like so much entwining ivy until he gives up trying to figure out differential equations and picks up a brush to vehemently cement those ivy vines down on paper. When sufficient green has bloomed across the paper, he sticks his brush in the water cup (though his mind is telling him to stop that, because it ruins the brushes and you wouldn’t want to waste those brushes) and folds up the delicate pages and watches as the un-dried paints seep through the folded side and stains his fingers a violent limegreen, forcing the itch to recede like the tide.

But it never completely goes away, like a hum in the back of the throat or limegreen paint on your finger tips. You can only wash so much, he muses as he lathers his hands with soap and runs it under the tap water, until wrinkled skin comes off in chunks. Kyuhyun has always been strongly opinionated when it came to this sort of thing, staring at his hands intently as he washes the latest smatterings of paint off of his hands and fingers and under his fingernails. Smirking as he pouts when his skin goes wrinkly under the spray and taking those hands into his with a look of amusement stretched across his face like a canvas. It sort of defeats the point of washing, you know, he says, bemused, if you wash off so much that there isn’t even anything left to wash any more.

And Zhou Mi agrees, when he looks into the sink and sees bits and splashes of run-off colors against the edges of the faucet and thinks that colors resemble skin, and if he washes off too much of it, maybe he would turn monochrome. When he voices his concern, however, Kyuhyun looks at him strangely. I don’t think it works like that. And even if it did, you’re not a painting, Zhou Mi.

I never said I was, Kui Xian.

I’m just reaffirming what you never said, Zhou Mi.

I don’t think it works like that, Kui Xian. He remembers saying it slowly, letting each word falling like droplets on his tongue. Words that came from Kyuhyun’s mouth, said with that off-handed drawl that would have seemed thoughtless from any other voice but Kyuhyun’s, because Kyuhyun is never thoughtless and never tries to be otherwise. He wonders at the subtleties of indirect kisses, stolen treasures from the rims of coffee mugs and the sealed envelopes of letters, and wonders if it’s the same if he tastes Kyuhyun’s words on the tip of his tongue like so much cinnamon. This, he doesn’t tell Kyuhyun, because he’s sure that Kyuhyun would consider it and smirk and say those words over and over again, and his clandestine fancying would cease. ‘I don’t think it works like that. It doesn’t work like that. You’re not a painting’.

He likes Kyuhyun’s voice. It’s the first thing he notices on the first day of school as children his age stand up to introduce themselves as 'strangers' and seat themselves as ‘classmates’. He has a serious look on his face, a look of abstract concentration, the sort you see on Greek statues and portraits of lost Gods. The sort of look that bypasses all else to stare straight into the eyes of the distant future. I’m Kyuhyun, Idokawa Middle School, and I like singing. One day, I dream to compose a song that everyone will hear on the radio.

He’s curious enough to approach him during break, and is surprised when the other nods as his approach and greets him as ‘that painter kid’, and tells him, conspiratorially, that it’s good to find a fellow artist in a world dominated by pre-laws and pre-meds and people who understand that fixing people’s plumbing gets you a higher paycheck at the end of the day and that artists are equivalents of hunger relief posters with style.

He doesn’t tell Kyuhyun that he is thinking about pre-med and that he hadn’t known that plumbers get better money and he’s never actually seen a hunger relief poster before. Instead, he talks about the teacher and lunch and about that song. You must really like music. What instrument do you play? What sort of song is it going to be?

He points at his throat. There is a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of Kyuhyun’s lips, he notes, like the stirrings of a groundhog. It’s going to be a love song.

He remembers being surprised, somewhat, though in hindsight, he really shouldn’t have been. For who?

And Kyuhyun simply shrugs. He laces his fingers and rests his chin on it, a faraway look on his face. I don’t know yet. But isn’t this how I’ll find out?

If he has to be anything, he thinks, then he wants to be a song -- the sort of song that comes into existence at the back of Kyuhyun’s throat and finds life in the thrumming of delicate guitar strings. The sort of song that will one day circulate the nation searching, searching, waiting for that person’s pair of ears to hear of it. Waiting for that person’s heart to beat to the rhythm of the song. He imagines that the girl just happens to have turned on the radio that day while seeking the weather report. He expects her to look surprised, perhaps even a little embarrassed, and to feel the thrum of guitar strings in her heart. To go to school that day, sit on the student council and for the first time since her entrance into high-school, daydream about the young man with the soulful voice who wrote it. He expects her to be ranked third in Kyushu, to be an actress and a singer and someone with an inscrutable smile. He expects her to be beautiful, delicate, frail but determined, contrary, witty but faithful. And one day, they will meet in the streets, Kyuhyun singing his song and the girl traveling abroad on her studies in Tokyo, and they will find an instant connection the thickness of a piano wire and seventeen times as strong.

He expects to paint a mural for their wedding. It’s as far as he’s thought about it. It’s probably why he slides up shyly to Kyuhyun in the arts room during second semester and pecks him on the cheek. Kyuhyun had looked at him with inscrutable eyes, before breaking into a wry smile. You even act like a schoolgirl. And then they had a good laugh over it, and when it was time to leave, he closed the door behind them.

It had been raining that day, pitter patter of droplets that brought floods and changes in air pressure but also life. Even now, he sings in the rain that song that had come to life that day. Listening to the pitter patter of rain, I’m in my room, thinking of a song for you, the falling rain’s secret.

He does so now, humming that song in the back of his throat as he mixes the watercolor paints on the palette. Their relationship, he thinks, is like green-blue, a color that’s not quite the sky and not quite the earth and doesn’t quite capture the way he moves his brush or the glint in Kyuhyun’s eyes, but it captures a little bit of everything and isn’t that what art does? He mixes the paints delicately, and presses the brush onto a new sheet of paper. The itch is like the crawling of fire ants upon his wrist, and he lets his brush sit there on the page, watercolor soaking into the paper as he breathes in the scent of art mingled with the sharp smell of coffee sitting on the table. Three sugars, two creams, a dash of cinnamon because cinnamon tastes like song. It goes well with the rain, which mutes everything into sprays of watercolor, giving off the illusion of the world under the water. The world after the flood has drowned everything and anything and there is nothing but the chorus of angels.

That day, when Kyuhyun takes him behind the school and kisses him, he thinks of drowning.

He likes the itch, because he knows it’s proof that the song is still there, strumming on his heartstrings and beating against the windowpane. It itches because it wants to dance in the rain, and he doesn’t let it, because the rain is not hard enough yet to drown it. Because it’s not yet time. The wedding has yet to take place, but he’s starting to think that it’s okay.

The knock on the door startles him out of his reverie. Grinning to himself, he lifts the brush from the paper and dips it into the jar to wash out the green-blue paints, and watches as the tendrils of color drift like an unnamed lifefrom at the bottom of the jar. He then leaves it, tosses his apron onto the back of the chair, and peeks out from the eyehole.

Kyuhyun is on the other side with his hand lifted in greeting and a guitar slung over his shoulders like the rakish eyepatch of a pirate. On the tip of his tongue, he can taste the sweetness of cinnamon. Somewhere, amidst the falling rain, he can hear the song echo.

He opens the door.

Sojourns of a Glass Tower [ part one ]

2011-01-16T05:44:21Z

[Title] Sojourns of a Glass Tower
[Fandom] Pandora Hearts
[Characters] Jack Vessalius, Glen Baskerville, and appearances by the rest of the Pandora Hearts cast
[Warnings] None
[Summary] AU, canon continuation in the vaguest sense; A man is cast as Ophelia, and Glen just has to deal.
[Dedication] numi_nami, for the PH gift exchange of 2011

So this got really long, really, really quickly. Part one is here, part two is coming. This is for Nums for the Pandora Hearts exchange, because the lolirony tends to work like that. And because this is the only pairing I ship in PH and thus is the only pairing I can't do justice and bawww I'm sorry Nums ;A;.

This is a modern-day AU with a lot of references to Hamlet, the reason which will become extremely apparently extremely quickly. It also features a little violence in the second part. I-I hope this is okay, Nums o/;;;;

Sojourns of a Glass Tower

♚ ♛ ♞

Once‭ ‬upon a time,‭ ‬there was a box at the end of the universe.

Once upon a time,‭ ‬that box was opened.‭ ‬From that box came an outward wash of amnesia.‭ ‬From a box,‭ ‬came an eternal night.

Within the night,‭ ‬there was light.

It wasn‭’‬t until much later that he realized what he thought was‭ ‬‘light‭’‬ wasn’t really light at all.

♚ ♛ ♞

A man was cast for the role of Ophelia.

It was nearly unheard of,‭ ‬for a role like this in an industry like this,‭ ‬especially in an era with buxom ladies decorating every other billboard pinned row upon row on rooftops and other incredibly conspicuous and often highly inappropriate places.‭ ‬They were reassured repeatedly and profusely by Reim Lunettes,‭ ‬secretary and general affairs manager of the man who was more or less the sponsor of the Pandora Project,‭ ‬that the man in question was more than suitable for the role,‭ ‬and with a little hair and makeup and some padding in the right places you wouldn‭’‬t even notice the difference.‭ ‬He‭’‬ll be in today,‭ ‬the man promised,‭ ‬five-o‭’‬clock sharp.‭ ‬There was a moment as the man glanced quickly over to where he was standing,‭ ‬still fiddling with the frames of his glasses nervously,‭ ‬conveying a plea that wasn‭’‬t so much discreet as it was caught by just about every other member of the troupe‭ ‬– you will be working with him closely‭; ‬please,‭ ‬please,‭ ‬please be there.‭ ‬That was how he later found himself watching with mild curiosity as the bespectacled man strode into the dressing room with hurried steps and wrung his hands like they were sodden wash cloths.

When it became clear that there as a distinct lack of body following him,‭ ‬their Laertes,‭ ‬young Elliot Nightray,‭ ‬heir to a hideous fortune and overwhelming temper,‭ ‬made a sound of utmost discontent and slung his rapier over his shoulder.

‭“‬Well‭?”‬ He demanded,‭ ‬tapping the scabbard with characteristic impatience.‭ “‬It‭’‬s a quarter past five.‭ ‬Even‭ ‬he‭’‬s here.‭”‬ At this point,‭ ‬several pairs of eyes glanced over to where he was leaning nonchalantly against the frame of a painted backdrop,‭ ‬which he ignored pointedly.‭ “‬Where is he‭?”

Reim cringed and tried not to look piteous.

‭“‬He should be here.‭”‬ The man admitted,‭ ‬pushing up his glasses nervously.‭ “‬The plane was due for arrival three hours ago.‭ ‬He was supposed to take a taxi directly from the airport.‭ ‬We even paid the taxi in advance.‭ ‬I don‭’‬t understand how anything could have gone wrong.‭”

“Contact him,‭ ‬then.‭”‬ The short-tempered man demanded,‭ ‬punctuating his words with a swing of his rapier in annoyance.‭ “‬Phone him,‭ ‬whatever.‭ ‬Get him to hurry it up so we can start reviewing the next scenes already.‭”

“Someone seems impatient.‭”‬ Came the sudden and rather familiar drawl.‭ ‬Eyes turned to the blond-haired man sitting at the dressing table‭; ‬chin propped on his hand.‭ ‬He sat up,‭ ‬and turned to look at the group primly,‭ ‬mismatched eyes thoughtful under heavy lids.‭ “‬Could it be that our young Laertes have more pressing concerns than the introduction of our dear Ophelia‭?”

The‭ ‬‘what sort of‭ ‬brother are you,‭ ‬now‭’‬ was left mostly unsaid,‭ ‬but knowing Vincent Nightray,‭ ‬it was heavily implied and‭ ‬he probably‭ ‬implied it in all sorts of wrong ways.‭ ‬The younger Nightray,‭ ‬to his credit‭ (‬or perhaps he simply didn‭’‬t pick up on it,‭ ‬which was the likelier scenario‭)‬,‭ ‬merely huffed in‭ ‬annoyance,‭ ‬and rolled his eyes in a childish fashion.‭ “‬I have better things to do than waiting.‭”

“What,‭ ‬then‭?”‬ Came the mild rejoinder and an amused lilt to the voice.‭ “‬A pressing engagement‭? ‬A recent booking at a love hotel‭? ‬Do tell,‭ ‬we are most curious.‭”

“You--‭”‬ The indignant response was quickly muffled when their other bespectacled member laid a hand upon the young Nightray heir‭’‬s shoulder,‭ ‬he noted,‭ ‬effectively muffled his explosive temper.‭ ‬Reo pushed his glasses up,‭ ‬and looked to Elliot with all the patience of a parent who is used to their child‭’‬s hands permanently stuck in the cookie jar.

‭“‬Your impatience really was uncalled for.‭”‬ Was his quiet remark,‭ ‬lifting his hand from Elliot‭’‬s shoulder and clasping it behind his back neatly.‭ “‬You know how traffic can get this time of the day,‭ ‬especially on the highway.‭ ‬Really,‭ ‬what would you expect them to say to him,‭ ‬even if they did contact him,‭ ‬especially if it‭’‬s a traffic jam‭?”

“Hell if I know.‭”‬ Came Elliot‭’‬s annoyed reply as he reached to pat down his shoulder gingerly,‭ ‬as though brushing off imaginary dust.‭ “‬Do I look like I care about excuses‭? ‬Get him to hurry the hell up.‭ ‬And just who the hell needs a shitty Ophelia that doesn‭’‬t even know how to get to rehearsal on time‭? ‬Tell him that if he doesn‭’‬t get here in the next fifteen minutes,‭ ‬he‭’‬s‭ ‬fired.‭”

“Ah‭!”‬ There was a cheerful gasp from next to the costume rack.‭ ‬He watched on as the golden-haired Vessalius walked forward with a smile and a spring in his steps,‭ ‬innocent smile plastered all over his face‭ ‬like so much decorative icing.‭ ‬In his hands he held the Hamlet script,‭ ‬bound in gold foil and labeled such in fancy,‭ ‬Victorian-esque text font that probably gave Monotype Corsiva a run for its money.‭ ‬He flipped through the bound script absently as he spoke,‭ ‬the sound of the fluttering of pages a constant background.‭ “‬I didn‭’‬t know that Elliot had administrative rights like that‭! ‬If I‭’‬d known sooner,‭ ‬maybe I would‭’‬ve asked for a residence that faces the beach and better air-conditioning.‭ ‬God knows I really need both right now.‭”

Elliot,‭ ‬as expected,‭ ‬was less than pleased by this intrusion.‭ ‬He proceeded to express his displeasure by lifting a finger and pointing it vehemently.‭ “‬Don‭’‬t get so friendly with me,‭ ‬Vessalius‭! ‬And who the hell asked you,‭ ‬anyway‭? ‬If you don‭’‬t have anything to contribute,‭ ‬then you should just shut the hell up‭!”

“Gentlemen--‭”‬ Reim began hesitantly,‭ ‬only to be cut off decisively by a wayward pout.

‭“‬My air conditioner did break,‭ ‬though,‭ ‬so it‭ ‬is relevant.‭”‬ Oz was saying,‭ ‬his features twisted into a perplexed façade,‭ ‬the sort of innocence found only on three-year olds and encyclopedia salesmen.‭ “‬They don‭’‬t call it summer for nothing.‭ ‬Even you‭’‬d have to agree.‭”

“Shut up‭!”‬ And here,‭ ‬he could see Reo with his hand,‭ ‬reaching for that shoulder once again,‭ ‬but the young Nightray brushed it off like so much lint.‭ ‬From the sidelines,‭ ‬he could see the amusement crawling up the elder Nightray‭’‬s face as he turned to face the mirror like a bouquet of ivy.‭ ‬So much ivy that any more,‭ ‬he‭ ‬mused,‭ ‬and it would have flowered.‭ “‬Quit joking around,‭ ‬Vessalius‭! ‬It‭’‬s‭ ‬your sister that‭’‬s being replaced‭! ‬Just try telling me that you don‭’‬t have a thing or two to say about that.‭ ‬Just try it‭ ‬--‭”

“Elliot.‭”‬ Reo began,‭ ‬insistent.‭ ‬And if Oz Vessalius‭’‬ smile seemed to waver by the corners of his mouth,‭ ‬it was just the lighting.

‭“‬It isn‭’‬t like that,‭ ‬Elliot.‭”‬ The golden-haired man laughed a little,‭ ‬hands poised above the face of the script.‭ “‬And besides,‭ ‬it wasn‭’‬t like Elliot and Ada were getting along anyway.‭ ‬It‭’‬s for the best this way--‭”

The rapier suddenly met the floor with a resounding crash.‭ “‬Are you implying that it‭’‬s‭ ‬my--‭”

“I‭’‬m not‭! ‬But I‭’‬m just saying that you shouldn‭’‬t be so upset,‭ ‬since--‭”

“Upset‭? ‬Upset? ‬Who the hell are you calling‭ ‬upset‭? ‬I dare‭ ‬you to say that again,‭ ‬you bastard‭! ‬Bastard‭!”‬ Immediately,‭ ‬the room was thrown into relative chaos as the younger Nightray lunged at the Vessalius,‭ ‬fists clenched and putting his set of lungs to good use,‭ ‬held back only by a staggering Reo.‭ ‬To the side,‭ ‬Vincent Nightray yawned,‭ ‬and slipped from his seat,‭ ‬sidling towards the door nonchalantly as Reim hurried into the room,‭ ‬throwing himself between the one-sided fist-match with panic born of pure experience.

When Oz Vessalius looked as though he really was going to say it again‭ (‬and louder,‭ ‬more forcibly than what Elliot‭’‬s arteries would have been able to take‭)‬,‭ ‬he decided that perhaps the elder Nightray had read the situation appropriately,‭ ‬and thus followed suit‭ ‬--‭ ‬slipping out of the door as voices rose behind him.

♚ ♛ ♞

It wasn‭’‬t so much of a dream as it was a feeling.‭

Within the light,‭ ‬there was flaxen gold,‭ ‬spun like silk.

Within the flaxen gold,‭ ‬there was the glint of a blade.

The blade was dyed red.

♚ ♛ ♞

It was a surprise that when he opened the door to his private dressing room,‭ ‬the couch was already occupied.

Closing the door behind him quietly,‭ ‬he ignored the lump of blankets sprawled over red satin,‭ ‬and made his way to the dressing table.‭ ‬As he sat down and pulled the script from its customary bag,‭ ‬the pile of blankets stirred.‭ ‬He ignored it until it began to speak.

‭“‬Who‭’‬re you‭?”‬ The voice was slightly slurred from sleep,‭ ‬gentle tenor that suggested a man,‭ ‬or perhaps a woman with a low vocal range.‭ ‬The rustle of blankets suggested that the person had risen from the couch,‭ ‬and was most likely boring holes into his back.‭

The yawn that punctuated the question implied that the person was not yet completely awake,‭ ‬but he had the feeling‭ ‬that the person in question was rarely completely lucid in the first place.

He flipped another page.‭ “‬This is my dressing room.‭”

A pause,‭ ‬and there was a chuckle.‭ “‬I‭’‬m sorry,‭ ‬but...‭ ‬that doesn‭’‬t quite tell me who you are.‭”

The chuckle,‭ ‬he decided,‭ ‬was an annoying sound.‭ “‬Glen Baskerville.‭”

“Ah‭!”‬ A hint of recognition seemed to permeate the other‭’‬s remark.‭ ‬He heard rather than felt the approach,‭ ‬the slide of fabric as the other slid off of the couch,‭ ‬the soft padding of steps as the other came to stand by his left.‭ “‬You‭’‬re the one cast as Hamlet.‭”

He didn‭’‬t bother to reply.‭ ‬The silence stretched on into the realm of the awkward until the other took it as an affirmative‭ (‬when in reality,‭ ‬he was calculating the dry cleaning costs of the blankets that had no doubt slipped to the floor upon the other‭’‬s rising‭)‬,‭ ‬and leaned down as though to fill it through sheer willpower.‭ ‬From his peripheral vision,‭ ‬he could see the ends of a long,‭ ‬blond braid,‭ ‬curled on the dressing table like a perfect question mark.‭ “‬Isn‭’‬t it your turn to ask‭?”

“You are the one who is to play the role of Ophelia.‭”‬ The lack of patience in his tone seemed to have been lost in translation,‭ ‬for the other merely laughed.‭

“Yes,‭ ‬but,‭ ‬that doesn‭’‬t quite tell you who I am.‭”

The laughter,‭ ‬he decided,‭ ‬was not much better.‭ ‬Turning in his chair,‭ ‬he faced the other and studied him quietly.‭ ‬A blond-haired man smiled back genially,‭ ‬hair mussed and shirttails hanging‭ ‬--‭ ‬unkempt appearance pointing to the spontaneous nature of the nap.‭ ‬He waved,‭ ‬lightheartedly,‭ ‬and looked to him with an expectant look found only on newborn puppies and naked,‭ ‬baby birds.

‭“‬You may leave.‭”‬ He murmured,‭ ‬turning.‭ ‬And he wasn‭’‬t entirely surprised when the other merely laughed it off.‭ ‬There was a shift of cloth,‭ ‬and their Ophelia rested himself on the table,‭ ‬kicking his legs in mid-air with childish exuberance.

‭“‬Jack Vessalius.‭”‬ Came the reply,‭ ‬cheerful,‭ ‬almost as though he had,‭ ‬indeed,‭ ‬heard,‭ ‬but had heard something else all together than a polite request of his leave.‭ ‬And when no reply from the other was forthcoming,‭ ‬he pressed on.‭ “‬It‭’‬s true that one of my main motivations for accepting this job was because my nephew was on the cast listing.‭ ‬I don‭’‬t get to see him perform often,‭ ‬so I thought this would be a good chance to reconnect.‭ ‬The play being Hamlet was a bonus too,‭ ‬since it was one of my favorites from the folios.‭”

He wasn‭’‬t sure why he responded.‭

“You are replacing your niece.‭”

There was a slight pause before Jack spoke again.‭ ‬The soft tenor grew softer.‭ “‬I couldn‭’‬t replace her.‭ ‬That‭’‬s why I play Ophelia.‭”

The statement made very little sense to him.‭ ‬Flipping his script book closed,‭ ‬he turned around again to meet the eyes of the other.‭ ‬Jack smiled back,‭ ‬leaning,‭ ‬braid thick as rope and smile wrought with secrets.‭ “‬I haven‭’‬t heard of you.‭”

There was amusement when the blond-haired man replied.‭ “‬On the other hand, you're rather infamous.‭”

He smirked.‭ “‬I did not know that the Vessalius had a third son.‭”

And he was duly surprised when the other‭’‬s smile curved.‭ ‬It was enough,‭ ‬in hindsight,‭ ‬to wipe the smirk off of his face when Jack Vessalius tilted his head and delivered half the message with fathomless eyes.‭“‬Ah,‭ ‬well,‭ ‬I suppose there are many things you don‭’‬t know about the Vessalius.‭”

When he did not reply,‭ ‬the other man merely leaned back against the mirror,‭ ‬reflection every bit as idyllic.‭ “‬But since you‭’‬re here,‭ ‬it means that the meeting‭’‬s over,‭ ‬isn‭’‬t it‭? ‬It‭’‬s a little late,‭ ‬but I wonder if I should go and report in anyway.‭”

Glen Baskerville raised a delicate eyebrow.‭ “‬That,‭ ‬is none of my concern.‭”

And in response,‭ ‬the other merely nodded contemplatively,‭ ‬as though taking Glen‭’‬s off-handed comment entirely seriously.‭ “‬I suppose you‭’‬re right.‭ ‬It isn‭’‬t.‭”‬ A shuffle,‭ ‬and he slid off of the desk,‭ ‬passing Glen by entirely as he made his way towards the door.‭ “‬But I will,‭ ‬anyway.‭”

His gloved hand touched the door lightly when he turned again,‭ ‬smile radiant.‭ “‬I look forward to working with you.‭”‬

The door opened on unseen hinges.‭ ‬Jack Vessalius slipped out and was gone.

♚ ♛ ♞

Their‭ ‬first rehearsal ended in distaste.

If Shakespeare had intended for King Claudius to skewer Ophelia with a large and pointy stage prop sometime during the beginning of act three,‭ ‬Glen mused sardonically,‭ ‬he was free to speak up.‭ ‬As it stood now,‭ ‬their Claudius,‭ ‬Vincent Nightray,‭ ‬seemed to have spent a considerable amount of time beforehand thinking up new and exciting ways to ensure that Jack Vessalius could not make his way across the mock-stage unscathed,‭ ‬and his efforts didn‭’‬t go unnoticed.‭ ‬However,‭ ‬it wasn‭’‬t until the goblet of wine‭ ‬‘accidentally‭’‬ upended itself over Jack‭’‬s head that anyone found enough courage to speak up on it.

‭“‬Mister Vincent,‭”‬ He overheard Reim Lunettes as he approached the man with the mismatched eyes who had been fixing his prop earrings by the dressing table with a sated air.‭ “‬It‭’‬s come to my attention that‭—‬I mean,‭ ‬I beg your pardon,‭ ‬but‭…‬ is something amiss‭?”

The man in question blinked.‭ “‬It isn‭’‬t very nice,‭ ‬to come to someone with the intention of accusing them.‭”

Reim visibly reddened.‭ “‬Ah,‭ ‬well.‭ ‬Mister Vincent,‭ ‬I--‭”

The other merely yawned.‭ “‬Perhaps you can put your time you‭’‬ve wasted pointing fingers to better use by bringing relief to our unfortunate Ophelia.‭ ‬I don‭’‬t think he has realized that his hair is beginning to discolor.‭”

At this,‭ ‬Reim blanched.‭ ‬Glen watched as Jack,‭ ‬who had been dripping wine across the carpet cheerfully,‭ ‬visibly perked up when the bespectacled man came hurtling across the room with a towel.‭ ‬Reo,‭ ‬who had been standing nearby and sipping tea sedately,‭ ‬spoke up as he refilled Glen‭’‬s teacup with grace of someone who was very,‭ ‬very used to pouring tea.‭ “‬I wonder what sort of grudge it‭’‬s supposed to be.‭”

Vincent Nightray,‭ ‬thought Glen,‭ ‬was the sort of man who could make a grudge out of anything.‭ ‬He considered saying so,‭ ‬but decided that it didn‭’‬t particularly need verbalization‭; ‬Reo,‭ ‬who read thoughts almost as easily as he poured tea,‭ ‬merely smiled and set the teapot down soundlessly.‭ “‬There‭’‬s only one person who could have made it so blatant,‭ ‬isn‭’‬t it‭?”

Reo then left with a brief apology that wasn‭’‬t apologetic so much as it was out of formality‭’‬s sake when Elliot jammed his prop rapier into the trunk of a prop tree while swinging it at an unduly amused Oz,‭ ‬and couldn‭’‬t get it unstuck again.‭ ‬He took with him the breath of idyllic silence that he carried with him like a cloud even when he spoke‭; ‬as soon as he vacated,‭ ‬Jack wandered over smelling of rich,‭ ‬dark wine and a towel on his head.

‭“‬At least it wasn‭’‬t the whole bottle.‭”‬ For someone who had been shoved off stage,‭ ‬staged to step on a prop rake pointy end first and had a glass of wine upended over his head within the last half hour,‭ ‬he was taking it rather well.‭ “‬1895,‭ ‬Italian Piedmont.‭ ‬It‭’‬s a good vintage,‭ ‬but not really a cheap one.‭”‬ At this,‭ ‬his contemplative look turned rueful.‭ “‬I wonder if Mister Lunettes would let me have the bottle,‭ ‬if I asked.‭ ‬I mean,‭ ‬really asked.‭”

“Rufus Barma is a well-known wine connoisseur.‭ ‬One bottle is negligible‭”‬ Glen lifted his tea,‭ ‬saucer and all,‭ ‬and sipped it.‭ ‬Frowned.‭ ‬Jasmine did not mix well with the excessive fragrance of Italian Piedmont that wafted incessantly.‭ ‬He considered asking for the other to leave,‭ ‬but remembered how much of an effect that had the first time,‭ ‬and did the intelligent thing by removing himself instead.‭

Unfortunately,‭ ‬to his distaste,‭ ‬the blond-haired man padded after him obliviously.‭ “‬Are you speaking that from experience‭? ‬Or is it just conjecture‭?”‬ And when Glen turned to give the other a most unamused look,‭ ‬he merely laughed.‭ “‬I couldn‭’‬t be too careful.‭ ‬After all,‭ ‬angering your employer over a bottle of indulgent wine isn‭’‬t exactly prudent no matter how you look at it.‭ ‬Working relations‭ ‬are important.‭”

Glen exhaled softly,‭ ‬and stopped next to the nearest table to set his teacup down with a clink of expensive porcelain.‭ “‬If working relations carry such importance to you,‭ ‬I suggest you make peace with our Claudius immediately.‭”

The smile that Jack returned was almost rueful.‭ “‬Is it really so obvious‭?”‬ And when Glen fixed a pointed look on the state of his hair,‭ ‬he laughed,‭ ‬merrily,‭ ‬golden bubbles spilt forth from lips,‭ ‬that,‭ ‬Glen noted,‭ ‬were split.‭ “‬It is,‭ ‬isn‭’‬t it.‭”‬ And then,‭ ‬the man clasped his hands behind his back,‭ ‬and turned away slightly,‭ ‬green eyes lingering into the far distance.‭ “‬But in‭ ‬some cases,‭ ‬there simply isn‭’‬t anything that can be done.‭”

And Glen,‭ ‬on his part,‭ ‬felt‭ ‬neither stirrings of sympathy nor urges of‭ ‬any‭ ‬particular emotion.‭ ‬However,‭ ‬he did feel a certain band of irritation to that answer,‭ ‬which surprised him more than it should have.‭ ‬Turning away as well,‭ ‬his gaze rested on the decorative surface of his teacup.‭ ‬His eyes traced curling ivy and their bloom until it swerved to the other face of the cup and out of immediate sight.‭ “‬You reap what you‭ ‬sow.‭”

“It was quite the seed.‭”‬ The other man remarked almost cheerfully.‭ ‬Threw his arms up for emphasis like a child on Christmas day.‭ “‬And it grew into the tallest ivy.‭ ‬Hanging trellis.‭ ‬That sort of thing.‭”

“Ivy and trellis are two different matters entirely.‭”‬ He remarked dryly,‭ ‬unimpressed.‭ ‬Jack leaned in,‭ ‬smiled,‭ ‬and he supposed that he could see the paint cracking,‭ ‬the little frays around the edges where the smell of wine becomes especially overpowering.‭ ‬It‭ ‬occurred to him for the first time that the vintage may not be‭ ‬1985,‭ ‬and the brand wasn‭’‬t Italian Piedmont.‭ ‬Fragrances of grape juice,‭ ‬conveniently labeled as something tainted and sparkling.‭ ‬The thin whispers of smoky London intermixed with the delicate turns of the exotic middle east,‭ ‬like some sort of Persian carpet,‭ ‬or Himalayan cat.

‭“‬Metaphors lie like fairy tales.‭”

He would not have taken a step back,‭ ‬even if Jack did not retreat almost immediately afterwards,‭ ‬bearing his smile like a triumph and clasping his hands behind his back once more.‭ ‬Suddenly,‭ ‬Italian Piedmont and‭ ‬1985‭ ‬became overwhelming,‭ ‬like the scent of history.‭ ‬The Vessalius laughed,‭ ‬and removed the towel from his head,‭ ‬prodding at his sticky locks with something akin to amusement.

‭“‬It looks like I have to give it a good wash after all.‭”‬ A sound of disappointment.‭ “‬I suppose red wine is just tenacious like that.‭ ‬You don‭’‬t suppose you‭’‬d be willing to lend a washing hand‭?”

Disgusted,‭ ‬Glen Baskerville walked away.

♚ ♛ ♞

He dreamed of the box and of the light and of the‭ ‬flaxen gold that gave it shape.

The tree rose from his dreams the most often,‭ ‬dominating‭ ‬the‭ ‬view of the sky with its endless branches.‭ ‬It was a majestic tree,‭ ‬surrounded by ruin.‭ ‬Ruin,‭ ‬he remembered,‭ ‬that wasn‭’‬t there,‭ ‬but he wasn‭’‬t sure,‭ ‬for the dream-tree was not real,‭ ‬and thus his memory of it wasn‭’‬t real either.

Sometimes there was‭ ‬the‭ ‬sound of the piano.‭ ‬Sometimes there wasn‭’‬t.‭ ‬But that summer,‭ ‬he dreamed,‭ ‬was a summer of laughter.

He looked up,‭ ‬and the sky was infinite.

♚ ♛ ♞

He didn‭’‬t find the other so much as he opened the door to the rooftop and promptly tripped over the other‭’‬s legs.‭ ‬After suffering through a minute or so of barely muffled snickering with as much dignity as he could muster‭ (‬though,‭ ‬granted,‭ ‬not even he knew how to‭ ‬muster up sufficient dignity after a mishap like that‭)‬,‭ ‬he turned to leave indignantly the way he came when he felt a sudden hand on his arm.

‭“‬No,‭ ‬no,‭ ‬I‭’‬m--‭ ‬sorry--‭”‬ The snickering,‭ ‬he noted,‭ ‬had not abated and this did not improve his mood any.‭ “‬Please--‭ ‬stay.‭ ‬I didn‭’‬t mean to--‭ ‬Oh,‭ ‬your‭ ‬face--‭”

Unamused,‭ ‬he shook off the offending hand,‭ ‬and retreated into the safety of the building with a huff,‭ ‬only to find the other staggering after him,‭ ‬hand clasped over mouth in some sort of drunken dance.‭ ‬The snickering finally tapered off in the stairwell during the‭ ‬conjunction between the second and third floors,‭ ‬in which the Vessalius grinned and matched him,‭ ‬step for step.

‭“‬Rehearsal isn‭’‬t in another two hours.‭”‬ He saw the incessant grin out of the corner of his eyes.‭ ‬A curve of the lips to match the curve of the eyes.‭ “‬Where are you off to in such a hurry,‭ ‬anyway‭?”

“Elsewhere.‭”‬ He jerked open the door leading to the lobby and slipped through.‭ ‬The other followed,‭ ‬footsteps nonchalant.‭

“If it‭’‬s elsewhere,‭ ‬I know a good place.‭”‬ The offer was clear in his voice,‭ ‬and Glen ignored it in favor of breezing through the front entrance,‭ ‬emerging out over the street.‭ ‬It was then he realized that he wasn‭’‬t entirely sure where he was headed,‭ ‬and stopped abruptly atop the ornate staircase leading to the hustle and bustle of city life.‭ ‬Behind him,‭ ‬something bumped into him,‭ ‬and Jack laughed as he apologized over and over with that same cheerful sort of tone,‭ ‬but he tuned him out in favor of contemplation.

It was after a few moments of silence when Jack spoke again,‭ ‬jarring him out of his thoughts.‭

“I really am sorry for the mishaps.‭”‬ The rue in his tone could be considered sincere.‭ “‬Those two instances should at least warrant a cup of tea,‭ ‬if not a peaceful moment in a café‭ ‬somewhere.‭ ‬Repayment for past transgressions,‭ ‬if you will.‭ ‬Or maybe even just a nod to the fact that I used your dressing room the first day here.‭ ‬At least let me do that much.‭”

Glen considered this,‭ ‬and responded with finality.

‭“‬No.‭”

“Well,‭ ‬then.‭”‬ Jack brushed off his summer jacket,‭ ‬and started his way down the stairs,‭ ‬turning back only to wave Glen forward readily.‭ “‬Shall we be off‭?‬ It‭’‬s down the street just to the left,‭ ‬next to the flower shop and the river.‭ ‬Well,‭ ‬what they call a river,‭ ‬anyway.‭ ‬Isn‭’‬t it going to be drained away soon‭? ‬I guess we should go take a look afterward‭…”

He stood there for a long moment,‭ ‬watching his braid flash in the sun until the other man turned around and waved to him impatiently from the street,‭ ‬exuberant greeting‭ ‬drawing in unwanted attention.

‭“‬Ah,‭ ‬this way,‭ ‬Mister Baskerville‭! ‬Standing there won‭’‬t get you elsewhere faster‭!‬”

The café affair was more idyllic than he had expected,‭ ‬the peace steeping into every sip of tea‭ ‬and strain of classical music filtering from the speakers.‭ ‬To Jack‭’‬s credit,‭ ‬the other spent most of the time spent in the café murmuring interesting comments about their various fellow patrons and quoting bits and pieces of Hamlet whimsically,‭ ‬which he tuned out without great difficulty.‭ ‬The tea was good and warm and the chai latte the other ordered smelled of delicate spices that made his eyes water for the first little while until he got used to it.

True to his word,‭ ‬by the time both drinks were on their last sips,‭ ‬Jack picked up the tab.‭ ‬He noted with distaste that the other tipped liberally and complimented the waitress on her choice of hairclips,‭ ‬to which the woman laughed and collected the coins without‭ ‬great‭ ‬pause.‭

Somehow,‭ ‬he then found himself overlooking a very sorry-looking river from the vantage of a delicate bridge that wasn‭’‬t so much of a bridge as it was mere park decoration,‭ ‬with the sinking suspicion that the man next to him had to be privy to some brand of memory-warping black magic‭ ‬– or at very least didn‭’‬t‭ ‬understand the meaning of‭ ‬‘no‭’‬.‭ ‬Sometime between leaving the café and over-looking the river,‭ ‬the man had slipped his arm around his and had pulled with surprising strength,‭ ‬and he had been far too surprised to do anything about it until it was too late to‭ ‬extract himself with‭ (‬relative‭) ‬dignity.

‭“‬This.‭”‬ He looked down upon the dying reeds,‭ “‬Is a very sorry river.‭”

“Sorrier still.‭”‬ Somehow,‭ ‬the man next to him was relatively subdued.‭ “‬It looks as though it were nearing the end of its lifeline.‭”

‘There is nothing you can do.‭’‬ Somehow,‭ ‬those words seem vaguely appropriate for the situation,‭ ‬but to say so would be admittance.‭ ‬He remained resolutely silent until Jack tired of looking down upon reeds that were slowly joining the ranks of the undead‭ (‬or of standing still,‭ ‬really‭)‬,‭ ‬and walked onwards,‭ ‬down the pathway further into the expanses of the park.

He supposed that at this point,‭ ‬he could simply walk away.‭ ‬A quick check of his watch showed that rehearsal was due within the next hour,‭ ‬and while‭ ‬the‭ ‬tea was pleasant,‭ ‬his expedition to a park,‭ ‬of all places,‭ ‬was little more than pointless.‭ ‬There were better things to occupy his time.‭ ‬The script could always use another read-over.‭ ‬He had a novel,‭ ‬yet untouched since the flight that brought him into the country five days prior.‭ ‬There were any number of things fit to occupy his time,‭ ‬and none of them required being outdoors.

There was a flash of‭ ‬flaxen‭ ‬gold amongst the reeds.‭

He turned to watch the retreating back and,‭ ‬after pressing his hand to the bridge of his nose for a good while,‭ ‬followed.

Later,‭ ‬he found himself standing before a vendor‭’‬s stall ordering two packs of fish food while‭ ‬the‭ ‬man behind him crowed cheerfully and stared,‭ ‬starry-eyed,‭ ‬at the multitude of koi that thrived in artificial water.‭ ‬When the mixture arrived,‭ ‬he tossed a packet to Jack,‭ ‬and,‭ ‬after a brief moment of consideration,‭ ‬tossed the other as well.

Jack caught them both,‭ ‬the first with an excited grin,‭ ‬and the next with a frown.

‭“‬I‭ ‬have‭ ‬no intention of encouraging‭ ‬cannibalism‭ ‬in fish.‭”‬ Was his dry explanation,‭ ‬giving the other a pointed look.‭ ‬The‭ ‬Vessalius considered this for a moment,‭ ‬laughed,‭ ‬and pulled him to the pond‭ ‬unceremoniously.

‭“‬The fish,‭”‬ he began as he opened up a packet of fish food that more or less had the consistency of sawdust and pulled Glen‭’‬s hand forward to sprinkle a few pieces on the palm on his hand,‭ ‬“Like it if you drop the food right by the reeds.‭ ‬I think the shadows calm them a little,‭ ‬like a security blanket.‭”

“You‭’‬ve been here before.‭”‬ This was his‭ ‬accusation,‭ ‬in a sense,‭ ‬or at the very least,‭ ‬very dry conversation-making.‭ ‬Jack looked wistful.

‭“‬Not really.‭ ‬But I do know fish.‭”

Which,‭ ‬in hindsight,‭ ‬was a rather strange thing to say,‭ ‬but he didn‭’‬t pay much attention.‭ ‬Lowering his hand into the water,‭ ‬he brushed the‭ ‬pungent‭ ‬flakes into the water,‭ ‬and retreated.‭ ‬A moment passed,‭ ‬two,‭ ‬and he frowned.‭

He opened his mouth to remark.‭ ‬Jack cut him off with a grin.

‭“‬You‭’‬re not very patient,‭ ‬are you.‭ ‬Even though you look it.‭”

His eyes flickered to the side,‭ ‬surprised.‭ ‬Jack glanced back,‭ ‬expectant,‭ ‬before lowering his‭ ‬hand into the water as well.‭ ‬The flakes floated to the surface,‭ ‬murky and traces of oil coloring the water a slight tint of rainbow,‭ ‬but he didn‭’‬t remove his hand,‭ ‬and Glen,‭ ‬curious,‭ ‬watched on.‭

“They‭’‬ll come.‭”‬ The other‭ ‬said with finality,‭ ‬looking at the water intently.‭ ‬“When they‭’‬re hungry enough.‭ ‬Things have a way of working out by themselves, if you’re patient enough.‭”

‭His voice was dry when he replied. “You are an optimist.”

‭And Jack. Jack merely laughed, ripples of laughter that wove across the surface of the pond. Like a ripple in time. “I’ve always been an optimist. You can say it’s a bit of a bad habit on my part.”

‭“Even when the towers crumble and seas boil.” The words were out of his mouth before he could consider their meaning. Their significance. The droplets of water fell from Jack’s trembling fingers. “Somehow, when the world itself is falling to bits.”

‭“Glen--” And for his part, Glen gave the other an irritated look. Standing up, he glanced at his watch, and gestured crossly.

‭“We will be late for rehearsal.”

♚ ♛ ♞

‭That night, he dreamed of crumbling castles and vast expanses of space that folded in on itself until there really wasn’t anything left. The overwhelming smell of blood often followed, and the flashes of white -- white of purity, white of insanity beyond all else.

‭But most of all, there was the tree again, rising from the ashes, and by the base of the tree, a tombstone that caught the light in three different places. And when he awoke, he took his hand to his head, and thought, I know that grave.

‭♚ ♛ ♞

‭After their rehearsal, Charlotte came up to him still bound heavily in her ornate Gertrude dress and nodded out of respect. It was because of mutual respect that he nodded back. “Your acting is as superb as usual, sir.”

‭“Hamlet is a character of words.” Was Glen’s mild rejoinder as he fetched her a glass, which she took gratefully. “And words deceive. His character is no more real than the actions taken in his name.”

‭“But words also convey.” He turned, and came face-to-face with a lightly smiling Jack, who nodded to Charlotte and reached over to pluck a flower out from a nearby display, moving forward to press it into her hair. Charlotte, who was possibly the last person anyone would have pegged to be a romantic, did not disappoint by lightly slapping his hand away, and turning to Glen with the deference of someone who wished to be excused.

‭“My apologies.” She took with her the constant fragrance of jasmine, which probably meant that she had been straightening her hair again with that awful contraption and which meant she was probably only using half of her hair extensions. Jack, for his part, looked vaguely non-plussed, but the younger Nightray, who had followed the blond-haired man-costumed-as-a-woman over from their corner of the room, scoffed and tapped his foot impatiently.

‭“What’s her problem?” Was his rhetorical demand, before he turned his attention onto Glen. “And what the hell is yours?”

‭“Elliot--” Came Jack’s warning murmur. But true to his character, Elliot paid him no heed. Crossing his arms, he put on an accusatory tone, testament to the infamous Nightray temper.

‭“Where the hell were you yesterday, Baskerville? There was rehearsal, and you weren’t there.”

‭The Baskerville in question merely raised an eyebrow. “I was not needed for the scene.”

‭“You are Hamlet!” Came Elliot’s reply, his voice rising in volume in proportion to his temper. “It’s your responsibility to be at each and every rehearsal! This isn’t just some kind of a stupid gig, Baskerville. Just because you’re some bigshot--”

‭“I hadn’t realized,” He cut in smoothly, derision clear in his voice. “That the youngest Nightray was so dependant on moral support of his castmates.”

‭“Glen--”

‭“You try saying that again!” Roared the Nightray, prop rapier drawn and pointed in mimicry of an ancient challenge. “As if I could care less if you were there or not, Baskerville, but you’re so freakin’ selfish it’s going to bring the rest of us down, just like that--”

‭“Elliot.” With a breath, the Vessalius took hold of the younger man’s shoulders and sighed a long-suffering sigh. The look in his eyes, Glen noted, was that of sympathy. “Are you all right? Maybe it would be best if you could go cool your head a little...”

‭“My head.” Elliot punctuated his words with the grinding of teeth. “Does not need cooling. It’s that bastard that--”

‭“That isn’t any way to speak of a person who is right in front of you, Elliot.” And Glen looked on with amusement as Reo sauntered up from behind, waving a hand jauntily, and draped a wet towel over the younger Nightray’s head. Before the man can protest, he was being dragged off by his sleeve, leaving Jack and Glen in their corner of the room, watching as the group of actors converging slightly, hesitatingly, before breaking off into their after-rehearsal schedules like scattering fish.

‭Slowly, the noise level in the room died down like the jamming of a mute button. When he turned to leave as well, there was a hand on his sleeve. Turning, he could see a flash of amusement in the other’s eyes.

‭“Speak.” Was Glen’s irritated response.

‭“It’s after rehearsal. There shouldn’t be any hurry.” Jack’s tone was rather wistful. “Do you have anywhere you need to be?”

‭“Yes.”

‭“Good. Because re-braiding my hair by myself can get a little troublesome.”

‭And that was how Glen Baskerville found himself seated on the floor of Jack’s dressing room armed with a blowdryer while Jack hummed to himself and tried not to wince too much whenever the other tugged a little too quickly, or hit a particularly vicious snag.

‭“I’m pretty sure part of the reason why I was casted for Ophelia was because of my hair.” The other leaned back conspiratorially, causing Glen to frown and push him back to keep the hair from dripping in his lap. “It saves money on Ophelia wigs, if nothing else.”

‭“Turn your head.” Was Glen’s only response, and Jack did so obediently, allowing Glen to have better access. Threading the brush through the other’s hair, he shook the blowdryer vehemently until the permeating smell of wet hair was replaced by the slightly charred smell of hair that had been recently attacked by a blowdryer.

‭“Elliot seems to look up to you.” He paused in his tugging of the long, blond strands, and gave Jack a look when he turned around, possibly to gauge his expression. “He talks about you often.”

‭“And complains about my personal matters.” Came Glen’s dry remark. “Turn your head.” And Jack duly obeyed, settling down in his flannel pajamas, allowing for Glen to return to his tugging and pulling and sometimes braiding. The stillness, however, never lasted long, for Jack had an impudent need to constant pick and prod at something, and Glen was not very quick with his hands.

‭“It’s only because he thinks you’re an asset to the company.” Came Jack’s wistful voice, projecting to his front, but fully audible and unmuffled because of their lack of distance. “He thinks he should have gotten the role, you know?”

‭“Hamlet does not suit him.” He replied, conjuring up images of the rash Nightray, who was more of a Fortinbras than anything else, but who suited Laertes in both personality and violent tendencies. “And he is still inexperienced.”

‭“He can only gain experience by getting opportunities.” Jack tilted his head back, and he could see a flash of green. “And besides, would you say Hamlet suits you?”

‭“I am more experienced than he is.” He was being mildly defensive, and was a little offended when Jack laughed.

‭“Well,” Jack looked up when the laughter subsided, “that wasn’t really my question.”

‭There was silence, in which he didn’t respond and Jack didn’t push and his fingers slowly threaded through hair. The braid grew longer with time, like lengthening shadows. The Vessalius broke the silence first, turning slightly so as not to tug on his own braid, but managing to face the other due to the sheer length of his hair.

‭“The King of Procrastination.” He mused, handing Glen a hairtie. “He never really accomplished anything until things started crumbling around him.”

‭“He was a fool.” Was Glen’s stern response, offset by the flourish which he sealed the end of the braid.

‭“Would you have done it any differently?” Came the teasing response.

‭“Me?” He rose, and brushed off his jacket. A few golden strands drifted to the ground, lost in the beige of the carpet. There was some consideration before he spoke again, clipped words like paper snippings. “If it were up to me, I would have betrayed before I would be betrayed.”

‭When he looked at the other, there was sadness reflected in a pool of green. The other man stood, braid uncurling.

‭“Glen.”

‭He turned. “It’s simply a very elaborate story.”

‭And as he walked away, he wondered at the sense of foreboding that followed like a cloud.

[End part one]

Part two is coming up in a few hours! o/

countervalue @ 2010-11-06T22:51:00

2010-11-07T02:51:47Z

Because. I should at least. Update. Once in a while. orz

Rehearsal was fun today. We did a lot of Khachaturian, and Tchaikov. and all that good stuff. The only regret I have is that we didn't get to Mozart. >: Next time, maybe. It was hilarious how every time the conductor praised a section our second bassist would go 'hrm hrm' with his bass.

It made me think about how the voice works, and whether or not one can replicate vocal sounds on instruments. With the strings, however, we're missing the bits and pieces of the lips and the exhaling that comes with making words. For the winds, they're missing that string vibration. Vocal chords and mouth, right? I wonder if it's possible to make an instrument where you blow into it... and strings vibrate.

Something that lets the mute 'speak' with the same components of the voice that everyone else uses.

In other news, this thread made me so happy. Echo + pretty dresses = win, I swear. I ended up spending the rest of the week trying to draw Echo and trying to draw dresses and trying to put them together.

And here we have cat!Echo in various states of unEcho and cat!Vincent. I don't know, it's that cat-dress thing that reminded me of this. Cue lots of cat ears. Gil would freak.

... though speaking of Vincent, I really think I've backed myself into a corner when it comes to him. ffff I made too many mistakes in the beginning of my run with him, and now it's just ahhaslfw ahhhh DDD8. I... kind of made him out to be a petty, aggressive and sadistic man, and while he really is all that, he isn't blatantly all that.

It's come to the point where it doesn't even make any sense for me to force him to justify his actions anymore, and you know it's bad when a character that thrives on justifying his actions for himself no longer knows how to justify it. ahhhhh what did I do wrong nnnngh Not sure if want to explore this part of his character. I don't want to drop him. There's so much I still want to do with him. But to be honest, I'm really feeling flaky on this.

At any rate, I apped Vincent at Polychromatic -- it's a restart. I hope this will help me with his characterization. DDD8 If nothing else, maybe I can do it right this time. Hopefully. Sob.

When I finish catching up on role-play, I think I'll write a character essay on him. Maybe that will sort things out. nnngh.

Anyway, that's my rant of the... month. Several months. I should work on this whole updating thing haha 8Da;;

countervalue @ 2010-08-20T23:30:00

2010-08-21T03:30:56Z

Lily Baskerville

I've had this muse for four days.

423 comments.

Four days.

Nnngh I think this is a record for me. There's just something about playing a character that's so stupid yet so excitable at the same time. I don't know, I just shut off my brain and out she comes. If I'm actually like her subconsciously, I think I might have to punch something ;A;

But I have so much headcanon for her nnngh. I just hope canon doesn't shoot it all down the next chapter. Because that would be a lot of things to retcon. ;3;

... possibly the most pointless post yet, haha.

I'm alive ; no really

2010-08-09T16:09:32Z

Welcome Reine to my journal! Not that I post here anyway, but it's the thought that counts, right? This just means I get to stalk you more than I already do, haha 8D;;

Nnngh, I guess I'll try to post here more.

Character Meme take one! I wonder how many of my characters can I get through before I topple over dead. nnngh

R I T A \|xx\| M O R D I O

				Rita Mordio I've just found the clue that I've been searching for. I want to be all kinds of reckless. My strongest muse, arguably. Also my longest-running muse, surprisingly enough, considering that she is a girl and I don't really get along with most female muses. I guess it helps that she rarely acts like a girl her age? Or a girl, period, really. She's rather loud, as muses go, both ICly and within the headspace, and I find that I can throw her into any amount of wacky situations so long as I'm awake enough to do so. Her CR list is also damn long. I'm... a little afraid to touch it. And fff, when did she get so much CR clearly I'm doing something wrong ahhhh She is also the only character I have who is entirely dependent on her CR anchors. While she works absurdly well as a lone-canon warrior, if she hadn't made the CR she has today, I probably would have dropped her a long time ago. >>;; Also the character I have the most headcanon for, but that's mainly because canon gave us nothing. TL;DR she is loud and my baby and I hope that I never lose her muse kaldf;

Somarium Profile Logs + Relationships Profile Codes				[Canon] Tales of Vesperia [Timeline] During Baction [Mun] Yun countervalue [Game] somarium

Body and Appearance
1. Describe the character's height and build. Is she heavyset, thin, short, rangy?

Rita stands at an non-impressive 150cm and truly resembles a girl of her age. Fifteen and probably not going to grow anymore than she already has, she is thin and wiry with skinny wrists and ankles and strength to her skinny arms. Though primarily a mage, she has a bit of a fighter to her, and carries a mean punch, so it's safe to assume that she does have some arm strength in her. She has potential to be a runner in the way her limbs are set, but unfortunately, that's not something that's she's particularly interested in.

2. How old is she?

She is fifteen and it's unknown when her birthday is. Since her arrival in Somarium, she's assumed to have grown to the age of sixteen, though because of game mechanics, she's technically both fifteen and sixteen at the same time. Weird, I know. She doesn't particularly act her age unless she is put into an uncomfortable position, and even then, she is known for her cool logic. However, when it comes to certain things like ghosts and such, she just acts like a scared little girl.

3. Describe her posture. Does she carry herself well or does she slouch?

She carries herself proudly, being the kind of person who raised herself from a young age and who taught herself better than to lower her head for anyone. Generally, she keeps a straight back in order to make herself seem taller, a tactic which she discovered at a young age and which she employs daily. However, when in the confines of her own lab or when she is seated and not particularly caring about the other's opinion of her (which is quite often), she does slouch. It's just when standing that she makes a point to keep her head high.

4. How is her health? Is she fit or out of shape? Any illnesses or conditions? Any physical disabilities?

Her health, on the outside, seems perfectly well. She didn't inherit any genetic diseases, and magic-casting keeps her relatively in-shape, seeing as her brand of magic does include lots of arm waving and power-draining. However, she is a recluse and enjoys being slouched over a nice book or a particular gadget she's working, so it wouldn't be right to consider her as a 'fit' person.

Because of the nature of her magic, which draws Aer to her in a cocoon and is based on the manipulation of that substance, she isn't particularly healthy. Aer affects the growth of young children and prolonged exposure to the substance can affect the body negatively. She started her blastia research at the age of ten. Since she's been surrounded by high quantities of aer since such a young age, she isn't expected to live beyond the age of thirty, probably. And she's well aware of it, but her marriage to research isn't exactly something she's willing to give up easily.

5. How does she move? Is she clumsy, graceful, tense, fluid?

She moves with purpose. While she has a tendency to swing her legs excitably unconsciously, she is otherwise careful about her movements. This is because in a laboratory, a wrong move can affect the results of an experiment negatively, and she is a researcher to the core. There is a certain grace to her movements, courtesy of her self-taught magic.

6. How attractive is this character physically? How does she perceive herself in the mirror?

Rita can be considered attractive, if you can see past her punching habits. But she's attractive in that little girl sense, and she is as flat as a board, really, so it's even hard to categorize her as a 'loli'. On the other hand, Rita is generally conscientious of her appearance. While she doesn't particularly care about the way she dresses on a regular day, so long as it's clean and she can move around easily in it, when she does get a chance to dress up, she really enjoys it. She likes to think that she doesn't have any insecurities about her physical appearance, though she is conscious of it, and when others bring it up, she is quick to snap a defensive reply.

7. Describe her complexion. Dark, light, clear, scarred?

Her complexion is extremely light, to the point of sickly. It's because she rarely gets sunlight, cooped up in that lab of hers, and the strain of not-eating and not-sleeping on a regular basis.

8. Describe her hair: color, texture, style.

Her original hairstyle is that of a short crop. She probably cut her hair herself with a penknife, judging from the fact that it's all choppy in the back, and her policy with hairstyle is that as long as it doesn't affect her performance in research and as long as it looks passable, it works for her. Her hair color is that of a light brown, and it's not particularly thick, nor is it particularly thin. However, since her prolonged stay in Somarium, her hair has grown long to about mid-rift, and she's thinking of cutting it again.

9. What color are her eyes?

Her eyes are a brilliant green in color. It particularly stands out when in contrast with her dully colored hair, but she's not particularly too concerned about bringing out their color, judging from her red and yellow clothing. She probably doesn't see her eyes as anything special, and probably doesn't think about its color half the time. When someone asks her such a thing, she might even take a few seconds to actually think about what color her eyes are. In general, she just doesn't care.

10. Does the character have any other noteworthy features?

Not really. She's just a short, angry midget with green eyes, brown hair, and a colorful wardrobe. However, she does have a textbook holder attached to her clothes, which goes wherever she goes, and her book is practically a part of her wardrobe. She carries a lot of gadgets on hand, and several small journals, one which hangs around her neck.

That, and she has a gold collar that rests on her collarbone, which is strange, considering that she doesn't wear any other jewelry. This is explained by the fact that it's her blastia, which she polishes on a regular basis and which she takes very good care of maintaining it. The blastia's name is Erylis, and is of the female gender.

11. What are her chief tension centers?

... I had to google this, and I still don't really get it. But if it's talking about the spots where she gets particularly tense on a bad day, I'd say it would be her head, resulting in headaches, and her shoulders, which results in shoulder-aches. Go figure. Her arms are particularly sensitive, seeing as she's a magic user, and that's her first direct channel for magic-casting.

12. What is the character's wardrobe like? Casual, dressy, utilitarian? Bright colors, pastels, neutrals? Is it varied, or does she have six of the same suit?

She likes asymmetrical clothing. She enjoys wearing two different types of leggings and clothing which aren't symmetrical no matter which way you fold them. She also like brightly colored clothing, particularly yellow and red, though any combination of colors that go together makes her happy. She's particularly partial towards dresses and clothing which ends above her knees, though pants and shorts are considered practical as well. She doesn't particularly care about current fashion trends, so long as her clothing is comfortable and suits her tastes.

No matter what she wears at the time, however, she will always wear her gold collar and her journals around her neck. She is also particularly partial towards clothing with large pockets, since she enjoys keeping her research tools on hand at all times. The textbook holder is also a must.

Her shoes are generally heeled, and she seems to get along terrifically with high heels. She is also partial towards fingerless gloves. She likes clothing that's both practical and dressy.

13. Do her clothes fit well? Does she seem comfortable in them?

She's comfortable in whatever she wears. Sometimes, they are a little over the top, but she doesn't seem to mind, as long as it doesn't hinder her movements or cause problems in her experiments. She's not particularly comfortable in long dresses, and would probably refuse to wear them. She is also partial to the sundress, which may seem strange to anyone who knows her. But considering that they are sleeveless, which allows for good arm movement, and that they end above her knees, which allows for free leg movement, it's not really that much of a surprise.

14. Does she dress the same on the job as she does in her free time? If not, what are the differences?

While she's on the 'job', which is practically her own brand of research (though in Somarium, she's researching for an unrelated company which shoves her into weird research studies involving grapes and the heavy uses of them) she dresses the exact same as she would dress outside. She dislikes lab coats, considering that they generally don't come in her size, and because they have sleeves which may hinder her in her research. She prefers to dress in her own style, and since she researches from her own lab, there's nobody around to enforce a dress code, which works for her.

15. You knew it was coming: Boxers, briefs or commando?

Panties. :|

Speech
1. What does this character's voice sound like? High-pitched, deep, hoarse?

She sounds like a teenage girl, though with a slightly lower pitch to her voice. Just go listen to her in-game voice. :|

2. How does she normally speak? Loud, soft, fast, evenly? Does she talk easily, or does she hesitate?

She speaks quickly. It's almost as though she doesn't expect nor care if anyone's following her speech at all, so long as she gets her point across, and she has no sympathy for the listener's ears. If they miss a part of her speech, then too bad for them, is her general policy. Her words are generally calculated, though she does have a tendency to put her foot in her mouth with tactless words. And she's generally unapologetic, nor does she realize it most of the time. She has a tendency to use technical words when she needs to, though she generally avoids them when speaking with someone who isn't a part of her line of work, seeing as she doesn't like answering stupid questions such as 'what did that word meannnn D8'. Her voice isn't particularly loud, nor is it soft -- unless she's screaming at someone, or unless she is mumbling, which she does a lot when she's embarrassed.

3. Does the character have a distinct accent or dialect? Any individual quirks of pronunciation? Any, like, you know, verbal tics?

No detectable accents, as far as anyone's concerned, but she is slightly partial to a casual 'should've, could've' sort of speech whenever she's not researching or such. She doesn't think too much about her way she delivers her words, just the words themselves, sometimes. She doesn't have any particular verbal ticks, though she does avoid the use of 'like' and 'um' and other speech fillers because she does tend to think before she thinks. However, what she thinks about before she speaks might be a little different compared to that of other people.

If she spoke Chinese, I think she would have the Wuhan dialect, partially because I'm partial to it, being from that region, and partially because we all sound particularly impatient when speaking in that dialect. /o/

4. What language/s does she speak, and with how much fluency?

Whatever language they speak in Terca Lumireis, she speaks fluently. And being a scientist, she must also be familiar with the language of the ancient Geraios civilization, particularly because she studies the relics left behind by that particular civilization. When translated into Somarium terms, she's fluent in English and is familiar with Latin.

5. Does she switch languages or dialects in certain situations?

She doesn't. Though her language does become a little more polite when it comes to research. Otherwise, she just says whatever is on her mind the way she prefers at the time, like the blunt brat she is.

6. Is she a good impromptu speaker, or does she have to think about her words?

It's a combination of both. She thinks about the content of her words in terms of whether or not she feels it will get her meaning across, but she doesn't particularly think about the way she delivers her words. She's not very good at the whole tact thing, though, nor at that whole comfort thing. She rarely thinks about her words with explicit care.

7. Is she eloquent or inarticulate? Under what circumstances might this change?

She's generally in the middle range, though she can be particularly sarcastic at times. However, she generally gets inarticulate when around Estelle, and when she's particularly embarrassed, surprised or disturbed. Otherwise, she's of mid-range eloquence and particularly stiff-lipped when it comes to her research.

Mental and Emotional
1. How intelligent is this character? Is she book-smart or street-smart?

She is a combination of book-smart and street-smart. She is ingenious when it comes to research and an unparalleled thinker in Vesperia canon, capable of coming up a solution to the world's problem at the age of fifteen. She also raised herself as a orphan, and thus knows quite a bit when it comes to surviving on the streets. She is book-smart in that she reads like you wouldn't believe and knows all sorts of things, from the way mechanics work to the species of flowers in a far off land, and she rarely forgets anything she's read. She's street-smart in that she can apply that knowledge to everyday, capable of identifying a flower after only reading about it. In sort, she's a prodigy.

She's also sharp when it comes to relationships between other people, though particularly dense when it comes to herself. She tries her best not to think emotionally, though when it comes to those she cares about, she sometimes goes desperate. It's times like these that she's particularly ingenious.

2. Does she think on her feet, or does she need time to deliberate?

She can do both. While she may splutter and become enraged when things go awry, when it gets down to it, she buckles down and thinks logically in order to get herself out of a problem. Her plans when it comes to long-term activities are also particularly detailed. It's when things surprise her on an emotional level that she can't really wrap her mind around, and when her logic fails her, leaving her confused and annoyed.

3. Describe the character's thought process. Is she more logical, or more intuitive? Idealistic or practical?

She is logical when it comes to general things, practical when it comes to all things, and has a great intuition when it comes to her research and danger. However, she is a fail when it comes to interpreting emotions, and when logic fails, she gets particularly annoyed. She dislikes it when things are outside of her range of calculations, and dislikes wishy-washy thinking, writing it off as illogical and impractical. She looks down on idealistic thoughts, though when it comes to Estelle or those whom she cares about, she's willing to be lax on her judgment.

However, she does have a brand of emotional thinking to her. It's just subconscious and only comes out when it comes to those she cares about. This is when she acts impulsively rather than logically.

4. What kind of education has the character had?

Her base education is all self-taught. Being an orphan from a very young age, she learned from textbooks and probably never attended any kind of schooling until late in her young life. Her emotional education she also had to handle herself, which is probably why it's shaky at best. However, she's practically a walking encyclopedia at the age of fifteen and is considered an expert on all things blastia. It could be said that she's well-educated, though the fine arts often elude her and she doesn't see the point in a lot of things. Such as play, for example, and hobbies.

5. What are her areas of expertise? What, if anything, is she interested in learning more about?

She is an expert on blastia, magic and technology, often all three of those at once. She also seems very interested in the biological and chemical sciences, considering her ability to name flowers off the bat after simply reading about them, and she also an expert on math, seeing as her magic depends on 'formulae' and the name of her attacks are often that of mathematical formulae or of famous mathematicians. In the end, it can be said that she's interested in everything in the physical world. She likes learning about how things works, and synthesizing her ideas, applying one area of knowledge to another area to create ingenious things. She sees connections between things easily, which makes her a very successful researcher.

6. Is she an introvert or an extrovert?

She can be considered an introvert. She dislikes talking about her personal feelings, seeing them as irrelevant and illogical, and dislikes connecting with others. She enjoys time alone, keeping her intrinsic thoughts to herself and smacking people when they get too close to her. She has many acquaintances, most of which she can hardly name seeing as her name-face recognition sucks, but very few close friends.

7. Describe the character's temperament. Is she even-tempered or does she have mood swings? Cheerful or melancholy? Laid-back or driven?

Mood swings. Definitely mood swings. Her temperament, summed up in one word, would be 'tsundere'. She cares deeply for certain people, but violently refuses to show that kind of thing to the world. She gets annoyed and angry easily, and has a perchance for physical and magical violence when particularly pissed. She is generally a very driven character, pushing herself forward constantly with her research. She's the kind of character that doesn't know the meaning of 'break', and thinks that a vacation is to lie back with a good book on the theories of mathematics and sleep an extra hour a day. She has a no-nonsense sort of personality that looks down upon those with easy or lazy temperaments.

She can get melancholy at times, but generally tries to erase that sort of feeling with more research. She is constantly stressed, though she handles stress admirably well for a person of her age, though it's hard to tell when her temper is just that mean.

8. How does she respond to new people or situations? Is she suspicious, relaxed, timid, enthusiastic?

When it comes to a new situation, she generally gets down to business rather quickly. She enjoys getting answers and she enjoys getting them quickly, and she's not about threatening with bodily harm if she doesn't get them. While she may be rather disturbed on the inside, she would never show that kind of weakness outwardly unless she is at an absolute loss. Because of her no-nonsense kind of personality and because she constantly drives herself forward, she adapts to new situations and new people easily.

9. Is she more likely to act, or to react?

Act. She is generally on the forefront of things, moving forward and dragging everyone else along for the ride. She dislikes sitting on her hands, and when there is a crisis abound, she generally wants to be at the vanguard, blasting things to pieces while coming up with strategies to counter the danger. When there is a problem, she generally has already anticipated, or is working furiously to solve it. She's just that sort of an impatient character that dislikes sitting around wasting time, for to Rita, time is a very precious thing indeed.

10. Which is her default: fight or flight?

Fight. Though if it's more logical to retreat, she might do so if she's not pissed beyond words. She wouldn't be happy, though. And sometimes, her emotional response might override her logical response, which forces her to stay and fight instead of flight simply because she's too prideful to back down. She generally knows when to cut her losses, though acting on it is another thing all together. She is stubborn beyond all belief and tougher than she looks.

11. Describe the character's sense of humor. Does she appreciate jokes? Puns? Gallows humor? Bathroom humor? Pranks?

Her sense of humour mainly lies in her sarcasm. She likes to verbally put others down for the sake of pointing out their stupidity, though she only does so when she knows the consequences aren't severe. However, her mouth does run away at times, which makes her say things that she regrets, not that she'll ever admit it, of course. She appreciates fellow users of sarcasm, and dislikes puns, for she finds them to be a lower level of humour and because she's acquaintances with a certain Xerxes Break, and his style of speech has influenced her views on humour. She finds pranks childish, though that doesn't mean she won't participate in them herself if she feels particularly vindictive. However, she doesn't appreciate it when she's at the butt-end of a joke and may react violently.

12. Does the character have any diagnosable mental disorders? If yes, how does she deal with them?

Some kind of a social disorder, maybe. She has trouble getting along with people, though that's usually because she doesn't want to get along with them. And her temper. Yes, her temper. But other than that, I doubt she has any kind of mental disorders.

13. What moments in this character's life have defined her as a person?

Age x < 10 || Parents abandoned her/died/she killed them etc. Rita was orphaned. From that point on, she began to raise herself to her own ideal image and survived according to her own powers and will.

Age x < 10 || She came into contact with blastia and magic and became fascinated with it. Probably demonstrated an aptitude for research and magic, and probably shocked some researchers into silence with her maturity at such a young age.

Age x < 10 || She was betrayed by someone she was close to/she lost her faith in humanity. She turned to blastia and threw all her will and convictions onto them, and thus let the iron curtain drop. She won't get along with any other living thing until the age of fifteen.

Age x < 10 || She forced her way into the Imperial Blastia Research Academy by sheer force of will and intelligence, took the exams and aced them. Shocked the intellectual world by being a young prodigy. Kicked people's asses until they gave her the recognition she wanted.

Age 10 || Began researching blastia with actual blastia specimens. Became a mage of the Empire and swore loyalty to it, though she doesn't particularly care about that aspect of her vow. Got herself a hut at the outskirts of the city, got herself a research grant, and buckled down to study.

Age 10 - 15 || Studied. Made technological advances. By the age of 15, nearly knew everything there was to know at that point about blastia.

Age 15 || Met Estellise Sidos Heurassein. Went on a journey of a lifetime with a bunch of stubborn and unlikable individuals.

Age 15 || Came up with the solution to save the world.

14. What does she fear?

Being betrayed and abandoned, being used and abandoned, getting close to others and finding out that she was right in losing faith in humanity. She fears people most of all, and her abandonment complex is all too real. The whole reason why she shut herself away from humans is because of her fear of being betrayed, due to an event in her past.

15. What are her hopes or aspirations?

She hopes to be acknowledged for who she is, acknowledged by, ironically, the very humans she shuns. She wants others to see past the fact that she's a fifteen year old girl and to see the brilliance underneath. With that in mind, she works harder than ever.

16. What is something she doesn't want anyone to find out about her?

She doesn't want anyone to know anything about that incident in past, mainly because canon hasn't stated what it was, and because she thinks of it as a bitter memory. She also doesn't want others to see her as a weak person, and thus always puts up a strong front in front of others. Lastly, she doesn't want anyone to know that she has a particular attachment to the idea of 'family'.

Relationships
1. Describe this character's relationship with her parents.

Canon doesn't say, but I would think that it's something close to hate. Her abandonment/her parents' death is considered to be a betrayal on their part, and she dislikes talking about them. She also professes that she can't even remember their faces, which shows that she was never quite that close to them. They might be researchers that didn't want to have a child, and whom abandoned her because they didn't want to care for her. She might have killed them in an accident involving magic. It's unknown what really happened to them, but whatever it was, she's still bitter about it today.

2. Does the character have any siblings? What is/was their relationship like?

I'd imagine that she doesn't have any siblings. If she did, she probably would pretend not to acknowledge their existence, while inwardly pondering over their state of being. She would be curious about them, that would be certain, but she would never rely on them, nor would she initiate contact.

3. Are there other blood relatives to whom she is close? Are there ones she can't stand?

It's unknown if she has any blood relatives. However, she probably wouldn't be able to stand any of them if she did.

4. Are there other, unrelated people whom she considers part of her family? What are her relationships with them?

Estelle is considered to be a part of her 'family', though the words 'family' and 'friend' generally mean the same thing to her. Kind of. It's complicated and involves a fifteen-year-old's mind. She cherishes her friendship with Estelle, and she is possibly the one thing she treasures like she treasures blastia.

Since her arrival in Somarium, she's also become quite close with Spain and with Xerxes Break, both of which she considers to be very close to her, though not to the extent of 'family', but rather, in the former case, a 'close friend' and in the latter case, subconsciously as an 'older brother figure'. She is also quite close to the rest of her party -- Raven, Judith, Yuri, seeing as she traversed the world with them, though particularly with Raven and Judith, she has certain relationships with them.

5. Who is/was the character's best friend? How did they meet?

Estellise Sidos Heurassein is her best friend. She met her when Yuri broke into her house, laughably enough, and she became interested in her first because of her ability to cast healing spells without the use of a blastia, and later because she genuinely began to care about the kind girl. Estelle is presumably Rita's first friend since that incident in her past, and the first person to look past her cold front and to see an insecure young girl hidden underneath.

6. Does she have other close friends?

In Somarium, Spain is considered to be a close friend of hers. Atoli as well, and Oz Bezarius. However, she seems to be surrounded by people she can trust -- she simply just can't trust them for whatever the reason. Her castmates -- Yuri, Judith, and Raven -- are people whom she also trusts intrinsically, however tsundere she may seem.

7. Does she make friends easily, or does she have trouble getting along with people?

She has a lot of trouble getting along with people. Even after a year of development here in Somarium, she is still on shaky grounds with most of her acquaintances and generally doesn't seem to know how to make friends properly. It's usually because of her tactless wording, but it's also because she simply cannot trust easily. Thus, she has problems relating with others and problems interacting them outside of pure business.

8. Which does she consider more important: family or friends?

To someone who doesn't have any family at all, friends are most important.

9. Is the character single, married, divorced, widowed? Has she been married more than once?

Single and definitely not looking. She's only fifteen. :|

10. Is she currently in a romantic relationship with someone other than a spouse?

No, she isn't. Though during that one week of hell, she was Atsuro Kihara's girlfriend. Which was a weird experience which she never wants to repeat again. However, it ended up that the two became pseudo-friends afterwards, so it all worked out.

11. Who was her first crush? Who is her latest?

Her first crush? Probably Xerxes Break, though in a sense, it's not a crush at all. She just subconsciously is searching for an older brother figure, and Xerxes Break simply fit the bill. She doesn't know this, however. She's always the last to know.

12. What does she look for in a romantic partner?

She likes intelligence, a sense of humour, and a backbone. She likes someone she can banter with, beat to the ground, but generally someone who can understand where she's coming from and whom she can easily relate to. However, she currently isn't looking for a romantic partner, nor will she ever be looking for one. Just as a note, though, she tends to look for older people in her misguided search for acknowledgment. Acknowledgment is sweeter when she gets it from someone whom she considers an equal, and she rarely finds an intellectual equal at her age level.

13. Does the character have children? Grandchildren? If yes, how does she relate to them? If no, does she want any?

She doesn't want children. :| Not after what happened with her parents. Yeah.

14. Does she have any rivals or enemies?

... I honestly don't know. Back in her original world, she probably had a lot of rivals that she didn't even see fit to recognize, not to mention even know the names of, and probably had quite a few enemies that she didn't care about. She's a competitive person, but she's never actually found an equal to compete with. It's changed since coming to Somarium, though.

It can be said that her enemy is Vincent Nightray, even though she's never met him. But news of his being spreads, and his connection to Xerxes Break interests her.

15. What is the character's sexual orientation? Where does she fall on the Kinsey scale?

Er. I don't think she thinks about this all too much. She's ultimately uninterested in the opposite sex, the same sex, and anything in between. Though if I had to say anything, I'd say that she doesn't particularly care about her own sexuality, since she knows that she doesn't want children and she doesn't trust people anyway.

This is of course, subject to development. >>;; I think everyone knows my shipping tendencies by now. nnngh

16. How does she feel about sex? How important is it to her?

Sex is a way for biological organisms to reproduce. She thinks that those who reproduce without the intention of keeping the child are irresponsible, due to her own experiences. Other than that, she can care less about who screws whoever, so long as it doesn't affect her in any way.

But if the old man starts talking about it, he's getting a punch.

17. What are her turn-ons? Turn-offs? Weird bedroom habits?

... she probably tops when she's not tsuning.

Beliefs
1. Do you know your character's astrological (zodiac of choice) sign? How well does she fit type?

She doesn't have an official birthday, but she would probably fit the type of Capricorn. Stubborn beyond all belief, logical, and ultimately unable to connect with her emotions.

2. Is this character religious, spiritual, both, or neither? How important are these elements in her life?

She is neither religious or spiritual. She places her belief in logic above all else, and while she understands why others would look to religion as a source of comfort, she doesn't see that sort of behavior for herself. Her logic's already picked apart the existence of god and an afterlife, and she does not believe in coincidences, merely cause and effect. She doesn't believe in anything that can't be explained by logic, and thus she is absolutely terrified with the idea of the supernatural.

3. Does this character have a personal code of morals or ethics? If so, how did that begin? What would it take to compromise it?

She does have her personal code of morals and ethics, stemming from the fact that she grew up by her own power and thus she must have something to govern her life other than the wish of survival. For example, people abusing blastia and other machinery is considered to go against her own personal code, and she tends to punish those who do. And it would take a lot of compromise such a code, simply because without that code, she is nothing. All she has is her intelligence and her pride, and to compromise either is to reject herself.

4. How does she regard beliefs that differ from hers? Is she tolerant, intolerant, curious, indifferent?

She is generally tolerant of other's ideals, provided that they don't voice it to her and they don't affect her daily life. She's, however, very opinionated, and will often shoot down other people's ideals for the sake of promoting her own to herself. She isn't considered to be 'intolerant', since she knows when to let things go, but she isn't 'tolerant' either, seeing as she looks down on those with certain ideals.

5. What prejudices does she hold? Are they irrational or does she have a good reason for them?

She is terrified of the supernatural, and thus hates it with all her soul. It's an irrational feeling, though it stems from her policy that everything that cannot be explained by logic should not be allowed to exist. Shouldn't exist, period. She also has a prejudice against nobles and against knights, due to the events that occurred during her run across the world.

Daily Life
1. What is the character's financial situation? Is she rich, poor, comfortable, in debt?

She's generally relatively well-off. Being a famed researcher, she probably had grants from all over the place and was probably supported by the city and the Empire for her work. She generally has enough money to buy whatever study materials she needed and probably had a huge stash of that cash stowed away somewhere so she can spend it on large-scale research projects. It's generally the same in Somarium. Since getting a grant from the Somarium government for research purposes, her financial situation is stable, and since she doesn't splurge, it will continue to be stable for quite some time.

2. What is her social status? Has this changed over time, and if so, how has the change affected her?

When she was just an itty bitty tot, she was a street-rat. Now, she's a rather respectable, if eccentric, researcher. It's taught her to never waste and to never take for granted for what she has, because she has earned it all through hard work alone. However, her respectable status allows for her freedom to research whatever she pleases, which she does abuse on a regular basis. Really, though, her time as a street-rat has taught her to waste not, want not, and her time as a researcher has taught her to be efficient. Her place may be a mess and she may have a lot of expenses, but you can be sure that she uses everything she has with almost brutal efficiency. When it comes down to it, Rita knows how to stretch her resources. Just look at her food plan.

3. Where does she live? House, apartment, trailer? Is her home her castle or just a place to crash? What condition is it in? Does she share it with others?

She used to live in a little secluded shack in Aspio, far away from civilization but close enough to be able to do grocery runs, library runs and general research at the academy. In Somarium, she’s taken over a small lab in the fourth district, hidden amidst the broken buildings. It’s far away enough from civilization that she likes it, and close enough to the barrier so she can study it. All in all on the outside, the lab is in good condition despite Som-events and sandstorms and all that, but on the inside, it’s a war zone turned research lab. Rita’s philosophy when it comes to cleaning is that if it works, then it’s more than enough. Thus, books are piled high like fortresses and experimental gadgets are strewn everywhere. It’s like a living land mine. However, there is a sort of a chaotic organization to her madness. In the end, she can always find whatever she needs to find, and to her, that is more than enough.

She isn’t particularly attached to the place. It’s just the place where she conducts her research. Having been homeless for a third of her life, she knows that the most important things are the things you can take away with you in a hurry. Thus, she always keeps her blastia on body and most important research materials in her journal around her neck.

She currently shares her flat with Senri, whom she sees as a quiet housemate of a sort. He’s her ideal housemate, really. He never disturbs her, does the cooking and cleaning and is nice to rant at whenever she’s feeling particularly stressed. In return, she plays for all of his expenses, which arguably aren’t much at all, provides shelter, some kind of a companionship, reads books to him (mostly picture books, but they’re making progress), attempts to teach him how to read basic words, and trusts him. It’s a strange relationship, but she feels comfort in it.

4. Besides the basic necessities, what does she spend her money on?

Research. Though arguably, research is a basic necessity to Rita. She can’t live without it, and without it, even she professes that she wouldn’t know what to do with her life. She spends money on research equipment, samples that she can’t catch herself, and information from various major companies around Somarium so she can keep in the know. She also pays the rent for the surrounding area, as a trade-off so she can rig the place with security traps and such. She’s just a little too paranoid for her own good.

She also spends it on sweets, though she wouldn’t admit to that. She does enjoy going to the café once in a while when business isn’t too hot and simply devouring half a cake, taking the other half home to be shared with Senri over water (since she doesn’t have time to boil tea, not that she sees the point in it any way) and a good book or in her case, some research notes. She’s also doing some investments in various companies so that she will have a constant income if the grants from the government in Somarium stop coming. She also supplies a bit of her money to the police force, if only so that she can keep Flynn at bay enough to give her some breathing room. : |

5. What does she do for a living? Is she good at it? Does she enjoy it, or would she rather be doing something else?

She is a researcher and she is damn good. Back in Aspio, she was pretty much the most intelligent researcher in all of Terca Lumireis, enough so that at the age of fifteen, she is considered an expert on the field of blastia and in which she solved the world’s energy problem through sheer force of will and intelligence alone. She received grants from the government and did as she pleased.

In Somarium, that really hasn’t changed at all. She is a researcher for the government – in the loosest terms possible. She does general research for the various companies of Somarium, analyzes their data and churns out new product ideas. She mainly deals in weaponry and general lulz, though there are times where she tries to touch on the dream energy sector. Without much success. But she’s biding her time. And she’s damn good at her job, if I may add.

And really, there isn’t anything else she’d rather do. She’s married to her research. Even she knows that. Research is practically a necessity for her, and without it, she wouldn’t know what to do.

6. What are her interests or hobbies? How does she spend her free time?

… even she professes that she has no hobbies beyond research and eating sweet things. She dislikes going outside, does not get the concept of ‘hanging out’, has very few positive CRs, fails at bowling, only eats whenever she absolutely has to, and finds most and all things pointless. Her research is her main interest and it’s also her hobby and she spends her free time researching.

Lately, though, she’s also found some amusement in trolling the network with sarcastic comments, though she doesn’t do that too often. Research takes up most of her time.

7. What are her eating habits? Does she skip meals, eat out, drink alcohol, avoid certain foods?

Haha. She hates eating in general. Only eats every three days, actually. She’s made an entire food plan that will keep her barely alive with minimal eating to maximize her time spent on her research and it’s been nearly three months since her last acceptable meal. But she’ll never die of malnutrition, simply because she’s calculated every drop of nutrition to the last ounce. So long as it keeps her alive, it works for her. She also drinks very little water, though she does have a soft spot for alcohol, thanks to recent developments in Somarium. It’s one of her few indulgences when it comes to food and water, though even that is sparse and in-between.

She avoids sea-food like the plague, and loves sweet foods. Like a child, she likes for her cakes to look pretty, but unlike a child, she understands that food is all the same mush in your stomach anyway, no matter how it looks.

Associations
Which of the following do you associate with the character, or which is her favorite:

Mun || Rita

xxBoth

1. Color? Red
2. Smell? Juniper || Tech oil
3. Time of day? Six am.
4. Season? Autumn
5. Book? Dictionary || Her first blastia manual
6. Music? Natsu Yuuzora || The hum of blastia
7. Place? One of UofT’s research labs || She doesn’t know
8. Substance? H2O4
9. Plant? Cactus
10. Animal? Young cat

END
{{ Get the HTML here so you can do it yourself. }}

countervalue @ 2010-07-21T15:10:00

2010-07-21T19:10:14Z

Smile, Cal, smile.

Meme number 2 orz

2010-04-28T00:54:51Z

Name Rita Mordio (kyudousha)
Orientation Blasia-sexual. Estelle-sexual. And she has this complex about families. This girl doesn't know what a normal relationship is, and probably isn't interested in finding out until she's been thrown in head-first.
Partners? Estelle. People she usually totes around? Senri, Break, Gareki, and more recently, Raven.
Ships? Rita/Raven OTP. :|a Flynn/Rita actually comes a close second. xD As for Somarium, Break-Rita and Spain-Rita, I love their CR. <3
Notes She's my most consistent muse to date.

Name Vincent Nightray (boat_lights) (dormousing)
Orientation Gil-sexual. Opportunitysexual. Molester of all. IDK.
Partners? ... Echo? Lotti? And in Somarium, Road.
Ships? I actually ship Vincent/Dominic in a really, really twisted fashion. Other than that, he doesn't get any other ships, since he's so creepy. *A*
Notes I don't know. I think he needs more CR.

Name Razette (preces)
Orientation She's a mermaid. D:
Partners? Castor. /o/ Her BFF forever.
Ships? I... don't really ship her with anyone, to be honest. xD But Castor and Razette have an adorable friendship.
Notes I feel like I've run out of ideas with her, really. D: I think I might have to drop her soon.

Name Miharu (wrathless)
Orientation ... IDK. But I play him as Yoite-sexual.
Partners? Yoite is his partner in crime forever and ever.
Ships? Miharu-Yoite, but in the very close friendship/heterosexual life partners/hugging/cuddling sense.
Notes He's hilariously fun to play. :|a

Name Elliot Nightray (complicatingly)
Orientation Heterosexual
Partners? Reo. <3 Whom he totes around with him everywhere, and whom he will defend with his life.
Ships? ... eh, I don't really. Ship him.
Notes His voice is very similar to Rita's, only without the innate intelligence and a hell of a lot more opinionated. He also screams a lot. I like abusing the capslock key. \o\

Name Sharon Rainsworth (rainsworthy)
Orientation Heterosexual, but... in that star-struck, romantic fashion. She has high expectations of society, and is sometimes disappointed when society doesn't quite match up to what she expects.
Partners? Break as a partner in crime. <3 Those two are truly inseparable, unless Break is hiding nasty secrets from her again. In which she will punish him in due time. And angst. Always with the angsting.
Ships? ... I don't particularly ship her, to be honest. She has a lot of issues she needs to work out before she can even delve into a realm. D:
Notes Needs more activity. And I want a Break. ;A;

Name Kubota (mytokito)
Orientation Homosexual, though he's only really interested in Tokito. But not really. It's complicated, and the explanation probably involves quantum physics.
Partners? Tokito, whom he will kill to defend. Sob.
Ships? I'm hoping to develop a Kubota/Tokito ship eventually. It's adorable. *A*
Notes He... really needs to get more Cr. Doesn't he.

Name The Cheshire Cat (unbid) (cheshiredly)
Orientation ... Canon says heterosexual, so I'll go with that. Though with my Cheshire cat, I tend to think of him as a little asexual more than anything else.
Partners? He's a stray. D: But the Duchess, I guess?
Ships? I don't. Really ship him. He also has a lot of issues. xD
Notes He's been in hiding for a while. xD But I think it's safe for him to come out now. /o/

And I have. A gazillion other muses, but I... don't really ship anymore. xD So to save us all the TL;DR, I'll just. Quietly leave them out. /o/

Meme orz

2010-04-27T04:03:38Z

Pick 20 movies/anime/video games/comic books/literary works/television series and put their summaries from Better Than It Sounds and WITHOUT CHEATING have your friends guess.

1. ~~Military specialist searches for a magic rock recipe to get his brother out of a can. In one version of the story, the rock is their father, in the other version the rock is us.~~ [FML, also known as FMA] laenavesse

2. In which two people get naked and discuss the economy.

3. ~~The game is based around coloured gems being dropped into holes. It is not a puzzle game.~~ [Golden Sun] daruki

4. Death slacks off. Many flowers bloom. A certain fairy decides to notify everyone that it's Spring. Repeatedly. With bullets.

5. ~~Skill at sport bestows ability to defy physics and commit genocide against the dinosaurs.~~ [Prince of Tennis] laenavesse

6. You and your friends have to vanquish a giant space octopus using the Powers of Friendship, Justice, Sexuality and Soylent Green. It’s hard to believe Greenpeace had nothing to do with this.

7. Dead people fight other dead people but almost never to the death.

8. A hero chosen by fate receives the blessing of his Gods and sets out on a quest to save his world, the hopes of his people carried on his shoulders. You must stop him at all costs.

9. Girl is not using a computer. Girl is using a computer. Girl is a computer. Otherwise known as: in Soviet Russia, computer hacks you!

10. ~~Where everyone and their mothers have issues. Irony ensues.~~ [Pandora Hearts] atenishinai sweetheartened

11. ~~Vast armies fight over a piece of jewelry.~~ [Lord of the Rings] envytheirony laenavesse

12. Flamboyant gourmand gains powerful friends and proves himself useless.

13. Boy in need of time management skills has a fifty percent chance of winning love interest by kicking her.

14. ~~Three boys improve the school's morale by cross-dressing.~~ [Princess Princess] envytheirony

15. A game in which you watch the prequel 'movie'. Occasionally, there are interactive parts. Otherwise known as: the heroes decide to destroy the universe. This is a good thing.

16. An Extraordinarily Empowered Action Girl and an Ordinary High School Student live completely separate lives. When they meet, half of the cast dies. Existentialism ensues.

17. Girl burns down house. Boy falls in Love At First Sight. Planet almost turns into black hole.

18. A man learns to love his brother. This is considered a bad thing.

19. ~~You fight against angels led by a legendary hero and ruin his plans for world peace.~~ [Tales of Symphonia] sweetheartened atenishinai

20. ~~A kind English church boy repeatedly rips his arm off to fight a clown.~~ [D. Gray-Man] sweetheartened

Happy Easter!

2010-04-04T22:14:56Z

Happy Easter Everyone!

[For Cal]

[For Dana]

[For Squeak]

[For Hyouri]

[For Birdy]

[For Jae]

[For Shia-han]

[For January]

[For Sia]

[For Lena]

[For Lae]

[For Aniki]

Meme orz

2010-03-30T04:03:19Z

TL;DR YUN

1. ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?
It’s this long, gash-like scar that stretches from my pelvis towards my abdomen, and I received it from an appendicitis surgery. I still can’t feel anything there, even approximately ten years later. The skin around the scar is still numb and resembles something like a centipede.

2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM?
My walls are painted beige, with a wall solely dedicated to Hetalia and another wall solely dedicated to math notes. I’ve begun pinning math formulae to the walls and gazing at them before I go to bed and I’ve found that my math mark has picked up dramatically. I think this works. C:

3. DO YOU SNORE, GRIND YOUR TEETH, OR TALK IN YOUR SLEEP?
I grind my teeth, which is why my jaw pops whenever I stretch my mouth wide open. I also apparently talk in my sleep, but nobody seems inclined to tell me what I actually say. It’s a conspiracy. >:

4. WHAT KIND OF MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?
Jpop mostly, but only if it’s music that’s been introduced to be by a video game/anime/OST/MAD etc. I really enjoy instrumental pieces, and I seem to have this thing for music in other languages. I rarely like music with English lyrics, but when I find a piece I like, I generally obsess over it for a while. I also love classical music to the nth degree. Mozart, just. askldfjow;s

5. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?
June 3rd, at six o’ three in the morning. It makes me both Gemini and a Gemini Rising. I like horoscopes, because like most people, I like reading about myself, and that’s exactly what horoscopes do. Also, I think Gemini really describes me well, for some odd reason. I was born with a set of strengths and a set of faults that greatly resemble that of the description for Gemini people, and I think this is amusing.

6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?
More than anything? … I don’t know. It’s been a while since I last wanted something. It’s a largely strange concept, since I’m of the impression that everything that I’ve ever needed or wanted, my parents have provided before I knew I needed or wanted them. In essence, I’m spoiled rotten and I can’t think of anything that I’d really want beyond happiness for my parents and maybe more sleep.

7. WHAT DO YOU MISS?
Aniki. D: Come back to UTS we all miss you.

But someone who I probably will never see again? Asumi.

8. WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION(S)?
This little broken bird whistle I bought from Huan He Lo when I was younger. I think it’s symbolic, somehow.

9. HOW TALL ARE YOU?
… sad to say this, but Rita’s height.

orz

Even Oz is taller. I don’t even--

10. DO YOU GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC?
Not really. I find curling up in a small and enclosed space to be vaguely comforting, like being rocked in a cradle.

11. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?
Yes. Very much so. The unknown frightens me, and the dark is no exception. Though sometimes, I can be grateful for it, for back in the days where I had horrible vision and a lack of glasses to boot, I used to think that everyone was as blind as I was in the dark, and this made me feel vaguely better. But really, the dark is frightening for no reason that I can discern beyond the fact that I can’t see anything beyond it, and I think that’s the most terrifying thing of all.

12. THE LAST THING TO MAKE YOU CRY?
I’d rather not say. xD

13. WHAT'S YOUR WORST FEAR?
Not getting into university. And a little further removed, falling out of the sky because of an airplane malfunction.

14. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Green eyes. Blue eyes. Blond hair, black hair. I don’t really know, to be honest, though I’ve always been fond of any eye color beyond black. I like exotic things. C:

15. WHERE CAN YOU SEE YOURSELF BEING PROPOSED TO AT?
Nowhere. If I can help it, I won’t marry at all.

16. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINK?
Tea. :|

17. FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING?
I detest pizza with a vengeance. I think it’s all the tomato sauce that gets to me. But if I absolutely have to eat it for whatever reason, then a wasabi or hot-sauce topping is ideal. It drowns out the taste of tomatoes and makes things good all around. Gotta love spicy food. :|a

18. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Nothing, really. If I had but one wish, it’s that nobody in the world has to suffer through the process known as eating. :| If you enjoy it, all the more power to you, but I suppose I don’t enjoy the process. xD So if I could go for long lengths without eating, I’m happiest.

19. FAVORITE COLOR OF ALL TIME?
Black, I suppose. My wardrobe is a formal black and white ensemble for the most part. I’ve also been rather fond of silver, gold and red.

20. HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A GOLDFISH?
You know, goldfish are a distant relative to the carp, which I’m pretty sure a good majority of us have eaten before. C:

21. WHAT WAS THE FIRST MEANINGFUL GIFT YOU'VE EVER RECEIVED?
Aniki gave me a jar full of stars. It’s one of my greatest treasures.

22. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH?
Yes. I’d be a fool to not have a crush on this particular person. xD

23. ARE YOU DOUBLE JOINTED?
Yes. C: My thumbs pop, my jaw pops, and I can do weird things with my fingers.

24. FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND?
I don’t know. xD I rarely pay attention things like that.

25. WHO IS YOUR FAV FEMALE/MALE CELEBRITY?
… I can tell you right now, that I don’t have an interest in that sort of thing. >>;; I don’t know. I suppose talking about real people never really appealed to me.

26. DO YOU HAVE A PET RIGHT NOW?
No comment. xD

27. What kind is it?
Azuuuuuuure

I mean.

Yes.

No comment at all.

28. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING?
Yes. Falling in love is a learning experience. xD I wouldn’t put it off for anything, if only for the sake of knowledge. And besides, I’ve always been fond of dramatic situations.

30. SAY A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED:
Three.

31. BLONDES OR BRUNETTES?
Blondes. C: But brunettes are cute as well. Aniki, put that bazooka away, please. <3

32. FAVORITE QUOTE?
‘Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.’
-- Winnie the Pooh

I know, I’m sappy. So sue me.

33. FAVORITE PLACE?
To be honest, I don’t have one. I’ve always thought of life as a journey to search for that favorite place. Someday, I’ll walk into a small glen or maybe the top of a bridge and think ‘This is where I would like to be’. And I would stay there. But until then, I suppose I’ll drift along until I find it.

34. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE USA?
I live in Canada. So technically speaking, I’m consistently out of the USA. C: But have I ever been outside of Canada? Yes. I fly back to China every other year to visit relatives. When I was younger, I lived in Russia for a short while, and I’ve been down to the States for vacationing purposes. I’ve also been to the Dominican Republic, also for vacationing purposes, and I found it fascinating. Travel has always appealed to me. /o/

35. YOUR WEAKNESSES?
My lack of motivation. xD I’m terribly unmotivated, and it’s caused a lot of problems in the past.

36. MET ANYONE FAMOUS?
Maybe. If they were famous, I wouldn’t know. xD

37. FIRST JOB?
Selling drinks and snacks at Canada’s Wonderland. \o\

38. EVER DONE A PRANK CALL?
Never, and I’ve never been on the receiving end of one, nor do I know of any situation where a friend of mine as received one. .____. Huh.

39. DO YOU THINK EVERYONE OUT THERE HAS A SOULMATE?
Isn’t it a nice thought?

40. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED THIS OUT?
Re-checking hotel rates.

41. HAVE YOU EVER HAD SURGERY?
Yes. Appendicitis. xD I’ve also had one for my eye, ironically enough. To make matters worse, or better, however you look at it, it was my left eye.

42. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?
How polite I am, which I find vaguely hilarious. I essentially use ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ as conversation filler. It’s no wonder teachers find it hard to take offense.

43. HAVE YOU EVER HAD BRACES?
Fortunately, no. I’ve have the good luck of being born with relatively straight teeth that straightened themselves out as I grew older. It’s nice, to have agreeable teeth.

44. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?
Nothing. xD It’s not a day of celebration anymore than Easter should mean anything to my family.

45. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT AND THEIR NAMES?
None, but if I were to name them, I would name them outlandish things as revenge for having chosen a plain name for myself. Names like Fielrine or Almalthe or Arexiander. But I honestly don’t look forward to having children, and if I can help it, I won’t have any at all. Until we somehow devise of a way to measure how much a fetus wants existence, I wouldn’t toss the burden of it upon anyone.

46. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
Yes. So there was this drama about a Princess named Xixi back when I was born. My mother was a great fan of the drama. It’s only logical that I was named after the main character. xD

47. WHAT IS THE BIGGEST TURN OFF OF THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Rudeness. I don’t mind idiocy so much as I expect it from everyone at some point or another, most of all myself, but rudeness is something I can’t tolerate. What a picky person I am. >>;;

48. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU LIKE ABOUT HIGH SCHOOL?
The learning aspect, definitely. I love my school and I love being in school, if only because it gives me a purpose and just sitting in a classroom gives me the illusion of seeming smarter. I could always use more illusions like that.

49. WHAT KIND OF SHAMPOO DO YOU USE?
I… honestly don’t know. And I don’t think I care enough to check. xD

50. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
No. Frankly speaking, it’s chicken scratch on a meatbun. :| But I’ve never had the inclination to practice in order to better it, since everything is going digital anyway. I guess I’m just saddled with chicken scratch for the rest of my life.

51. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
…? D: I don’t think I understand this question. What? … lunch meat? … any meat? Why lunch?

52. ANY BAD HABITS?
Yes. Many. Many, many. I’m of the opinion that bad habits are what make up a person.

My main problem is procrastination, followed by this idiotic head-nodding whenever I play anything on the bass. I can’t seem to stop bobbing my head. It’s driving my teacher insane.

53. ARE YOU A JEALOUS PERSON?
Yes. I’m horribly possessive of the people around me, but not so much in terms of material possession.

54. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Eh, no. It’s not worth the effort, I think. I guess I’m the sort of person that looks pretty from afar, but upon closer examination, is actually something very disgusting.

55. DO YOU AGREE WITH FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS?
Yes. |D Just. Yes. I’ve always been fascinated with the concept. Aniki, put away that bazooka.

56. DO LOOKS MATTER?
To look clean and well-kept, yes. But other than that? Whatever floats your boat, I suppose. xD If it matters to you, then all the more power, and I really respect those who look beautiful through their own effort. However, I won’t think any less of you otherwise. In fact, I’m that way myself.

57. HOW DO YOU RELEASE ANGER?
I throw things. Well, I used to throw things. And then they made me take medication for that, and now, getting angry is a hard process that I can’t be bothered with. >>;; I’ve always been relatively mild tempered, but now a days, I don’t have a temper at all. It’s a little strange, what prescribed drugs can do to a person, but such is life.

60. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?
A stuffed turtle by the name of Renee. I loved it to pieces. I’ve never outgrown stuffed animals, really, and my companion now a days is a stuffed polar bear called Sasha. She keeps me company on late nights and early mornings.

61. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE?
… including that auto insurance number that I’m not quite sure how it managed to get on the cellphone? All of five. I… never use my cellphone unless it’s to contact my parents. The numbers on my phone right now include my home phone number, my father’s cellphone number, that auto insurance number, Sheena’s number and Aniki’s cellphone number. And… that’s all! /o/

62.WERE YOU A FAN OF BARNEY AS A LITTLE KID?
Never had barney where I came from. :| /shakes cane.

But honestly speaking, I only found out about Barney after my arrival in Canada ten years ago, and I was too old by then to develop a proper opinion of him.

64. MASHED POTATOES OR MACARONI AND CHEESE?
Mashed potatoes. Macaroni and cheese… akldfjow;s. My little brother used to eat that every day. The smell eventually became nauseating. D:

65. WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL?
Hm. I suppose a sense of humor, intelligence, and a certain polite quality. And because of my role-playing ways, I also keep an eye out for personality quirks.

66. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES?
Luc. Pronounced ‘Loose’.

I dislike it greatly. A name like ‘Lucy’ is already short enough, thank you very much. Dx But in Chinese, I’m Xixi, or ‘little cat’, among other things. It’s tradition on our family to nickname our children after a particular animal, and I’ve always been likened to a cat. My little brother has been likened to a little tree sloth, and my cousin is a little dog. I think it’s cute. xD

67. IF YOU HAD A SUPER POWER WHAT WOULD IT BE?
The ability to grant wishes. If I could grant everyone’s inner most desires, I would, and that in return, would grant my inner most desire – to see everyone else succeed and find what’s most precious to them. Yes, I’m sappy. Yes, you may sue me.

68. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW?
I don’t watch television. At all. xD So I have to pass on this one.

69.WHAT'S THE BEST WAY TO DEAL WITH YOUR ENEMIES?
Fight them to the death.

I’m serious.

I have that sort of relationship with Simon, the brat. It started with hair pulling, then name-calling, and now we’re just shoving tennis rackets down each other’s shirts, pushing each other into pools and doing all sorts of childish things in our mutual dislike. I put weird things in his food. He puts weird things into my drinks. I think we’ve come to a temporary truce recently, though, seeing as we’re entering university soon. But gods forbid that we end up at the same university, because I’ll never get any studying done.

70. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
Strawberry, I suppose. I haven’t tried a lot of flavors, so I couldn’t say, really. Maybe my favorite flavor is one I haven’t tried before. I’d never know.

71. DO YOU HAVE ALL YOUR FINGERS AND TOES?
Yes, thankfully.

72. DO YOU HAVE A COMPUTER IN YOUR ROOM?
Yes. Her name is Ninian, and she is the single most useful and useless thing in my room, of all time. I think her name describes her well, for anyone who gets the reference. Cal Jae and Aniki <3

73. PLANS FOR TONIGHT?
Finish my French presentation, study math, take bio notes and study them before class so I know what the heck the teacher is talking about. Oh, and responding to tags, but that’s after all my work’s done.

74. WHERE DO YOU WANT TO LIVE WHEN YOU ARE OLDER?
Out of country. I’ve always liked exotic things, and I think living in exotic places like Europe, or even the US would be an amazing experience. Sensibly speaking, I’ll probably just stay in Canada and watch over my younger brother.

75. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
Only if they find them as interesting as I do. xD

76. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO?
The sweet sound of silence. When I’m writing, I can’t have any music on because I tend to get distracted by music very easily. However, when I tag, I generally need music to get my creative juices running. It’s strange, but somehow, it all works out.

77. THE LAST THING YOU DRANK?
Herbal medication. As usual, it tastes nasty, but I’ve been healthier recently. Kind of.

78. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
Employee services at Canada’s Wonderland pertaining to my job orientation. But someone I know? … probably my parents. I rarely call anyone else, and I rarely receive phone calls.

79. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE IN THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Their manner of speech. If they start using ‘like’ and ‘um’ and ‘uh’, I generally start tuning them out. D: I don’t know why, but the speech fillers really bother me, for some odd reason.

80. WHAT DO YOU LIKE TO DO IN YOUR SPARE TIME?
Roleplay, working on various cosplays, writing. Reading too, though I generally do that during my commuting hours now. I also like to sing, practice my instrument, and sleep.

81. FAVORITE THING TO HATE?
Speech fillers, as mentioned before, are really irritating, for some odd reason. And the inconsideration of select people, I suppose. Oh, and answering machines. But the one thing that I dislike more than anything else? The sound of the vacuum cleaner.

… I’ve just realized that a lot of my dislikes have to do with sound and speech. I find this interesting.

82. Favorite season?
Autumn. I think everything is most beautiful during the time of transition between life and death. Consequently, I also really like Spring.

83. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE TYPE OF DESSERT?
I’m not a fan of overly sweet things, or sweet things in general, really. xD;; But ice-cream, I guess?

84. HAVE YOU EVER REALLY AND TRULY HAD A BEST FRIEND?
Yes. \o\

85. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR?
Black. And I don’t think I would ever want to change it, really. Dyes don’t really go well on dark hair, and it’s too much effort. xD

86. EYE COLOR?
Black. I’m very Chinese in appearance. Generally speaking, if you can imagine a stereotypical Chinese person, just tack a pair of glasses onto the face, and that’s probably what I look like.

87. SHOE SIZE?
7 or 8, depending on brand, the store, the weather etc.

88. FAVORITE FAST FOOD PLACE?
… No. No fastfood. Nooooo.

89. FAVORITE RESTAURANT?
I dislike restaurants. Home cooking is the best. |D

90. DO YOU LIKE SUSHI?
Yes. <3 I particularly like sushi with fish eggs.

91. WATCH TV TODAY?
No. I don’t generally watch the television. In fact, I never do. I guess I’ve never found the television all that appealing.

92. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?
June 21st. That’s generally the day my school lets out for the summer holidays, and I really love that feeling of liberation. Then, I’ll spend the entire summer pining after school, and as soon as school starts again, I’ll start complaining about how far away the summer vacations are. It’s a vicious cycle, I have to admit, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.

93. PLAY ANY MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS?
The double bass. If you don’t know what it is, imagine two cellos stacked on top of each other, or a quadruple violin. Or imagine a viola, only bigger. It’s been said that the only difference between a viola and a double bass is that the double bass burns longer.

I’m very proud of my instrument, though. It’s large, it’s unwieldy, it’s low, and it’s a terrible thing to have to lug around all day, but I love it.

95. KISSES OR HUGS?
Hugs and kisses. <3 I give both liberally to my younger brother. Now a days, come my approach, he runs away screaming.

96. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE NIGHT STANDS?
Relationships are more meaningful, but I like the spontaneity and drama behind one-night stands. They’re also easier to write. Relationships take a long time to develop and even longer to plot out in terms of CR, but one night stands are always easier to both set up and to put behind you. Not to mention that it takes less words to write out a one-night stand as opposed to a relationship, and I’m just lazy and can’t be bothered like that.

97. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU BOUGHT?
A new uniform shirt and a pair of non-slip shoes, both for my job. I don’t like shopping, as a general rule, so I rarely buy things that I don’t immediately need. If there’s a shopping trip impending, you can bet that I’ll do everything in my power to squirm my way out of it.

98. WOULD YOU EVER BE A HOUSEWIFE?
I’d be a good housewife, if only because that’s the only thing that I’m capable of being good at. xD I love washing dishes. It’s weird, but it’s true. Give me a bunch of dishes to wash for a day, and I’ll be terribly pleased by the end of it. My biggest failing is that I hate vacuum cleaners with a passion, but that means that I love brooms more than anything else and I’m willing to pick lint up by hand from clothes and the carpet. Yes, I am terribly strange and I need a new hobby. xD

99. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?
The Last Light of the Sun by Guy Gavriel Kay. I highly recommend his books to all who have yet to hear of him. He’s a brilliant author.

100. DESCRIBE YOUR LOVE LIFE?
lololol What love life? xDDD

NON-FAC-SIMILE

2010-03-27T15:40:48Z

[Title] NON-FAC-SIMILE
[Fandom] Pandora Hearts
[Characters] Xerxes Break, Sharon Rainsworth, with appearances by Sheryl Rainsworth, Reim and Vincent Nightray
[Warnings] None
[Summary] There is a thief in the night by the name of Phantom Thief Xerxykins. It's only logical that Sharon would take interest.
[Dedication] Cal and Dana ? This story is for the two of you.

- - -

“The phantom thief kneeled down before the lady, and uttered these words.

‘Yes, milady.’

And so the story finishes.”

She stretches her small hands out to the picture book to pat the page gently. “It’s my favorite part.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “But it is the end, is it not?”

Her little ponytail bobs up and down as she nods vigorously. “Because that means another story can start, right?”

And so he smiles.

“Yes, milady.”

- - -

NON-FAC-SIMILE

- - -

When the Phantom Thief steals from the nobility, the rumors stir. When the Phantom Thief steals from the Barmas, the applause begins. When the Phantom Thief steals the queen’s ruby tarts, the journalists go wild. But when the Phantom Thief hits all the surrounding houses of the nobility sans one, the people begin to question the origins of the thief. Some go even as far as to pin the identity on the young and frail heiress herself.

Thus, that the Phantom Thief would next tackle the Rainsworths was only a matter of logic.

- - -

She raises the candle. It illuminates the dresser table. The light passes over the brushes and combs, the ornamental flowers, the soft disk compacts containing the blush leaves and the little cotton balls for the eyes, the jewelry box, all meticulously arranged. And then, the light rests on the man standing by the window, a hand stretched to the curtains as though to pull them back with a single, sweeping motion.

The man pulls back his hand. She draws herself up.

“If you would continue that motion, I will scream.” She declares loudly. The light from the candle is reflected in her eyes, a burning flame that wavers and is all-consuming. The man stares back from the darkness, and she holds his gaze with her own boldly.

After a long moment in which she wets her lips in an attempt to fill the gap and ponders at what she should say next – for it seemed clear to her that he is waiting for something more, and she cannot help but feel the need to deliver – she is surprised by a voice that echoes playfully from the darkness.

“Please don’t. Think of your grandmother.”

Her first thought is that this really is a cheeky reply. Her second is that it is strange how the man seems to assume that she possesses such a living relative.

“The cause is a noble one.” She replies serenely, and moves forward with the candle. The light illuminates the white hair, this single red eye, the strange white of his clothes where black should be – for in her mind, all thieves are practical and should wear but the darkest of colors in order to better blend into the night – and his odd, lop-sided smile. There is a strange quirk of his lips that she can’t identify, but she writes it off as the particular brand of smile that this thief possesses. Thieves were known to have trademarks, and this thief should be no exception.

“The sacrifice of proper sleeping hours can hardly be considered noble.” He points out.

“Then this is hardly the noble set-up, is it?”

“Why, isn’t it because I am a thief?” The voice is lighthearted, good-natured, and completely at odds with his off-kilter appearance. In fact, it makes him seem a good deal younger, when in fact the white hair clearly gives another story all together. “And it would be a curious day, when a thief makes a noble set-up.”

She considers this. “There are some that steal from the rich, and give to the poor. Can they not be considered noble in action?”

“Is that what you would like for me to do?” He sounds amused. Terribly amused. And because of it, she feels a certain amusement as well. Moving forward, the light illuminates his single red eye, and she stares at him without fear, and yet with a certain brand of caution. If he should make any sudden movements, she thinks, then she will indeed scream.

“It does depend on what you have taken from the dresser.” She adjoins, and this seems to please him, for he chuckles and leans away from the window with fluid movement. He then opens his hand, and she raises the candle higher to illuminate it, revealing a single green earring.

“I wonder which poor man I should bestow this upon.” He seems to muse at that.

She shakes her head. “And I wonder what a poor man might have to do with but a single earring.”

“I daresay his wife would appreciate it.”

“A single earring does not do a wife any good, I would imagine. She would rather have both.”

“I do wonder how much it is worth.”

“But half its value, I would think, seeing as half of it is not there at all.”

“Then where is the other?” His eye twinkles in the darkness. After a brief moment of hesitation, she pushes back her hair. And there rests an identical green earring dangling from her left ear lobe. He appraises it from the distance, but he makes no move to come closer. Thus, she moves in on her own volition, raising the candle high above her head so as to give him a clear view of the green jewel on her ear.

She then lowers it. He cocks his head to the side and slowly raises one hand so that the palm faces her like an offering.

“May I have it?”

And now she is amused. “No, you may not.”

At this, he chuckles. He takes back his hand, and places it beneath his chin, as though considering this in a serious manner. His lips, however, if the quirk is anything to go by, betray another emotion all together.

“Then I suppose there is no reason for me to stay.”

Her eyes widen when he moves for the window once more. Striding forward forcefully, she catches his attention with her steps and the fire in her eyes.

“There is still reason.”

In the darkness, he quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

She swallows.

“You still have to return what you took.”

And this really seems to amuse him. He leans back, like a jester. “I would be a poor thief if I did so every time someone requests it—”

“You are the Phantom Thief, are you not?” She suddenly blurts out. “Phantom Thief Xerxykins?”

His smile freezes.

“Is that what they call me?”

“It is as the tabloids say.” She points out.

“Doesn’t it sound ridiculous?”

“Shouldn’t one at least respect what one calls themselves?”

“And I don’t, precisely because I do not call myself by such a name.”

She raises an elegant eyebrow at this. “And what do you call yourself?”

A chuckle. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

But when he makes a move towards the window again, she stamps her foot down.

“Come back tomorrow, and tell me.”

And at this, he seems to stare long and hard at her, as though she has just sprouted three heads and a tail to boot. “And whyever should I do such an incriminating thing?”

She takes a gamble, and a deep breath. “Because you wish to know the history behind the earring you now hold in your hand.”

A long silence, in which he stares at her and she stares back and the candle burns low in its stand. At long last, he chuckles.

“Fair enough. You shall see me tomorrow night as well, little lady.”

“Truly?”

“On my word as a thief, maybe.”

She lets out a small sigh, and places a hand to her chest. “Then I shall take you for your word, Phantom Thief Xerxykins.”

He flinches, but it’s probably just her imagination, and suddenly, from the darkness, he chuckles, and there is the sudden sweeping sound of the curtains being drawn back to reveal the gentle moon framed in the grandiose windows. In the night, he sighs.

“Tomorrow, then, little lady.”

The candle burns out, and he is gone.

- - -

The next night, he greets her from the windowsill, legs straddling the window frame like a young child. She is in her best nightdress, and she is not amused by the way he pulls the flower petals off of the carefully arranged blooms by the window side, nor is she amused by the suddenly growing pile of candy wrappers that litter the floor where he is currently seated over. Upon seeing that look on her face, he seems to smirk, before leaning down and sweeping up the candy wrappers to be disposed of at an undisclosed location.

She nods.

“Would you like to take a seat at the table? A cup of tea, perhaps?”

He chuckles. “Funny that I would find a young woman who doesn’t state the obvious on second meeting.”

She frowns, but does not further comment upon it. Instead, she seats herself at the table, and waits for his patronage. She ends up waiting the entire encounter, however, as the man does not further move from his seat at the window. Instead, he cocks that one beady eye at her, and smiles.

“But isn’t there something obvious that you would like to point out for us tonight?”

She takes a biscuit, and nibbles upon it for a moment. There’s a silence before she speaks again.

“Perhaps we may begin with your name?”

The single eye twinkles. “Is it not ‘Xerxykins’?”

“All thieves have an alter ego and a true ego.” She points out, amidst a sip of tea and a contented sigh. For in her mind, all thieves are cape-donning personas of mystery with an alter ego – perhaps even several at once, if she fancies them enough. “I do beg your pardon, but I did not think you would be an exception.”

“Perhaps you did not take the time to think at all.” He tsks, and she frowns at this. Upon her frown, he merely laughs, and carries on. “But no matter. And who might be running the tabloids? I do wonder at that.”

“It currently belongs to the Nightray family, to my understanding.” She replies in a considering manner. However, he merely nods, and a slow, chagrined smile crawls across his face, comes back and camps there.

“Ah, the Nightrays.” He says, the same way one might remark upon a skunk, or maybe a particularly distasteful-looking candy wrapper pasted to the wallpaper. “They never did have any taste whatsoever.”

“It’s not to your liking, then.”

“And she states the obvious once more!” He cajoles, kicking up his feet. In the moonlight, they look like waving branches. “The next thing you know, she will be calling me ‘Xerxykins’ and clamoring the way all the young children do when they come across something interesting and emotionally fulfilling.”

She seems unperturbed by this. “To prevent that, then, you simply must tell me what you would rather have me call you.”

“Oh, but you see, there’s nothing that I must do. The obligation isn’t mine in the least.”

She smiles. “Xerxykins.”

He frowns. “It’s Xerxes.”

And she pretends to be surprised by this. “Just Xerxes?”

He simply kicks up his feet once more, dragging a lollipop out from one of his pockets and sticking it into his mouth. The night masks his expression as he sucks on his candy in a considering fashion, but when he speaks again, it is clearly enunciated. “Xerxes Break, if you must. Not that there is anything to must for. You also do not have that obligation.”

But she would have none of it. “Mister Break, then, if that is what you prefer.”

The smile he presents is one of a man who does not wish to say what he is thinking. She knows. It’s a smile her grandmother employs often, and one which she herself is learning to employ. “And what I prefer is for me to know, and for you to never know at all. Your name, little lady?”

She rises, and in the moonlight, curtsies. “My name is Sharon Rainsworth, Mister Break. It’s a pleasure.”

This seems to amuse him. He gets up from his seated position on the windowsill, and hops down with fluid movements. Slowly, he approaches her in the darkness, and if she feels fear, she strives not to show it. Watching his approach warily, she lowers her head, and at this, he seems to pause. A long silence and he breaks it with a smile.

“Manners, too.” His eye seems to stare right through her. “Just your name? Is Sharon Rainsworth not who you are?”

She is puzzled by this, and she voices it. “Why would I not be what I claim?”

He merely smiles again, this time wider and with more of an edge. “You did say there was a history that you wished to impart.”

“It’s getting late.” She remarks lightly. A smile for a smile, a glance for a glance.

And he glances at her knowingly, before suddenly jumping back, landing on the windowsill with practiced ease.

“I suppose it’s time for little ladies to tuck in, then. You should have a long day ahead of you.”

“I should.” She agrees, for the coming of age ceremonies were very long and tedious and required a lot of smiles that she didn’t have the natural disposition to give. He seems to acknowledge this with a nod, before tilting his hat.

“Farewell.” He calls.

“To you as well.” She replies.

And he is gone.

- - -

He is there again the next night, sitting at the table as though he is but an esteemed guest. He even brings his own tea, which he keeps in a teapot balanced on his head precariously along with several dishes, saucers and a sugar bowl – fine china whose blood red seals they sport on their sides seem far too familiar to her. The Barmas, no doubt, will be waking up in the morning to find half their fine china mysteriously vanished.

She is sitting by the window side, a ball of yarn by her feet and two knitting needles held tightly in both hands, as though afraid they would sprout wings and fly away on her. Indeed they might, she thinks, for knitting needles are fickle creatures that rarely do as one tells them to, and no doubt if she is to tell them to ‘not fly’, they would sooner sprout wings than not. She looks down at the mess of threads stretched between the two needles, and wonder if all knitted tea cozies start out as bulbous messes, or if it’s just this particular tea cozy that refuses to take shape.

A quick glance at him tells her that he is very amused, no doubt by her efforts.

“That is a lovely scarf, little lady.”

“It’s a tea cozy.” She corrects him impetuously. He lifts a hand in a gesture which she takes to be a gesture of peace, but could also possibly signify that the tea is too hot to be held in one hand at this moment.

“My apologies. Your tea cozy. How fine of it.” His voice is mocking. She knows the tone. It’s a tone that the middle brother of the Nightrays often employs when she has the misfortune of spending time in an enclosed room with him, often with nothing but a flower arrangement separating her from his perpetual look of abject innocence found only on newborn kittens and seasoned conmen. It’s a disconcerting parallel, she thinks, but she shouldn’t dwell on it. The less she dwells upon Vincent Nightray, the better.

“It is coming along.” She replies serenely, and he seems to frown at this. He then gets up from his seat at the table, and she watches him as he walks to where she is seated, swerves around her chair, and out of the corner of her eyes – watches as he drapes himself over the back of her seat as though it is something vaguely normal.

So she acts as though it’s vaguely normal as well.

“Perhaps if you knew how to knit, it might come along better?” He offers.

She tilts her head at this. “I do believe I already know how to knit, Mister Break.”

The look he gives her is droll. “And I do believe that is a most unnatural position for the knitting needles to be in.”

And after reflecting upon her work, she reluctantly agrees. Handing the needles to him, she watches over her shoulder as he begins the long process of untangling the yarn.

“Forgive my asking, but do you happen to operate a knitting store by day, Mister Break?”

He frowns. “Not all those who knit operate knitting stores, little lady.”

“There was the possibility.” She insists.

“A knitting store? Really, my dear?”

She colors slightly. “It did have a nice ring to it.”

“Knitting by day, thievery by night.” He muses, as though sounding it out by ear. “I do wonder where sleep comes in.”

“Are you perhaps insinuating that you do not have a surface operation?”

He throws his hands back. The knitting needles fly. “The next thing you know, she will be asking if I have a life!”

“Then why thievery?” She asks insistently. “Why have you chosen this path, if there is another life waiting for you?”

“That question does sound too much as though it’s been plucked right out of a child’s storybook for my tastes.” He murmurs.

And she considers this. “Perhaps it has, but is it not still worth asking?”

“The worth still has yet to be determined.” Is his answer in the quiet night. “Funny wording, that one would use the word ‘choose’ to describe a path. If it were up to me, I would think ‘follow’ be the worthier choice.”

A path to choose. A path to follow. She’s not quite sure of the difference, but in hindsight, she should have thought it through further. Two are distinct paths in which one person may take, and this one has chosen the latter rather than the former, and therein lays the difference, for in the end, it is something they call ‘fate’ and we call ‘destiny’.

“Now, shall we divulge a history?”

“It really is getting late.”

A knowing smile and he is gone.

- - -

He shows up for several more, all dressed in white.

She keeps the window open, and sets the tea-table so that the flowers now face away from the breeze.

And in the end, it is always getting late, and he is always gone.

- - -

And then one night, he shows up with blood on his sleeves and on his forehead. She stares for a good long minute, squeamishness revolting within her before she calmly gets up from her seat at the table and fetches the first-aid kit from the cabinet. He sits at the window and tries very hard to breathe, and once in a while, to stop breathing, for she can hear his heartbeat a mile a minute as she dresses his wounds, and she is not sure why, but she supposes that he would find such a thing embarrassing.

It is also here, that she decides that he is no longer Mister Break, and is instead, just Break. She tells him this and the look on his face stills, before he turns away to smile fondly at the wall.

“That really did take a while. I had thought you forgotten the common etiquette.”

She frowns. “What terrible luck, then, for it seems that whomever was so kind as to tear your arm to shreds also did not possess the same etiquette.”

“The difference is in the expectation, is it not?”

“Or perhaps a difference in standards.” She adjoins mildly. He seems to consider this, before lifting his arm up for a cursory examination. She glances down the side of it, and smooths out the bandages just the way her mother taught her.

He frowns at the bandages. “They couldn’t say my name, even if they wanted to.”

“And what were ‘they’, pray tell?”

“The hounds of Nightray should not be allowed names, you realize. Neither their own, nor anyone else’s.”

She distinctly remembers them, with their finely combed fur and well-groomed manes. It occurs to her that the large manes would hide equally large teeth, but the length of the iron chain must have diminished the thought the same way a bucket of water on hand diminishes the thought of fire.

“Do you know them?” He asks, and to his question, she nods.

“They have fine tails.” Is all that she is able to manage, and he smiles at this.

“You would think so.”

“Would I?”

“Is it getting too late?” He muses, and she stills at this. “Or perhaps there was never a history to divulge in the first place.”

There is a moment in which he stares at his bandages and she stares at the wall. Slowly, however, it comes together, and she opens her mouth, closes it, and tells the story anyway.

“It belonged to my mother, the late Lady Rainsworth.”

“And?”

“And I suppose that is all I know of.”

He leans back. “Why is that, I wonder.”

“They supposed that something did away with my childhood.” She says delicately. “For the memory of it seems to have trampled itself under the carriage in my place.”

Or perhaps the hooves of the horses, she muses, but she can’t remember that either – the horses, or the carriage, or even the look on her grandmother’s face when they pulled her out of the wreckage, though the tabloids have done a fine job in describing it for all to read and hear. She supposes that it should have jogged her memory, reading of the varying accounts that followed, but she also supposes that her memory does not jog. Rather, it skips.

“Is that what happened?” His eye stares upward at the ceiling.

“It is so.”

“Are you quite certain of it?”

She turns to look at him once more, and her gaze is straight and even.

“Lady Rainsworth is dead.”

The pictures on the wall, and flowers for her grave.

“I cannot recall her death.”

He turns to smile at the wall.

“Ah.”

- - -

He doesn’t return for several weeks, and when he does, it’s not in good cheer. Duchess Rainsworth has fallen ill, and the signs of it can be found all around the mansion. He knocks the window before letting himself in, and she is sitting on the side of her bed in her nightdress, a pillow to her chest and a wane smile for the moon on his face. He hops down from the windowsill, and stands by the bedside and she fancies that he is watching her breathe.

“The window wasn’t open.”

“Grandmother has fallen ill.”

“I know.”

She is of the opinion that he knows far more than he is entitled to knowing, and in her moment of weakness, that translates to a certain brand of frustration. He shouldn’t know, and yet he knows anyway, and he is constantly smiling.

“It is the wasting illness, or so I have been told.” Or so they call it, and so she believes. She remembers the way the Duchess trembled and coughed and bowled over in her seat, and the sudden surge of emotion on the redhead’s face standing behind her. She remembers how Reim all but bolted out the door in search of a doctor, and the gathered ensemble whispered their shock, their amazement, their dirty lies. The grand Duchess has finally collapsed like a sunken oak, and the heiress looks to be no more than thirteen. Whatever will become of the Rainsworths now that competent leadership has finally given away to old age?

“You would underestimate her.” His smile in the dark is stark and cold, and she doesn’t like it. And thus, she turns away.

“One could argue that overestimation brings naught but misery.”

“And supposing you wish to escape from that misery?”

“I am not turning away.” She replies sternly, turning back to him to meet his gaze. There is no humor in his smile, and thus there is none in hers as well. “It is for the best if one should keep reality in mind even in the gravest of times.”

There is a small lull in which he leans back to prop himself against the wall and she stares ahead at nothing in particular.

“And what sort of reality might that be, if I may ask?” The politeness in his tone is mocking, and she fancies it bitter. Bitter, like the flower petals that already litter the floor. Bitter, like the farness of the moon and what little light it gives. Bitter, like the tea on her table, steeping into the night and the day after untouched.

“The same sort that captured my mother.” Her voice is quiet. “Or so I have been told.”

A sigh into the night, and he tilts his head back. When he asks again, his voice is still and unwavering. “And what is a mother unremembered but an absent memory?”

She smiles into the night, and it is empty. And tonight, she fancies, she will weep butterflies, for it is most fitting. The moment the word mother is uttered once and again, the tears come and shed themselves into the darkening room.

“Yet when I think of it, the tears would not stop coming.”

He looks up, and she thinks he is watching the butterflies. Slowly, he lifts himself from the wall and comes forward, and when the moonlight hits, his eye is red. Very red, like a drop of blood on his visage. The bandages from the weeks before remain, and yet the wound must have healed long since then. Perhaps some wounds never fade entirely, and what we are left with is but a memory of it. A sweet bandage, or a butterfly on a cheek. He leans down, and brushes his hand against her face, and she thinks he is far too close and far too knowing for her not to fear it.

“Your grandmother is a strong woman.”

“As was my mother.” She stamps down resiliently. “She, too, was a strong woman. And yet all strong women die.”

The words seem to seep past his façade of a mask, and his eye widens immeasurably. Suddenly, he straightens, looking down at her as though he isn’t quite sure of what he is seeing.

“You do not remember her.”

“And I will remember my grandmother.”

“But she is not yours, is she not?”

And she thinks this is all very unfair, for though she does not remember the woman being her grandmother, she has but one thing to say to that.

“I will remember her, because she is precious to me.”

A long silence.

And then, he leans down once more, his hands moving to her face. Slowly, carefully, and she closes her eyes to feel something on her right ear. When she opens them again, he is still there, and yet his eyes are so far away. And on her right ear, a new weight now hangs. She reaches up with a hand to feel the delicate burden of her mother’s earring.

His smile is bitter, bitter as gall. “Do you remember your mother now?”

She smiles. “I daresay I do not.”

And for the first time throughout all their meetings, he laughs.

“Fancy that. And I was expecting more magic.”

More magic indeed. And so she laughs, and he is gone.

- - -

The book falls open from the shelf as she is browsing.

She takes one look at the title, and hurries out of the room.

- - -

“Grandmother.”

She is pale and weak on the bed, and she cannot help but think that she looks like a small bird. A proud head and face, she is sitting upright, and yet her hands feel weak in her hands, and the rest of her is covered by piles and piles of blankets, like layers of feathers on a peacock.

“Phantom Thief Xerxykins.”

The old woman looks up.

“Have you remembered, my dear?”

The hope in her eyes. She shakes her head, and the hope dies.

“The book… I found it in the study, Grandmother. I… I do not know what to think.”

And she chuckles, and it’s a low, comforting sound, like the rumble of a cat. “Think as you have always done so, Sharon. Your mind is sharp and keen. Please trust in yourself, and tell me what you think.”

She stills.

“Grandmother, why?”

Her grandmother smiles at the far wall and beyond, and she resists the urge to turn as well.

“An old woman’s fancy, I suppose. It was your dream, when you were younger.”

“To meet the phantom thief?”

“There never was a thief, Sharon dear.” The sigh carries, and she breathes it in like a cloud. “He was a loyal servant, and I asked of him a favor. The tabloids were paid ready, and everything fell into place afterward.”

Her hands are cold. “And what was the servant’s name, grandmother?”

“Xerxes Break, my dear. Did he tell you?”

A mute nod, and her grandmother tilts her head back.

“It is -- but an old woman’s fancy.”

And her hands tremble. She clutches the hand of her grandmother as though she is drowning in secrets. “Why did you not tell me of this sooner, grandmother?”

The old woman sighs, and the strength seems to drain from her face. She gathers Sharon in her arm, and all Sharon can think is that it really is far too cold.

“Do you know what the last thing he said to me was, Sharon dear?

He told me this: ‘She is not Sharon Rainsworth.’”

- - -

The tabloids speak of a certain Sharon Rainsworth and her search for the Phantom Thief, who’s possession of her mother’s keepsake greatly distresses her. The masses are sympathetic, and the journalists clamor the mansion by day, and by the third night, he reappears.

- - -

“My, whatever did I steal?”

His tone is amused, and she supposes that she would be too, if she hasn’t stolen anything and is becoming infamous for it. She is in her day dress, and her hair is combed back to reveal a sharp forehead and sharper eyes. She rests her hands on the sides of her chair, and pushes herself up so she is standing when she meets him, and when he jumps down from the windowsill with practiced movements, she strides forward vehemently.

“You will give her back.”

If he is surprised, he does not show it. “Give who back?”

She is relentless. “Sharon Rainsworth. You will give her back.”

And suddenly, he stills, and the night is still as well but for the clicking of her heels against wood. When she stops before him, she can see herself reflected in his eyes – a little girl in a dress and stubborn hands by her side. Her eyes are also reflected, and she sees a burning flame within, all-consuming. He lowers his head, and his voice is sly and bitter. “I suppose in this instance, I am not the thief.”

She ignores him. “You remember her.”

“I do.”

“You believe that your memory of her is what she is.”

He is quiet, and she plows onwards.

“And you cannot let her go.”

The words seem to shatter his mask, for when he stares at her again, it is with seriousness that she has never seen before. But she is brave tonight, and she holds his gaze, and the two stare at each other in the night like opposing animals. The eagle of his stare is now facing a tiger, and she bares her jaws for all to see.

“Let her go, and give her back, Xerxes Break. Give her back to yourself. I am Sharon Rainsworth.”

She shouts it, and it cripples him.

“I am Sharon Rainsworth.”

And petal by petal, his mask peels away, and underneath, she thinks she sees something tired, like a slow and heavy animal just waking from slumber. She stares at him and he stares back, and she wonders what is it that he sees with a gaze that has become so tender and yet so wary. And when he moves closer, she wonders if he knows of the distance between them, or if it’s just the distance between their eyes that they cannot see eye-to-eye, until he leans down so they are eye-to-eye, and kisses her on the forehead.

“Yes. You are, Sharon. You are.”

It’s that acceptance that blooms within her, and for the first time since her reawakening on that bed with nothing but a name on the forefront of her mind and a cloud for a memory, that everything is okay.

He then hops out the window, and down to the ground, and that is when the police arrive.

- - -

Throughout the flurry of activity that follows both in her bedroom – “Miss Rainsworth! Are you all right?” to the barking down below – “You have been caught, Phantom Thief!” all she could think is that this wasn’t the ending to the story book. Not with the thief with his hands pressed to the wall and the single red eye staring up at her, as though asking if she has finally triumphed. Not with the way Reim incessantly pulls at her shoulder in attempts to get her away from the balcony and indoors where the tabloids cannot see her. Not with the way the hounds are baying and the mansion being awoken in an uproar and the feeble protests of an old woman in a bedroom as the people cry for blood.

And down below, Vincent Nightray looks up from the crowd, and waves.

- - -

The sun is just rising when she dons her best dress, and marches out the door.

And to the police, she speaks.

And speaks.

And speaks.

And when they finally tire of her speaking, she speaks to the judges, and then to the officials until there is nobody left to speak to and her voice has gone hoarse.

And finally and begrudgingly, they let him go.

- - -

All the servants of Rainsworth attend the official swear-in ceremony. Some of them even recognize him, and point them out for all to hear, and the world hears twenty-four hours later, that the Phantom Thief himself is now officially under the protection of the Rainsworth and isn’t the house just in utter ruin now, accepting criminals off the street? But she pays the words no mind, for it is just her and Xerxes Break within the world, and she extends the back of her hand to him.

“Then swear it, your allegiance to the Rainsworth Household, and to its Lady, the Lady Sharon Rainsworth, for all of your days’ end.”

He looks up with an unblinking eye, and smiles.

“Yes, milady.”

This post has copious amounts of cake. And pictures.

2010-03-24T00:33:35Z

So I decided today that I would bake a 'Welcome Back Squeak!' for, well, Squeak, and so I got up and baked it.

Here is a picture of it!

This is the beforeimage.

And in case you can't see the 'Squeak' portion of it, here's a roadmap. It's like connect the dots! My childhood.

The 'Welcome Back' and the exclamation mark wouldn't fit, but the name should be enough. \o\

And then we ate it.

The afterimage. Mmmmm, right?

Don't worry. We saved you a slice, Squeak. So somewhere in our fridge right now is a cake with one fifth of your name on it. In the case that someday you come to Canada (that obscure country that's considered the fifty-first state of America with the polar bears and beavers and parliaments made of igloo! Doesn't ring a bell? Don't worry, I didn't expect it to), it'll be here, waiting. <3

Yes, I was bored. But I was going to bake a cake for you anyway. Sorry it's so ugly. I'll bake a better one once I get better at it, so for now, this will be your IOU kind of a thing. Or something like that. I don't know. Haha. I may not be the best Sharon in the world, but I'll work on baking cakes so you'll see a lot of these in the future, I'd reckon. Watch that cake pile-up grow!

/o/

Oh, and one last, very important thing?

WELCOME BACK SQUEAK!

Warning: Large Images, Memes and TL;DR

2010-01-21T04:13:31Z

Because I like combo-ing posts in order to save your f-lists:

... Eh, got lazy with both the coloring and the sketching. xD But this stems from that epic conversation on Pokemon!PH with Dana and Cal. Absol!Break, Skitty!Sharon, Bellossom!Sharon. ... I don't even know anymore-

Absol!Break ahoy. Doesn't he look like a giraffe?

Sharon. Dx

... Sharon, I don't even- ... and ribbons!Break for Cal. Even if. I suck at drawing Break. xDDDD

Ada.

The only one that I'm decently happy with. Dx

... eh. OC, Fenrael. I had her character design down about three years ago, and then I read PH and saw Break. xD I love Break so much more because of it.

All in all, I fail at drawing, and can't color for my life. But drawing Sharon was a lot of fun, and I found that no matter what I tried with Break, he ended up looking like himself with a blade sticking out of his head. Why so fail, self? D:

... crit plz. <3

Presenting, Ada and the Vampire.

Stolen from Erinilliana-

1. Where and when did you start RPing?
2002, Neopets. I was seven at the time. Approximately a year after I first came into contact with English through the usage of a rather colorful children's dictionary. xD I still remember the good ol' days where Neopets didn't have that word-limit that pretty much killed their 'literate' role-play base. I made some good friends, role-played inverted tropes, and purple-passaged the hell out of everyone. Ah, those were the days.

2. Do you RP anywhere other than LJ?
Not as of now. I used to be really active on sites like Avidgamers, Acornrack and Subetapets. Mostly OC-based games, and most of them being Dragon Riders of Pern weyr-based games. I was a gold-hoarder, I admit it. >_> I hated working up the hierarchy like everyone else, and skipped the whole process by transferring in as issue-ridden Gold riders.

3. Do you play in any public games?
Yes~ somarium luceti paradisa

4. Do you prefer first-person comment spam or prose logging?
First-person spam, for the most part. I used to be a hilarious purple-passage spammer. The kind of role-player that tried to put a symbolic meaning behind every action a character could possibly ever take, and wrote pages per post and whatnot. >_>;; And then, I became more interested in dialog, and things shifted from there. If I log in third person, I tend to lose interest pretty quickly now-a-days. Dx I need to fix that.

5. What was the first character you ever played?
Ffff. It was definitely an OC -- and that's the only thing I'm sure of at this point. I had a gazillion OCs on Neopets, and a gazillion more for the DRoP-basted role-plays on Avidgamers. But if I had to guess, it was probably a girl, probably had some kind of a magical power, and probably had messy hair and a temper the size of a weyrbowl. Sound familiar? xD

6. Who's your favorite character to play now and why?
Currently, Vincent Nightray. ... that's pretty sad. xD I don't know, his voice comes easier now, and trolling people is just... I don't know, I shouldn't enjoy it this much, but I really do.

7. What's the longest you've ever consistently played one character?
In a single game, or otherwise? Though the answer would be the same either way. Milexiander, my bubbly, blond-haired OC. I played him everywhere for a good three years. xD Runner up would be his partner in crime, Reni, whom I more often than not dragged to the same game kicking and screaming.

8. What's your biggest RP pet peeve?
Honestly? When people neglect the capslock key. ;A;

9. Do you read RP secrets and the RP anon meme?
Only the former when I'm directed to it through link, post or wank. Never the latter. xD;;

10. If you've played in public before, do you prefer community based or journal based games?
I don't have a preference, honestly. The latter makes for neater f-lists, while the former gives the player base a sense of unity.

11. Would you rather play with someone who's very very IC but a mediocre writer or someone who isn't always IC (but not terrible) and a great writer?
I don't have a preference for this one, either. xD I know I'm never terribly IC, nor am I a good writer, so I don't have the right to judge. Besides, I'm just happy if someone wants to role-play with me.

12. Do you have a "RP partner"?
Ffff. If I had to say anyone, I'd say Aniki, since we've dragged each other back and forth for a good while now, and Silum was pretty damn fun. xD And of course, even though I've only known you guys for about eight months now -- my PH family. Dana, Cal, Kat, Lena, I love you all.

13. Do you ever stalk any casts, games, or players? Who?
... If I had to list absolutely everyone I stalk on a regular basis, I would be here all night typing. But the major ones -- This role-player over here, Kuroro and Kurapika over at Soul-Campaign, Too Many at Luceti, That Vincent at Paradisa and his lovely Gil, the Vincent over at Micro, Rachel's Musebox, Doesrufusknow, Rinmei's Elliot, This woman over here, the Rita over at Gargleblasted (and Nyarmar's Rita, before she dropped her. ;A;) and... WHO AM I MISSING-

... I don't even know. I spend half my time role-playing and the other half stalking. Where is my life I don't even-

14. In your opinion, which part of an app is the most difficult/annoying?
Sample, hands down. ... I don't even know why, but I dislike having my character talk to themselves. Or shove them in a hypothetical situation and type out a third-person post based on it. I know it's a necessarily part of the application, but. >_>;;

On the other hand, I absolutely love the history section.

15. Are you one of those people who has to customize their character's journal layout and userinfo?
Nope. I did it with Rita when I first started playing her, and never again. xD Sometimes, I'll pick out a eye-burning pink layout for certain characters for the lulz, but otherwise, I tend to be very lazy and just skip the whole process.

16. What was your first game?
Very first? Oceanside Weyr at neopets. I hadn't even heard of the books before, but a person that I respected very much all put punted me head-first into the game. I've been weyr-hopping ever since. But the first game on Lj? The Sky Tides, where I first tried out Rita's voice before apping at Somarium. |Da;; I had a great time there, though, especially her interactions with Abe.

17. Are there any canons you avoid tagging characters from?
None whatsoever. Chances are, I've heard of the canon and I loved the characters. xD I don't really have a life.

18. Most memorable scene in any thread?
... ffff. You mean I have to choose? ... fountaining Break. And at Shakeru, the interaction between my OC Leiji and his all-too-serious brown dragon. And of course, Abe-Rita interactions. Gods I miss those.

19. Do you RP sex?
Yes. xD ... maybe I'm weird for never having found anything particularly disturbing about sex in general. But I've always been a follow of Freud, so. >_>;; Er.

20. Do you play more males or females?
... strangely enough, I'm pretty balanced in that regard, I think. .__.;; Weird, since in any anime/manga/series, I tend to gravitate towards the male characters. But looking at my current role-play list, and my OC-listings... yeah, it's strangely balanced.

21. What won't you RP?
Kinks, mostly. But other than that, I love putting my characters into all sorts of weird and wacky situations.

22. Dressing rooms: yes or no?
I've never been opposed to it, even if I've never tried it before. xD I probably should. It'll help improve my role-playing, definitely.

23. Ever RPed a pairing?
Besides that one thing with Aniki over a Silum? ... none whatsoever. xD But I like the idea.

24. Favorite place to play: musebox, open posts, public games, private games?
Everything is fair game. /o/

25. Talking RP with someone else who plays your character: fun or awkward?
Fun. xD I love exchanging ideas and bouncing off character interpretations and whatnot.

Give me a character I RP and I'll tell you:

01. Full name
02. Best friend
03. Sexuality
04. Favorite color
05. Relationship status
06. Ideal mate
07. Turn-ons
08. Last sexual experience
09. Favorite food
10. Crushes
11. Favorite music
12. Biggest fear
13. Biggest fantasy
14. Quirks in bed
15. Bad habits
16. Biggest regret
17. Best kept secrets
18. Last thought
19. Worst sexual/romantic experience
20. Biggest insecurity

Active must list:

Rita Mordio
Vincent Nightray
Miharu
Razette
Echo/Noise
Kuroyuri

countervalue @ 2010-01-12T22:04:00

2010-01-13T03:04:07Z

SMILE CAL SMILE

New Year's resolution: learn how to draw.

... and learn what to say. Dammit.

... memes sob

2010-01-02T21:10:58Z

So apparently starting off the New Year with two memes ganked from everyone ever is the way to go.

Give me a ~~character~~ series and I will give you my:

♰ OTP for ~~them~~ the series.
♰ Runner-up pairing.
♰ Honorable mention(s).
♰ Crack pairing(s).
♰ Ship everyone else seems to like, but I don't.

B-because I don't think I'll be able to find enough ships per character, considering how asexual half my characters are. :/ And because, er, I don't ship as much as I used to, apparently. Dx Hetalia made me believe in free love, and PH made me utterly disinterested in normal relationships. I love my fandoms. <3

Pick one of my characters and I will tell you:

♰ why I decided to play this character
♰ my favorite scene or bit of interaction concerning this character to date
♰ my favorite original aspect about this character (world-building for ocs or head-canon for fics)
♰ the last thing they did "off screen"
♰ what their last words would be if they died tomorrow
♰ what the next thing I'm doing for them is (narrative, post, shelving, whatever)

My muselist is long and retarded, so I'll just list the ones that are active right now orz.

Rita Mordio | Tales of Vesperia
Vincent Nightray | Pandora Hearts
Razette | 07-Ghost
Miharu | Nabari no Ou
Echo/Noise | Pandora Hearts
Kuroyuri | 07-Ghost

... clearly, I need some variety.

On a completely unrelated note, I had a game of Scrabble with a friend that I hadn't seen for ages last night -- and somehow, the first word he put down upon the board was 'Rat'. And halfway through the game, I realized that with the letters that had been in my possession, I could've made 'Elliot'.

... someone up there is trying to tell me something, I swear. :|;;;

Aaaah, is it really the new year already? Time passes so quickly. .__.;; I'LL GET YOU THOSE CROPS TODAY, SHIA-HAN. BY HOOK OR BY CROOK-

And Aeris-sama -- if you were a country, which one would you be? |Daaa

Oh, and everyone I've friended from the Somarium friending meme -- welcome to my journal! Except I rarely post in it, and I should check it more often then I really do. :/;;; But, er, I'll definitely try my best with the whole commenting thing. Just. I really fail at this whole 'getting out and meeting new people' thing, so. xDDD

AND RINMEI -- I'VE HAD YOU ON MY FLIST FOR A WHILE NOW AND I HAVEN'T TALKED TO YOU YET WHAT IS THIS I DON'T EVEN- ;A; ... Clearly, I need to rectify this. :/;;;

Icon dump #1

2009-11-15T04:05:28Z

[Icons]

Pandora Hearts --
Cheryl Rainsworth : 8 [+ 14 variations]
Zai Vessalius : 9 [+ 2 variations]

Total: 33

Thought there should be a little more love towards the lesser-known but equally lovable characters of Pandora Hearts. Though Zai really isn't lovable at all, in hindsight. :/

Ah well.

[Cheryl Rainsworth]


Cheryl 1	Cheryl 2	Cheryl 3	Cheryl 4	Cheryl 5

Cheryl 6	Cheryl 7	Cheryl 8	Cheryl 9	Cheryl 10

Cheryl 11	Cheryl 12	Cheryl 13	Cheryl 14	Cheryl 15

Cheryl 16	Cheryl 17	Cheryl 18	Cheryl 19	Cheryl 20

Cheryl 21	Cheryl 22

[Zai Bezarius]


Zai 1	Zai 2	Zai 3	Zai 4	Zai 5

Zai 6	Zai 7	Zai 8	Zai 9	Zai 10

Zai 11

Please credit countervalue
Thank you for your time!