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Fantasy New Oasis: Four Heavenly Kings — The B-Sides

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Hiachi Ito
SCENE:
The Hard Way
LOCATION:
NOPD, West District
DATE:
Post-Arc 3, Timeskip 1 | June 4, 2022 | Daytime
PARTICIPANTS:
Hiachi, Mugen
THE HARD WAY

And just like that, everything changed.


Her stomach plummeted the second her feet were lifted off of the ground. She kicked her legs in a frenzy before they froze still along with the rest of her body. Tension clamped down on her jaw, her neck, her temples, her chest. Her pupils shook, scanning for a way out.


She was panicking. So she stared at him with hatred; because now she hated him. Her hate, her anger, it all stemmed from the fact that she KNEW she couldn’t do anything to him. Within seconds he had flung her into her wrecked state. Rushed everything she hated about her life to the front of her memory. Her mouth, dry, slightly agape, heaved air in and out of her lungs.


With his attention diverted, she twisted her arm away. His grip on her jacket was solid, but her jacket’s grip on her was not. Hiachi contorted her arms before twisting free from the grasp. Not without some significant pre-bruising, but at least she was on the ground now.


Her new problem was actually worse. The polluted air kissed her bare scars, and her imagination spun the many eyes that could be looking at them. They burned.


It was relieving, releasing all the heat that had been trapped on her skin—but with it went her reservations. She couldn’t care about what Camila had wanted the mission to be now, because the main goal was getting it over with as soon as possible.


She couldn’t care less if he started a fight with the police. Chances were he’d be fine. Guns weren’t an issue HPs had to deal with. And if he managed to get arrested… his fault. For acting foolish in front of the police station and then losing. Regardless, the outcome didn’t affect her. All she needed was the distraction—she couldn’t care less about what it was.


She clung her left arm to her chest, trying to hide it in her shirt. Insidious malice flooded from the gargling pit of her being. Hiachi was going to make it clear—pay attention to him, not her.


“What the fuck is wrong with you?”



 
CHARLIE HUGHES
SCENE:
Searching for the Light
TIME:
Afternoon, Post-Arc 3, June 18th 2022
LOCATION:
Phoenix HQ, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Hitoshi
Searching for the Light
Charlie's smile grew weaker, albeit not completely disappearing as Hitoshi showed disbelief towards his words. Charlie didn't want to bring much attention to it, but it was undeniably the elephant in the room...or rather, in the scrapyard. The veteran's sigh made the rookie feel a pit in his stomach, it was that usual feeling of having somehow messed up. Was his Aniki disapppointed because of the ruined good vibes? Charlie wasn't able to ponder much on it, however, as he was gestured to follow along towards the impressive crane that laid dormant nearby. Hesitating for a moment, wanting to ask for forgiveness, the phoenix gave up, deciding on instead wordlessly follow along with Hitoshi's course of action.

It was a surprisingly long climb, the new height he found himself at now was far more impressive once he was now at the top. Admitedly, it was surprising just how well the machine held together, despite its clear several years of neglect. As he walked towards his friend, the boy shifted his gaze ahead, taking in on the sight of the city of New Oasis, standing proudly in the middle of nowhere, an impressive momument bathed in endless man-made lights which progressively turned on as the sun continued to hide past the horizon.

With a small moment of hesitation, Charlie took a seat beside Hitoshi. He was able to see through Charlie, and showed a genuine concern, something the rookie wasn't entirely used to see from the man who previously lived for the neglect of duty and abuse of substances. The boy hugged his knees, his ching gently laying atop one of them.

"...There's...been a lot in my mind, lately" His hands squeezed his legs, attempting to find some degree of comfort on the appliance of pressure. "It keeps getting harder for me to keep a clear conscience while working for the Phoenixes" He encroached his body further, probably the only way he could force the words out of himself. "The more I fight, the more I think I'm protecting people...I also notice the horrible people I'm supporting. The Phoenixes are my family, but I can't deny that some of them just do heinous acts on the daily, and nobody bats an eye because it's for 'the good of the gang'"


joshuadim joshuadim
 
Babarutthoth
SCENE:
Scene: I am (not) your Grandpa!
LOCATION:
Calrissian HQ, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Babarutthoth, Samira
I am (not) your Grandpa!

Wasting no time as he stepped into Samira’s office Babar began his assault, a flurrious torrent of words without pause. “I feel like I’m nothing but nerve these days!” Another nonsensical quip to buffer the tension between the two as he glanced around, quickly taking in her office as he spoke. “Holy shit your office is nice! I mean I’d have thought what with all the...” He let his words trail off and evaporate into wordsmoke. In a heartbeat’s time he began speaking again with an eyeroll and a shrug, leaning into his exasperation so as to give himself time to think. “Whew! Sorry, had to get my steps in and it was a whole thing with that guy you know?” He nodded his head backwards to the door before wiping the sweat from his brow and then put his hands on his hips, leaning back and performing an exaggerated inhale then exhaling. “Ahhhhh. The guard I mean, the dude has a major attitude problem.” Then, standing plainly, he peered into her eyes. His face lit up with excitement and an enormous toothy grin.

This was it! She was here in the flesh! He felt some intrusive sensation well up from within him, a foreign desire he’d not anticipated. To lunge at her! For what? A smack! A hug? How many one sided stories had he sat through without the ability to provide any feedback. Previously he’d absorbed almost every detail of her appearance when she had visited her dearly departed grandfather, he’d stared for hours at her every feature and every expression and committed it all to memory. Yet now his eyes did not wander, they could not stray from the spectacle of this moment. For this time, for the first time, he could see that she saw him. Oh to be seen. His tone shifted as he dismissed his unruly urges, his guard dropped and his arms fell to his sides as he took a seat in the chair she had motioned towards. The words left his mouth before he could even consider what edge they might offer him.

“I’ve missed you Samira.”
 
Jesper Albrecht
SCENE:
The Ties that Bond Us
TIME:
Post-Arc 3
LOCATION:
East District, Noodle Nirvana
PARTICIPANTS:
Jesper, Charlie
The Ties that Bond Us
"One day you're going to inherit this company. The path to society's future will be in your hands. When that time comes, you must be ready. From all my years in this chair, there have been three vital things that kept us afloat. Listen carefully, Jesper..."

Every sentence Charlie uttered, his father's voice echoed in his ears. Jesper's mouth hung ajar, barely moving in desperate attempts to say something, but failing. He wanted to tell Charlie to stop. Stop talking. Don't say what he thought he was going to say next.

Tears welled in Jesper's eyes. By the time Charlie lost his composure, streams rolled down Jesper's face, too. There was no stifling them anymore.

He could understand refusing the invitation. But ending their friendship? What did he do to deserve this? Every action Jesper made since the TV broadcast has been done with his friends in mind. It was impossible for things to get worse than a refusal... yet it did. Why?

Jesper didn't understand; but he couldn't say it to his friend. He had to hold it in. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his friend...

Friend... They weren't friends anymore.

Jesper drooped his head in silence, the tears pattering against his palms.

If they were never going to see each other again... what was the point? Why should he spare Charlie's feelings after what he did?

Fuck it.

Jesper slammed a fist on the table. Choking through tears, he looked at Charlie with a nasty glare. "Fine. Fine!"

"Never trust the commonfolk. No matter what you do in your life, they will always turn their backs on you, eventually. It's always the short term with them, so that goes both ways..."

"You people are all like this! Acting like we're close, then turning your back when it's perfectly convenient! Nothing we did mattered, did it?"

"Consider the audience. Populations with higher advancements of available technology are statistically proven to be more educated and superior to those without. That is why you only ever hear about the dirtiness and misery of the North and South Districts. And because their people are stupid, they can't comprehend what it's like to be excellent. Know the winning side, and stick with it..."

"If you would roll in dirt and walk through rubble with the rest of your brainwashed sheep rather than come to a place with more than one thing that works, be my guest! Don't blame me when the South crumbles into dust, and the East District has reached into the clouds!"

"And last of all, you can never be friends with anyone out of our league. This is not classism; it's the cold, hard truth. People are naturally selfish. When they see what they don't have, they either suck your toes for a piece of the fortune, or steer clear because of the lower-class' prejudice against us."

"It's not even the fact that I'm part of a gang, is it? Are you afraid of what the hobos in your home will think when you're meeting with a billion-dollar heir? Scared that they'll look at you different because you were friends with me? I bet that's as close to the truth as I can get! I've been nothing but receptive, and this is what I hear from you?!"


Jesper's breath was frantic; hyperventilating. His hands shook as he shifted uncomfortably.

The restaurant itself fell silent.

Roda the Red Roda the Red
 
Masked Rider D
CS Link
SCENE:
Dogs and Wolves See Themselves In Each Other, Especially When It's Time To Lick Their Balls
LOCATION:
West District
TIME:
June 22, 2022 | | Post-Arc 3
PARTCIPANTS:
Dagger, Tak
Dogs and Wolves See Themselves In Each Other, Especially When It's Time To Lick Their Balls

There's the package. Surrounded by a convoy, no less. Too obvious. If it were her, she'd have arranged it a little less conspicuously. Too many vehicles to start- no one that wasn't anyone would be packing so much heat in New Oasis. The formation itself was practically screaming 'I'm a HVT, come and get me if you dare!'. She adjusted her monocular. It wasn't just obvious they were transporting someone or something important, it was also obvious which one the target was in. Right in the center of it all.

No idea where it was supposed to be headed, but it was safe to say that they were going to a secluded area. She could follow them from a distance, and then collect the package from there, but there were risks for doing that. Reinforcements, changing transports halfway through, or the package shifting to different hands. Moreover, she was to prevent the transfer of the package in the first place. A third, anonymous, party did not want it arriving at all, and it must be done with some level of discretion- this interruption could not be traced back to the Tigers.

That was why she was here. She chucked the monocular into the trash heap beside her, and started up her bike. While the destination was unclear, their current route would take them only one way. She'd catch up to them if she took the alleyways, and cut them off from the street. She adjusted the sling of the long, cylindrical bag on her back, and revved up the bike, expertly spinning around in the cramped space of the alleyway she was tucked inside of. She snapped her visor shut.

With the roar of her engine, the Agusta Brutale sped off down the alley, her rider expertly weaving her through the trash cans, dumpsters, and various piles of refuse left strewn about the previously silent passageways. There was no point in dwelling too long in such dark corridors. Try as they might, the gangs couldn't handle all the petty crimes that were committed in them, much less the cops. If anything, Dagger expected that some gangs were the main cause for concern when strolling down such darkened pathways.

She throttled the accelerator, the wind howling through her white helmet. Down this corridor, and out into the main street, and she would be just in time to meet the cohort.


The Brutale broke free from the alleyway, and it seemed, for anyone on the road at the time, that she had simply materialised from the wall itself. Her tires screeched as her rider maneuvered onto the main road. The rider glanced behind. There they were. One hand on the handle, the other reaching over her shoulder and pulling the strap off. The black canvas was thrown away by the wind, falling lazily onto the road, before being unceremoniously run over by the convoy. She gunned the accelerator, before she pitched to the left and hit the brakes. The Brutale came to a screeching stop, pivoting itself perpendicular to its original path, and her rider shouldered the tool that she had been carrying.

It was best to not question where she had obtained a man-portable, anti-tank launcher. There was also no time for the driver of the point vehicle to do so, as its armor did little to prevent the warhead from rendering it into a flaming heap of scrap metal.

The rider stepped off her bike, the launcher having been discarded to one side, and conjured forth twin M10s from underneath her jacket. Within a matter of seconds of her appearing, she had already disabled one vehicle, and was now sending forth a torrent of bullets straight into the windshields of the surviving vehicles.
]

thebigfella thebigfella
 
Passeri Park
SCENE:
Lady Madonna
TIME:
June 24th, 2022 | Post Arc 3, Timeskip 1
LOCATION:
Our ✰ Dream Soup Kitchen, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Eric
Lady Madonna
"Oh, that explains all of the bronze statues then." Passeri didn't miss a beat, slipping into the blondette's obvious farce like it was an old pair of slippers. "I really thought it was weird that they had a statue of some old bald guy on every street corner, but if he had an ego big enough to buy up a city the size of one of the Districts, that explains a lot."

The air lingered for a moment after that, and Passeri latched onto Eric's wayward glance with one of her own. The world went dark. Her eyes burned into his, placing him, the fabled detective, into the interrogation chair for the first time in his life. All was still, for the moment, as she peeled back his layers of impassivity to glean deep into the man within. Eric, the Investigator. Eric, the Manipulator. Eric, the great and fabled liar.

"No, no. I made that up. You're making that up. That doesn't even make any sense." There weren't any bronze statues, much less any pasta-based real estate empires. "There's no way a pasta manufacturer could make that much money in three years. I mean, how did he even make that much? You said 1703, right? There's no way you could sell enough of a perishable product in three years to buy up that much land, not to mention that they'd have to be manufacturing it all by hand, and-"

She went on and on, uprooting more and more of the so-called protector of justice's tangle of falsehoods until it was all laid bare, left to dry and wither like the industrial drum of pasta that lay to his left. Scorching, were her words. Seething. Relentless. Inescapable and all-encompassing... Until they weren't anymore.

"-that doesn't even go to mention the political implications of such a thing. Do you think the local Lord would've just let him scoop all of that up from under his nose? Why, if I were in their shoes, I would've had him..."

Her brow furrowed, and the mask of faux indignation she wore cracked.

"Had him... I don't know? What do Lords do to uprisings? Wage war?" And then shattered. A defeated smile returned to her face, and she waved off her toothless diatribe like it was a puff of stale smoke. "Oh, whatever. They definitely didn't name the city after the pasta, though." Ad-libbing was a skill she'd picked up for talk shows, but never one she'd been particularly splendid at. She always ended up running up against a wall like this.

"Aaaannnnnyway- Do you think that'll be done soon?" Dismissing the topic, Passeri took a glance at her phone, and her eyes lit up a little as she checked the time. "People should be lining up right about now, so whenever your pasta is done, I think we can open up shop."

That was a consolation prize, right? Even if his pasta wasn't opening up city gates, it was opening up the doors for the day. That had to count for something.

 
JOZEF DAALMAN
SCENE:
Only Human
LOCATION:
Rooftop, Upper Central District
TIME:
Pre-arc 3 - Night, 26 December 2021
PARTICIPANTS:
Jozef, Takaonna
ONLY HUMAN

Jozef looked up, wide-eyed, like a child listening to a wise old lady’s tale. “Shinko!” Is that correct, or should he call her Takaonna? He was relieved she did have a name, he wasn’t expecting multiple. Though he admired the tall lady, there was still a bit of trepidation. Oh well! “I’m so happy that I met you.”

He let her point a finger near his face. To think someone wanted to hurt her, when she was such a sweetheart, really. “I’m Jozef! Or just Joe. And I’d love to be your friend.” He was a little confused as to why she was comparing him to a kiwi - maybe her English isn’t so strong after all - but he got the gist.

”I think I’d like to spend my night up here, Shinko. I hope I can see you again.” Jozef beamed another smile at her before repositioning to look over the roof at the rest of the city.

 
Camila Gaspari
SCENE:
Money is Not the Only Prize
LOCATION:
Tiger's Den, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Camila, Johan
Post-Arc 2, Money is Not the Only Prize
"Fucking hell..." The crestfallen veteran of the Albino Tigers sigh, her rosey cheek squished by the palm it rested atop of. A single finger tracing a circular motion against the surface of the table, her eyes focusing on the theoretical shape, as her mind drifted away to darker places.

It was then that the sudden clink of a glass hitting hardwood snapped her out of it. Looking in front of her, the girl caught glimpse of the profile view of a single man sitting by himself at the bar. Like a cat who locked on to its prey, Camila's eyes went wide as she scanned the man. Neatly-styled sandy locks, a chiseled jawline and piercing eyes, Camila positively liked what she was seeing. She took a moment to think, could this perhaps be fate presenting her with an opportunity? Did her desires and pleas reach the ears of a greater being? Nevertheless, no matter the answer, she would've been foolish to not at least try.


"Hello dear" She had at some point made her way towards the bar and spoke to the bartender, her arms elegantly supporting her weight on the hardwood surface. "a boulevardier, with extra bourbon" Wordlessly, the worker began to prepare the drink. Meanwhile, Camila made her way to one of the stools, with only a single sit between hers and the mysterious man beside her. "Hey there~" She cooed playfully, her gaze now fixated on the man. "Don't remember seeing you around here before, guess you don't come to HQ often?" It was at that moment that the bartender placed her drink on the counter. Delicately, Camila reached for the rim of the glass with her fingertips, raising it carefully to take a small sip of it.


@Slav
 
CAMILA GASPARI
CS Link
SCENE:
Not Thinking Twice
TIME:
Post-Arc 3, July 6 2022
LOCATION:
Nighttime, Streets of Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Camila, Inigo
Not Thinking Twice
As the woman cried in pain, the pressure on her head and stinging pain on her back overwhelming her. "Babe! Fucking shithead, let 'er go now!" He attempted to rush to the woman's aid, her position of danger clouding his reasoning, clearly not recognizing the disadvantage they found themselves in. Hoewever, as soon as he took his first steep. A flared, silver arrowhead ran past him, only for it to turn around and back, going past his other side. After a few quick successions, Camila's tail found itself wrapped around the man's neck, the venomous tip then lodging itself into his shoulder. He grunted, somewhat panicking as the air that traveled through his esophagus greatly decreased. He reached for the tail tip just like last time. However, this time around he was met with a Camila that leapt on his back, locking her one of her arms around his neck, helping further with the pressure her wrapped tail already applied. The man struggled, his arms swinging wildly and attempting to get a hold of the girl. Reaching for her rear pocket, Camilla pulled out a tiny can, a red trigger adornging its top, resisting her way through a clean punch the man managed to deliver at her face (thanks, adrenaline!) She released a spray of rust-red gas on the man's eyes.

He screamed as much as his lack of oxygen allowed, now losing his footing and falling on his back, by the time now had passed, the woman's venom was effective enough to numb his muscles, strength being sapped away from his body. Camila stood up, panting heavily as her tail released its grasp on the severely weakened man. "Fucking, ASSHOLE!" She let out in frustration, the latter word released while giving the guy on the ground a single kick to the sides.

The knife-wielding girl on the other hand, screamed louder as the pressure on her skull increased, her hands effortlessly clawing at the silver-haired man's fortified arm. "FUCK, I GET IT, WE GIVE UP! JUST STOP IT!" Her tone was desperate enough to convey the sincerity of her words, she feared some form of permanent damage if this continued.


simj26 simj26
 
HITOSHI YAMAKAWA
CS Link
SCENE:
Searching for the Light
TIME:
The Day After Get(ting) Help
LOCATION:
Tommy's (Abandoned) Scrapyard, Outskirts of South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Hitoshi, Charlie
SEARCHING FOR THE LIGHT



Hitoshi listened intently to what Charlie had to say, how he felt about the Phoenixes and himself as a result. The jarring duality of being both someone wanting a family and having to deal with people who - more often than not - committed heinous acts. The veteran knew this, as he looked at Charlie with empathy as he put a hand gently on the young man's shoulder. "Listen, kiddo. I know exactly what you mean." he started, before trailing his eyes off towards the distant city. By now the sun's warmth had dimmed almost entirely, leaving the land bathed in darkness and electrical lights that danced across the sky.

"The Phoenixes are my family... and yet, I'm hardly like any of them if I'll be honest." Hitoshi said, grimacing. "A stranger even among those closest to me. For so long I had drowned that out with whatever I could. And now, after all these years, it becomes ever more clear without having booze or drugs in my blood." He then turned to Charlie sighed: "I, uh... I noticed you were looking at Hector all weird. Something the matter between you two?" Hitoshi then asked. "Is it about what you're feeling now? About the Phoenixes?"


Roda the Red Roda the Red
 
CAMILA GASPARI
SCENE:
Everyone's a Critic
TIME:
Post-Arc 3, July 9th 2022
LOCATION:
Feralia Art Gallery, Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Camila, Takakazu
Everyone's a Critic
Camila's annoyance levels started to rose once again, with the meathead tiger unable to accept the reality that his living condition would never be above the transportation box they found themselves inside of. "Not gonna happen, Tak, cut it out" Despite her order, the man continued in his ramble to daydream about a better life in a gilded shoebox. The veteran could feel the veins in her forehead swell in irritation as he kept on his grade-a manchild tantrum. "JUST DO WHAT YOU WERE TOLD TO, SHIT-FOR-BRAINS!" She stomped on the floor, her arms stretching far down with her hands balled into fists. "WE'RE NOT HOUSE HUNTING!"

Maybe, her words had managed to drill through his immensely thick skull, reminding him of the task at hand...Or maybe not, you could never know with dimwitted engine head. When he seemingly screwed up, breaking the button. The man's subsequent ignorant question reaching Camila's eardrum in the shape of painful needles. She raised a single index finger, lifting it right in front of Tak's face. "Now listen to me you little-"

But then it moved, by some form of merciful miracle, against the tak-shaped odds, they seemed to have somehow make it work. Camila's imagination ran wild as the elevator moved past what would usually be considered the very end of its trajectory. Finally, as the doors finally opened, a devious smile crept up on her expression. "Well well well" She uttered by elegantly stepping into the unknown underground area. She gave a little twirl, humming to herself as she took in the luxurious sites of the place one could assume only the elite were allowed to step in. "I'm gonna guess that this is the work of the Grant family, the only bunch as gaudy outside of the tigers to pull off something like this" She stretched her arms up, her interlocked fingers letting her muscles to tense up and then relax. "Seems like we're closer to get that dirt on Hillclad that we wanted, this alone makes me pretty confident that our client's claims were not bullshit after all"

Ignoring Tak's idiotic theatrics, she patted his right shoulder before progressing forward on her own. "Let's go, we're not done here, and we have an auction to check out, if we get this done I'll make you as much food as you want" She walked down the long flight of stairs that pierced through the many rows of seats. She took a seat, by the look of it, whatever auction was going to happen here, it was going to happen soon. She grabbed the bidding paddle that lied atop her seat, giving it a few twirls before resting it atop her lap. Part of her wanted to snoop around, to ask question to the other bidders, or to look for places to go around. But with as little information as she currently had, she deemed it wiser to stop for a moment, and comprehend the true nature of the place. It was also easy to imagine that usually, those here would already know what was going on, therefore, making questions might raise suspicion more than anything else.

thebigfella thebigfella
 
Deirest
SCENE:
Legacy Lost
TIME:
June 13th, 2022 | Post-Arc 3
LOCATION:
Zhànzhēng, East District | Silverlit Grounds
PARTICIPANTS:
Hifumi, Deirest
Legacy Lost
The Moon. The Moon. The Moon.

Her feet bloody and ragged, Deirest stalked after the Moon. A foul presence in the woods. Within her eyes, the moonlight she chased turned dark, twisted into a glimmer of perverse fixation. Her rebirth's vile placenta might have been washed away, her wounds stitched and her body clothed, but that glimmer still defined her. The forest stilled where she walked, and her bloodied footprints marked a path that no woodland critter would dare follow.

"Hmmm...?" And then the woods grew thin. She had wandered far. So far. Far from the casket. Far from that chapel. And yet, the Moon was farther yet. Impassive and ploying, so far above. Above it all. Above her. She wanted to crush it. To crack it wide and watch the last of that pale moonlight bleed dry from its corpse.

And it bled. Down, down, down to bathe a quiet, lonely estate. Deirest wandered yet farther. Beyond the treeline, onto neat, manicured lawns. The cool touch of grass gave way to rough, ancient tiles. They were old paths that she walked on, weathered by forces as old as the moonlight that bathed them. Down, it bled, drenching the estate in gentle, silver viscera.

The smell of iron tolled her arrival. Her feet wept yet, ebbing fresh, bright red across the estate.

Her fingers trailed across ancient lumber, taken from the woods that had once stood here. This place wasn't like where she'd wandered from. There, it'd be slurried stone and rusted metal. The scent of decay had been thick. Screaming, screaming, screaming she'd went, and screams had come with her. But here, there was only the quiet. Stillness. All life bleached away by that awful, white light.

Her touch turned rough, and her fingernails turned wood into splinters.

This was a corpse. A corpse of the woods. A corpse of time. Anointed by that sneering silver disc in the sky.

Snap.

Splinters flew wide, and a door fell from its hinges. The moon at her back, Deirest stepped across a threshold, delving into that foul corpse. A foreign thing, purposeless save for malice, infringing on a body bereft of an immune system, save for two somber, silver cells.

 
Last edited:
Kiwi Dior Bonheur
SCENE:
City of Prying Eyes
LOCATION:
Breakfast Restaurant Patio, West District
TIME:
December 14th, 2021 || Post-Arc 2
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Kiwi
City of Prying Eyes
A grain of rice sat in Kiwi’s pocket. It wasn’t the only one on her person, but it was the only one she had specifically asked for.

It rolled between her finger and thumb. The spare hand was occupied with her hair; her foot tapped a mile a minute. Her gaze scanned the street.

She was quite a bit early, in spite of the preparations she made beforehand. Ones that made it so that with one call, one text, this meeting could end in a second.

Was there a reason for Kiwi to be so afraid? No, not really. As with most paranoia, it was unwarranted, unreasonable, irrational. She was sure the celebrity was kind, but no one truly knew what went on behind closed doors. What, with all the stars being called out, and what she had personally known about the industry, she could almost justify her fear.

Hence their meeting location.

Generally, you don’t meet people in broad daylight, out on the patio of a public restaurant, to discuss private information. Kiwi, however, wouldn’t agree to anything else.

The plate clattered on the table. Her limbs escaped from their rituals to stop the dish from moving; her hands clasped the platter and her foot stopped tapping. Once it settled, her arms went to cross over each other.

She turned her focus back to the street. Passerby came and went, but there was only one she was looking for.

Her tongue clicked over and over. Her foot started tapping again.



The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit
 
KAZUE KANEKO
SCENE:
[Thawtless Dial]
TIME:
Pre-Arc 3, December 24th, 2021
LOCATION:
Kazue’s Apartment, East District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charmy Devlin, Kazue Kaneko
THAWTLESS DIAL

“Oh.”

Kazue didn’t want to talk, so she waited for Charmy to continue that thought.

She didn’t wait for long. The listener in the East had had enough of waiting. She had had enough of lying prone on the couch. She always ignored her parents’ warnings back west about how doing that would make her back hurt. The younger girl, not as ravaged by time back then, had ignored the warnings, and not felt the pain. She was older now. Her age had passed the mark of the Christmas cake, and it was only a matter of time before her organs began shutting down and her dementia made her walk directly into traffic or something. And she was already feeling the pain of putting her spine in a slightly awkward position. Probably would feel it for another week or two.

So, after her many failed attempts from before Charmy called, Kazue finally accomplished a herculean feat by sitting up. Relief was immediate. Now lying against the back of the couch instead of on the seat, she felt like melting into the cushions despite the cold weather just outside. So she did, for a minute or two. Still on call despite the dead silence, she set the call to speakers and cranked the volume. Then she had a bright idea. Maybe leaving perishable ingredients outside was bad. She should shove them into the refrigerator. Sure, it was cold enough that extra refrigeration wasn’t needed, but why not do it now?

With another monumental effort, Kazue got off the couch and picked up the bag of cake ingredients. Most of it should be fine to leave outside. The only things that needed to be Tetris’d into the overstuffed refrigerator were the whipped cream, eggs, and milk. The first two found a home quickly. Kazue picked up her phone and tucked it between her shoulder and ear as she went to fetch the milk, neglecting to take it off speaker mode.

On the homestretch of Kazue’s odyssey between opposite ends of her single room apartment, Charmy finally remembered that she had called and talked. At max volume. With the phone set to speaker. Right in Kazue’s ear. After three minutes of dead silence.

In response to a loud, unexpected noise, Kazue accidentally dropped a dairy product and spilled it on the ground.

Her eyes refocusing after having looked at nothing in particular for the past minute, Kazue stared at the mess. A sense of deja vu struck her. Over the call, Charmy also proceeded to spill liquid everywhere, still very loudly in Kazue’s ear.

The beautiful bicycle of motivation, cruising along a road of productivity, was crashed into at 90 miles per hour. She felt less like cleaning the mess up and more like putting a wet floor sign and maybe a handful of napkins onto the spill and then going to bed.

Charmy was still talking at her. The still silent subject of her ramblings finally lowered the volume to normal levels and listened back in. Meaningless as always. How was she to respond if she didn’t understand what to respond to? A little seed of something fought past the frozen soil of exhaustion. Assertiveness, anger, annoyance. Kazue closed her eyes, almost dozing off on the spot, and rotated the image of a question in her head, examining it from every angle. Then the question moved from her head to her mouth. She chewed on it for a while.

Kazue spat out her question after being asked one by Charmy. It wasn’t delivered as a question. The listener in the East had had enough of those.

“Why did you call me.”




 
HIFUMI BAE
SCENE:
[The Longest Days of Our Lives]
TIME:
Post-Arc 3 | June 21st, 2022
LOCATION:
Heiwana Sasayaki, East District | Theater
PARTICIPANTS:
Hifumi, Jessamine + Onlookers
THE LONGEST DAYS OF OUR LIVES
Another dour chuckle.

“That is very like you.” He pined. “Someone once told me something similar. I had thought it was the fate of all the weak to struggle for strength, but I realize now that it is broader than that. Rather than being about the weak and the strong, fate itself is a struggle against fate.

“...Like a winding serpent endlessly devouring itself.”


He hadn’t answered the question before the events on stage began to unravel. Pairs of actors in entirely mediocre outfits, parading scripted actions with eerily contrasted liveliness. The ebb of the story was slow and dramatic with the leads drawing into the fiction as if it were a daily event..

“It is not about going with the flow, or going against it. The ocean—the sun—simply opposing it is what it wants.”
The cerulean in his eyes swirled deeper and deeper into the surrounding cold blue.
“But if you could find something to match their might—a bottomless pit or a dark sun—then surely it would be possible. For fate… that would have to be….”


Only his voice would never finish.


The azure across his eyes, and within his heart was painted a sopping carmine. Neither from blood, nor from rage, but the reflection of a mask most cruel. And within that moment, and within that memory, was undoubtedly the shape whom he sought. Though gnarled and twisted it was, the brimstone it ushered forward was as blistering as it was that day. Tall, malevolent, and shrouded in the pitch of night there would be no room for the flaring silver just behind.

The burns on the back of his wrists couldn’t help but itch.

There was no way to tell if he was seated or standing. Everything around him was just a blazing collage of sensation, crumbling and peeling. There was wailing, and there was heaving, and beyond even that was a pulse that drew closer and closer. A knee-scarred child shed tears that burst into pools of red at their mother’s feet. Her face donning a grin from cheek to cheek that melted into the black of a starless sky. And when you fell forward the sky quickly became the floor and then a passing memory as a new expanse took its place.
One with a single blue light, and a pair of soft hands to embrace it.


But peace was fleeting.

The sounds of the wakeless diminished, and in their place was very real fright. Like many years ago, the fledgling dragon found himself center stage once more, but vacant of warm light and dance. The performance he had exhibited was a two person show: Redder than their mask, and bluer than their throat.
NAVIGATE
 
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Passeri Park
SCENE:
City of Prying Eyes
TIME:
December 14th, 2021 | Post-Arc 2
LOCATION:
Breakfast Restaurant Patio, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Kiwi, Passeri
City of Prying Eyes
It was a miracle that she'd made it as far as she had.

Where Passeri Park went, bushes rustled and shadows slunk. Like a trail of stardust, the sheen of a camera's lens was never far behind. A glimmer around the corner, and then a flash within the crowd. It had been like that for years, now, and Passeri sometimes wondered if there were more photos of herself now that she did not consent to than she did.

Of course, there were measures that she could have taken. No matter how penetrative the lens, there was no camera that could peer through a solid wall, and a decent security team could stave off even the most craven paparazzo. Such was her typical M.O., and breaking from it was tantamount to sacrilege, but today was hardly typical. There was a carrot, sad, forgotten, and in the shape of a old friend dangling before her, dangled on a thread by what she hoped would soon become a new one.

So, into the bin her usual precautions went. Only luck guarded her now, her sole bulwark against hushed murmurs and prying eyes.

"I hope you've not been waiting too long!" Whatever anxiety that such unguarded exposure to the public Passeri felt, she hid it well. The same couldn't be said for the woman before her. She'd seen her before, lurking in the corners of Akira's office, but never like this. It made her wonder why she'd been so insistent on a public meeting in the first place.

"Now, before anything else-" Passeri took her seat and her arm slid across the table, palm wide. "-It's great to finally meet! Properly, I mean. I've actually been wanting to chat for a while, if you can believe it."

She could hear it now. The chatter beyond their table. The clock was ticking, but that was no excuse to discard pleasantries.

"Can I call you Kiwi, by the way? I know some of our associates prefer their funny little nicknames, but that's never really been my thing."

There was no way she'd be able to take any of the Tigers seriously if they ever called her Iroi, at least.

 
Kiwi Dior Bonheur
SCENE:
City of Prying Eyes
LOCATION:
Breakfast Restaurant Patio, West District
TIME:
December 14th, 2021 || Pre-Arc 2
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Kiwi
City of Prying Eyes
Silver strands finally graced Kiwi’s field of view. She sat up with a casual smile that conflicted with the rest of her body language. In contrast, the celebrity looked rather nice, and self-assured —distractingly nice for the setting, really. It was just breakfast….

“Haaah, nice to meet ya’ too. Not gonna call you a liar, but,” she shrugged, “that sure is hard to believe.”

Her hand met the other’s —though unfortunately, Kiwi’s was clammy with sweat she didn’t know was pouring out. Immediately, she withdrew her hand and wiped it on her shirt before extending it back out.

Upon the shake of their hands, two things happened:

1. Time seemed to slow down. The meeting had officially begun, and there was no polite way of backing out of it now. The minutes ticked onward, with each one more excruciating than the last. Already, Kiwi wanted this to be over.

2. Kiwi had a decision to make, one that only with her potential could she even have. Keeping tabs on the celebrity for an entire 24 hours, perhaps to satiate her fear or to give more information to her boss —as if he even needed it. Should she breach the trust and boundaries of her new colleague? Would it even matter if the celebrity didn’t know? Could Kiwi live with the guilt if they were to commit to it?

The answer seemed to be “yes” to all of the above, as the invisible camera attached itself to Passeri’s personhood. Kiwi’s smile did not falter.

“Call me whatever ya’ want.” Their hands parted ways with Kiwi using hers as a finger gun, accompanied by a wink. “I ain’t stuck-up like anyone up on top.”

Her arms crossed over each other once more as she leaned back in her chair. Her foot continued to tap.

“So, ‘seri, whassah?” Already with a nickname.




The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit
 
HIFUMI BAE
SCENE:
[Legacy Lost]
TIME:
Post-Arc 3 | June 13th, 2022
LOCATION:
Zhànzhēng, East District | Silverlit Grounds
PARTICIPANTS:
Hifumi, Deirest
LEGACY LOST
An intruder.

It would be the animal in Hifumi’s arms’ that flinched before his eyes did, and before that it was the tested wood that buckled. There were few dangerous animals in the vicinity, and fewer stray visitors. This was a location chosen precisely nowhere for the sake of privacy and ill-earned secrecy—a dumping ground for matters best left lost.

His approach began warily.

The fox was left to the floor, and a thin piece of paper to the dragon’s side. This had not been a visit considering violence, and the tools at his disposal were thin. If the circumstances were different, the pale-haired individual might have tread more cautiously, but the priority lay in vacating the one room with an occupant. Comatose as they may be, hope breathed in their stead.

There would be no hiding his origin, so the decision was made to meet the reddened guest head on. A burglar would surely note the evident lack of furnishings and spare themselves the trouble, and should the trespasser seek violence, they could be led deeper into the thicket. It was a crude plan but sound enough for what little time had passed. Yet it was Hifumi’s own facilities that betrayed him.

The red the woman trailed in had earned a lapse of concern.

“Are you quite alrigh—”

He corrected himself in heed of the pleading fox at his ankles, and renewed his grip on the parchment.

“Halt, if you would.”
NAVIGATE
 
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Lily Lavinia
SCENE:
Fell and Cruel Hounds
LOCATION:
Actaeon's Rest, Central District
TIME:
Post-Arc 3, Timeskip 1
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Dagger, Corvo, Lily, Musai, Zach, Yushui
Fell and Cruel Hounds

It may have been only imagination and it may have been only the hallucinating effect of the chemical haze that clouded Lily’s mind. But apparently, she was crawling on all four. A deja vu, a call back to the dog days she so used to, so well adept at enduring that she seemed to mistake it for a somewhat realistic dream. Unassuming, making yourself small. Merge in with the white emptiness of the early morning streets. Begone from existence. An existence that is not recognizable even before the lively hour of day. And you pretend there’s a way out within arm’s reach - just behind yond door a ready hand awaits to abduct the helpless wanderer from the blind groping about in the shivering mist, to entrap the victim in a household where only a warm light, a warm meal, and a warm embrace will shelter her. This pretension of fantastical dangers subsists the wanderer and keeps her feet from giving out, leaving her forever out of reach of said door and said ready hand. But eventually she reaches the door. A door. And there crawling, howling, she rouses the residents who rushes to the door with great excitement. And the thin panel that separates her from eternal escape cracks open. The resident peers out with wary eyes. Having perceived the nature of the hellion, he flings the door outwards and the ready hand thrust out, bringing down the ready fire poker. Beating to the chorus of savage violence, he cries out, “Away, filthy dog, away with thee!” But the whimpering dog could not move. It has been struck the final blow, its will to live stomped out of the scrawny body. There it stares dumbly at the man with the bloody poker, not with fear, not with comprehension, but merely dumbstruck and transfixed in place by a tired mind and a tired soul.

Once more the draconian hand thrust out, and the fire of wrath poured with finality.

Lily started awake, screaming with her charred tongue, melted jaw, scorched throat. The eye on the intact side of her face beheld the hand of her murderer, but just barely. The paroxysm of pain molested her still-dazed mind. Its unfamiliar tendrils groped at her strained limbs, its throbbing waves swept away her consciousness. She dropped lifelessly on the floor.

But in a corner of her mind, where the faculty for disgust still pulsated, she recoiled. It rejected the advance of the foreign pain, the unknown force bent on inciting that one last spark of life before one’s death. She rejected life, even in death, even for one instance. A vain and folly act to avoid that flashback she inherently knew would come upon her last breath for one final torment. No, she will not. She had existed thus far in this realm of the living by doing just the opposite. No way she would give in now. Not for this. Not like so. This pain, she despised. This stirring, unfamiliar fire, she destested. It reminded her of a life and a world.

They say to feel pain is to be alive. That is not true. Not entirely. It depends on the kind of pain. The unexpected, forceful pain is life. But the enduring, habitual pain is not. It keeps one’s body numb, one’s breathing slow and one’s mind from thoughts. It is death or something quite close.

And it is her fire. Her pain.

Only her sclera was visible now. It spread. A white so pure, so untarnished by intelligence or any other corrupting forces. It looked but did not see. Its rising forked tongues licked clean the blackened skin, then filled in the void of her absent body parts. The former pain was overcome. Now she was soaked in another, dearer pain. And this restored the meaning and the role she must play. To merely exist, but also exist by her own rules. Invisible in the white emptiness of early morning.

The dog snarled. It scorned the poker, which was a mere tool to threaten or stir the fireplace. The dog only saw a thing that played with fire, not fire itself. Lily was the fire unquenchable. Her flame burned on, not permitted to cease. And the pain was put on a loop. It became her, so that her skin was radiant.

The poker could not understand pain in earnest. Not the kind that matters. But canine teeth could kill, though the jaw is weak. And once fanned by a careless wind, the fire consumes, caring not if punches, kicks, bullets or such other feeble man-made things try to check it. It descended upon the one with the fire poker, in hate and clawing hands and snarling teeth, and would not stop.


 
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CHARLIE HUGHES
SCENE:
Dress Code for Violence
TIME:
Evening, Post-Arc 2, April 2nd 2022
LOCATION:
Phoenix HQ, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Yong-Yut
Dress Code for Violence
Charlie stared at Yong-Yut in complete disbelief for a moment, how could it possibly be free? She would require the materials, the proper tools and would possibly spend hours fixing the suit! It was morally wrong to accept such an offer, he needed to repay such kindness!

Well at least that was the case, until he saw how her potential allowed the veteran to fix the suit in just a few moments. Charlie's mouth opened wide as the threads danced through the tears and holes, effortlessly restoring them to their former glory. It was only then that he remembered from before that her power was QUITE LITERALLY about manipulating fabric, he facepalmed mentally at the thought.

Grabbing the suit back, he stared at it in awe, holding it high and layed out, not even able to notice any out-of-place seams or marks from the previous onslaught, all the while listening to Yong explaining how they used a different kind of fabric, something that the boy had a hard time believing, in his eyes it was almost impossible to notice. He decided to test it out, putting on the garment once again. It was real nice, almost as if the destruction had never happened in the first place, he looked behind his back, stretched his arms, and even gave a little spin where he stood. He stared at the veteran in the eyes once again for a couple seconds, completely silent.

"THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!" The neutral stance shifted in a split second, leaping towards Yong-Yut, and embracing her in a friendly hug. "THIS IS PERFECT I LOVE IT" He uttered with a big smile on his face, his eyes nearly watering again, moved by her kindness.


gxxberkit gxxberkit
 
Passeri Park
SCENE:
Why Do House Cats Sharpen Their Claws?
TIME:
Post-Arc 3 | June 10th, 2022
LOCATION:
Central District, Grubtopia Grocery Store
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Bushineko
Why Do House Cats Sharpen Their Claws?
It took Passeri a moment a notice how the supermarket trembled. The ground was away from her, and her senses were fixed on the task at hand. One empty pocket greeted her after another, deepening the pit in her stomach inch by inch, until at last, she gripped down on a slab of cool, bloody plastic. She whispered a silent apology as she plucked the device from within, and then hoped harder than she had in years.

The screen lit up, and a virtual keypad came to greet her.

"Fuck!" She hissed, despite herself. A final chance, dashed. She mashed a few random sets of numbers into the device, but to no avail. Three strikes, and she was out. Please wait five minutes. Sorry for the inconvenience. She tossed the useless piece of plastic aside, and that was when the countless threads of anxiety in her chest tangled into a great and awful knot.

The world was shaking.

Beneath her, metal displays rattled, and countless rows of merchandise hopped and skipped to the floor below. For a moment, she thought it a moment a divine intervention. A repetition of the earthquake that had turned Central into a set of crumbling ruins. But the ground never split. Never did those great, gaping maws part. The earth was still stated. No, instead, it rose. Up, it clambered, taking all that rested upon it with it.

The ground which she had soared above moments ago was now close enough to touch. Those aisles that still stood crept back above her head, and went higher yet. Metal pierced the ceiling, and strained. A sickening melody of struggling steel took the store, heralding what was to come. Finally, it relented. A cascade of insulation and roofing materials rained upon her, and between it all, glimmered hope.

Karne's display of power, ultimate and unyielding, was smothered out by the sun's touch. His spiteful goading. The constant stream of belittlement and hate. She pushed it all down. The open sky spread wide above her, blue and inviting, and she took its outstretched hand.

Again, Passeri shot above the metal rows. She heard Bushineko's concerned plea, and this was her answer. She rose higher and higher, leaving the elevated store behind. A soft, summer breeze whistled through her hair, and she considered letting it carry her away. She could have fled, now. It would have been easy. But she did not budge.

Indignation. Fury. Hate.

Inside her, bubbled hate, and inside her, it mingled. They were two sides of the same coin, after all. The hate she felt and the love her fans had blessed her with. Love which had come from those corpses below. Hate for the man who had made them. One drove the other, turning it into something wrathful and dark. She would make sure he joined them.

Like steam, the bulk of her energy reserves bled from her body, leaking out of every inch of skin, every grizzly wound and piece of torn flesh. It clotted above, and then the sky was filled. A spear, great and gnarled, loomed above the grocery store. She would take take his advice. Her aim was slow, and steady. The point fixed itself above Karne.

And then it fell.

 
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ERIC EVENSEN
SCENE:
What the Cat Dragged In
LOCATION:
Eric's Apartment, Central District
TIME:
Post Arc 3 || June 16th, 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Eric, Katya, Siru
What the Cat Dragged In
Siru became overjoyed as Katya came into the picture, smiling tenderly as he returned the hug, wrapping his arms around her waist and squeezing gently "It's great to see you as well, Katya" When she broke the embrace, he continued while looking at her silver eyes. "Thank you for having me, your abode looks wonderful" He then tilted his head up slightly, his nose then picking up on the enchanting aromas coming from the kitchen, even noticing some very familiar notes, managing to awaken his previously dorman appetite. "Smells wonderful, as well!"

Just get a room, already...Actually no, don't get a room, don't get a room at all.

One might be socked to find out, but unlike the pair, Eric didn't seem all that thrilled about their wholesome greeting.

Siru happily nodded and obliged at her footwear request, swiftly putting his neatly inside of the rack, and was more than eager to follow her around for the little tour. Eric, on the other hand, stared at the bottle in his hands, having completely forgotten about it as his mind gravitated towards far more grave matters. "Uh, sure" With lacking enthusiasm, he placed the
the bottle one the table. Unsure of how to proceed further, he sat on the couch, pulling out his phone as he waited for the lovebirds to be ready to actually eat already.

"It was easy enough, I wish I had been here earlier, but it took a good headscratch to decide on the brand of Sake to bring, hopeful it is to your taste" He squeezed Katyas hands, moving in to interlock their fingers as they walked. "That's very kind of him, he seems very friendly"

"Meow~"


Eric and Siru both had their attention now taken by a little individual who slipped its way through the small gap in Eric's room's door.
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The cat stopped on its tracks, staring directly at Siru in the eyes, caught unaware by the unknown new presence. "Oh hello, little friend!" Siru smiled, leaning down and smiling at the small furry creature. Eric, on the other hand, stared at the scenario with hopeful eyes.

Popcorn...okay buddy, now's your chance

The detective squinted his eyes, almost as if attempting to give the feline a telepathic command

Attack the intruder, make the worst impression possible, make him leave with scorn in his eyes

After a solid five seconds of uninterrupted staring, Popcorn meowed again, walking forward to rub her face against Siru's pants, seconds later she was laying on the ground, belly up and purring loudly. In return, the visitor gave her a few playful pats "Oh, she's precious!"

Never before had the detective felt so betrayed in his life.

The cats:

Maya: Female Laidback Calico, the alpha of the pack
Coal: Male Short haired black cat, the skittish one, hides under the bed often but very sweet
Popcorn: Female White and brown tabby, super affectionate and purrs like a motorboat
Marley: Orange cat, his personality is orange cat

The apartment layout


@Beann
 
CHARLIE HUGHES
SCENE:
The Ties that Bond Us
TIME:
Daytime, Post Arc 3
LOCATION:
Noodle Nirvana, East District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Jesper
The Ties that Bond Us
Charlie felt a chill down his nape, the faucet of his tears closing as the figure in front of him warped, not in body but in heart. Touching pleads and words of hope shifting and turning into something else entirely. Venomous sentences spat out by a dejected man, piercing golden eyes backing up his ramblings with concerning honesty.

"Jesper, that wasn't what I-!"

Jesper's ire grew, unwilling to let the phoenix speak. He had more to say, more feelings to unbottled. The contents of his speech were horrifying, those of someone whose mind had been taken over by dangerous ideals. A chilling worldview that Charlie wasn't entirely a stranger of, similar sentiments shared by some of the most despicable heads of West District.

"Don't say that, please listen to m-"

Once again, attempting an intervention proved to be quite futile. A pit formed in the boy's stomach as Jesper finished his part. Guilt piled up on Charlie's shoulders, understanding that, for the most part, this has all been nothing but his own doing, the result of his cowardice, the fear of losing him because of who he truly was, and the fear of putting him in danger. After such a passionate display from the dragon, it only felt proper for him to speak in response.

"...You're right, Jesper...You're completely right, that I didn't treat you like deserved" He gentle placed both of his hands on top of the table. "You were willing to go to such great lengths for me, I was too caught up wanting to end it all to really show my appreciation...so" Up to that point, he had been staring down to the table, but then, he dared to look at his friend in the eyes once more. "Thank you Jesper, I'm really happy that you care so much about me"

However...Even in guilt, any self-respecting person would stick to their beliefs.

"But I'm gonna need you to retract those words" He pushed himself up from the seat, meeting the young dragon at eye level. "Say whatever you want about me, but I don't want you talking about the people from South like that, no matter how you call them, they're still human beings, worth no more or less than you and me" He took a quick moment to clear the tear stains on his face with his sleeve. "Cut it out with that bullshit, you're better than that" Or so he wanted to believe, at least.

Contrasting to Jesper, Charlie tried once again to stay the composed one of the two, somebody needed to, lest this argument turned into something more grim.

AriAriAbabwa AriAriAbabwa
 
Passeri Park
SCENE:
She Has Funny Cars
TIME:
Post-Arc 3, Timeskip 1 | July 2nd, 2022
LOCATION:
Cafe De Lune, East District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Alice
She Has Funny Cars
"Hadn't the foggiest!" That was the truth. Beyond the outline of Alicia's situation, there was little that she knew about the girl. "Happy coincidence, I guess? Really, I just like to get out of the West every so often, and Central hardly makes for a peaceful visit, these days."

Unconsciously, Passeri felt her gaze trace after Alice's hands. Where she put them. What she touched. There was a mote in anxiety in her, one which she pressed down. Tea. Tea. She sensed no malice in the girl, and yet her concern remained. She took a sip of her own beverage and slid her saucer an inch closer when she returned it. It was better to be safe than sorry.

"As for the cafe, it's lovely, isn't it? I try to keep an ear open for spots that offer privacy like this. If I'm remembering right, a friend of mine was the one to bring me here. Wouldn't stop raving about the cinnamon pancakes." She missed those days. Before she'd muddied her life with the Tigers, and before Ariel looked up at her with resentment. "And I just fell in love! You can imagine how happy I was when I found out the place was still open, even after I was away from the city for so long. With how fast places like this tend to go belly up back in the West, I was expecting it to have been replaced by a Knightbucks or something."

A trim, caramel latte. Three sweeteners, hold the cream. Squire sized. She couldn't fathom how many times she'd jotted down the order for the local coffee runner, nor could she express how sick of it she was.

"Do you see anything you'd like? I went ahead and ordered some snacks, but they're hardly the most interesting thing on the menu. This is my first time coming here since I came back to the city, but if I recall correctly, they should have, like, a seasonal special of some kind. Maybe give that a try?" She hadn't bothered to check herself. She was hardly here to eat. "I don't know if they still have the same chef, but I remember everything being pretty tasty! Feel free to eat around, if you'd like."

Small talk. Idle chatter. Passeri pushed it on and on. Despite the girl's technical seniority within the Tigers, she knew that she was not speaking with one of the gang's hardened veterans. She wanted her to get comfortable before the topic shifted to business. It would've been nice if at least one of them had a chance to relax.

 
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Passeri Park
SCENE:
Return To Sender
TIME:
Post-Arc 2
LOCATION:
Hotel Gaul, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Hiachi Ito, Passeri Park
Return To Sender
It had seemed prudent to allow silence to cover their extraction. That was how she'd done it before, in the company of professionals who knew better. Only plain instructions and gentle coaxing came from her mouth as they descended from the penthouse.

Occasionally, her eyes darted to her younger protege, attempting to glean past the thick layer of wool that hid her face. Since she'd laid hands on her assailant, she had been quiet. The girl had never been chatty, but neither had she been eclipsed by total stillness like this. Their descent slowed, and then they were returned to safety. Her barrier vanished, giving way to the balcony below, and Passeri pulled the balaclava from her head, freeing a head of now-tangled hair.

"And here we are!" She broke the silence with her usual perk. "Bit unexpected that part at the end, there, but all's well that ends well, right?"

She stepped into the hotel room, and ushered Hiachi to liberate herself of her own balaclava and do the same.

"Is what I want to say, but- How are we feeling?" The trembling she'd seen in her eyes loomed in the back of Passeri's mind. The mechanical daze with which she'd moved. It wasn't her place to pry, but that said nothing of everything that came before. "Are you hungry? I hear the room service in this place is decent! Personally, I worked up a bit of a sweat, hauling around our friend up there." She scanned the room, and then plucked a menu from within the kitchen minibar.

"Take a look! And a seat. I'll throw in a bit extra for the company. Eating alone in a hotel room sounds way too gloomy for a victory meal." Was that what she was going for; A victory meal? By way of in-room dining? "Or we could hit the town! I'm sure there's some cozy little places still open at this hour."

Places, she realized, that probably didn't contain a man they'd incapacitated only twenty floors up.

"Up to you! I made sure to keep my night clear for this- never know what might go wrong, right?- So I'm in no rush." Whatever kept her around. Even if she set her concerns aside, there were a few things that she needed to discuss with the young Ito. Tonight.

 

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