[center][color=fff79a][h2]【[u][b]Blaise Alttaman[/b][/u]】[/h2][/color]
【[url= https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AV8FWDlDxks] Scrap Beats [/url][b]|[/b][url= https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZTg3Gr9ZNw] Tears like Crystals Fallin' [/url]】
[h3][color=fff79a][i]~[/i][b]"Come on, I know there’s more to you than that!"[/b][i]~[/i][/color][/h3][/center]
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[center][i]3:50 PM[/i][/center]


“How much have things changed. Better yet, what’s going to change next?” Both questions ran through a boy’s mind as he wandered the streets of Ominar; crumpled paper in hand. Each step was accompanied by a sharp, twinge around his shoulders and the thumping metronome of a migraine. 

The wrinkled memo clutched in his sweaty palm was some sort of map, drawn crudely in blue ink. He weaved in an out of sidewalks, frantically pacing through constipated traffic to find this destination. The past 30 hours were a disorganized, bright blur, a partial amnesia that drained his mind and prevented sleep for the past night. He could pretend and it at home, shrugging it off to his father as just too much caffeine and being sick, but the confusion and unsettling disparity was too much to bottle up. On the back of the note was a cursory, choppy message, illegibly scribbled with a dry highlighter:

“Don’t go to work with Dad tomorrow. Don’t tell. Follow this. Head out in afternoon. Take a weapon. Figure this shit out.”

At the bottom, there was what appeared to be some kind of signature. It had looked like the individual had started to write “TE” in highlighter, but it was scribbled out with a ballpoint pen (perhaps the highlighter had bit the dust) and “Blaise” was written beside it. Surely, if he has written this, he would have remembered. Despite his doubts, he knew his wasn’t in his right mind, thus he took the message’s chance as to find a quick fix.

Just as he continued through the gray, urban paths of the city, he passed the office in which Dad worked: Snapdragon and Co. Law Firm. Lights bleed through every window, one even appeared to have a red siren flashing through the glass.  It was at this point where Blaise would have turned around and ran to his father for the problems, but it was in his owns words not to go. He shied away from the big building, nothing good could come from all of that commotion. 

The map led him deeper and deeper into the less recognizable part of Ominar until he eventually found the last turn and landmark. It led to a humongous, indistinct crowd of individuals, some normal humans, others more bizarre; their atmosphere darker and a bit peculiar.  Some held up signs, some chanted, and even some were just sitting at peace and reading books. Was this where he was really sent?

Blaise un-clipped his katar, just to be sure and kept it on his hand as he approached, pretending to be as assured and jovial as his normal self. Something was up, but perhaps that something had the answers he needed to find.