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[/b][/h3][/sup][/color][/row][row][cell][sup][h2][color=black]Trystan Salazar[/color][/h2][/sup]
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[sup][color=black][b]█  [sup]   [/sup]act one: way down we go    [/b][/color][/sup][indent][sup][color=a9a9a9]p. johnson's [color=black]▸[/color] Ritman High, Football Field
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Now that he wasn’t anywhere near his nosy relatives, Trystan considered himself free in the way he could interact with Dante. It was regretful, really, that he seemingly avoided him like the plague back in the day. Maybe that was a missed opportunity; something good that could have been, but never came to pass. Well, having a nice conversation wouldn’t hurt. After all, they’re adults now. Not some kids that are still under the absolute jurisdiction of their parents and guardians. 

“Hehe,” Trystan chuckled as Dante complimented his long, silky hair that would put a shampoo advertisement model to shame. “Glad you like it! I’ve been somewhat nervous that someone may say that, I don’t know, that it makes me look like a gangster, or something. The rest of the family keeps saying that it’s not ‘fitting for a man’, but if you ask me, Christ Himself probably had long hair. What gives? It’s not like they could judge me for it. Besides, whenever I realize that I’m spending a tad bit much for shampoo, I’ll have it cut back. It’s a cycle. Long, short, long…”

Jack and Sara had arrived too, it seems. They even brought with them a keg of beer, which Trystan didn't pay much heed. He wasn't the drinking type.

Trystan trailed off as Meir brought back the time capsule. It seemed just like yesterday when they had, as a class, placed some elements of memory into that canister. He himself placed a diary of his thoughts in there, which would be rather embarrassing to read, probably. Between the kind of demeanor he had back in high school, and the stuff written in that little notebook, it would have almost felt surreal to see what he really thought. 

Why did he choose that object, out of all the things he could place? He couldn’t remember, but it was probably because embarrassment may be the most memorable kind of thing.

Trystan watched with anticipation as Meir began to open the capsule. He waited for the myriad objects to fall out, and be bequeathed in funny reminiscing. He waited for-

“Well, that was odd,” Trystan said simply as the contents of the capsule had seemingly disappeared from the fabric of reality itself, instead all being replaced by a single, dusty book with writings no one could. Except maybe Meir, since he’s the one specializing in dead languages. “What’s it say? That better not be in Ancient Egyptian, or something.”

Dante referenced the Necronomicon, which Trystan couldn't really remember from the top of his head. As for Billy, he was cheerful as always, which earned a snicker from Trystan. Melanie, though, seemed to immediately write off the loss of their items, and instead suggested that they play truth and dare.

“I say Truth,” Trystan said, absentmindedly tapping Dante on the shoulder as if they had a secret communication. “Who wants to go first? If not, then I will.”
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