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...forgotten are the tales the elders once weaved, shall they come back to haunt on All Hallow's Eve.

I tygpe frm my mobilr phobe, spellig errrs are usually due to fat fimgers syndromr.


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I like reading the intros often and also wondered why the two of them had weird, totally unrelated nicknames.

Like what is a pardosa? Can I eat it? The heck is anvarUlvar? Throat medicine? Steroids?:>.
Upon admission to the Intelligence Division, the identities of its students become classified and their names redacted from all official documents.


I am changing my post as I re-read this, Montero may be apt at this world's equivalent of Googling but I doubt he can find out their real identities with just the use of his phone or within such a short period of times. If at all.

My bad, I didn't read and remember that little detail.

Hence, only their nicknames are known to him! :D. For now. >:).

@Rockette@deadpixel101
A bittersweet tune from the gold mine of music that is Brave Exvius.

https://soundcloud.com/arcano-r-p/final-fantasy-brave-exvius-moment-of-recall

Then a dissonant battle scene music.

https://soundcloud.com/user-81531807/final-fantasy-brave-exvius-onslaught

May these enrich your muse.
I know that zone! I've been the sole survivor of that zone many times. :(.

Though I know a little excitement usually keeps that zone away.
Let me (or us) know if there's anything we can help do to combat the zone. @Prisk
There we go! @EurmalEye

I have managed to update my character's relationship with yours.
See if it's right. @Panko
Got it! I thought your character was standing outside, staring in. I read 'sat' as 'stared'. LOL! My bad, much apprciated for letting me know. I shall make changes to include your character much more in a few hours after some thought. @EurmalEye


Intelligence scum!!
Can a character not do any Hunts? Much as I'd like to join in, I really do (Xcuse me, loot gil and items? Gimme!) but I feel it goes against a certain trait of my character's and the starting anonymous kinships I've wriitten.

Lore>Game mechanics. So, sadly, I can't go to any of them. :/.

Plus, Montero would probably be the last person to willingly visit the capital city of hot, unadulterated, whale massacare.
O A K R I D G E : D E P L O Y M E N T G A R A G E

The cabin was not so empty anymore, it was a fact that quietude was a luxury not easily afforded at Oakridge.

But this one seemed to stir up the very air itself during her peregination into the vehicle, not in a comfortable way, had there not been this pressence that he would have never noticed her entrance. For she prowled into the vehicle, literally, shoes not making a single sound. Montero could not help but retaliate her eyes of blue looking him up and down, with a glance of his own. Compared to her sleek, dark outfit that meshed her body, screaming battle-readiness, his was substantially more ...civillian. A khaki trenchcoat over formal attire, hiding most of his frame except for the straight cut auburn trousers and steeltoe shoes. With a lantern sitting on his lap. Looking very ill prepared comparatively.

He nodded back in greeting, a silent acceptance of her, though brows furrowing at the unkempt, no ...feral, yes that's the word, aura - when she wasn't looking. When one spends so much time interacting with spirits, one tends to be able to read things people don't usually see, hear or feel.

And such was the case too when another being arrived just on cue.


"Good morning, Mr Timberson."


Mask. Persona. Duality. His face was too clean, in more ways than one. Mien. Too professional, unlike Jomen's natural finish. His words felt riddled with complex second meaning, Montero looked straight into his eyes to try reading them for only the briefest of moments.

"Morning."

A slight semblance of a smile to reciprocate the jovial gesture, however, the overly formal choice of words and use of his last name prompted loud mental warning bells.

They made very little eye contact after that but that didn't mean they intended to do nothing about each other, Montero was a Researcher and finding facts were a trademark skill of theirs'. Turning his phone sideways to look like he was playing a game, Montero started scanning through the squad details and referencing them to Oakridge's online resources.

Ulvar. Specialist. Stealth.

Pardosa. Specialist. Guerilla.

...Both in Intelligence.

Montero Timberson's expression quickly drained of what little mirth there was. Perhaps it was not known to the other divisions but the Research and Intelligence sects of Oakridge Academy don't see eye to eye often, to put it lightly. Whatever Research personnel did, Intelligence operatives always had to meddle in. Rarely was their meddling benign either, for behind closed curtains their scrutiny had a say if projects recieved any funding at all. Worst still, they never mention their real criterias. Just observing, maybe asking ...but never contributing.

If there was an enemy to the very concept of progress, the hiveminded, ironically named Intelligence division would be it.




"Huh."

Montero knew his studies weren't exactly popular with the board of directors, or at least that was his impression from the three past denied proposals within the last year alone. Now working on his fourth: Was it sheer coincidence that the very first two other members to crowd him and Jomen, two Researchers, in this tiny cabin, were from this particular department?

He wagered not so.

...But alas, if there is a cold war of rights and privacy to be had, Montero was alone. For looking at Jomen, who looked so placcid as he retreated into meditation before the very enemy, noting that as he was he would make a very poor ally in the struggle for dignity of their good work.

Montero gazed despondently away from the screen and up at the ceiling.

All it took for evil to triumph, was for good men to do nothing.
----------------------------------


When the driver called the Guardians in so that they could set off, Montero turned off his phone then slid it into his pockets along with his hands - just in time as the stretching girl from before came in to throughly invade Ulvar's personal space. Nay, violate her personal space.

His eyes briefly lingered upon their ministrations.



Garage it is, nah it's just that I can't differentiate between the two. Brb, changing posts. @Prisk



You're asking for it~ @Rizza
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