Yuuga froze at the sudden announcement, dropping the last of the arrows into storage. This was… uh… What?
He flipped through his mental catalogue of the students of Yamamura High, hastily trying to identify the girl addressing him. Chiyu Shoukei. Pink hair. Second year. Treasurer, surprisingly. Now this was an interesting case.
Cute. Diligent. But notably unpopular. These were just things he’d heard through the grapevine. All three qualities seemed completely justified from the bluntness she’d just shoved in the faces of everyone in hearing distance. It was the last point that made Yuuga jot a mental note to avoid spending too much time with the Treasurer. Reputation, both good and bad, had a habit of spreading quickly.
The girl’s sudden interruption had roused a sudden wave of whispers from the club members. They’d heard her budget cut announcement too, huh. Not ideal.
The long-haired boy glanced around for the club president. The guy was currently indisposed, having gone with the advisor to discuss tournament details. Guess Yuuga had to cover as the face of the club. Geez, if he’d known that having his arrow-nocking image emblazoned on this year’s recruitment papers would bring so much trouble he never would have agreed to it. At least club membership had gone up by at least 150%.
All eyes were on him. It was up to him to protect the club’s prosperity. Yuuga felt his back stiffen reflexively at the realisation. Damn. He didn’t even know how to handle club finances. He could’ve just told the girl to wait until President came back, or just pointed her towards the staff room. Or…
He could make this look good.
“Woah, hey!” the tall boy raised his hands in surrender, flashing an awkward but still sparkling smile. Those sorts of showy moves usually eased troubling situations. All he needed to do was stall until President returned. And girls generally did whatever they could to spend more time with Yuuga. This should be easy!
“Can’t we discuss this a little before any hasty decisions are made? What brought this on anyway?”
Frankie's never been good at connecting with people. She's tried, but she's given up on it. People have described her as broody, arrogant, snobbish, and even those few who she considers superficial friends see her as distant. Those who don't know her say that she has an air of mystery; there's something undeniably attractive about her, but the more people get to know her the more people recognize her for what she is: Someone who simply doesn't know what to do about other people. She learned young that people around her will use her for her money, and she's never been sure if she's okay with that or not. A part of her wants to have a real, genuine friend, but another part of her is perfectly okay with buying whatever pale imitation of that relationship people will provide. More often than not this conflict of desires makes her appear abrasive and distant, her inabillity to decide on how to interact with people causing her to revert to her default state- that of a contemptuous rich girl.
However, despite her gruff exterior Frankie does have her moments of genuine humanity. When the part of her that wants to connect with people comes out she very nearly becomes the person she wants to be- a warm, caring girl that is genuinely likeable. Indeed, deep inside her is a nice person. Like an onion, Frankie has layers. Beyond her desire to be a better person, or perhaps because of it, Frankie does feel some sort of deep sadness. She's never been able to pinpoint it, but she knows that there's something about her life that she's deeply unsatisfied with. Perhaps she merely wants someone to tell her no. There was a time where she had that someone, but now she's desperately trying to establish that very same relationship again.
Still, despite this, there are other qualities that define her. She has a strong sense of pride in the Vrodiskovich name, believing her family's history to be one of the most important thing about her. She's also a perfectionist, always conducting herself in a way that lives up to the aforementioned name. Although some would say that she lords over others with her status she believes it to be a natural extension of her and her family's superiority- she's a Vrodiskovich, after all.
Born to a rich family in Maefeld spanning generations, she had everything she could ever want since the day she was born. Whether it be toys, food, or clothes, there was nothing she was refused. One sweltering summer day, when her bodyguards were as tired as her maids, she slipped their heat-dulled eyes to roam the city on her own despite clear and constant instruction throughout her life to never venture the streets alone.
She was one of the Vrodiskovichs after all; taking care of herself would be easy.
Or so she had thought to herself in all the arrogance of childhood.
Predictably, Franceska lost herself in the huge city with nothing but money in her pockets and starkly opulent clothes on her back. She was too proud to admit her mistake however, and too proud to ask for help from anyone else in the city--not when she looked so wealthy it would shame the silk trim and semiprecious stones on her coat to stoop as low as requesting assistance from less affluent citizens. It was then that Bailey, a young girl about her age, approached the lost aristocrat with nary a glance for her finery and only concern for the panic lining Franceska's features. There was something about that girl that captured her attention. Franceska had simply ordered her to find out where her parents were, but the girl simply refused with a smile on her face, calmly explaining why she couldn't: she had no idea where they were, after all.
Bailey simply kept her company until her servants finally located her, chatting about her pet cat (Sticker) and her annoying little brother who kept pouring all her shampoo down the drain whenever they argued. Pointless things, but they kept Franceska from panicking. Helped prop up the veneer she was trying so hard to maintain, even at that age. And it was the first time Franceska had ever been refused anything, unreasonable demand or otherwise, and the first time she had ever felt that angry. But--regardless of how much she tried insulting and berating Bailey with a tantrum fit for five, regardless of how irritating it was that the girl treated her (a Vrodiskovich!) like she wasn't anything special--Franceska took a shine to her.
A rough, unpolished shine that would only grow brighter as the years passed.
Sometimes, in the quiet hours of night, just before sleep took her away, Franceska would dare to admit they were friends.
They remained steadfast friends for years. But nothing lasts forever.
A year before Franceska enrolled in St. Fortuna's, Bailey's family fell on hard times. Life happens and small restaurants sometimes fail, something Bailey did her best to hide until her family couldn't bear the weight of debt any longer and decided to sell the house. Of course Franceska found out--it was bound to happen sooner or later, especially when her best friend started packing to move.
She had offered money with good intentions (that was her allowance money, after all). She really had. It wasn't because she was rich and flaunting her wealth. It wasn't because she was trying to prove something. It wasn't because she was trying to show Bailey exactly how deep the chasm was between their lives.
"I'm not pitying you! Why are you--"
She just wanted her friend to stay near. Was that so wrong?
It never made sense to her (and she struggled with comprehending even now) why Bailey looked so angry that day. Why she had thrown a stack of cash back at Franceska's face like it was garbage. And after all the trouble she had gone through to withdraw that money and pack it into a tidy suitcase, too. It was supposed to have helped. So why did it look like she had broken Bailey's heart?
She didn't understand then, so she had only followed the one emotion that made any sense: fury.
Words flew like bullets and accusations cut to the core of their friendship. By the time she slapped Bailey across the face while parroting a line from her father about people needing to know their place, Franceska hadn't even realized her hand had moved.
It was the last time she saw her childhood friend. Bailey refused to talk to her again after that. Refused to answer the door whenever she tried to visit.
Soon enough, the family had moved away from the high living costs of the metropolis and Franceska had convinced herself by then that she simply didn't care enough to find out where. She didn't need Bailey. Hell, she didn't even need a friend.
She was a Vrodiskovich after all; taking care of herself would be easy.
1. What is your character's greatest regret? Losing her childhood friend over an argument. She doesn't want to think it was over money. Money solves everything. It can't be the reason she lost Bailey.
2. Your character is home alone after watching a horror movie and they hear a strange sound. What do they do? Call for the servants. No, she doesn't care if today's their holiday break and they're at home, they need to come back and check out that sound now or she'll tell her parents to fire them.
3. Two of your characters’ friends are fighting over something trivial, and they want them to stop. How do they go about this? Tell them to shut up and take them to the best restaurant in town. Overpriced food and tiny portions that someone else is paying for always puts people in better moods. At least, that's what her parents taught her. And her friends should be grateful that Frankie even keeps them around with the way they loaf about like... undesirables. Their state of dress doesn't do them any favors, either.
4. While your character is on their way to class, they realize they forgot something crucial. They’re already on the verge of running late. What do they do? Throw more of her servants at the problem. It's their fault that she left without it in the first place, isn't it?
5. If your character had the opportunity to turn into any animal, what would that animal be? A mountain goat, the kind that can climb even the most vertical of slopes and is obviously the leader of that mountain goat pack. If Frankie was a goat, nothing could stand in her way. Literally.
6. If your character’s house were on fire, and they only had time to save one thing from their room, what would it be? Her family crest, a black goat on a green field. This crest has been passed down the Vrodiskovich family line for over three hundred years. It symbolizes bravery and the overcoming of adversity, even if most of the time the family overcame adversity by just throwing money at it until adversity caved in and raised its hands in surrender.
7. What season does your character like best and why? Winter. She loves the sight of fresh-fallen snow and the gentle, quiet atmosphere of the season.
8. Vacation! You character gets to spend a week anywhere! Where is it and what do they do? Somewhere far away from everything she wishes she was and isn't. Her family hunting lodge comes to mind often, a huge, secluded mansion out in the mountains where she could hunt, read or just enjoy nature at her leisure.
Simply put, Yuuga is really, really, ridiculously good looking. Equipped with a natural height and a flawless skincare regime, the 183cm tall boy is quite the dazzling sight to behold when he strolls down the hallways. His naturally black hair has been grown to a length slightly above his shoulders. (If anyone were to watch him for an extended period of time, they’d notice that he seems to swish it around super frequently for a dude.) He occasionally ties it into a low ponytail, for kyudo practice mostly. Alternates between glasses and contacts, depending on what he's doing and what look he's trying to pull off. Every morning his uniform is meticulously arranged to look casual yet classy, the top two buttons of his shirt left open and his tie in a loose knot below his collar. His sleeves are left unrolled though. He’d rather not tread that line between looking casual and looking like a delinquent. (He has a reputation to uphold, after all.) Yuuga sometimes wears a light, woollen jumper over his school shirt.
Personality:
Years of active socialization has honed Yuuga’s amiability to a sharp and shining point. He’s laid-back, that’s for sure. Charming too. Classmates will find that he’s a boy who smiles a lot more easily than others (“No one likes a sadsack, right?”), more willing to help with small favors, and all around just a swell guy. He’s likable, to the point where it’s kinda eerie sometimes.
It’s not an uncommon thing to find that Yuuga is a bit… too much at times. People who aren’t swept away by his charm view him as a narcissistic try-hard, some kind of faker behind that dashing veneer. The try-hard part’s not entirely untrue. In the name of preserving his reputation, Yuuga will more often than not go out of his way to do the more undesirable tasks people push onto him. He wouldn’t hurt anyone though, no way. Small tasks, like staying behind to help with festival preparations or filling in for the soccer club. Things like that, he can do. If you have an annoying chore to do and subtly mention how good it’d make him look, Yuuga will dive into that work with the grace of a swan. In other words, play it right and he’ll be a total pushover.
The narcissist part is far from the truth though. Sure, he’s petty and image absorbed. Sure, he gives his hair a touch up whenever he passes a reflective surface. But Yuuga doesn’t think that highly of himself. He knows his faults, knows that all his popularity came from excessive amounts of behind the scenes work. He knows that unlike the natural extroverts and good-lookers in his clique, he needs to work hard to maintain his status. Because in high school, in this world of all-encompassing social media, reputation is everything. Average losers who don’t conceal their mediocrity behind smiles and sociable personalities fall behind. That can’t happen. Yuuga won’t let that happen.
Skills:
Extensive knowledge of skincare products and routines. Barely above average grades and below average athletic ability, much to his chagrin. Godlike selfie game. Quite detail oriented. Proficient in kyudo, having done it since middle school, though his skills are nothing awe-inspiring. Fairly good at household chores such as laundry and cooking.
Equipment:
Smartphone, usually in his pants pocket. Apart from the standard school supplies, his schoolbag contains his glasses case with cleaning cloth, lip balm, comb, and selfie stick.
Soul Arts:
Grand Reversal: His Soul Art is inserted into the base of his neck, just above the sternum. Yuuga gains the ability to control or negate friction within a 10 meter radius. Applications of this ability can include making it easier to climb walls or rock faces, sending charging enemies slipping past, and making a dynamic and flashy entrance with Yuuga gracefully sliding into the scene.
Brief Backstory:
Yuuga was born to an infuriatingly average family, an only child with a stay-at-home mother and a salary-man father. Elementary school was… fine. He went through the usual motions, making a reasonable number of friends, trying out hobbies, thinking about girls. Nothing exceptional, nothing terrible. Life was a stagnant, horizontal line on a plane. Nothing ever stood out. He wouldn't have been able to accept it if he never became more than what he was destined to always be, if the rest of his life was a death sentence of relentless mediocrity. So he rewrote himself.
A look in the mirror told him that he was pretty alright-looking. With some hard work he could turn it, himself, into something spectacular. He started grooming himself, taking care of his diet and face. He joined the kyudo club. He started talking more, laughing to jokes that weren’t all that funny but made the others feel like laughing was the right thing to do. And it worked. People, girls even, started noticing him. Eating lunch with him. Inviting him to group chats and karaoke hangouts. It was everything he’d dreamed. So he continued the hard work.
By the time high school rolled around, Yuuga had successfully cemented his place in the popular cliques. Keeping up with social media was the only sensible thing to do in his position so joining Strange Gospel was a given. Of course, he’d dropped it once all that creepy stuff started happening. But with the disappearances connected to that cursed app happening around him, Yuuga can’t help be feel spooked. Already, he’d heard news of distant friends of friends going missing. Would he or someone he knew be next?
Simply put, Yuuga is really, really, ridiculously good looking. Equipped with a natural height and a flawless skincare regime, the 183cm tall boy is quite the dazzling sight to behold when he strolls down the hallways. His naturally black hair has been grown to a length slightly above his shoulders. (If anyone were to watch him for an extended period of time, they’d notice that he seems to swish it around super frequently for a dude.) He occasionally ties it into a low ponytail, for kyudo practice mostly. Alternates between glasses and contacts, depending on what he's doing and what look he's trying to pull off. Every morning his uniform is meticulously arranged to look casual yet classy, the top two buttons of his shirt left open and his tie in a loose knot below his collar. His sleeves are left unrolled though. He’d rather not tread that line between looking casual and looking like a delinquent. (He has a reputation to uphold, after all.) Yuuga sometimes wears a light, woollen jumper over his school shirt.
Personality:
Years of active socialization has honed Yuuga’s amiability to a sharp and shining point. He’s laid-back, that’s for sure. Charming too. Classmates will find that he’s a boy who smiles a lot more easily than others (“No one likes a sadsack, right?”), more willing to help with small favors, and all around just a swell guy. He’s likable, to the point where it’s kinda eerie sometimes.
It’s not an uncommon thing to find that Yuuga is a bit… too much at times. People who aren’t swept away by his charm view him as a narcissistic try-hard, some kind of faker behind that dashing veneer. The try-hard part’s not entirely untrue. In the name of preserving his reputation, Yuuga will more often than not go out of his way to do the more undesirable tasks people push onto him. He wouldn’t hurt anyone though, no way. Small tasks, like staying behind to help with festival preparations or filling in for the soccer club. Things like that, he can do. If you have an annoying chore to do and subtly mention how good it’d make him look, Yuuga will dive into that work with the grace of a swan. In other words, play it right and he’ll be a total pushover.
The narcissist part is far from the truth though. Sure, he’s petty and image absorbed. Sure, he gives his hair a touch up whenever he passes a reflective surface. But Yuuga doesn’t think that highly of himself. He knows his faults, knows that all his popularity came from excessive amounts of behind the scenes work. He knows that unlike the natural extroverts and good-lookers in his clique, he needs to work hard to maintain his status. Because in high school, in this world of all-encompassing social media, reputation is everything. Average losers who don’t conceal their mediocrity behind smiles and sociable personalities fall behind. That can’t happen. Yuuga won’t let that happen.
Skills:
Extensive knowledge of skincare products and routines. Barely above average grades and below average athletic ability, much to his chagrin. Godlike selfie game. Quite detail oriented. Proficient in kyudo, having done it since middle school, though his skills are nothing awe-inspiring. Fairly good at household chores such as laundry and cooking.
Equipment:
Smartphone, usually in his pants pocket. Apart from the standard school supplies, his schoolbag contains his glasses case with cleaning cloth, lip balm, comb, and selfie stick.
Soul Arts:
Grand Reversal: His Soul Art is inserted into the base of his neck, just above the sternum. Yuuga gains the ability to control or negate friction within a 10 meter radius. Applications of this ability can include making it easier to climb walls or rock faces, sending charging enemies slipping past, and making a dynamic and flashy entrance with Yuuga gracefully sliding into the scene.
Brief Backstory:
Yuuga was born to an infuriatingly average family, an only child with a stay-at-home mother and a salary-man father. Elementary school was… fine. He went through the usual motions, making a reasonable number of friends, trying out hobbies, thinking about girls. Nothing exceptional, nothing terrible. Life was a stagnant, horizontal line on a plane. Nothing ever stood out. He wouldn't have been able to accept it if he never became more than what he was destined to always be, if the rest of his life was a death sentence of relentless mediocrity. So he rewrote himself.
A look in the mirror told him that he was pretty alright-looking. With some hard work he could turn it, himself, into something spectacular. He started grooming himself, taking care of his diet and face. He joined the kyudo club. He started talking more, laughing to jokes that weren’t all that funny but made the others feel like laughing was the right thing to do. And it worked. People, girls even, started noticing him. Eating lunch with him. Inviting him to group chats and karaoke hangouts. It was everything he’d dreamed. So he continued the hard work.
By the time high school rolled around, Yuuga had successfully cemented his place in the popular cliques. Keeping up with social media was the only sensible thing to do in his position so joining Strange Gospel was a given. Of course, he’d dropped it once all that creepy stuff started happening. But with the disappearances connected to that cursed app happening around him, Yuuga can’t help be feel spooked. Already, he’d heard news of distant friends of friends going missing. Would he or someone he knew be next?
This is my familiar character I've been working on for a while but if you're in desperate need for a mage then I'm cool with changing.
𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚔𝚊 '𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚎' 𝚅𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚑
𝚂𝚒𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗
𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎
𝙱𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕
𝙵𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛
-𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍-
-𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍-
Frankie's never been good at connecting with people. She's tried, but she's given up on it. People have described her as broody, arrogant, snobbish, and even those few who she considers superficial friends see her as distant. Those who don't know her say that she has an air of mystery; there's something undeniably attractive about her, but the more people get to know her the more people recognize her for what she is: Someone who simply doesn't know what to do about other people. She learned young that people around her will use her for her money, and she's never been sure if she's okay with that or not. A part of her wants to have a real, genuine friend, but another part of her is perfectly okay with buying whatever pale imitation of that relationship people will provide. More often than not this conflict of desires makes her appear abrasive and distant, her inabillity to decide on how to interact with people causing her to revert to her default state- that of a contemptuous rich girl.
However, despite her gruff exterior Frankie does have her moments of genuine humanity. When the part of her that wants to connect with people comes out she very nearly becomes the person she wants to be- a warm, caring girl that is genuinely likeable. Indeed, deep inside her is a nice person. Like an onion, Frankie has layers. Beyond her desire to be a better person, or perhaps because of it, Frankie does feel some sort of deep sadness. She's never been able to pinpoint it, but she knows that there's something about her life that she's deeply unsatisfied with. Perhaps she merely wants someone to tell her no. There was a time where she had that someone, but now she's desperately trying to establish that very same relationship again.
Still, despite this, there are other qualities that define her. She has a strong sense of pride in the Vrodiskovich name, believing her family's history to be one of the most important thing about her. She's also a perfectionist, always conducting herself in a way that lives up to the aforementioned name. Although some would say that she lords over others with her status she believes it to be a natural extension of her and her family's superiority- she's a Vrodiskovich, after all.
Born to a rich family in Maefeld spanning generations, she had everything she could ever want since the day she was born. Whether it be toys, food, or clothes, there was nothing she was refused. One sweltering summer day, when her bodyguards were as tired as her maids, she slipped their heat-dulled eyes to roam the city on her own despite clear and constant instruction throughout her life to never venture the streets alone.
She was one of the Vrodiskovichs after all; taking care of herself would be easy.
Or so she had thought to herself in all the arrogance of childhood.
Predictably, Franceska lost herself in the huge city with nothing but money in her pockets and starkly opulent clothes on her back. She was too proud to admit her mistake however, and too proud to ask for help from anyone else in the city--not when she looked so wealthy it would shame the silk trim and semiprecious stones on her coat to stoop as low as requesting assistance from less affluent citizens. It was then that Bailey, a young girl about her age, approached the lost aristocrat with nary a glance for her finery and only concern for the panic lining Franceska's features. There was something about that girl that captured her attention. Franceska had simply ordered her to find out where her parents were, but the girl simply refused with a smile on her face, calmly explaining why she couldn't: she had no idea where they were, after all.
Bailey simply kept her company until her servants finally located her, chatting about her pet cat (Sticker) and her annoying little brother who kept pouring all her shampoo down the drain whenever they argued. Pointless things, but they kept Franceska from panicking. Helped prop up the veneer she was trying so hard to maintain, even at that age. And it was the first time Franceska had ever been refused anything, unreasonable demand or otherwise, and the first time she had ever felt that angry. But--regardless of how much she tried insulting and berating Bailey with a tantrum fit for five, regardless of how irritating it was that the girl treated her (a Vrodiskovich!) like she wasn't anything special--Franceska took a shine to her.
A rough, unpolished shine that would only grow brighter as the years passed.
Sometimes, in the quiet hours of night, just before sleep took her away, Franceska would dare to admit they were friends.
They remained steadfast friends for years. But nothing lasts forever.
A year before Franceska enrolled in St. Fortuna's, Bailey's family fell on hard times. Life happens and small restaurants sometimes fail, something Bailey did her best to hide until her family couldn't bear the weight of debt any longer and decided to sell the house. Of course Franceska found out--it was bound to happen sooner or later, especially when her best friend started packing to move.
She had offered money with good intentions (that was her allowance money, after all). She really had. It wasn't because she was rich and flaunting her wealth. It wasn't because she was trying to prove something. It wasn't because she was trying to show Bailey exactly how deep the chasm was between their lives.
"I'm not pitying you! Why are you--"
She just wanted her friend to stay near. Was that so wrong?
It never made sense to her (and she struggled with comprehending even now) why Bailey looked so angry that day. Why she had thrown a stack of cash back at Franceska's face like it was garbage. And after all the trouble she had gone through to withdraw that money and pack it into a tidy suitcase, too. It was supposed to have helped. So why did it look like she had broken Bailey's heart?
She didn't understand then, so she had only followed the one emotion that made any sense: fury.
Words flew like bullets and accusations cut to the core of their friendship. By the time she slapped Bailey across the face while parroting a line from her father about people needing to know their place, Franceska hadn't even realized her hand had moved.
It was the last time she saw her childhood friend. Bailey refused to talk to her again after that. Refused to answer the door whenever she tried to visit.
Soon enough, the family had moved away from the high living costs of the metropolis and Franceska had convinced herself by then that she simply didn't care enough to find out where. She didn't need Bailey. Hell, she didn't even need a friend.
She was a Vrodiskovich after all; taking care of herself would be easy.
1. What is your character's greatest regret? Losing her childhood friend over an argument. She doesn't want to think it was over money. Money solves everything. It can't be the reason she lost Bailey.
2. Your character is home alone after watching a horror movie and they hear a strange sound. What do they do? Call for the servants. No, she doesn't care if today's their holiday break and they're at home, they need to come back and check out that sound now or she'll tell her parents to fire them.
3. Two of your characters’ friends are fighting over something trivial, and they want them to stop. How do they go about this? Tell them to shut up and take them to the best restaurant in town. Overpriced food and tiny portions that someone else is paying for always puts people in better moods. At least, that's what her parents taught her. And her friends should be grateful that Frankie even keeps them around with the way they loaf about like... undesirables. Their state of dress doesn't do them any favors, either.
4. While your character is on their way to class, they realize they forgot something crucial. They’re already on the verge of running late. What do they do? Throw more of her servants at the problem. It's their fault that she left without it in the first place, isn't it?
5. If your character had the opportunity to turn into any animal, what would that animal be? A mountain goat, the kind that can climb even the most vertical of slopes and is obviously the leader of that mountain goat pack. If Frankie was a goat, nothing could stand in her way. Literally.
6. If your character’s house were on fire, and they only had time to save one thing from their room, what would it be? Her family crest, a black goat on a green field. This crest has been passed down the Vrodiskovich family line for over three hundred years. It symbolizes bravery and the overcoming of adversity, even if most of the time the family overcame adversity by just throwing money at it until adversity caved in and raised its hands in surrender.
7. What season does your character like best and why? Winter. She loves the sight of fresh-fallen snow and the gentle, quiet atmosphere of the season.
8. Vacation! You character gets to spend a week anywhere! Where is it and what do they do? Somewhere far away from everything she wishes she was and isn't. Her family hunting lodge comes to mind often, a huge, secluded mansion out in the mountains where she could hunt, read or just enjoy nature at her leisure.
It all seemed to happen in an instant. First he was shrugging off Allison's cold response to his shit apology. Then he was chatting with Rain. Then...
Ernie found himself looking up at Building B, an uncharacteristically loose bundle of his clothes, some papers and his tomahawk in his frozen hands. At least his feet remembered the way back. His mind was far too busy processing whatever the fuck just happened. The silence smothered him as he entered the dorm, the emptiness serving only to letting his thoughts and doubts surge through the mental floodgates.
What the hell.
The Aberration stepped hurriedly through his room. He unfolded the laundry basket from his luggage, tossing his weapon and Rain's paperwork onto the desk and his damp pants into the basket. After a moment's reconsideration, the pants were picked back up. Who knew what sort of gross bacteria was in that stale water? They needed to be washed immediately. The Aberration dorms here didn't have their own freaking bathrooms so he'd need to handwash them in the communal area. The area shared by the dozens of filthy, mentally unstable teens in the same apartment building. Ernie glowered violently while he went through his bags.
That pink-haired girl actually tried to escape! Seriously gave a shit about Ernie's stupid jabs. Seriously just went... somewhere, and disappeared, leaving nothing but a bunch of confused guards and distraught staff mages in her wake. Yes, that was it. Just a dumb magic act. Rain probably dropped down into the sewers from the first match and made a break for it. USARILN security would find that reckless idiot in no time, probably cuff her with four limiters this time. It was a wonder how that whole mess even managed to happen.
This was the scenario Ernie satisfied his wandering mind with as he took a quick shower and washed his pants. He didn't let himself remember Rosa's sobbing form on the ground as Fredric harshly dismissed them. He didn't think about Rain's intangibility. He didn't connect the dots between Rain needing to hold her breath to go through things and dropping through the ground and falling through that dark rock and what would happen if her breath ran out and...
Ernie slammed the faucet. His shower was done. Even after seven months outside of the lounge, Ernie's showers never lasted longer than five minutes. He packed his various soaps and fabric detergents and carried his shower pack back to the dorm, now dressed in a casual t-shirt and sweatpants combination. The newly washed pants were hung in the closet. The shower pack stayed on his desk, next to the manila folder Rain had given him before...
A quick flip through showed that it was just a bunch of profiles of people in his class, including ones of him and 'Rain le Blanc'. Other than the full names provided, it was useless to Ernie. He'd have to return it soon, when Rain came back. Ernie caught that line of thinking, faintly pleased that he still thought of it as a 'when' and not an 'if'. Because Rain was coming back. And Ernie hadn't done anything stupid or horribly wrong except goad a classmate into a silly prank.
The Aberration pushed the memory of Rosa's tears away. Maybe she was just bad under stressful situations! And how would she know if anything bad happened down there? Nothing bad happened to Rain. Nothing bad happened because of Ernie.
He brushed his undried hair and wrangled it into a rough ponytail before heading out to dinner. The scratching in his chest had long since been sated by Allison's injury, replaced by uncertainty instead. The uneasiness and guilt rising in him would hopefully be quelled by a full stomach.
He'd woken up groggy and irritated and in pants that weren't his. Huh.
Ernie groaned quietly, rolling in the temporary cot. He remembered feeling... damp, the stagnant water lapping at his face and ruining his clothes. Totally gross. Was that stuff even filtered properly? That kind of shit was exactly what caused moldy surfaces. He remembered being unable to move, unable to let out anything but a small moan as his nerves worked to regain their senses. All he could do was watch. Really ugly walls. The walls of the house. Weird decor. He hadn't noticed that when they were running to the safe point.
The paramedics had put him on a stretcher. His remaining teammates were... naked? What even happened there? There was a short, blond boy. He'd unwrapped his hand and a mist flew out, making the part on Ernie's leg where he'd gotten tazed feel a lot nicer. Then all of them had been taken inside. Which was where he was now.
Ernie sat up quickly and immediately felt dizziness rush to his head. Ugh, go slower. He was back in the observation room with Team 3 and 4, with everyone clothed thankfully. Ernie himself was wearing a blue pyjama suit. Snazzy. Comfortable. But not his. He didn't like wearing this outfit. His clothes were in a folded pile by his cot, the arrangement too sloppy for his standards. A lotta stuff to take in. But there were other things in the room that required his attention. Namely, the screens displaying every angle of the fight.
There was so much more chaos than what he'd actually seen. Team 3 had been an absolute mess fighting Gregory on the top floor, while Team 4 had been scrambling like idiots trying to get to the roof. Thank god Brent had taken so long to climb. If they'd engaged Team 3 any sooner, they probably would've gotten much worse than a building falling under their feet. Which brought another important point to his attention.
He'd gotten the wrong girl. The one with the bangs, Hazel, was more of a monster than he'd known. More than anyone on his team had expected, probably. It was more than just telekinesis. It was outright erasure. Ernie shuddered, suddenly thankful that he had been too busy snoring on that murky, flooded floor to go up against that beast. However, that meant that he'd impaled someone's face for no reason. He swore it seemed like a good idea at the time. It felt good, that's for sure.
"Allison!" he called flatly to the girl and, with a limp point of his index finger, indicated at his own face, "Sorry about your eye. I got the wrong person."
If he sounded insincere, it was because he was. It was just common courtesy, nothing he actually wanted to put effort into. He was too preoccupied with watching the game to generate any sort of sympathy for the girl he'd horrifically injured. It was incredible how lucky he was to avoid having to fight the majority of the other team. The reminder that he'd missed his chance to skip classes for a week didn't even cross his mind. In all honesty, he was just glad that he made it through relatively uninjured.
Ernie rose to his feet to sit at a proper chair and continue watching, less for the fight itself and more for the personalities. He'd probably avoid most of the other team after this. These East kids were freaking mental.
stone
Izurich
Little Bill
