Briza

Digimon // Crossovers

SUBJECT: ILOVEYOU

► ATTACHMENTS: LOVE-LETTER-FOR-YOU.TXT.vbs

kindly check the attached LOVELETTER coming from me.

rem barok -loveletter(vbe) <i hate go to school pt. ii>
rem by: ჰჩჩႣჩ / ჰჩჩႣჩ / ჰჩჩႣჩ / ჰჩჩႣჩ

r y a n m a y e z

The wood seat of Ryan’s desk was cold against her bare, lower thighs and sent a small silent chill through her spine. In quiet nervousness, after having forgotten about this habitual sensation over Summer Vacation, Ryan brushed thin fingers through her dark bangs, straightening their positioning in a vain attempt to offset the uncomfortable feeling. Her finger-work was a subtle enough gesture — feminine in its wiles like the skirt causing her discomfort. Businesswomen were allowed to wear pants to work. Why were pants not part of the SCPC’s school uniform for female students? It was stupid, like the school was trying to uphold some outdated tradition. This is like The - fucking - Lottery. I swear, and super fucking sexist. Ryan’s eyes shifted, casually glancing at the classroom door. There was an ardent look of annoyance towards the passé fashion as her eyes directed themselves through the front of the room.

Ryan was seated in the front by the writing board. There was no way she was going to let some tall jock get in the way of her view, and who even cared if she looked pretentious? Okay, maybe she did care, but it was Calculus AB. There was no looking pretentious in Calculus AB, there was only looking not stupid… right? Ryan’s arm shifted, cloth from her jacket nestled as her arm bent and rested her elbow on the top of her desk. Her palm flattened and curved around her relaxed jaw. Boredom glazed over her face as she tried to ignore any pessimism towards the future of the semester. Her other hand fidgeted with the texture of her skirt. At least, I’m not the last one to class… her eyes rolled downward to her skirt and traced the pattern as she tuned out the conversations that walked into the classroom.

“Good morning, Ryan.”

The low, apathetic sound of a boy still trying to find vocal control over his voice shuffled into the desk next to Ryan. Her head shifted and turned, eyes lagging in movement. She knew that voice all too well. It was none other than, John Lee, her academic arch nemesis — or rival, whatever. He was harmless. He really was. Except, sometimes, he would smell weird or stale, as if he was wearing old laundry. It was probably his blazer, and Ryan was not one to not complain about it, especially if he made a better grade than her on an exam. Her hand and arm rested, and she straightened her back slightly, “Hi, Johnny,” a small sarcastic sigh wrapped around his name as it pressed from her lips that could not help but tilt upwards.

Johnny had already began pulling school supplies from his backpack, a notebook, a mechanical pencil, which he had managed to salvage since the Middle School. The eraser was only a little blemished because he used a white Staedtler Mars Plastic Eraser, which are latex-free, since latex irritated his hands after sometime, supposedly. Ryan thought it was utterly stupid that he was always so overly specific with which brand of eraser he used. It really overly exemplified his virginity and just super gross to even think ab—

For the second time this morning, Brandon interrupted Ryan’s thoughts. Not all of the male students had filled out, yet (Johnny was poster child proof), but even if they had, Ryan was pretty set on the pretty boy’s facial features and his wavy hair, “I’m glad we’re in the same class, considering we took Pre-Cal together,” Johnny rattled through the scene. His tan hand plucked a graphing calculator from his bag before his movements paused, caught by Ryan’s dwindling attention. She was normally fairly dismissive with him, but her facial expression was definitely off-kilter, “What?” his head tilted downwards as his brown, narrow eyes studied her through his thick, square lens. His fingers shifted over the buttons of his calculator, feeling the rounded corners of the buttons, “Ryan?” The boy’s voice flattened, eyelids drooping.

“Oh…” Ryan quickly caste her eyes elsewhere, away from her schoolgirl crush, and more towards something less apparent, “Yeah,” she raised her eyebrows apathetically and then lowering them as she remembered who was talking to her. Johnny was so… No, she could not think like that... He was a good distraction from her stupid crush, right? He would totally make sure she paid more attention to the teacher than the stupid, super hot rugby player that was — Oh. My. Fucking. God. Is he actually sitting right behind me? A sensation ran through her spine, again, but it was a different sensation this time. Ryan was not sure if she preferred this sensation to the one her cold desk had given her. At least, she had more control over one of them.

“I’m definitely making a better grade than you this semester,” Johnny retorted and drew his attention to his calculator. He had games he could play, and Ryan was being dumb, again. She normally would have jumped at his insult, and Johnny knew it, too. However, the girl simply folded both of her arms over her desktop and leaned her head into them.

Stupid tall jock, Ryan groaned inside her head.

Current Mood in One Gif

>Trw a person online and you find out you both have two ears, two eyes, two bendable arms, and two pinkies.

Шᴀшᴋᴀ

- R E S E R V E D -

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

Uriel Pulnoch

"ᴀ ʟɪғᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ɪs ɴᴏ ʟɪғᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ."

 
N A M E

---

Uriel Pulnoch

A G E

---

12

O R I G I N

---

Outskirts of Ordos

V I S A G E

---

As a pale, youthful boy, with black hair, innocent grey-blue eyes, and a wavering height that is sure to nab a few more inches upon entering adulthood, Uriel’s wistful face of placid hope seems a little off-putting, but his demeanor does hold a more esoteric determination of contemplation that has revolved sincerely around Nous, Intellectus, Anime Mea, and Cor Meum.  There is joy in such wisdom and deep knowledge, even if, perhaps, the noetic journey has worn a melancholy grimness on his juvenile face, even when he does try to smile.
 
Although Uriel is twelve and has only just entered his years of adolescence, the young boy appears to be several years older.  That is not to say his maturity is above his age; but perhaps, at times it may be surprisingly beyond uniform for his place in time; and to help set the stage for a more polite and less childish stature, Uriel generally clothes himself with a fitted dark blazer over a contrasting, white shirt – properly buttoned and accompanied with a string tie of sorts, knotted into a bow around the neck of his shirt’s collar.  Dark pants generally escort in synonymous design with his coat.  Of course, if he was to look too prude (with his blouse and tie), rustic outdoor boots attempt to simplify his style and bring any ardent contemplation back to Vitae.

P E R S O N A L I T Y   T R A I T S

---

Not as guiltless as the insipid blue in his eyes, Uriel’s demeanor can sometimes be seen as ghoulish through the creepily passive approach the young boy exhibits to the outside world.  However, his passivity could not be further from the truth!  The child is a passionate creature – merely a specimen caught in timid silence and pious immaturity.  Therefore, it is reasonable to assume the boy is not weak, as such zealous hesychasm is not for the fainthearted.  He is merely slow to react as he empathizes with each side.
 
Nonetheless, it is true that Uriel is just a child, barely on the cusp of adolescence, and with such knowledge, it is not so surprising when his emotions get the better of him in ways of brash judgment and jeering wits. It would be absurd to believe he could win against every battle of temptation he faced.  Although, in light of these outbursts, Uriel is honestly ashamed to have drawn himself out of character – most of the time.  When the boy is not ashamed to have pulled the trigger, it is best to leave the situation be.  Of course, such is not always the case, especially when his assault was especially hurtful, and his naïveté of age was in fact at his fault.
 
With such acquaintance of Uriel presented, it is safe to shoulder the belief that the boy is a well-studied, loyal fellow who has quite a conscious for such a short lived life.  He also has an (obviously natural,) intellectual talent for commanding a heavily weighted spirit.  Perhaps, he is not the quickest to make ends meet in the midst of an inducement or when choosing sides, but once the time approaches, Uriel is more than willing to shed his fitted jacket and dirty his blouse.  Once the spirit begins stirring, there may be a dangerous unwillingness for Uriel to control it.

L I F E   E X P E R I E N C E S

---

Born to a family of merchants, Uriel’s upbringing was rather colorful in the rich fruits of learning of other cultures outside of the Imperium of Iquenos. It was declared by the inquisition that they were traitors helping smuggle and protect heretics from the imperium. The necessity of this underground railroad had been engraved into Uriel’s conscious — while such etching took precedence, Uriel’s very own ether was trained by not just his father and mother but by the weary sacred travelers they helped during their business routes.

And so, as the story continues in regards to the the declaration of the inquisition turning into orders, when Uriel had just reached the age of contemplation, he was shuffled off into the outskirts of Ordos (to live as a student to an old hermit, Artemius Sérapis. Artemius’ trained and tuned Uriel’s magic through books and knowledge and practice (with occasional trips to the marketplace that became less cautiously approached with each return -- his vestments assuredly deeming a good suit for such outings). Four years shadowed into the future, and even if Uriel has learned to control the rage he harvests inside towards what has happened to his parents — and others like himself, there is still a burning desire to make things right. If all creatures naturally acquire inside an atunement of ether inside themselves — connecting all of creation together through this mystical power, then would it not be death — suicide — to the existence of all things to begin denying it as an essential, a necessity, a life-giving force? Uriel cannot stand for such abomination, even as the young child that he is.

E L E M E N T A L   A F F I N I T Y

---

Sanctus

A T T R I B U T E S

---

Scholars Magnum - Being a well-read child by the hands of merchants, travelers, and a sagely hermit, alongside the acquired knowledge throughout and beyond the borders of Iquenos, Uriel has an education of Sanctus beyond his age and often times, his own reasoning — but is that not what magic is? Uriel uses memorized phrases of ancient times to exercise his affinity; tones to cast spells, tones to control variants of energeia.

Gemstone Locket - A square, pewter locket with a spodumene (lilac) kunzite stone decoding the outside of the ornate piece. The locket holds a small relic of a thought to be holy magi. Such value was a gift from his father, an heirloom presented down through generations. The story believes that traces of the holy one’s ether still dwells in his relic, and with the right alignment of mind, body, soul, and heart his powers may be instrumented for purifying and strengthening the summoner’s magic.

Orationis Liber - A dark brown, leather prayer book with old pages, aged in devotion and struggling fingers of many different owners and masters, Uriel has taken refuse in the chants and prayers that have been inscripted on the rustic paper. A thick leather string wraps around the book and nooks on a brass button sewn onto the front cover. An ancient symbol is melted into the button — a language that Uriel has yet to uncover.

Sapientiae - Not surprisingly, Uriel’s acknowledgement for the world around him and his self-introspection are set apart even if wistfully done. There is unforgivingness in his bones, but in the sanctity of his vessel, he knows that the World cannot exist without the proper mysteries of magology being cherished and nurtured in society. Perhaps, he is not quite a prodigy; but he is talented, nonetheless; and the further practicing of his affinity, illumination only flourishes more.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

@Inkarnate, I have started a sheet; however, it is rather incomplete. I hope to change the situation soon enough.

Ban the Person above you

Banned just for funzies.

Digimon // Crossovers

SUBJECT: ILOVEYOU

► ATTACHMENTS: LOVE-LETTER-FOR-YOU.TXT.vbs

kindly check the attached LOVELETTER coming from me.

rem barok -loveletter(vbe) <i hate go to school pt. i>
rem by: ჰჩჩႣჩ / ჰჩჩႣჩ / ჰჩჩႣჩ / ჰჩჩႣჩ

r y a n m a y e z

It didn’t take long before Ryan heard someone call her name and give her one of those tight hugs of ‘I Haven’t Seen You Since the Last Day of School Before Summer Vacation.’ If she was to be honest, she only enjoyed those hugs because it gave her some sort of social status — especially in the middle of the main hall. God, school was stressful. If it wasn’t trying to keep her grades up to the same par as her sister, then it was trying to juggle some social life the she did not particularly mind in a positive manner.

And so, she embraced the hug as if the two had been in some long distance relationship that had kept them apart for far too long. First Day of School Excitement always made Ryan less enthusiastic about school. There was, perhaps, a time when she did get giddy, but she honestly could not remember why she had ever felt so optimistic about it. Nevertheless, she managed to fake a good attitude, for the most part. It was not as if she could shake her typical Ryan authoritative bitchiness.

If by chance she had been able to shake it off, her first period class being Pre-Calculus solidified her morning temperament for the rest of the school year. As her body draped away from her friend — Esther, was it? — she totted her head and smiled, a smug lip pushed her cheek immaturely, “What’s your schedule like?” her hand nervously grabbed hold of her satchel’s strap, and she tipped the heel of her shoe against the filed floor to turn her body. Her eyes locked with Esther’s as she watched Esther follow beside her. She was rattling about something, already, on a different subject entirely or maybe she never bothered answering. Ryan’s attention focused forward on the crowd of students. Her head was held up high, even though she had moments of deflation, wanting to tuck her face away and let her bangs shadow her stupid emotions.

“I know it’s not a super hard class or anything, but I totally signed up for Apparel. Ryan, just hear me out. It is a great GPA booster, and holy shit, have you seen how fricking sneaky some of these jerks are?” Esther’s eyes widened in absurd disbelief. Her emerald green eyes stared right through Ryan, and while Ryan agreed with Esther about the perpetual cheating of the upper quarter percentile of the student body, she did not agree with Esther’s methods. So, the first girl had been listening. It was lazy of her, but Esther was not the brightest despite maybe being someone that shamed Ryan in looks. Esther had large eyes and thick eyelashes and one those cute button noses, while Ryan had more pensive, angular features. If Ryan could beat Esther in something, it was, at least, intelligence. She’d let the vice slide, even if she did think Home Economic classes were completely useless. Besides, Esther looked smart despite her often times air-headed escapades.

“Oh my God. I know. It makes me wonder why I even try,” she made a scoffed, “But, kill me, now, Esther. My first class is Pre-Cal. God must hate me. I swear. I already have enough trouble getting out of bed as is,” her face frowned, and her eyes shifted. She hated admitting a weakness, but face it, who even enjoyed getting or of bed in the mornings – aside from Violet? Her hand slid down the strap of her messenger bag as the two rounded the hallway.

Esther brushed her body into a swaying position with her hands tucked behind her back. Her wavy, golden hair draped playfully in her movement, “My class is the other way, Ryan. I’ll see you later, girl, and... have fun in Calculus,” Esther spun around and tapped her shoes gleefully down the school corridor. Short and sweet. Just like Esther. Ryan watched the waltz for a brief thought and then shrugged off the casual air-head Goodbye of Esther. It was only a matter of time before she would run into someone else she knew, and Esther was such a Social Butterfly, Ryan found herself being a Wall Flower when she was around the group. She did not need Esther stealing the limelight all the time. No, it was not that bad, but God, when did she start feeling so conscientious over her appearance? Ryan's eyes studied the tips of her shoes. Fluorescent lighting reflected on the black surface. What was is it Zhuqiaomon told her, again?

Who cares anyways? I do. I care. Ryan lifted her head with confidence, again and continued walking, combing the door numbers hazily. Maybe she could make it to class without being bothered, again. She was suddenly in a much fouler mood than before. So much for shaking it off. Whether it was Esther or not, Ryan was unaware. God, I hate going to school.. Maybe it was the stale walls, so similar to that of a prison. If it were not for the wood doors, it might as well have been one. Who even painted over brick? It was so tacky -- like her stupid skirt and Mary Jane shoes.

136, Ryan shifted gears. Her mind raced to a better place, and she entered the room.

Change A Single Word

Robber raccoon

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Dead Snake