ERode

⤫ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 ⤬

Thirteen remained quiet, observant, deferential.

It wasn't like Three responded in any meaningful way, so the old man probably didn't understand. He should make his intentions clearer next time. Though it was fair that any further conversation, any possibility of interaction, was cut away once the Archbishop arrived. Feeble but still, that one. The young Number felt a twitch in his index finger, though he willed it to be still. Intrusive as they were, thoughts would remain thoughts.

Though with so many people there, it was horrifically, intensely tempting.

He was nothing if not quiet, observant, deferential though. It was almost possible, with more high-profile, more explosively-colorful Numbers present, to forget that Thirteen was even there in the operations room. His one visible eye turned from one human to another as they spoke, lingering only briefly on 2's heart, before finally closing as the verdict was given. A small smile formed over his face, interrupted only by a quiet cough from Matriona. He placed his hand over his mouth when he heard that. It was disrespectful. He should remain stony-faced. He could've just worn a cough mask though.

Ah, but...

"Before my assignment begins, could I be granted a few hours leave to visit the city? I would even go and recommend this request to be granted to my fellow brethren as well. An opportunity to bond over casual activities would be of benefit if we are expected to work together."

An Idiot's Dungeon Union

Setting aside the fact that the boss disappeared partway through the trip, Zogi was certainly pleased with the work that everyone put in for the betterment of their home. He lead the way with a spring in his step, the mounds of moss in his arms doing nothing to weigh him down in the moment. After all, while his fellow monsters may have exhausted themselves, the goblin himself felt absolutely fine. He nodded at the treant for helping with retrieving Zoppy, before the combined quintet of fodder-monsters returned to the dank depths of the dungeon, where...something had probably changed, but Zogi certainly didn't notice.

While naga, kobold, treant, and Zoppy lounged about, Zogi himself got to work. Big Boss had laid claim to the wildflowers that were collected, which was fine, since Muste deserved a treat too for being the head 'chef' of the Dungeon. As for the rest? Zogi brought over what round rubble they had obtained during their previous excavations, then draped moss over it to create what he hoped would be a somewhat-soft, mostly-hard cushion for one to sit or lay upon. The monotonous nature of the cave system was broken up as well by scattering the gathered leaves around, creating both a satisfying crinkling sound when someone stepped upon them, while also masking the otherwise boring dark-brown nature of the dungeon. Finally, of course, he moved on to enable his magnum opus!

Sticks! With sticks! And sticks!

Sitting crossed-legged before a slightly indentation in the floor, upon which he had gathered the driest twigs found, Zogi rolled his shoulders, rubbed his nose for good luck, held two sticks together, and began to rub them very fast.

Naturally, he did not know the proper method of making fire.

Unfortunately, no one in the dungeon knew either.

An Idiot's Dungeon Union

Zogi kept an eye out for his fellow monstrous brethren, after all. Being but a pot-bellied little goblin, he possessed an inexhaustible amount of energy that saw him scramble from one place to the next, helping the kobold, treant, and naga all with hauling and foraging for various forest stuffs, while ensuring Muste, of course, that little ol' Zogi would handle picking up all the stuff that their tentacle-faced overlord wished for them to!

It was hard work, but honest work, and the sunlight felt good in a 'this was pretty novel, even if the dank dark of the dungeon was far more comforting' kind of manner. The shiny-nosed goblin did what he had to do, picking up rocks and sticks, leaves and branches. He took exceptional care with the few wildflowers that the kobold discovered, ensuring that they were mostly still stuck in the patch of soil they grew from. And in the meanwhile, what he REALLY wanted was to look for thick mats of moss that he could gather up and bring back, as well as any fallen logs that may be hiding some marvelous fungi treats. Perhaps those depressing little things could grow even in the absence of the sun?

"Alright, boys, les wrap it up here. Good job all around; let me handle the fancyin' up of the place once we get back home!"

⤫ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 ⤬

Thirteen liked it on the border. The weather was nice and the no man's land was vast enough that it was quiet most days too. When he had first arrived, there were attempts made, but once those attempts failed, only intermittent efforts remained.

He supposed the reason they did so was to test out the limits of the Miracle that had visited them. Being generous, he let them be for the most part, at least until they misunderstood magnanimity for weakness. Most days, he would be allowed to go out for walks on his own. Maybe listen to the radio in his hammock. Drink some hot tea while the rain pitter-pattered against the tarp. They got fruit jams every month or so, and setting up a nice board of bread and different jams was always a bit of a joy. Sometimes, he would sneak about and watch a couple of the soldiers play various card games. A few times, they may even end up drunk enough to invite him. He won, of course. It was kinda easy, but he found it fun to watch their expressions go up and down.

Matriona scolded him for fraternizing with those rough, foul-mouthed folks afterwards. Always, without fail. Something about not wanting bad influences such as gambling and alcoholism to take hold of him. Something about how he missed her storytelling session again. Which was like, c'mon. He was thirteen years old. He didn't need to be tucked into bed and coaxed to sleep with a book on fairy tales anymore. He wished she would treat him more like a man, really. But he also heard that Three was the most man of them all, and that guy basically never had a single moment to himself, having to run from place to place to kill one den of insurgents or another.

Must suck, being first-generation. He didn't even really need to be here. He just wanted to be here, outside of the Vatican or any other great institution and building. Comfortable in relative isolation and quiet. Being able to put a face to the family would be nice, but that was the extent of his feelings towards them.

When the summons came, he wasn't really feeling it. But orders were orders, so he came anyways. Made sure to wave goodbye to everyone on the way out.

...

A young boy, shepherded by a middle-aged woman, entered the Rookery. The woman's gaze was straight ahead, marching towards their destination, occasionally turning back just to make sure the boy was still there. The boy himself found his gaze wandering to and fro, as if marveling at the architecture of the Rookery, the Vatican's finery at full display. Amongst robes of white and gold, amongst the crosses and religious paraphernalia, his dour but comfy outfit looked like a pile of dirt-colored rags. His jacket was oversized, his hat was pulled low over his eyes, and his hands remained in his pockets as he shuffled about, the hem of his pants dragging against the floor.

This continued all the way until he entered the meeting room. His handler snapped into a proper introduction, of course, a crisp, "Matriona, reporting in with Thirteen."

Meant he didn't need to do much more than nod and find a wall to lean against.

The heart that was Two was interesting, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Five must be a nice sort though, to so nakedly express sorrow over it. Eleven he had met in passing, so that was already taken care of and didn't need to be revisited. The woman who looked too old to need a handler must be Seven. He stared at Twelve for a length of time, then blinked and cast his gaze towards Fourteen instead. He was older than her. He should do something nice for his little sister then, like a proper young man should. He heard she ate, in a way different from Eight. Maybe he could see if Matriona would let them go to McDonalds? For now, he settled for a shallow nod in her direction.

Then, of course, there was Three.

He extended his arm out towards Three, palm up. Then crooked his fingers into his palm, once. Satisfied, he lowered his arm and placed his hand back into his pocket.

The movement caught Matriona's attention, but she did not act, for nothing happened in the vicinity.

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

Greek Myth is generally well-known, but Poseidon isn’t known for his trident the same way Norse Gods are defined by their weapons. Doesn’t help that it doesn’t even have a name.

I’d say 7/10 makes more sense. Less if you think most people would have to Google what specific things the trident has done.

⤫ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 ⤬

#13, The Little Prince

#13

the little prince

• P h y s i c a l A g e •

13

• G e n d e r I d e n t i f i e r •

Male

• D e s i g n a t e d L o c a t i o n •

Russia

---

• P s y c h P r o f i l e • M O N S T E
+ Merciful + Openhearted + Nice
- Subservient - Terrible - Evil
* Reclaim Eden * Rewrite Perception * Resist Temptation

---

• U n i q u e T r a i t s & A b i l i t i e s •
Telekinesis | It is what it says.

#13 possesses telekinetic capabilities, able to project some invisible force upon objects at a distance, often to destructive ends. His capabilities fluctuate without clear indication as to why, and so far, despite its simplicity, its nevertheless considered the most unstable Miracle currently in the possession of the Church. At times, entire landscapes are warped, the earth splitting apart. At times, a hundred holes perforate steel plates and the men hiding behind them. At times, this force is almost soft, fuzzy, simply lifting people up further and further and further, before letting them drop.

There are no clear tells: even in complete sensory isolation or full unconsciousness, his powers manifest at a reactive level to shield him from harm or crush his enemies flat. There is no clear range either: it was presumed that his range was vision-based, until a nuclear submarine beyond the horizon was ripped in half and its nuclear arsenal deposited upon the pyramids.

It's simply an invisible force, with endless destructive application.
___________________________
A p p e t i t e L v l :: 1

⤫ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 ⤬

@Luluna Probably 2 and 4? Maybe 5.

⤫ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 ⤬

#13

the little prince

• P h y s i c a l A g e •

13

• G e n d e r I d e n t i f i e r •

Male

• D e s i g n a t e d L o c a t i o n •

Russia

---

• P s y c h P r o f i l e • M O N S T E
+ Merciful + Openhearted + Nice
- Subservient - Terrible - Evil
* Reclaim Eden * Rewrite Perception * Resist Temptation

---

• U n i q u e T r a i t s & A b i l i t i e s •
Telekinesis | It is what it says.

#13 possesses telekinetic capabilities, able to project some invisible force upon objects at a distance, often to destructive ends. His capabilities fluctuate without clear indication as to why, and so far, despite its simplicity, its nevertheless considered the most unstable Miracle currently in the possession of the Church. At times, entire landscapes are warped, the earth splitting apart. At times, a hundred holes perforate steel plates and the men hiding behind them. At times, this force is almost soft, fuzzy, simply lifting people up further and further and further, before letting them drop.

There are no clear tells: even in complete sensory isolation or full unconsciousness, his powers manifest at a reactive level to shield him from harm or crush his enemies flat. There is no clear range either: it was presumed that his range was vision-based, until a nuclear submarine beyond the horizon was ripped in half and its nuclear arsenal deposited upon the pyramids.

It's simply an invisible force, with endless destructive application.
___________________________
A p p e t i t e L v l :: 1

⤫ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 ⤬

Oh hey, which numbers are left at this point anyhow?

⤫ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 ⤬

Maybe I join. If I do, can I just copy-paste? Or do you want something fresh outta the oven?